mara reads

Your work card digs into the muscles of your hand, its corners eroded from all the times you've walked the same path with the same fear. It stopped hurting months after getting it, the scars on your palm long cured. You've never once needed to show it, no one to question you is ever around, but they know who you are and where you're going.

It'd be completely silent, save for the buzzing of the blueish green and purple screens that surround every other building. Shining white teeth smile at you from the billboards, promotions of Cerebrum's latest update flashing one after another beside happy customers.

The LED lights mask the colorless reality in Prism. Below the gray smog that covers the sky and every building higher than three floors up, very few apartments seem lived in. You pass by them every day, every lifeless day, and they never change. Shoebox-shaped apartments got popular after the rise of Cerebrum's new life mode. Why have expensive, big, homes when the digital world gives you everything you need? Your bed stuck by your sister's is the everyday proof, yet you're the only one bothered by it. She and your mother never wake up from the cable-induced slumber, they don't see how the real world turned out to look like.

The company spent months, money and seemingly endless resources recreating every pixel to match everywhere in the country. And then spent more months blaming the state of the cities on the population, with Prism's government's support. Water, food, jobs, all went scarce at the same time as the digital world became available for anyone who owned any of Cerebrum's technology.

You don't blame those who prefer to spend their lives plugged in. Why spend your days in dead streets when you could be cities away in the blink of an eye, where the sun shines uninterrupted, where jobs don't risk your life, where time doesn't show on your skin and changing your appearance is as simple as choosing your new feature from a menu. The digital world seemed to satisfy the population's needs, and the Government's. It seemed to solve working families' issues while they got ignored by those who vowed to protect them. Once the devices to enter the digital world were well spread, jobs and housing for the population kept raking down priority lists.

It should be 7 am according to your analog clock. You haven't seen the sun in years. Would it be up by now? Or would your journey in the dimly lit streets be dark anyway?

You hear your workplace before you see it. The tall building buzzes so loudly its sounds echo even a street away. Then, the only building powerful enough to shine through their smoke comes to view.

The skyscraper is undeniably beautiful, with glass windows and delicate light arrangements on the sides. The one time you plugged yourself in and strolled around the digital world, you thought its pixels were underwhelming in comparison. It's a shame only few people choose to see it in real life. It's a shame that, everyday you come into work, the marvel disappears each second you spend downstairs.

The front door beeps in warning as you come close. Once upon a time, before you were of age to work, there used to be a real life guard at the door to check everyone's work cards. At least that's what your mom says. Now there's just a laser scanner that matches your card to your retina scan.

"Cerebrum's happy to have you," the AI voice welcomes you with its eerie happiness.

You used to smile back at the cameras, sure that someone real had to be monitoring the employees. You don't have it in you to be polite to machines anymore.

Inside, three elevators come to view behind the receptionist's hologram. Its green hand points to the one you're supposed to take. The metal doors open for you without pressing a button, and next thing you know, the elevator takes you down to where it knows you go every day of the week.

There are days you spend without hearing your voice, or any voice. There are wild days when you wish one of the soldiers roaming the streets finds you so you had an excuse to say something longer than a sentence. There are others, the rarer ones, when you dare to wish your family would unplug from Cerebrum and you could spend a normal day. Never once do you wish to become a pixel, even when your responsibilities need you to.

Working seems more and more like the only thing you wait for, the only place where being alone with people permanently on mute doesn't drag your will to live through the mud. Sad, really.

The metal doors open to let you through, but the sight before you is not what you expect. For a second, you view the monitor room. Computer screens show flashes of green tapes, streets all across the city with someone walking by. Your suspicions were correct, someone is watching the streets. Only a chair is occupied by a uniformed, who slowly turns back to catch your eyes through his black leather mask before the elevator dings once again and closes its doors.

Damn it. All the time you spent following the rules for you to get in trouble for a once in a lifetime malfunction. Cameras are never seen, not even in the office, yet you now have confirmation that they're real, and they are recording. A security guard caught you peeking at the security footage. You don't know what floor that was or what they do with the information, only that the next time the doors open, you see familiar rows of cubicles across the room. There's only one thing you can do, and it's pretending nothing happened. Your security now depends on one man who you trust doesn't want to get in trouble for allowing a security breach.

You're not the first one to arrive on your floor. Multiple stares find yours from their desks, the small wrinkles by their eyes the only greeting you get. You smile politely and walk to your desk with your head down.

Keyboards tick from every booth, yet you doubt any of them have a real assignment, it's been months since you got one yourself. You spend the time reviewing old algorithms and updating them to the current system, small fixes that you're probably the only one to notice their purpose, but that make daily devices faster to use.

Three taps on the floor from the cubicle by your left perk your ears up. Morgan gets up and walks to the bathroom. You don't look her way, maintaining your hands in place as you type nonsense onto an empty code sheet and delete it right after. You know what it means when you steal a glance and notice her red pen missing.

As long as your computer shows itself active, she shouldn't have problems, otherwise, someone would've caught up to the task-less team you're a part of.

Her walk back to the desk disrupts the silent office, but you can't do anything more than waiting. Everyone knows. The air gets tense. Every tap of your foot signals another second has passed. You can't do anything yet. It's too early.

But you need to warn someone before it's too late.

You get up at the ninetieth tap, over ten before you're supposed to. The imprints of her feet are almost visible on the green hairs of the carpeted floor. She didn't take long there. She couldn't have known what happened before you got in. And no one else came in here.

The skin of your back flares with goosebumps as you open the restroom door. You can't be visibly upset. You force your face to seem calm as you turn so the cameras don't notice anything unusual.

You don't take a normal breath until the door closes shut.

One of the stalls is closed. That's where Morgan wanted you to go.

You enter the one on its right and crawl under the side-wall to find where the note awaits.

Meet at the Park later. Storm warned of bad news.

Bad news.

The note system has its limitations, being detailed is out of limits. But Morgan didn't write about anyone in particular. Her inside contact either didn't tell her about your encounter, or preferably, they didn't hear about it. She's not your friend, she relays important information the company doesn't want the workers to know. If you were in trouble, she'd tell you. There's a 50/50 chance your ass isn't on the line. Not bad odds, taking in account Cerebrum's history.

You take the note, drop it in the water and flush. If there were other coworkers Morgan wanted to tell, she'd find another way.

Making sure nothing sounds out of the ordinary, you wash your hands a respectable amount of time and walk back to your seat. In a few hours you'll meet Morgan in the Park and find out what she knows.

As long as your computer stays active, it won't ring any alarms.

Pretending to work around the plugging codes, the sheet takes you to a string of numbers you've familiarized with since the new normal made its appearance. You shouldn't risk checking in on your family, wasting time on codes you make sure again and again don't harm their well-being.

They're okay. You make sure of that.

The company's (and the population's) focus slowly shifted to the pixel world once the people ultimately started depending on it. Pixel jobs and pixel money and pixel lives became the substitute to a reality pushed to fail.

It's been almost two months since the last time your mother and sister spent time unplugged. Not the longest that has ever passed. You wish you had an excuse to bring them out, to say that it's unhealthy, that something's wrong and it's not safe, but you can't prove it.

They don't know how much you work for them to live as they please. For all they care, you spend your days stuck in Cerebrum's basement, which may not be far from the truth, but really is a naive conception when you can do unimaginable things with a computer and little supervision. They can't know. They won't. Ever.

Do they think about you? When they're roaming around the perfectly set up parks and going to their instant Looks appointments? When they come back to a home bigger than you could ever imagine and find your room empty? The chances are low.

You barely talked the last time they unplugged to charge their cells. You don't have anything in common anymore. They hate the real world, and you can't blame them.

You don't blame them. You've done more to keep them there than anyone else. They didn't even have to charge their cells the last time, you had already made sure they're always plugged in and with multiple backup batteries just in case.

The codes running in front of you look like they do every day: perfect. Not one line break, not one error, not one fixable thing. You can't see their lives, their pixel jobs and pixel hobbies, and now, there's not even a thing you can do to make sure they don't get in trouble. You can only watch their bodies sleeping inside your shoebox apartment, listening to their breathing and trying to remember their voices.

The pavement, hard and wet, strains your leg muscles with each step. Your lungs struggle to catch up to the pace, but you have to arrive fast. If the cameras see you—which they will, because they exist and someone is always watching—everyone will be busted.

You arrive at the Park not ten minutes after clocking out.

Beyond the pavement horizon, the abandoned mall just outside Prism was supposed to be the big expansion, the bridge to connect the city with its neighbors, before every connection got forged over pixels. The unfinished building first got swarmed with groups who couldn't afford the newest technology, spending their nights inhaling Blue Smoke, until the government realized it wasn't profitable anymore.

The dark gray walls contrast everything you walked past; no led lights, no Cerebrum propaganda, no scanners or holograms to welcome strangers, just a fossil representing what life was supposed to be like.

You slide your black beanie over your head, put on your face mask and tech glasses to hide your face, and enter through an empty window shop. Glass shards and broken Smoke bulbs dig under your feet, announcing your entrance to the ghosts, but the intrusion ends unwelcomed. You grab the last reflecting gear on the only rack in use and put it on as fast as possible.

Through the glass of the never-to-be clothing shop, the dim lights that always stay on let you see into the patio. A decent sized group talks in unheard whispers, all with undistinguishable matching gears. You couldn't pick out Morgan from the group even if you tried, and the rest of them you've never seen without the gear.

The building got abandoned since the Government cleaned the streets from Smoke. They gave them something else to be addicted to, something with no trace in real life, something that isn't real. Frostbite regularly met there, far from the cameras, where no interest was shown, out of reach from the power houses that held everyone's life in their cables.

Someone nods in your direction and everyone acknowledges you as they open their standing circle to let you in.

You'd hoped to meet Morgan alone. Frostbite's plans always sound foreign to you, as you're barely a source from Cerebrum, not an organizer, and whatever Morgan warned you about felt personal. You're lucky they trust you enough to let you in, let you listen, but chances of bothering Cerebrum enough to act are always slim, and you just want to hear the bad news.

They're muttering about the best way to recruit the few people left on the street when the building shakes and a deafening buzzing sound paralyzes you whole.

There's only one thing that'd result in an unimportant building's bombing. They found you. They finally found you and the others. You don't hear any shooting sounds, you don't see any raised guns, but the air stills with their search for Frostbite. It's cold, silence trickled with the building crumbling down. You won't hear them coming. Their uniforms were made to take any rebels by surprise.

You follow Morgan and find the back of the clothing shop. Everyone knows what to do, and, in silence, you search for the planned way out. Behind dusty common clothes and empty fashion racks should be a door you wished you never had to use.

The underground tunnel is dark and empty, the sound of the door closing shut following each step everyone takes. There's nowhere to hide down here, no walls to shield you, no other doors to unknown rooms, only an endless liminal space in which the lack of lighting only works against Frostbite. But it's the only way out.

An echo should reach you of any following parties, but there's nothing. Maybe they hadn't reached the clothing store when you left. Maybe you were being paranoid, yet you don't stop running.

Run straight ahead, that's what Morgan had told you once, when forcing you to learn their protocols against your will. Run straight ahead and don't get caught. Forcing your legs to follow the reflecting gears ahead of you, you swallow a chuckle. It wasn't supposed to be serious. You listened to Morgan, hoping to calm down her paranoid spirit. Rebel attacks were unheard of. No one dared, and neither the Government or Cerebrum cared enough. But the building shakes again, and you barely miss a piece of ceiling falling on top of you, and you understand it.

Attacks were unheard of because they happened in this way. Away from the city, away from anything that could mess with Cerebrum's databases, in places no one cared about.Frostbite will end without accomplishing their goal, without making any noise, and without a goodbye.

Someone trips far behind you. You don't look back, but hear them struggling to get up. The tunnel crumbles all the way around, falling dust and pieces of cement clouding your sight and hearing.

Far ahead, a gray ray of sun makes its way though the smoke. The fallen person wails in pain, now so far behind only the echo makes its way forward. A red dot dances on the side of the tunnel, searching for an unmoving target. It doesn't give you time to thank the reflecting gear. The shot of a gun overwhelms any worries of the tunnel falling down on you. You hear no gunmen, yet the red dot lingers after the screams behind you quiet down.

As the end of the tunnel gets clearer, you sprint faster. A few Frostbite run past you, none of them looking back. You follow the dim light with as much hope as you enter your home every day—the shot was enough warning. You're being either run off the city or killed.

Is there even a plan after this? You failed to listen to what was being talked about when you arrived. You don't really know anything, do you? You were never in on the plans, you just followed the simplest orders, got the information they needed and went back to work. And, most probably, Cerebrum had a target on your back after your peek at the surveillance room.

Work.

Cerebrum will never take you back. You can't go back, even if you wanted to. You'll be dead, exiled, or searched for on every corner of every city under its power. You can never check on your family again. Your mom and sister will be left there, somnolently hooked into Cerebrum's machines. It'll be months before any of them wake up, you made sure of that. They won't worry if they don't see your pixel self, because you're never there. The longer you spent working, putting up excuses whenever they insisted on being there with them, the less they cared when you didn't. It's just another one of your disappearances.

You look back with terror, seeing nothing more than countless red dots waiting for you to fall. They won't leave anyone alive. The ceiling shakes once more, and you know they brought as many bombs as they needed to erase every trace left of the mission.

Bigger and bigger pieces of the tunnel fall to your sides, and your legs, starting to give out, barely help you dodge them.

What are you going to do if you escape? Your new life would consist of nothing. You'll must become no one. Maybe Frostbite would let you be one of them, if they make it. You'll be away from home, with a family that won't look for you, surrounded by capable people that you don't know, holding them back because you can barely run in a tunnel before starting to give up. You're not made for it.

You trip on a broken piece of gravel and lose your balance. Your hands pillow your stumble against the wall, and you slide to the floor as the walls shake. Whoever you outran passes you without a thought. You can't look back. You didn't do it either when it didn't happen to you.

You hear it then. Between Frostbite's heaving running towards the light and the ground being coated in pieces of tunnel, the red dots find your shivering body, and the soundproof boots march towards their new found victim. The closer they get, the more your fear dissipates. There's nothing more for you to do. You helped build the empire, you helped your family live comfortably, and you helped Frostbite after you realized your mistake.

The light at the end of the tunnel blinks in acceptance. Whatever you did, it's over. The cold of the ground seeps into your veins, holding you close to it, numbing you down. Your muscles don't tense waiting for the shot. If it hurts, you don't feel it.

First, the world goes brighter, white enveloping you. Then, moving ashes coat your face before it all goes black.

Heaven's pitch black when you open your eyes.

Ice cold burns along your back. You were never someone to believe in the afterlife, but it being cold and dark wasn't your first choice.

"Can you walk?"

A voice carries faintly, its owner invisible.

"What?" You reply with a cold throat.

You don't remember the last time you spoke out loud. Alone at home, forbidden at work, your voice was as much of a stranger as the omniscient presence watching your barely moving body. A shadow hovers over you, taking shape into something more human.

"Good. You're awake," it continues. "They can't see us here, but we need to leave if you don't want to be left for dead."

"How—

"Thank me later," it interrupts, sounding arrogant as much as it sounds hurried. "Get up and follow me."

You huff. "I can't see you."

A reply doesn't come, but the barest ray of green light reflects along the person's back, a subtle shimmer that sparks not so old memories. It's the same light Frostbite's tech glasses produce, the same reflection that messes with the Uniformed's infrared glasses.

"Fuck, yours must've dropped when you fell," the person sighs after moving what sounded like pieces of rubble. "Here, take mine."

You feel a pair of hands placing the glasses along your ears and eyes. The glasses were made to level up the field for Frostbite. If yours fell before you were shot, it means your advantage is over.

It takes a few seconds for your sight to get used to the greenness, then the hands drop to grab yours and help you get up. If you're on a rush, the careful touch shows no sign of it.

"We need to get out of here before it collapses," the person urges in contrast.

"How?" However you got to where you are, there doesn't seem to be a way in or out, and with you wearing the glasses, this other person is blind.

The person chuckles, back facing you so you can't see a face. "You should've gone to more meetings."

You follow the pull of your arm through a cave within the tunnel. Even without light, the way out is no stranger to your guide, only using the walls of the cave as a map.

Not a long way ahead, rays of light tamper with your glasses, and when your guide changes course to the right, you know the tunnel is almost over. The closer you get to the outside world, the less you see through the glasses, until the blindness becomes so overpowering you have to take them off.

Sighs of relief welcome the two of you as you finally leave the darkness. Someone without gear embraces whoever saved you. Morgan sits at a distance, on the curb on an abandoned street so far away from the Park that it looks like another city entirely. As she recognizes you, she jumps in surprise, walking in your direction with her arms spread wide.

All that you were ready to leave behind, what you thought you didn't need to see again, comes back to hit you in the face.

The world you lived in for years incapacitated people from making meaningful relationships, all technology led until hearing someone's voice in reality was as intimate as a kiss. Since the second you started running through the basement, you knew. Going back isn't an option.

"I was so worried when you didn't come out after me!" Morgan's voice wakes you up into her hug. Another thing you haven't lived through for some time. "I knew there was trouble when Jeonghan didn't come out after me."

Finding your voice costs even more when you have to admit what you almost let happen. Her smile is so bright you wonder how much it took her to hide it while in Cerebrum. You'd break it further if she knew.

"I had to use the trap we set weeks back to block their view," the voice of your savior, Jeonghan, sparks a different grin from Morgan. "I already told Storm."

The person that appears into view is nothing like you expected. You'd seen the long hair at the back of his neck in the darkness of the cave, his hands had been the first touch of skin you felt in months, you'd spoken to him after being in silence every day, yet his attitude mismatches the little idea you formed of him.

Tall, slender, and unusually cocky, his smirk almost makes fun of your fall. Now out in the open, you remember him from the few meetings you had to attend, with the snarky comments he always had at hand. You should remember his codename. Even if you didn't want him to, he saved you from the Uniformeds' quiet misery.

"We would've used it anyway." Morgan pats your shoulder, relieving you of a guilt you're supposed to be feeling. "Glad you got out before we had to."

Someone calls out to her close to the cave entrance, leaving you alone with the smirk and suspicious eyes watching you. Whatever he sees, it doesn't impress him. He sits on the curb Morgan was waiting for earlier, dusting off his reflecting gear with a chuckle.

You pay no attention to him, instead, the view you came out to takes protagonism.

The Park is a minuscule gray cube on the foreground of an endless cloud of dark smoke. If you squint, you catch the light of every Cerebrum ad being broadcasted on the buildings of Prism. From the outside, it may look like a storm about to pass, but after years of pollution, you stopped seeing the marvel of the clouds. The real sun became the greatest privilege.

The city limits were loosely guarded, giving the illusion of choice. But, when most preferred to give up their minds to Cerebrum, and cameras followed the few people who decided to stay behind, no one really dared.

"Where are we?" You ask into the air.

You had gotten used to depending on the LED ads to see on the street. While smoke still covers the sky, the wind welcomes fresh air that the tall shoebox buildings forbade you of.

"On the outskirts of Devil City," Jeonghan answers without looking up.

After thousands of cities began to join Cereburm's plans, land became a valuable source of space for the power centers that fueled the pixel world. Devil was one of the few cities that fought back to not turn into an electricity wasteland. They refused to join the pixel revolution, and a while later, a series of suspicious fires were reported all along its limits that extended to the center. The smoke never cleared, and the air pollution just made it worse. Devil's fight resulted in a burned down city and a never seen again sun for kilometers, but their spirit fueled the rebellion for years.

"Devil City was destroyed by the fires."

Jeonghan chuckles, acknowledging you again. "What do you see? Because I see buildings covered in green, and high floors that we can see without smoke being a little shit. We discussed this."

You refuse to feel bad for not remembering every single detail. You didn't want this.

"I was at the meetings because you wanted information, not to be made aware of all your plans. You know that." You didn't mind being a pawn in their game. You had reasons to stay, but reasons to help someone end Cerebrum's reign as well. You never pretended to be something else.

"If you listened instead of refusing to try, you would've known we had a trap door to escape and you didn't have to play hero."

"I didn't play the hero. I couldn't get up, and they were about to shoot me!"

He chuckles again. You're beginning to hate the sound. "If this is your way of thanking me—"

"I didn't ask you to help me. I don't even know you!"

You don't remember the last time you had a long conversation with someone that wasn't your sister or your mom. Exchanging words on a post-it with Morgan was as far as you went. You forgot how to filter your inner thoughts, though Jeonghan doesn't seem to mind your screaming.

He bites his lip hiding a laugh, looking at something behind you. You realize then that he took off the reflecting gear entirely, sensing that if you looked back, you'll find every Frostbite member in the same situation, just waiting for you to get a move on.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to take off the vest. The damage is done if everyone already sees you and hears you screaming nonsense.

"No, don't stop the hissy fit on their account! We should know who we're dealing with!" Jeonghan can barely get the words out between his laughs.

"Okay, you can stop annoying her now," Morgan comes back with Storm on her side. Jeonghan immediately straightens his posture. "We need to move forward, so here are a few things we need to let her know."

"Are you sure this is Devil City?" You take the chance to speak to the only person that understands why you wanted to get left behind on the planning. "I handed you the footage of the destruction. I saw it myself."

"You did. And it really helped to get us here today," Storm answers instead of Morgan.

He's one of the few who you could never forget about. He has a face you struggle to imagine smiling, a presence that takes the joy out of everyone around him, but, most importantly, he has everyone's trust and respect. He listens to concerns and trusts each Frostbite member to follow with their tasks. Even with the small amount of meetings you attended, you'd feel safe to put your safety in his hands.

"There's a lot they hide from us. More than you imagine."

Before the events of the day, you would've tossed the thought aside. You were always more aware than most about Cerebrum's deal, willingly or not. While everyone wasted their life becoming an ageless pixel, you saw the destruction of the city in real life, the things the Government did to help the rise of Alternate Reality, not even lies, just plain hiding until people stopped questioning the missed information. You worked inside Cerebrum itself! What more could they possibly hide?

"I think I know what they do pretty well." You saw in real time how they developed their tactics, how they ran people off the streets only to get them addicted to a false life. "I've been at Cerebrum since the development stages."

You don't miss the look on Jeonghan's face.

"We believe," Morgan starts with Storm's nod of approval, "that they ran off Devil's citizens to use the city themselves."

"They wouldn't risk killing thousands that could be persuaded into buying their A.R.," Jeonghan continues, as cynical as always. "And by making us believe they can bomb a city, they made sure we never checked it out."

"So, we're…" you struggle to connect the dots.

"We have reason to believe that the heads of Cerebrum live in Devil, so we're going in." Storm doesn't explain further. He doesn't have to. "But we have to be careful. Only address each other by our code names."

"I don't have—"

"You're Lurk," Jeonghan jumps.

"You're Lurk, yes," Storm repeats after elbowing Jeonghan. "You know the rest of us only by our codes, but be careful with the real names you know. We have a safe building in the city, but the closer we get to our target, the less we know about the surveillance. We need to be prepared."

You doubt Cerebrum bothers to reinforce Devil if what Frostbite believe it's true. No one should dare to even think about Devil City. Cerebrum isn't afraid of people finding out. You just hope they believe you're dead.

Frostbite's safe building is located close to one of the fire sites, near the city limits, but not far enough that traveling towards the center would take more than half a day.

You weren't many. The meeting that was found out didn't require for everyone to be there, luckily. The ten of you that escaped moved in groups of five, walking with almost a block of distance in between. Storm took the lead on the group walking behind. Jeonghan, or rather, Carpool, was the only one who knew the way, so he led the first group. Morgan was in charge of possible traps, so she was the second to join Jeonghan's team. You didn't want to leave Morgan's side.

The night in Devil city wasn't different from Prism. You couldn't see the stars in the sky, or the shape of the moon, but you also couldn't see the building across or the street below, and that type of darkness was much more welcomed.

"Are you not attached to the hip anymore?"

The carpeted floor silenced the steps all across the hall, the only reason why Jeonghan managed to surprise you.

"I don't want to be in the room if Rain is also there."

You and Morgan were unable to sleep, retracing both of your steps in Cerebrum to try and figure out if the two of you were at fault for the attack. You had to tell her about the surveillance room you accidentally saw, but excluded the fact that there was someone there. It didn't make a difference. Seen or not by a human, they would've caught you regardless.

She was about to tell you what the news she talked about on the post-it when Vernon knocked on the door and she let him in, struggling to contain her giggles.

"I should've guessed that's where he went. Sorry about that, you won't be able to sleep." You don't answer him. There's nothing to say, but he won't take it.

Jeonghan sits down by your side, unprompted.

"I want to be alone for a second, if you don't mind." You don't have it in you to pretend.

"I do mind," he chuckles, "so, no. Plus, we have to talk about the plan for tomorrow.Yet, he doesn't keep talking, waiting for a reply.

Your head rests against the wall, eyes closed so your senses can slow down for the day. Sleeping is not a viable option, you'll dream and dream about the day, about what could've happened, about your mistakes. The least you can do is protect your side of the building, make sure Morgan can have a minute of happiness with Vernon.

But an eager breathing pattern disrupts any possible rest. Jeonghan's eyes burn holes on your side. What image of you has he made up by now?

"You don't have to babysit me."

"I have to be there in case you trip into an abyss."

"Ha, funny."

You're not ashamed about what happened in the caves. If anything, it hasn't changed anything about life at all. Seeing a future as you live through a world that does nothing more than lift up the powerful at the expense of those who they vowed to protect, is hard. No one will ever realize the length to what you started years ago, the first grain of sand that built a desert that dried out what you most loved.

Jeonghan fights against it, like Morgan, like Storm and all those who follow him. They have trust in a system that never once worked for their favor, but they learned the loopholes, the ways around the manipulation, hoping to change it from the inside.

If you've done something more than sending Cerebrum after Frostbite, you hope the information you fed them the last few months changes something. You won't be able to see it, especially if the myth about Devil City is true, but it'd be nice to help do some good for once.

Jeonghan doesn't accept another one of your silences. "Get up. Come."

"We're not supposed to leave our post." If anything happens on this side of the building, it'll be your fault. Another thing will be your fault.

"You'll regret hanging out by the door later, trust me." Jeonghan gets up and extends his hand down for you to take. "I know this building like the back of my hand, I have it covered."

He gives you no other choice.

You get up on your own, not wanting another one of your first touches in years to be with him again. Jeonghan chuckles but says nothing more, walking slightly ahead for you to follow.

The abandoned office building wasn't the biggest around, it was a little more deteriorated, and less flashy than the others. You guess that's why Jeonghan had chosen it as the perfect spot. No one in their right mind would choose such an endangered place to take cover.

The only reason you're following him is because it's true, he had scavenged every little nook and crevice of the building to find the perfect spots for everyone to rest for the night. Everyone trusted him just as much as Storm when it came to security. Yet, he didn't lead you far from the room you were supposed to sleep in.

Down the corridor to the left, through one of the men's bathrooms, there's a small balcony towering an indoor patio. Loose cables flutter against the railing, and you admire the view from above while Jeonghan turns a flashlight on in the restroom.

You welcome the silence, real silence, without buzzing sounds or humid rain splatter. The world may never recover from the consequences of air and water eating technology, but maybe, if Frostbite is right about Devil City, they can make the people responsible pay for what they've done. You just wish you wanted to be there when it happened.

Jeonghan doesn't care about the silent city. He has been breaking out out of Prism for months, he got used to having somewhere to escape to."I know what you're thinking."

"I hope you don't," you reply with snark.

"You were at Cerebrum today, right?" You nod, hoping he gets to the point fast. "The basement? At 7 a.m.?"

"Everyone here knows my work schedule. Yes, I was. That's when Morgan told me to meet at The Park."

He looks at you blankly. "Did nothing else happen? Just a normal work day?"

Your knuckles turn white along the balcony railing. He knows. Jeonghan knows you fucked up and sent Cerebrum after Frostbite.

At least he had the decency to confront you alone. You can tell the rest of the team, let them decide how to punish you for the betrayal. It wouldn't be the first time you participate in something that fucks up your entire world, you'll get used to it, just like you got used to being alone in reality.

"It was my fault, okay? Are you done? I sent Cerebrum after us because I saw something I shouldn't have. Just go and tell Storm, I don't care. I can be the bait while you go ahead with the plan.

"I knew that," he smiles. "Ask me how I knew that."

So, he likes to play games, even when you're being vulnerable in front of him, again."I don't think I like you very much."

He shrugs. "I get that a lot. Ask me."

You sigh. "How did you know? You saw the camera footage?"

"You said someone saw you. What did they look like?"

And he's not making it easy either. "I don't know. It looked like a man, all covered up in the Uniform. There was no one else there, but he was pretty much surveilling everything."

"Let me find something, hold on." Jeonghan digs into the pockets of his pants, the only part of the gear he left on. "Did he have something like this?"

In his hand, a black leather mask lay crumbled. He chuckles at your gasp, putting it over the lower part of his face.

"It was you!" You punch Jeonghan in the arm, and your lungs treasure your first deep breath in weeks.

"I can tell the guys you're fine being the bait if—

"Oh, fuck you!"

"—you're still down."

You weren't in any danger. Your mom, your sister, they're still safe in their pods, blissfully unaware of the damage you nearly caused. It wasn't your fault everything almost failed.

In the darkness, by the light only on for you two to see the way inside, a little comfort makes its way to you. Jeonghan isn't aware of the load he took off your shoulders, and you don't care that he'll take it as another thing to tease you for.

"How did they find us today? If it wasn't me."

"Someone always gets caught," he replies, somber. "We can't know for sure, but it wasn't because you saw the security cameras. I wanted to let you know that."

His voice reminds you of his touch in the caves, in the cold and the dark, but maintaining a softness you're not used to anymore. Every one of your moves is always calculated, because letting the cameras see an emotion outside of your home means something worse than losing those who you care for.

The rise of Cerebrum slowly drove everything that makes us human into the alternate reality. First, the creative games and hobbies were made easier to access, less expensive if you already had a Cerebrum pod. Creativity was the thing that allowed humans to survive thousands of years ago, and they took that away first. Then, as more and more cities joined the craze, you could travel anywhere anytime. Schooling was next, you didn't have to carry things around if you could read and write with your mind. Without anyone realizing, each thing taken into the Pixel World became extinct in reality. It almost seemed like every piece of enjoyment was taken from those who chose to remain free of a false world. You couldn't be seen enjoying something, Cerebrum would just take it away in weeks. The last thing you had left was work. And no one dared to chat, to like a cup of coffee more than once a day.

No one ever imagined Cerebrum to take over the very bare characteristics that built communities, families, personalities, but the less they cared, the more it took.

"How did they end up being a thing?" Ignoring Jeonghan's niceness seems the best. You can't get used to something no one can have.

"She's too smiley, and latched on to the cool and mysterious guy. Happens all the time." He stares at his feet. "I think he really loves her. I've known him since before… everything. When she joined us, it was like the light was back on in him."

"That's nice." What more can you say? People managed to build relationships when you just gave up. You only exchanged words with Morgan through post-its, maybe after the few meetings you cared to join. "She's a good person."

It didn't take much for her to convince you to pass information to Frostbite. She'd left a post-it on your desk one day, telling you to go to the bathroom after 2 p.m. She'd found out you used company time to work on your family's safety, and figured you disliked Cerebrum just as much as her.

The first time you heard her voice, you knew she wasn't just fighting for the right cause, but managed not to lose her spark. You couldn't let yourself know her further, but she cared for you, more than anyone else. It's sad, but true.

"She cares for you," Jeonghan repeats, as if hearing your thoughts. "Did you tell her what happened back there?"

"You don't know what happened." He saved you because he thought you were being left behind and didn't want to trigger a ton of rocks on you. That's what he thinks happened.

"I saw it all, Lurk."

"I tripped. They had their guns on me."

"You gave up."

One thing about giving up, it makes you not want to argue about it.

"So what? I can't do anything for Frostbite anyway. I'm here now, I won't set you back on your quest, but just know you saved someone who can't do anything more for your cause outside Cerebrum."

If you had anything left in you, your eyes would fill with tears admitting such things to a stranger. You've become numb to it all. Acceptance, you called it. Accept what you've done. Accept you can do nothing about it. Accept Jeonghan's hand over yours.

His fingers are warm in the night. You haven't forgotten how they felt leading you out of the cave. If it all happened sooner maybe you'd let him reach further.

You take your hand away, getting up without skipping a beat.

"I'll talk with Storm about the plan," you whisper, more into the wind than towards Jeonghan. You see him shake his head from the corner of your eye.

He follows you until you reach the restroom door. The hallway's still the same as before, but now you can't wait to hug Morgan to sleep. Vernon be damned.

"That's what they want, you know." Jeonghan can't scream, the city silence would give out your location, but his whisper travels to your ears. "They take your hope away, make you believe it's the end and make you either give in or give up."

You hear no more. Words of rebellion are not what you need, nor a friend or the warm ouch of a stranger. You'll see his fight until the end, but the end will take you with it, whether Jeonghan wants it or not.

heeey *awkward*

The moment he looked up at the grand entrance, lined with press and security, his stomach plummeted. Cameras flashed as reporters whispered among themselves. Then, right by the entrance, he spotted a display showcasing the event’s purpose—complete with a blown-up image of the host.

The prime minister.

Your father is the prime minister.

Jeonghan went rigid. The weight of realization crashed down on him like a damn tidal wave. His mind scrambled, trying to recall every conversation he had with you, every small clue he should have picked up on. The ease with which you carried yourself, your careful yet casual way of speaking, your quiet but unmistakable air of authority—it all made sense now.

Ji Y/n. Ji Jaekyung.

He should’ve connected the dots. He should’ve questioned why someone as well-educated and sophisticated as you chose to teach at a cram school. Instead, he had been too preoccupied judging your practical outfit and your unpretentious behavior during your first date. Now, he was standing in front of a nationally broadcasted event, fully aware that he had walked straight into the lion’s den.

And he still had time to run. He always ran.

Running was easy. It had saved him more times than he could count. But as his feet itched to turn back, he hesitated. Because now that he knew who you really were—now that he had seen you not as the prime minister’s daughter, but as someone warm, self-assured, and unexpectedly real—walking away felt... wrong.

He had promised you he’d come.

Jeonghan was no one. Just a man who navigated the world of the elite through charm and carefully crafted interactions. His life revolved around dating the daughters of the wealthy, women whose mothers he conveniently befriended in art and culinary classes. A charming conversation, a well-placed compliment, and he’d find himself indulging in designer gifts, chauffeured rides, and exclusive experiences. It was a delicate game—one he played flawlessly.

When the relationship inevitably fizzled out, he stayed just long enough to soak in whatever luxury he could before moving on. It wasn’t about love. It was about survival.

He had never met you before, only your mother, who had gushed about you during a cooking class.

"My daughter is really pretty! She's also a very intelligent woman. You two would get along well!"

And then that night, you stood before him—dressed in a crisp yet simple blouse and slacks. Your hair was slightly disheveled, and the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead suggested you had rushed to get here.

"Thanks for waiting," you said, a polite smile on your lips as you caught your breath. "The commute was a nightmare."

Jeonghan blinked. Commute? His past dates never commuted. They arrived in sleek black cars with drivers waiting outside.

With a deep breath, Jeonghan climbed the ballroom stairs, nodding at the suited staff by the door. He gave his name, expecting them to glance at a guest list and wave him through. Instead, they barely checked before stepping aside with smooth efficiency, as if he were someone important.

It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of the guest registry that his breath hitched.

His name was written under the family list.

Not as a guest. Not as a friend.

Ji Y/n’s plus one.

A sudden weight settled onto his shoulders. His fingers twitched at his sides. He was no stranger to high society, but this was an entirely different league. A world of power, scrutiny, and unspoken rules.

He schooled his expression, squared his shoulders, and walked inside. If he was already in this deep, he might as well make it look like he belonged.

Your mother was the first to greet him, her poised smile barely masking the subtle scrutiny in her gaze. She wasted no time in informing him that you hadn’t arrived yet, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation as she sighed.

"That daughter of mine," she muttered, shaking her head. "Always prioritizing those students of hers over her father’s business. She should be here already."

Jeonghan hummed in response, unsure whether he should agree or defend you. He had barely opened his mouth when she looped her arm through his, effortlessly pulling him into the crowd.

Before he knew it, he was being paraded around the room, introduced to your mother’s circle of socialites. Wealthy figures, business moguls, and politicians—each one scanning him with polite curiosity, trying to place him in their world. Jeonghan smiled when necessary, nodded at the right moments, but his mind was elsewhere.

Then he saw you.

The moment you stepped through the entrance, the noise around him faded.

Gone was the casual, practical look from your date. Tonight, you carried yourself with quiet elegance, dressed in a modest but effortlessly stunning gown. The soft lighting of the ballroom caught the delicate shimmer of your makeup, accentuating the natural beauty he had already memorized.

For a second, Jeonghan forgot to breathe.

Because this—this poised, graceful version of you—was the one that belonged in this world. And he was just starting to realize how many time you had surprised him just by tonight

"Jeonghan," you called, your voice smooth yet carrying a warmth that was out of place in such a formal setting.

He straightened up instinctively, feeling more exposed than he ever had. You looked so different, so composed—so belonging in this world. And yet, your smile when you reached him felt exactly the same as the one from your date.

"You actually came," you said, tilting your head slightly, amusement flickering in your eyes.

"I did promise," Jeonghan replied, trying to appear unfazed. But the weight of his name being listed under your family’s guest list was still pressing down on him. "Though, I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting… all of this."

You laughed softly, leaning in just enough that only he could hear. "You thought it’d be a small charity gathering, didn’t you?"

He exhaled, shaking his head with a lopsided smirk. "I really should’ve done more research on you."

"Probably," you teased, then slipped your hand through his arm with ease, guiding him further into the event.

"Come on, my father would like to meet you."

Jeonghan stiffened. Meet your father?

Yeah, he was so, so screwed.

*

"Your dating game has officially reached Ji Jaekyung level."

Seungkwan slid a file across the café table with the kind of flourish that made Jeonghan’s stomach twist. He knew that look—pure mischief, the kind that ended with him either losing money or losing his dignity. Probably both.

Jeonghan didn’t touch the file. Instead, he took a slow sip of his coffee, giving Seungkwan a blank stare over the rim. "You couldn’t possibly be threatening me. I practically rescued you in college, remember?"

Seungkwan scoffed. "Rescue? Please. You groomed me, hyung."

Jeonghan choked on his drink. "Don’t say it like that, you little menace." He set his coffee down with a thunk, glaring. "That makes it sound illegal."

Seungkwan only grinned, completely unbothered. He tapped the file again. "Go on. Open it. I promise it won’t explode. Just a little light reading. Oh, and a delightful photo of a power couple moment.."

Jeonghan sighed but flipped it open anyway, already bracing himself.

There it was. A nightmare in high resolution.

A perfectly timed shot of him and you, walking arm-in-arm out of the event, looking like a picture-perfect elite couple. Elegant. Respectable. Utterly fabricated.

Jeonghan tapped his finger against the page, then flicked his gaze up to Seungkwan.

"This—"

"Yes?"

"Burn this before I burn your entire journalism career."

Seungkwan burst out laughing. "Hyung, you can’t even burn calories properly. What makes you think you can burn my career?"

Jeonghan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated that Seungkwan had a point.

"You know," Seungkwan continued, stirring his drink with exaggerated nonchalance, "people are very interested in the life of the mysterious son of Yoon Group. And now that you’re linked to the prime minister’s daughter? Oh, the clicks, the engagement, the public fascination—it’s all very compelling. The media lives for this kind of narrative, and you, my dear friend, are the perfect headline."

Jeonghan let out a long, suffering groan, rubbing his temple. "You are insufferable."

"But I’m employed, though," Seungkwan shot back with a smug grin.

Jeonghan scowled. He knew where this was going, and he already hated it.

Seungkwan leaned in, lowering his voice to something much more devious. "How about a deal?"

Jeonghan really didn’t like the way that sounded.

"Help me get some inside details on the election," Seungkwan said smoothly, "and I’ll make sure this never sees the light of day. I can be very discreet. Your name? Wiped clean. No suspicions. No drama."

He paused, letting his words settle before adding the final blow.

"Especially from your family."

Jeonghan stiffened. His fingers curled slightly on the table, the weight of the threat pressing down harder than he wanted to admit.

Seungkwan just smiled knowingly.

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, narrowing his eyes. "You think I’d trust you with something this sensitive?"

For the first time in the conversation, Seungkwan’s expression turned serious. He met Jeonghan’s gaze without his usual playfulness, leaning forward until their faces were inches apart. Then, with all the dramatics of a third-rate romance drama, he reached across the table and placed a hand over Jeonghan’s.

"You can trust me this time, hyung," he whispered, eyes glinting.

Jeonghan stared at him for a long moment.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, "I hate you so much."

Seungkwan beamed, squeezing his hand like they’d just exchanged vows. "Love you too," he chirped before casually swiping a fry from Jeonghan’s plate.

Jeonghan sighed, yanking his hand away from Seungkwan’s grip like he had just touched something contaminated. He picked up his coffee and took a long sip, as if the caffeine could somehow prepare him for the rest of this conversation.

“For the record,” he muttered, “I just found out about her father last night.”

Seungkwan blinked. “You just—hold on.” He set down his drink, looking utterly baffled. “You’ve dated the prime minister’s daughter and you just found out?”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “I don’t Google people before I date them, Seungkwan.”

“You should start.”

“Noted.”

Seungkwan leaned back, still trying to process it. “But, she's like… I don’t know, humble?”

Jeonghan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s because she is.”

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, staring into his coffee like it held all the answers to his problems. “I might have to end things with her.”

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow. “You want to end things without ghosting her?”

He tapped his fingers against his cup, gaze softening for just a second. “She’s not caught up in all of it. She teaches because she wants to, not because she has to. She doesn’t use her father’s name to get ahead, doesn’t expect special treatment. She’s just… her.”

Seungkwan eyed him, a slow smirk forming. “You sound suspiciously fond right now.”

Jeonghan shot him a look. “Shut up.”

“I won’t shut up,” Seungkwan said gleefully. “Because this—” he gestured between them, “—this is very interesting. Yoon Jeonghan, the guy who never gets emotionally involved, actually likes someone?”

Jeonghan groaned, rubbing his face. “I will burn your career.”

Seungkwan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, hyung. Let’s make this easy for you.”

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “I doubt that.”

"Stay with her for a little while," Seungkwan said, his tone almost too casual. "Just long enough to get some information about her father’s election plans. I mean, she’s his daughter—she must know something useful." He tapped the file on the table, the sound deliberate, calculated. "And in return, I’ll make sure this never sees the light of day. Your family stays blissfully unaware."

Jeonghan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. This was getting way too complicated.

Seungkwan, ever perceptive, leaned in, resting his chin on his hand. "Come on, hyung. You’re already halfway in. Might as well make it worth your while."

Jeonghan shot him a look. "You make it sound so easy."

Seungkwan grinned. "Because it is easy. You charm people for a living. Just do what you do best—stick around, ask a few innocent questions, and when it’s over, you walk away. No harm, no foul."

No harm. No foul.

Jeonghan exhaled through his nose. “So you want me to spy for you?”

Seungkwan grinned. “Oh, spy is such an ugly word. I prefer exchanging favors.”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “You’re a little monster.”

“And you like it.” Seungkwan shrugged. “Look, you’re planning on leaving her anyway, right? Might as well get something out of it. Once you give me what I need, you can walk away, clean and easy. No drama, no messy emotional entanglements. Just another chapter closed.”

*

“You’re Yoon Jeonghan, right?”

After the meeting with Seungkwan, there had been no real conclusion—no agreement, no refusal—just Jeonghan leaving with the weight of a choice he wasn’t ready to make. Not yet, anyway.

Then fate, in its twisted sense of humor, shoved him a little closer.

He’d crossed paths again with your mother during one of his classes, her arrival as poised and deliberate as everything else about her. Without much preamble, she handed him a neatly wrapped package—an assortment of meticulously prepared, nutrient-balanced meals from the town’s most exclusive chef. The kind of thing that cost enough to pay someone’s monthly rent.

It wasn’t just food. It was… an opening.

At that moment, Jeonghan realized something dangerous—maybe, just maybe, he could make this work. Keep the charade alive for a while. At least two months, enough time to enjoy the perks before he quietly severed all ties.

So when your mother invited him to her birthday party—completely unprompted, with you blissfully unaware—he accepted without hesitation. He didn’t tell you, of course. This was no longer just about you. The connection was shifting, evolving into something more strategic… a mutually beneficial arrangement between him and your mother.

He told himself it was just another role to play. Another part in the game.

A game he controlled.

Or so he thought.

And then—

“Yoon Jeonghan! Long time no see!”

He froze.

That was Kim Jeni. Senior high school classmate.

And she was standing in the middle of your mother’s birthday party.

Why is she here? Is she related to you?

His mind raced through worst-case scenarios like flashcards. What if she remembered too much? What if she casually mentioned his less-than-polished past to the wrong person? What if she recognized that he didn’t exactly belong here?

And seriously—why did she have to remember him at all? It had been years. People were supposed to blur into the background after high school.

But no. Here she was, smiling like they were about to swap embarrassing memories over champagne.

And here he was, wondering if tonight was about to turn into a very public disaster.

Jeonghan’s first instinct was to look away, pretend he hadn’t heard.

But that was how amateurs got caught—by making the wrong move at the wrong time.

So instead, he smiled. The easy, slow kind of smile that said of course I remember you, even though in reality, he barely did.

“Kim Jeni,” he said smoothly, sliding into the familiar rhythm of a man who’d never been cornered in his life. “You look… exactly the same.”

Jeni laughed, touching her hair in the way people did when they weren’t sure if it was a compliment. “I should hope so. Although, I did finally grow out of my bangs phase.”

He chuckled like he remembered it perfectly. He didn’t.

“What brings you here? Are you…?” He gestured vaguely toward the crowd, buying time.

“Oh, my aunt is friends with Mrs. Ji,” she said, tilting her head toward your mother across the room. “I didn’t expect to see you here, though. Still in touch with our old classmates?”

Danger. That question was danger dressed in small talk.

“I move around a lot,” Jeonghan replied lightly. “Not much time to catch up.” Which was true, if “move around” meant hopping from one wealthy circle to another like a very well-dressed nomad.

Jeni’s gaze sharpened—not hostile, just curious. “And here I thought you’d left all this behind.”

His pulse ticked up. “All… what?”

She smirked. “The social scene. The handshakes, the networking, the pretending to care about canapés. You used to hate it.”

Jeonghan gave an easy shrug, as if the question amused him. “Hate’s a strong word. Let’s just say I’ve learned to… appreciate the art of it.”

Before she could dig deeper, your mother swept by with a glass of wine, laying a hand on Jeonghan’s arm.

“Darling, there you are! I want to introduce you to someone.”

Jeonghan flashed Jeni an apologetic smile. “Excuse me. Duty calls.”

And just like that, he was pulled back into the current, leaving Jeni in the eddies of polite conversation.

Still, he could feel her eyes on his back—curious, maybe suspicious.

One wrong move tonight, and she could turn from a harmless blast from the past into a problem he didn’t need.

Jeonghan hated mirrors at events like these.

Not because he disliked his reflection—he’d sculpted that image to perfection—but because they had a habit of showing the man beneath the polish. And tonight, his eyes betrayed him. They were restless.

When Jeni drifted away, her perfume fading into the hum of conversation, a shadow trailed behind her in his mind. She’d been there—at that party, the one after his graduation. The one that ended his place in the Yoon family like a guillotine blade.

It had been a warm June night.

The kind of evening where expensive champagne flowed like tap water, and music bled into the gardens. She was there—the woman—draped in pearls and wearing a smile that could make a man think dangerous thoughts. She was also the second wife of one of his father’s board members, the kind of man who wore power like a tailored suit.

He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Or maybe he had. The line blurred somewhere between flirtation and defiance. But there had been a camera. A flash.

And in a family where reputation was currency, one picture was enough to bankrupt him.

“Leave quietly,” his father had said, not even looking at him. “Before you take our name with you.”

That was six years ago.

Since then, the Yoon son became a ghost—spoken of in murmurs between wine sips. A scandal in a silk suit.

He learned to live by trading charm for survival. Socialites were his currency now. Wealthy, restless women who wanted a man to make them laugh between luncheons and look devastatingly good on their arm. In exchange, they gave him access—rooms he had no right to enter anymore, deals he could skim a percentage from, networks he could weave into a safety net.

And the first time he’d met you, he’d assumed you were naïve. A daughter shielded by privilege, unaware of the games her parents played. But he’d watched you—just a little—and realized that wasn’t it. You weren’t ignorant of this world. You simply refused to play by its rules.

He couldn’t decide if that made you foolish or dangerous.

It intrigued him, in a distant, intellectual way. Not attraction—Jeonghan had long outgrown such things—but curiosity. The same kind of curiosity that had once ruined him.

So when your mother had invited him tonight, he’d said yes out of calculation. A good connection, a potential ally, a well-placed woman with influence. You were a variable, but not a threat. Not yet.

Except now, as the evening unfolded, you were nowhere to be seen.

Guests murmured your name lightly—something about work, or disinterest, or perhaps distance between you and your parents—but no one seemed certain.

Jeonghan swirled the wine in his glass, watching the room’s glow blur through the deep red.

He didn’t look for you.

But he did wonder—what kind of daughter avoided her own mother’s birthday party?

For a man who’d spent years mastering the art of appearances, that question alone was enough to make him uneasy.

*

By the time the orchestra switched to slower jazz and most guests had migrated toward the dessert table, Jeonghan had already pieced together what he needed to know.

You weren’t coming.

It wasn’t just that you were late—your absence had settled into the air, quietly acknowledged, politely ignored. Your mother laughed too brightly whenever someone mentioned you, deflecting with graceful excuses about your “tight schedule.” The kind of lie polite people told when they were embarrassed.

Jeonghan understood that kind of silence.

He’d lived in it.

He took another sip of wine, watching the reflections ripple in his glass.

He didn’t care where you were. He told himself that twice, just to be sure. You were another variable, a missing piece in a puzzle that didn’t concern him.

And yet—somewhere deep down, under the weight of years and cynicism—Jeonghan wondered what could drive a daughter to abandon a mother who still smiled for her in front of a hundred people.

He stayed until the cake was cut, clapping when everyone else did, smiling at the right moments, before quietly excusing himself.

No one noticed him leave.

The next afternoon, the same corner café buzzed with weekend chatter, the scent of roasted beans lingering in the air. Jeonghan arrived first, as usual, claiming his preferred seat by the window. He liked the anonymity the place offered—dim lighting, a soft hum of conversation, nobody who cared enough to recognize him.

He was halfway through his espresso when Seungkwan arrived, slightly out of breath, a camera bag slung over his shoulder and the same smug grin plastered on his face.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” Seungkwan said, sliding into the seat across from him.

“I didn’t,” Jeonghan replied, voice flat. He stirred his coffee idly. “You told me to keep an eye on her family. I did.”

Seungkwan’s grin faltered. “And?”

“She didn’t show.”

The journalist’s brows furrowed. “At all?”

“Not a glimpse,” Jeonghan confirmed. “Her mother covered for her all night. Smiled, laughed, pretended nothing was wrong. But people noticed. They just pretended not to.”

Seungkwan leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Weird. Ji Y/n’s not exactly the rebellious type. At least, not publicly.”

Jeonghan arched a brow. “You’ve done your research.”

“I’m a journalist, hyung. I research before I blackmail.”

“Charming as always,” Jeonghan muttered, setting down his cup.

Seungkwan ignored the jab. “So, what do you think happened? Argument? Scandal? Secret boyfriend?”

Jeonghan scoffed softly. “You think I care about that?”

“Usually, no. But you’re the one who noticed her absence before anyone else.”

He hated when Seungkwan said things like that—too perceptive, too accurate.

Jeonghan leaned back, gaze drifting out the window. “Her parents—both of them—they move like people who can’t afford to blink wrong. Every word, every smile, measured. And then there’s her.”

Seungkwan tilted his head. “Her?”

“She doesn’t fit,” Jeonghan said simply. “She’s polite, grounded, but not… conditioned. You know? Like someone raised in that world but refused to be molded by it.”

Seungkwan studied him quietly. “You sound almost impressed.”

Jeonghan’s lips twitched faintly. “I’m curious, not impressed.”

“Curious,” Seungkwan echoed, dragging out the word like it was an accusation. “That’s how it always starts with you. You get curious, then suddenly you’re knee-deep in something you can’t crawl out of.”

Jeonghan met his gaze evenly. “Don’t romanticize it. I don’t get involved.”

Seungkwan smirked. “You say that now.”

They fell into a brief silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery and low music playing in the background. Jeonghan’s phone buzzed once—an unread message from your mother, thanking him for attending the party. No mention of you.

He stared at it for a long moment before sliding it face-down on the table.

“Whatever’s going on,” Seungkwan said eventually, lowering his voice, “it’s not public yet. But it will be. If the prime minister’s daughter disappears from a major event, the press will dig. I can’t stop that.”

Jeonghan didn’t answer immediately. He swirled the last of his coffee, expression unreadable. “Then let them dig.”

Seungkwan frowned. “You’re not worried she’ll drag you into it?”

“She doesn’t even know I was there,” Jeonghan said with a shrug. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

Seungkwan hummed thoughtfully. “You’re playing with fire again, hyung.”

Jeonghan smirked, finally standing and reaching for his coat. “Fire’s warm, though.”

Seungkwan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re planning something.”

“I’m planning to stay out of trouble,” Jeonghan replied smoothly. “But if she keeps disappearing like that…” He trailed off, glancing out the window again. “…I might need to find out why. For safety. Yours, mine, and your precious headlines.”

Seungkwan’s grin returned, slow and knowing. “Sure, hyung. For safety.”

Jeonghan ignored him, dropping a few bills on the table before heading for the door.

But even as he left, that image lingered—the way your mother smiled too brightly, the way your name sat unspoken between everyone.

For a man who didn’t care, Jeonghan found himself thinking about it far too much.

*

By the time Jeonghan returned to his apartment that night, the city outside had quieted. The glow of streetlights painted long shadows across his floor, and the half-finished glass of whiskey on his counter had long since gone warm. He stared at his phone for a long while, thumb hovering over your contact.

He shouldn’t.

You hadn’t texted him since before the charity event. He’d already decided to stay detached, to play this role carefully until he could slip out clean.

But curiosity—it was always his undoing.

He finally typed,

“Are you free tomorrow?”

The message hung there for a moment before he hit send. No greeting, no context. He wanted it to sound casual, like a man with time to waste, not one caught between intrigue and necessity.

He set the phone down and exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

Because truthfully, he didn’t just want to see you—he needed to understand.

A daughter who skipped her mother’s birthday in a family built on image and influence? That wasn’t rebellion. That was strategy.

And strategy always came with motive.

His phone buzzed.

One unread message.

“Depends. Who’s asking?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. You hadn’t changed—still sharp, still unbothered by his evasive way of speaking.

“The man who made it through your mother’s party alive.”

“You owe me coffee.”

A few seconds passed before your reply came through.

“I don’t remember owing you anything.

But sure. Tomorrow, 2 PM. Same café.”

Jeonghan set the phone aside, the small, humorless smile still lingering on his lips.

He told himself it was for Seungkwan.

For leverage. For the information that might keep his name out of a journalist’s headlines.

But beneath that, quieter and harder to ignore, was something else—an itch under his skin that demanded answers.

He glanced at the window, where the reflection of his tired face stared back at him.

“If there’s such a rumor like that in the prime minister’s family,” he murmured to himself, echoing Seungkwan’s earlier warning, “it’ll be lunch for the other party.”

And he couldn’t afford to be on the menu.

*

Jeonghan hadn’t meant to care about what he wore.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he buttoned the crisp white shirt that fit a little too perfectly across his shoulders. The navy trousers were pressed to a sharp line, his hair neatly styled back, and his wristwatch—an heirloom he rarely used—gleamed faintly in the café light.

He looked like a man who belonged somewhere better. Someone who hadn’t been exiled. Someone who still mattered.

The watch on his wrist pointed to ten minutes past the agreed time.

His other hand held his phone, thumb scrolling absently through old headlines, articles, and photos of you.

Ji Y/n — The Prime Minister’s Daughter Chooses a Life of Service

From Politics to Education: How Ji Y/n Stays Grounded Amid Power and Privilege

Each headline painted the same narrative: the ideal daughter, the humble prodigy, the perfect contrast to her family’s glittering political image.

Seungkwan was right. He needs to do some research before saying yes to a date.

Seungkwan’s voice echoed in his head.

“You’re too tempted by all the money and glory. You might be the most materialistic conglomerate son in the world.”

And Jeonghan had countered without hesitation.

“I was kicked out of the family, remember? I’m technically nobody’s son.”

It had shut Seungkwan up, but the words lingered even now—an echo of something he’d never quite recovered from.

The low hum of the café faded when he saw you.

You entered in a rush, phone pressed to your ear, brows furrowed, your expression tight with focus. You muttered something into the receiver, nearly colliding with a customer before catching yourself. The moment you hung up, you exhaled deeply—then your eyes found him.

Jeonghan stood automatically, hand lifting in a small wave. For a fleeting second, something unfamiliar flickered in his chest—relief, maybe. Or recognition.

You crossed the room quickly, still slightly out of breath.

“I’m so sorry, Jeonghan,” you said, sliding into the seat across from him. “One of my students fell from the stairs and broke his leg.”

Your voice carried that same calm warmth he remembered, even under stress. No embellishment, no dramatics. Just quiet concern.

Jeonghan’s brows lifted slightly. “Is he alright?”

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He will be. I just came from the hospital.”

Of course you did. The prime minister’s daughter, tending to an injured student instead of attending a political luncheon. It didn’t make sense—and that’s exactly why Jeonghan found it so hard to look away.

He leaned back in his chair, studying you with the cool composure of a man who pretended not to care. “You’re quite dedicated, aren’t you?”

You smiled faintly, eyes weary but genuine. “Someone has to be.”

Jeonghan hummed, gaze dropping briefly to the faint ink smudge on your wrist, the kind teachers always had from grading papers. You didn’t belong to the world he’d seen in headlines. You didn’t fit the image. And that mismatch—it fascinated him.

He studied you a moment longer, curiosity tugging harder now. There was something in your tone—an edge beneath the politeness, a shadow behind the smile.

Jeonghan didn’t know yet if you were someone he could trust, or someone who could destroy him.

But for the first time in a long while, he wanted to find out.

The conversation had begun to flow more naturally than either expected. Between sips of coffee and light bites of cheesecake, Jeonghan found himself watching you more than he should—how your expression softened when you talked about teaching, how you smiled politely even when dodging questions about your family. You weren’t evasive, exactly. You just knew how to draw a line.

He liked that.

“You don’t talk much about politics,” Jeonghan remarked, stirring his coffee lazily. “That’s unusual for someone who grew up surrounded by it.”

You shrugged, lips curling slightly. “I prefer things I can actually change.”

A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “You sound idealistic.”

“I sound tired,” you corrected, smiling faintly.

Before Jeonghan could respond, a familiar perfume hit him—a sharp mix of jasmine and expensive regret.

“Jeonghan?”

The voice was sweet, practiced, and far too loud for the cozy café. Both of you looked up to see a woman in her forties approaching the table, dripping in luxury—diamond earrings, a glossy handbag that cost more than a small car, and a smile that belonged to someone who’d never been told no.

For a second, Jeonghan froze.

What should he call her?

A past companion?

A benefit from a darker time?

A victim of his own charm?

Whatever she was, she wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Wow,” she breathed, eyes raking him over with unhidden satisfaction. “You look more handsome than last year.”

You glanced between them, curiosity flickering behind your calm expression. Jeonghan straightened slightly, the easy mask sliding over his face. “Good to see you,” he said smoothly, voice stripped of warmth.

She leaned closer, manicured fingers brushing his shoulder. “I need to go, but call me if you need some entertainment, okay?”

Her wink was quick, practiced—too public to ignore, too intimate to explain.

Then she was gone, heels clicking like a punctuation mark on his past.

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, but before he could say a word, you let out a small, amused chuckle.

He looked at you, brows lifting. “What’s so funny?”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “Nothing. It’s just… you didn’t strike me as someone who’d need entertainment.”

His mouth twitched. “I don’t.”

“Mm,” you hummed, unconvinced. “You just look like you used to.”

Her words, your tone—it all tangled somewhere in his chest. He leaned back, forcing a smirk to cover the discomfort. “You talk like you’ve known me longer than a week.”

You met his gaze evenly. “Maybe I’m just a good observer.”

That silenced him. For a moment, neither spoke—just the faint clink of spoons against porcelain, the quiet tension threading between curiosity and judgment.

And Jeonghan realized that for the first time in a long while, someone wasn’t dazzled or intimidated by him.

You were simply watching—reading him.

And that unsettled him more than any scandal ever could.

*

The relationship between you and Jeonghan had begun to bloom—unexpectedly, almost naturally. The two of you talked more often now, your texts weaving into his days like quiet background music. He wasn’t sure when it started, but he found himself looking forward to your messages.

It was ironic, really. Because when he wasn’t speaking to you, Jeonghan was living a life that couldn’t be further from yours.

His nights were spent drifting between yachts owned by bored socialites, women who craved charm more than truth. He knew exactly what they wanted and how to deliver it—a smile, a word, a presence. It was easy. Meaningless.

And yet, in between champagne laughter and the clinking of glass, his thoughts would always circle back to you.

What were you doing right now?

Had you eaten?

Were you still awake, reading, or lost in thought like you always were?

He hated how natural it felt to care.

“You look distracted, honey.”

A woman’s voice pulled him back. She was beautiful—of course she was—dressed in silk, her manicured fingers tracing the rim of her glass.

Jeonghan blinked, forcing a smirk. “Do I?”

She tilted her head. “You’re not feeling well?” she asked, recalling what he’d said last night about being under the weather—an excuse to avoid following her to her room.

The ocean breeze rolled over the yacht deck, soft but cold, brushing his hair and cooling the drink in his hand. He looked at her, sitting on his lap with the practiced ease of someone used to being wanted.

And suddenly, he felt sick.

Because in that flicker of a second, he imagined you there instead.

Crazy.

Absolutely insane.

You, with your clear eyes and deliberate words, would never set foot in this world. And even if you did, you would never look at him the same way again.

You were the Prime Minister’s only daughter—an emblem of grace, the family’s shining jewel.

And he…

He was the son who had been exiled.

Cast out after a scandal that nearly ruined his father’s reputation. He’d paid for it with his name, his home, and every shred of privilege he once had.

“How about going back to your family?” Seungkwan asked one night, his voice echoing through the line.

Jeonghan sighed, eyes fixed on the dark waves outside the yacht window. “It’s complicated.”

“Too complicated, or too cowardly?”

He chuckled dryly. “I’m still a man, Seungkwan.”

“Yeah?” Seungkwan shot back. “Then act like one. A man keeps his promises. You promised me a cup of tea and the full story about Prime Minister Ji.”

Jeonghan leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “And you promised to stop nagging me.”

“Not until you tell me why the Prime Minister’s daughter texts you at midnight.”

Jeonghan’s lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because she doesn’t know who I really am.”

And maybe, he thought quietly, that was the only reason you still did.

The morning broke harshly—sunlight slicing through half-drawn curtains, the faint hum of the city seeping into the luxury suite he’d fallen asleep in. Jeonghan’s head ached faintly from the night before; too much noise, too much pretending.

His phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

One call after another, a stream of names he didn’t want to see—women he barely remembered, old acquaintances from the club scene, and one from Seungkwan.

He rubbed his face, groaning. “What now…”

Then his screen lit up with a notification from a news outlet.

And his world stopped.

‘The Yoon’s Mysterious Son Revealed — Never Leaving the Scene: Living a Life Among Socialites’

The headline sat above a collage of photos—him on a yacht, laughing beside women in designer dresses, champagne in hand. The shots weren’t just candid—they were curated. Deliberate. Someone had been watching him for months.

The phone rang again.

“Jeonghan!” A familiar female voice burst through the line. It was one of the women from the article, her tone both scandalized and gleeful. “You didn’t tell me you were that Yoon! Do you have any idea how many reporters called me this morning?”

He hung up.

Another call came. Then another. Each voice brought the same mix of curiosity and accusation. His pulse quickened with every word, the weight of exposure sinking into his chest.

And then—Seungkwan’s name flashed on the screen.

Jeonghan answered immediately. “You wrote about me?” His voice was low but sharp, every word laced with accusation.

“What?” Seungkwan sounded genuinely startled. “No—Jeonghan, I would never!”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Seungkwan’s voice cracked slightly, the sound of hurried typing in the background. “I just saw it too! It’s everywhere! Someone leaked your pictures. The article’s not even signed—it’s a ghost drop, probably from an independent outlet.”

Jeonghan stood up, pacing across the room, the floor cool beneath his bare feet. His thoughts spun faster than he could control.

He’d worked for years to stay off the radar. To bury the name Yoon Jeonghan under layers of half-truths and fleeting company.

And now, everything was out.

His hands clenched. “You told no one about me?”

“Of course not,” Seungkwan shot back, indignant. “You think I’d ruin my own source? Jeonghan, listen—this isn’t my doing. But someone knew where you were and who you were with. Someone’s feeding this.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. He turned toward the window, the city sprawling beneath him, glittering and cold.

He hadn’t even finished processing the article when another call came through.

This time, the caller ID froze him mid-step.

“Secretary Min — Father’s Office.”

Jeonghan’s pulse kicked hard against his ribs. It had been years since anyone from that number dared to call him. For a moment, he considered letting it ring out, pretending he hadn’t seen it. But curiosity—or maybe masochism—won.

He answered.

“Kim— I mean, Jeonghan speaking.”

The secretary’s voice was clipped, businesslike, but there was a tremor beneath the tone.

“Mr. Yoon. The Chairman would like to have a word. It’s urgent.”

Jeonghan’s throat felt dry. “About what?”

There was a pause, then the quiet rustle of papers.

“About the news. Not only the one from this morning.”

His heart sank. “There’s another one?”

“Yes, sir,” the secretary replied. “Apparently, the Prime Minister’s daughter was mentioned. You were seen together at an event. The headline reads—”

Jeonghan could almost hear the man hesitate, as if choosing the least damaging way to say it.

‘Disgraced Yoon Heir Seen with Prime Minister Ji’s Daughter — A Scandal in the Making?’

He went still.

Completely still.

The ocean outside, the faint hum of the city, even his own breathing—all of it faded into a dull, buzzing silence.

“I see,” he said finally, his voice even, detached—like a man already used to ruin.

“The Chairman requests you come in immediately,” the secretary added, his words precise but cautious. “He said… if there’s even a grain of truth in this, it could cost both families dearly.”

A bitter laugh escaped before Jeonghan could stop it. “He cares about the family’s name now?”

“Sir, I’m just relaying the message.”

“Of course you are.”

He ended the call before the man could say another word. For a long moment, he stood in the middle of his room, the phone still in his hand.

It wasn’t just about him anymore.

Your name was in it.

You—who had nothing to do with his past, who had only shown him quiet kindness—were now tangled in his chaos.

And that realization hit harder than any headline ever could.

*

You swiped the incoming call from Jeonghan to the left without hesitation, the screen dimming just as your reflection caught in the polished surface of the dining table.

It wasn’t the first call you’d ignored tonight. Or this week.

You had done it deliberately, under Mrs. Ji’s strict orders.

“Don’t you dare mess this up,” she had said earlier, her voice carrying that cold, commanding edge she never let her socialite friends hear. The kind of tone that could freeze air.

Now, sitting across from her and the Prime Minister, you kept your hands neatly folded in your lap. You hadn’t touched the food. The clinking of silverware and the low hum of polite conversation between your parents filled the silence that wrapped tightly around you.

Mr. and Mrs. Ji looked perfectly composed, pleased even. They were savoring their dinner, their expressions calm and satisfied—the unmistakable faces of people whose plans had unfolded exactly as intended.

“With his son’s scandal, Yoon Daemun will never be able to enter politics,” Mr. Ji said, cutting through the air with calculated satisfaction. His tone was casual, but his words were sharp, deliberate. “The timing couldn’t be better.”

Mrs. Ji dabbed the corner of her lips with an embroidered napkin, her expression softening with the kind of smile she reserved for strategy. “We’ve prepared a statement for your response, Y/n. Make sure you show up in public looking… a little heartbroken, perhaps?”

You stared down at your untouched plate, the gleam of silver cutlery blurring in your vision.

‘Victim of manipulation.’ That was the phrase they’d chosen for you. The headline they had already fed to the press.

You—the fabricated daughter of the Prime Minister—were to be portrayed as the naïve woman deceived by Yoon Jeonghan, the disgraced heir.

It was all theater. Every word, every tear, every silence rehearsed. And just like every performance before, you would play your part. Because that was the role you had been chosen for.

It had been ten years since you first met Mr. and Mrs. Ji. Back then, Mr. Ji was merely a Seoul mayoral candidate, still polishing his image. They were looking for a bright, idealistic student from the National Seoul University to elevate their campaign—someone with a clean past, a sympathetic story, and a face the public could love.

They chose you.

A parentless girl raised in a foster home. No blood ties. No history. No one to ask questions. A perfect daughter for a perfect family.

“You’re Ji Jae Kyung's daughter? Woah…”

You could still remember the awe in their voices—the way their eyes gleamed with admiration. Compliments came easily, falling like confetti around you. Some went to him, the respectable politician who raised such a brilliant daughter with perfect manners and flawless grades. The rest went to you—the quiet, low-profile daughter of a man everyone wanted to impress.

But none of it was real.

It was all staged.

Every smile, every headline, every carefully constructed image.

And behind it all stood Ji Jaekyung and his wife—the masterminds who turned you into what the public wanted to see.

You were never their daughter.

You were the performance.

The story they wrote to complete their picture-perfect life.

Ten years later, the role still clung to you like a second skin. You’d played it so long, you weren’t sure where the lie ended—or where you began.

*

You were just about to put on your coat when a voice stopped you near the cram school gates.

“Excuse me—Miss Ji?”

You turned. A man you vaguely recognized from Jeonghan’s circle stood a few meters away, his expression unsure yet determined. The streetlight above flickered faintly, painting both of you in amber.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he began, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “I’m Boo Seungkwan. I’m… Jeonghan’s friend.”

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. “I know who you are.”

He nodded, a faint sigh escaping him. “Then I’ll be quick. I just—wanted to ask if what the news said about him was true.” His voice softened. “That he manipulated you. That he used you.”

You said nothing.

Seungkwan studied your face for a moment, as if searching for a flicker of the girl Jeonghan used to talk about—the one who laughed too easily, who didn’t care about names or titles.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” he continued carefully, “but… Jeonghan doesn’t deserve this. He might have his flaws, but that’s not who he is.”

You looked down at your shoes, at the way the shadows of the streetlight split across the pavement. Every word he said pressed against the guilt you had tried to bury since dinner.

“He hasn’t been the same since the article came out,” Seungkwan said quietly. “He keeps saying it doesn’t matter, but we both know it does. That kind of lie—” He paused, catching himself. “Sorry. I shouldn’t assume it’s a lie.”

You finally met his gaze. His tone wasn’t accusing—just heavy with confusion and the quiet plea of someone who wanted to believe the best in his friend.

“I didn’t write it,” you murmured.

“I believe you,” Seungkwan replied almost immediately. “But maybe you can tell the truth. Even a little of it. It might help him stand again.”

His words lingered in the cold air long after he bowed politely and walked away. You stood there for a long while, watching his figure fade down the street, your throat tightening.

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t Jeonghan who manipulated anyone.

It was you—

or at least, the version of you that the Jis had created.

You glanced at Seungkwan’s face — he looked too sincere, too out of place standing in front of a cram school after hours, holding nothing but good intentions. That made it worse.

“I think there’s a misunderstanding,” you said finally, voice calm but distant. “Jeonghan and I… we were just friends.”

Seungkwan blinked, as if trying to make sense of it. “Just friends?”

“Yes.” You tightened your scarf. “We met a few times, talked about work, shared coffee. That’s all.”

There was no tremor in your voice, but something in your eyes must have betrayed you, because Seungkwan’s expression shifted—disbelief shadowed with pity.

“I see,” he said slowly. “Then the pictures, the dinner, the event—”

“Coincidence,” you cut him off. “The press twisted it.”

He looked at you for a long moment, weighing whether to push further. But there was something in the way your gaze avoided his—composed, but fragile—that made him stop.

He exhaled softly. “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… Jeonghan’s been through a lot. I wanted to understand what really happened.”

You froze for a fraction of a second.

But before he could say more, you bowed politely, murmured, “Good night, Mr. Boo,” and walked past him into the drizzle-soaked street.

He stood there for a while, watching as you disappeared into the blur of city lights. Something about your words didn’t match your expression—the kind of contradiction that Jeonghan had mentioned before.

When Seungkwan finally pulled out his phone, he hesitated before typing.

“She said you were just friends.”

*

The chauffeur’s eyes in the rearview mirror said everything Jeonghan didn’t need to hear. Pity. Disgust. Fear of being associated with the wrong Yoon. The mansion hadn’t changed — white pillars, too much marble, the smell of money and order. Yet when Jeonghan stepped inside, he could almost hear the echo of that night six years ago, the one that tore his name from the family register.

The housekeeper didn’t greet him. She bowed, eyes lowered, and walked away. In the dining room, his father was already seated, posture like a statue carved from ice.

Yoon Daemun, the man the country admired, the man Jeonghan could never please. “Sit,” his father said, without looking up from the newspaper.

The headline lay sprawled across the front page:

THE YOON HEIR SCANDAL CONTINUES — LINKED TO PRIME MINISTER’S FAMILY. Jeonghan took the seat across from him, his movements deliberate, controlled.

“So,” Daemun began, folding the paper neatly. “You managed to humiliate me again.”

Jeonghan’s lips quirked upward. “I’d say the timing was convenient for you. The Prime Minister’s name on the same line—good distraction for the party board, isn’t it?”

Daemun’s gaze sharpened, the kind that used to make Jeonghan feel twelve years old again. “Still the same. No shame. No sense of consequence.”

“You taught me that, didn’t you?” The silence that followed was heavy. Only the faint ticking of the antique clock filled the room.

His father finally leaned back. “Do you know what happens when your name appears next to a politician’s scandal?”

Jeonghan didn’t answer.

“It ruins both sides.” Daemun’s tone was calm, almost too calm. “But it’s not you they’ll remember. It’s me. The man who couldn’t control his own son.”

Jeonghan clenched his jaw. “I didn’t ask to come back.”

“No. You were summoned because I’m still cleaning up after you.” His father’s voice rose a fraction. “And this time, Jeonghan, there won’t be a next time. You’ve already cost this family enough.”

“I stopped being part of this family six years ago,” Jeonghan said quietly. “You made sure of that.”

Daemun stood. The air between them felt sharp enough to draw blood. “You’ll fix this,” he ordered. “You’ll meet with the press, issue a statement—say you lied, that it was all fabricated to harm the Prime Minister’s reputation. They’ll buy it if it comes from you.”

Jeonghan let out a humorless laugh. “You want me to destroy myself for your seat in Parliament?”

His father’s lips tightened. “For once in your life, do something useful.”

The words sank deep, the same as they always had.

When Jeonghan left the mansion, the night air hit him hard. He stood by the gate, hands trembling around a cigarette he didn’t light.

He had promised himself never to come back here again. And now, he realized, nothing had changed — not even the way his father still called him son only when it served a purpose.

Across the street, reporters were already gathering, their cameras flashing faintly in the dark. He straightened his collar, tucked his hands into his coat pockets, and walked away from the house without looking back. This time, he wouldn’t run. He would play the game his father started — but on his own terms.

*

An exclusive interview with Yoon Jeonghan appeared on the front page of The Daily Standard, written by none other than Boo Seungkwan — a name the political and corporate world had learned to both admire and fear.

The article was a masterpiece of restraint and precision. Seungkwan had fought tooth and nail with his editor-in-chief to have it published uncut. It wasn’t a defense piece, nor was it an attack. It was simply truth, stripped of bias — and that made it all the more dangerous.

“He was just a man looking for love one night,” the article began, “and somehow became a family scapegoat by morning.”

Through Seungkwan’s words, Jeonghan’s story unfolded not as a scandal, but as a slow dissection of how narratives were manufactured by power. The way a single whisper could become a headline. How a name could be tarnished to save another.

Every paragraph carried Seungkwan’s voice — calm, analytical, and sharp as glass. He wrote about Jeonghan’s fall from grace, about the exile that followed his first scandal, and how his father’s silence had been louder than public condemnation.

But what caught everyone’s attention wasn’t Jeonghan’s tragedy — it was the twist.

“Mrs. Ji herself had insisted Jeonghan meet her daughter,” Seungkwan wrote. “Even sent gifts, meals, and handwritten notes — tokens of gratitude, or perhaps, persuasion. Who does that for a stranger?”

It was phrased like a question, but the implication was clear. The spotlight had shifted — subtly, cleverly — from Jeonghan’s so-called manipulation to the Ji family’s orchestration.

By the second half of the article, Mrs. Ji was no longer the grieving mother of a deceived daughter; she was a woman who had played the public like a symphony.

The nation devoured the story. News anchors repeated excerpts with caution, as if afraid the words themselves might bite. Political commentators speculated whether Boo Seungkwan had overstepped, or whether he had just cracked open something no one dared to question.

And Jeonghan — sitting alone in his dim apartment with the paper spread across his coffee table — couldn’t decide how to feel.

The world was finally hearing his side of the story.

But the irony was, it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like standing in the eye of a storm that was only beginning to turn.

After the article, Jeonghan disappeared again — not in shame this time, but in pursuit of something real. For the first time in years, he stopped attending events with rich women's names printed on the invitation. No more charity galas where everyone smiled with their teeth clenched. No more private dinners where the wine was expensive but every conversation was a transaction.

He sold all of his luxury things and moved into a smaller apartment on the edge of Mapo. The windows were cracked, and the heater worked when it felt generous, but it was quiet. His kind of quiet.

He started from the bottom — as a project consultant for a small local architecture firm that took contracts no conglomerate would touch. His job wasn’t glamorous: long meetings, stubborn clients, coffee that tasted like burnt wood. But there was a strange comfort in it. Each blueprint, each rejected proposal, each late-night revision — it all belonged to him.

He refused to take calls from people who once claimed to be friends. When invitations from the “rich circle” arrived — networking parties, art auctions, political birthdays — he left them unopened. He no longer wanted to be someone’s favorite scandal, someone’s well-dressed pawn.

For months, Jeonghan worked in silence. He kept his hair shorter, his words simpler, his gaze level. He didn’t try to charm anyone anymore. He didn’t need to. People at work found him odd — polite, reserved, sometimes intimidatingly composed. They whispered about his past, about the man who once made headlines. But they couldn’t deny his efficiency. He had a way of solving problems others didn’t even see.

And when a construction site mishap almost cost the firm a major deal, Jeonghan was the one who stayed overnight, reorganizing the logistics report by hand. The next morning, his boss found him asleep on the office couch — tie loosened, pencil still in hand, a faint trace of graphite on his jaw.

For the first time, Jeonghan’s value wasn’t built on his last name. It was built on effort. Still, every now and then, he caught himself looking at the city skyline — the one his father’s empire had helped shape — and wondered if redemption meant cutting ties completely, or learning how to stand on his own without hating where he came from.

“Do you want to hear what I just found?”

Seungkwan’s voice came through the phone one quiet night. Jeonghan answered without much thought, assuming it was another late update — a joke, a story, something light to end the day.

But Seungkwan’s tone was different. Too steady. Too careful. “There was a report that Ji Jaekyung’s daughter had passed away.”

The words didn’t register at first. They hung in the air like smoke — shapeless, heavy, unreal. Jeonghan froze, the pen in his hand slipping onto the desk.

“What?” His chest tightened. His mind went blank — except for the image of you: laughing behind a cup of coffee, brushing your hair from your face, the way you used to hum when you thought no one was listening.

“Y/n… had passed away?” The words barely escaped his mouth, trembling, as if speaking them might make them true.

“It’s not what you think,” Seungkwan said quickly, his voice low. “It wasn’t her. Not Ji Y/n. The report says a girl — eighteen years old — died by suicide ten years ago. The attending physician confirmed it.”

Jeonghan’s pulse roared in his ears. “What are you trying to say, Seungkwan?” He spun in his chair, the room suddenly too small, too bright.

“I’m saying,” Seungkwan breathed out, almost afraid to finish, “Ji Y/n isn’t Ji Jaekyung’s real daughter.”

Silence. The world seemed to tilt — slow, then all at once. Jeonghan sat there, hearing nothing but the echo of that sentence. Every moment he’d spent with you — every glance, every half-truth, every piece of you he thought he knew — cracked open in his mind.

If you weren’t Ji Jaekyung’s daughter… then who were you?

*

“I wake up every day thinking I’m nobody’s child. Just myself, doing the things I’m best at — teaching, meeting my students, seeing my friends. That’s the real me.”

That’s the real you…

Jeonghan could still hear your voice — soft, certain, echoing in the quiet of his memory. It had started as a casual conversation, one of those late-night talks that drifted aimlessly until he’d asked, almost teasingly, “What’s it like to be Ji Jaekyung’s daughter?”

You laughed faintly before answering, “Whosever child you are won’t define you. Your own work will.”

Those words had stayed with him longer than he expected.

He’d spent years buried under the weight of his family name, letting it dictate who he was supposed to be. When the burden grew too heavy, he rebelled — escaping through decadence, luxury, and fleeting attention. Drowning himself in everything that dulled the ache of being a Yoon.

But none of it had ever defined him.

“Hyung, you’re one of the smartest, most quick-witted people I know,” Seungkwan once told him. “You just need to use it for yourself — not to prove anyone wrong.”

And that was what he finally did.

He started small — late nights, small contracts, learning the bones of the business from the ground up. Day by day, Jeonghan built his own name, one that carried no trace of his father’s shadow.

“This,” he murmured to himself one morning, staring at the blueprint on his desk, “this is what defines me.”

A few months later, his phone rang. It was Seungcheol.

“I need your help with a new building for our firm,” he said.

Jeonghan didn’t know it then, but that call would change everything — the first stone on the path that would carry his name further than his family ever imagined.

Katalk …

Seungkwan: You need to see this.

He frowned, clicking the link. The screen opened to a live stream — a press conference, crowded with reporters and flashing cameras. And there you were, standing behind the podium, composed but pale under the harsh light. The banner above you read:

“Prime Minister’s Daughter Addresses Identity Revelation.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught.

Your voice trembled at first, but you steadied yourself, eyes gliding across the sea of cameras.

“I was raised under the Ji family for ten years,” you began. “But I am not Ji Jaekyung’s biological daughter. The truth is—” you paused, swallowing hard, “the real Ji Y/n passed away ten years ago. I was… chosen to take her place.”

A low hum of whispers rippled through the room. Cameras clicked like rain. Jeonghan leaned forward, his heart pounding, his hand gripping the edge of the desk.

You exhaled shakily before continuing, “I was an orphan. I didn’t have a family or a name that mattered. I was offered a home, an education, a life that didn’t belong to me. And I was too young to understand what it truly meant.”

Reporters began raising their hands, their questions overlapping into chaos.

“Who orchestrated this?”

“Was the Prime Minister aware?”

“Why are you revealing this now?”

You didn’t flinch. “Because the lies have gone too far. And someone else has paid the price for them.”

Jeonghan could feel his chest tightening. You didn’t mention his name — but everyone knew who “someone else” was.

He could barely hear Seungkwan’s voice over the call when it came seconds later.

“She’s doing this for you, hyung.”

But Jeonghan couldn’t answer. His mind was spinning. You — the woman who once told him not to let his family name define him — were now standing in front of the world, tearing down the false identity that once defined you.

The screen flickered as the conference ended, replaced by a headline that felt like a scream in his chest:

“Prime Minister’s Daughter Admits to False Identity — Public Shock Ensues.”

The room was silent after the live broadcast ended.

Jeonghan sat still, staring at the frozen image on his screen — your bowed head, your shoulders straight despite the weight of everything you’d just confessed.

You didn’t defend yourself.

You didn’t accuse anyone.

You simply told the truth.

And somehow, that humility hit him harder than any scandal ever had.

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, the city lights flickering against his tired eyes. For the first time, Jeonghan realized how small his own pride had been — all those years spent hiding behind charm, rebellion, and fleeting company. He’d called it freedom, but it was just fear wearing expensive clothes.

You, on the other hand, had stood in front of the nation stripped of everything — your name, your protection, your image — and yet you looked freer than he ever had.

“She doesn’t owe them anything,” he murmured under his breath. “And she still chose to be kind.”

It humbled him.

It changed something inside him that no lecture or consequence ever could.

That night, Jeonghan opened his window to the chill of the city air. The same wind that once carried gossip about his downfall now felt strangely cleansing. He poured himself a drink, not out of habit, but to think.

He replayed your words in his head, line by line.

“I’m just myself, doing what I’m best at.”

He understood it now.

It wasn’t about running away from a family name. It was about building a life so honest that no one could ever take it away again.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You win, Y/n,” he whispered, half amused, half proud.

For the first time in years, Yoon Jeonghan didn’t feel like the son of anyone — not Daemun’s mistake, not society’s scandal. Just a man finally ready to start living right.

*

Jeonghan swore he wasn’t imagining things when his eyes landed on a woman he hadn’t seen in years, running across the school field with a group of children. His client—perhaps the principal, or maybe the chairman of the school foundation—kept talking, explaining how they wanted to preserve the school’s historical character.

“This school was founded before the war. We’d be grateful if your team could— Jeonghan-ssi?”

The two of them stopped walking. Jeonghan remained still, his gaze fixed on the field. His client probably assumed he was simply watching the children.

“Who’s that woman?” Jeonghan finally asked.

The chairman followed his gaze before smiling, seemingly misunderstanding the reason for the question.

“She’s new here. She moved from Seoul. Oh—aren’t you from Seoul as well?”

Jeonghan nodded absentmindedly. “Yes…” But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had seen it all unfold.

The media had talked about it relentlessly—and perhaps they still were. Ji Jaekyung had fallen from his political pedestal. It had become the nation’s biggest headline. Questions spread everywhere—from conversations between neighbors to comment sections and online forums.

How long had Ji Jaekyung replaced his real daughter with another girl to play the role of the perfect daughter?

Seungkwan had made sure to send Jeonghan countless articles and conspiracy theories. Some claimed the real daughter had been assassinated. Others insisted she had escaped years ago.

Jeonghan had eventually called him. “Isn’t a journalist supposed to be busy?” Seungkwan had stopped sending them. At least for a few days.

If Jeonghan was being truthful, he had been terrified for you. Proud—but terrified.

What you did was incredibly risky, especially so close to Ji Jaekyung’s election campaign. It wasn’t because you could ruin his chances of winning. It was because it could cost you your life. Ji Jaekyung had turned out to be a complete psycho—someone who wouldn’t even spare his daughter.

So Jeonghan had tried to find you. To contact you. Maybe offer whatever help he could. But he couldn’t. You had disappeared. And that frightened him even more. Because he had no idea whether you were safe or not.

Now, you were only a few strides away. Yet Jeonghan couldn't find the courage to walk over and say something as simple as hey.

Because hey was never simple when it came to you. It could never be, not after years of searching, asking around, following every lead he could find… And, perhaps, missing you.

Maybe Seungkwan had been right all along. Jeonghan really was a great pretender whenever your name came up.

"You know," Seungkwan had once said, "you deny it better when we talk about her than when your neighbor asks you to fix their toilet."

"She thought I was a handyman!" Jeonghan had shot back immediately. Another denial.

His phone rang while Jeonghan was driving home.

It was the grandmother from next door—the one who particularly adored, or perhaps nagged, him so much that he had started wondering whether she genuinely liked him or simply pitied him. Somehow, she had convinced herself he was a handyman with no real job, just a man who stayed home all day.

"Yes, Grandma?"

He was greeted by a suspiciously sweet voice. Too sweet. Not the usual one that told him to eat more or complained that he worked too slowly, but the gentle voice she reserved for her own grandchildren.

"There's a young woman who just moved in next door, and her gate isn't working properly. Could you help fix it?"

She continued, enthusiastically explaining what a reliable handyman he was.

For heaven's sake. He had studied engineering, not so his elderly neighbor could recruit him as the neighborhood repairman.

Jeonghan sighed. "I'll take a look. I'm on my way home anyway."

He heard her chuckle. She must be in a good mood, he thought. She had been oddly pushy yesterday while handing him containers of side dishes. Kind, as always—but with an unusual edge to it.

"Go check on her," she insisted. "She looked worried because the gate won't lock properly."

Very pushy.

By the time Jeonghan reached the house next door, he immediately crouched to inspect the gate. The lock was rusted beyond repair. It had needed replacing for quite some time. Pulling out his phone, he ordered a replacement lock online. He'd rather spend the money now than endure another week of the grandmother pestering him about it.

He was still standing by the gate, scrolling through the order confirmation, when the sound of footsteps behind him pulled his attention away from the screen. He turned, expecting to see the new homeowner. He was already rehearsing what to say—that the lock would hold for tonight, that he had arranged for someone to replace it in a few days, and that there was nothing to worry about.

But the words never came. His mouth went dry. His eyes widened. God really had a twisted sense of humor.

"...Jeonghan?”

*

After getting help from a very reliable lawyer, you finally received the compensation you had demanded from the Ji family.

It was finally time to find a place of your own instead of continuing to stay in the tiny studio apartment Minseo had generously lent you. You had been her unexpected roommate for almost three months now, and although she had never complained, you knew you couldn't impose forever.

Or maybe she didn't mind. Her boyfriend, on the other hand...

So, after weeks of searching, negotiating, and stretching your budget as far as it could go, you finally found a place at a reasonable price. A house, even. You can only afford a detached house in this economy if something's terribly wrong with it, you thought. The suspicion was confirmed the moment you saw it in person.

It definitely needed a lot of work.

...Or maybe your eyes needed fixing too, because standing in front of your new house was a figure you never expected to see again.

"Y/n?"

He sounded just as surprised as you were. Thank goodness.

"You're the handyman Grandma from next door was talking about?"

Jeonghan immediately shook his head. Then nodded Then shook it again, waving both hands in surrender.

"No—I mean... she thinks I'm a handyman."

You nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. She told me all about how you fix things around her house."

Jeonghan let out a defeated chuckle. He glanced between you and the old house before asking quietly, "So... you live here now?"

You stepped closer, following his gaze toward the weathered building. "Yeah." You sighed. "The listing forgot to mention it's one strong wind away from collapsing."

He studied the house for another moment, hands tucked into his pockets. "It's surprising someone actually bought this place."

"Because it's me, or because it's the house?"

The question escaped before you could stop it. The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to take them back. Obviously because of the house. What a strange thing to ask.

Jeonghan looked at you. Then back at the house. Then at you again. "...Both." A beat passed. "But mostly because it's you.”

That night, your phone buzzed just as you were unpacking another box.

"Hello?"

It was your lawyer. Or rather, your old junior high school friend. Choi Seungcheol. He called to check on your settlement after the case had officially concluded, but mostly to give you an update on the Ji family's situation following the trial and the media storm.

"I'll send over the final documents," he said. "Legally, you're Choi Y/n now."

You laughed softly. "So... we share the same surname now."

"Hey, I don't mind." Seungcheol chuckled. "I told you before—it's an honor to handle your case. Having you share my surname? That's just a bonus."

Despite the joke, his voice carried genuine warmth. Seungcheol had been the first person to reach out after your televised confession. The moment he saw the broadcast, he called. The next day, he was standing at your door with a briefcase in one hand and coffee in the other.

"I'm taking your case."

There hadn't even been room to argue.

Known for his razor-sharp arguments and quick wit in court, Seungcheol had built quite a reputation as one of the country's most formidable young lawyers. And just as he had promised… He won.

You still weren't sure how to thank him properly.

"You helped me first," he said, as if reading your mind. "I'm just returning the favor."

Back in junior high, Seungcheol had been the stereotypical chaebol heir. Spoiled. Reckless. Completely convinced that money solved everything.

Until one afternoon, when a group of older students cornered him behind the gym.

You hadn't been strong enough to fight them. So you'd done the next best thing. You blasted a fake police siren from your phone. The bullies scattered before realizing it wasn't real. Seungcheol had laughed until he cried. Then he decided you were the coolest person he'd ever met.

"I also have a friend living near your new place," Seungcheol said, pulling you back to the present. "He's an architect."

"Oh?"

"Want me to introduce you?"

You glanced around the old house, where peeling wallpaper practically waved at you.

"He might actually faint when he sees this place."

"He'll probably renovate it for free."

You raised an eyebrow. "...For free?"

"Sure." His grin was audible through the phone. "If the two of you end up dating."

You sighed dramatically. "We both know I already have enough on my plate after everything that's happened."

"Fair point." His teasing faded, replaced by the quiet sincerity that had always made him such a dependable friend. "Then just focus on settling in."

You smiled to yourself. "I will."

"I have a feeling good things are waiting for you there."

*

Definitely not a good thing.

Seungcheol burst out laughing the moment he saw you and Jeonghan freeze like statues. His plan to visit his college friend, Jeonghan, and check in on his client, You, a week after you moved in had somehow turned into his favorite comedy show.

"How do you two know each other?" he asked, feigning innocence.

The moment Seungcheol had mentioned that his client lived nearby, Jeonghan's expression had changed ever so slightly. That was all Seungcheol needed.

Interesting.

He knew Jeonghan's history. He knew Jeonghan's "game." And judging by that reaction… Maybe you weren’t just another woman from Jeonghan's past.

Jeonghan let out a quiet sigh. "We met years ago."

"Yeah..." you echoed with a polite smile.

Neither of you elaborated.

Seungcheol looked from one to the other, a knowing grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Well then," he said, clapping his hands once. "Since we're all here, how about lunch?"

You smiled apologetically. "I'd love to, but I already promised to meet someone."

"No worries," Seungcheol replied easily.

After exchanging a few more polite words, you excused yourself and walked away. The moment you disappeared around the corner, Seungcheol slowly turned toward Jeonghan.

Then, with the biggest grin imaginable. "So..."

Jeonghan already knew what was coming.

"...Who was she to you, Yoon Jeonghan?"

He sighed so deeply it almost sounded painful before casually draping an arm over Seungcheol's shoulder.

"Let's get you something to eat first." He gently steered him toward the opposite direction. "You ask strange questions when you're hungry."

Seungcheol frowned in protest as he was dragged along.

"I do not."

"You do."

"I absolutely don't."

"You once asked a judge if he'd skipped breakfast."

"...He looked hungry."

Jeonghan laughed despite himself. "Exactly my point.”

Once the food arrived, the conversation drifted into comfortable silence. Jeonghan absentmindedly stirred his stew before finally speaking. "Do you remember lending me your car a few years ago?" he asked. "I told you I had to attend some political event."

Seungcheol frowned, trying to remember. "The one where you made me pick it up the next morning because you said you were 'emotionally exhausted'?"

Jeonghan let out a quiet laugh. "That one."

A beat passed.

"It was her."

Seungcheol froze, his chopsticks suspended halfway to his mouth. "...You're kidding."

Jeonghan shook his head. "I met her there. Mrs. Ji introduced us herself and invited me to the Prime Minister's event. I met her parents."

For a long second, Seungcheol simply stared at him. Then he slowly lowered his chopsticks onto the table. "Not her parents," he corrected quietly.

Jeonghan's smile faded. "I know." His gaze dropped to his bowl. "I only found out after everything was over."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Then Seungcheol's eyes widened as another thought struck him. "Wait..." He leaned forward. "So she was the woman from the scandal."

Jeonghan answered with nothing more than a small nod. He still remembered those headlines.

The photos of the two of you standing side by side. The articles that turned a few dinners and conversations into a fabricated romance. One picture after another, each one adding more fuel until the entire country caught fire.

"It didn't end well, then?" Seungcheol asked carefully.

Jeonghan gave a small shrug. "I don't even know if there was anything to end." He smiled bitterly. "Her mother was the one who insisted we meet in the first place."

Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. "...That's strange."

Jeonghan looked up.

"What's strange?"

"I was her lawyer." His voice became noticeably more serious. "I know almost everything that happened inside that house."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Her relationship with Ji Jaekyung and his wife wasn't normal."

Jeonghan's brows slowly knit together.

"They forced her to become someone she wasn't."

"They dictated how she dressed, what she studied, who she met, what she said in public."

Jeonghan's fingers tightened around his spoon. The words lingered heavily between them. Neither spoke for a while. Finally, Seungcheol frowned, more to himself than to Jeonghan.

"Which is exactly why none of this makes sense."

Jeonghan looked at him.

"If Mrs. Ji controlled every aspect of Y/n's life, why was she so determined to introduce the two of you?"

Jeonghan replayed those evenings in his head. Mrs. Ji invited him to events. Mrs. Ji encouraged you to accompany him. Mrs. Ji smiled every time they talked. At the time, he had assumed she simply wanted her daughter to meet someone.

Now, that explanation felt too simple.

"There had to be a reason," Seungcheol murmured.

"A woman like Mrs. Ji never does anything without expecting something in return."

Jeonghan stared at the untouched food in front of him. For the first time in years, he wondered whether meeting you had ever been fate at all, or just another move in someone else's game.

*

“So,” Minseo began after swallowing a spoonful of soup, “your lawyer came to visit… and the ‘architect friend’ he mentioned turned out to be him?”

She calmly flipped a slice of beef on the grill as though this kind of ridiculous coincidence happened every Tuesday.

You nodded weakly. “Apparently.”

Living with Minseo for three months had stripped away every layer of privacy you once had. She wasn’t even your closest friend from university. Yet somehow, she’d become the one person who knew everything.

Minseo had been there the night you confessed the truth—not to the nation, but to her. That you weren’t Ji Jaekyung’s daughter. Never had been. Just an orphan the Ji family had paid to become one. You still remembered the way she’d stared at you, speechless, before quietly asking only one question.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

When you admitted you had nowhere to go, she’d answered without hesitation. “Pack your things. You’re staying with me.” No pity. No unnecessary questions. Just a spare key pressed into your palm.

“It isn’t supposed to be a big deal, is it?” Minseo said, pulling you back to the present. “Meeting him again, I mean.”

You rested your forehead against your palm, your elbow nearly knocking over your glass of water.

“I know…” You sighed.

“But I still can’t shake the guilt. I dragged him into all of this.”

Minseo looked at you for a moment before laughing softly.

“Girl, you told me he used to be a player with no direction in life.” She pointed at you with her chopsticks.

“And now? He’s an established architect. From everything you’ve told me, he rebuilt his entire life after the scandal.”

“If anything…congratulations?” She shrugged.

You stared at her. “What kind of conclusion is that?”

“My conclusion is that you accidentally gave the man a character-development arc.”

Despite yourself, a laugh escaped. Minseo smiled triumphantly. “There she is. You’ve been making that guilty face ever since the trial ended.”

The smile quickly faded from your lips. “I still ruined his life.”

Minseo shook her head. “No.”

She spoke so firmly that you looked up. “Your mother did. That woman intentionally introduced the two of you because she knew exactly who Yoon Jeonghan was.”

You lowered your gaze. “She was trying to get rid of his father.”

“Exactly.” Minseo pointed her chopsticks again, this time for emphasis.

“She leaked your photos together and controlled the narrative. She made him the villain. Every single step was planned.”

You quietly stirred your soup. The words settled between you.

“You weren’t the one calling the photographers.”

“You weren’t the one writing the headlines.”

“And you certainly weren’t the one trying to destroy a political rival.”

You remained silent. Minseo sighed before reaching across the table to nudge your bowl toward you.

“Eat.”

You obediently picked up your spoon. After a few bites, Minseo spoke again, much more gently.

“You know what I think? I think Mrs. Ji underestimated the two of you. She expected you to keep playing the perfect daughter forever.”

She smiled to herself. “But she never imagined her ‘perfect daughter’ would bring down an entire political dynasty with one press conference.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “She definitely didn’t see that coming.”

“No.” Minseo grinned. “And judging by the way you described your reunion… I don’t think she expected you two to become neighbors either.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “Please don’t remind me.”

Minseo laughed. “Oh, I’m absolutely reminding you.”

She raised her glass. “To the terrible house…and even more terrible coincidences.”

*

On his way home, Jeonghan noticed a few familiar faces working on your house. They were contractors he had hired before—people whose work he trusted enough to recommend without hesitation. Seeing them there, he couldn’t help wondering which developer you had chosen. Apparently, it was one he knew well.

The fact that the two of you still hadn’t spoken since Seungcheol’s visit last month proved just how hopeless you both were. Or perhaps it was just him.

Every morning, Jeonghan rehearsed countless conversations in his head. A greeting. A joke. Maybe even an apology. Yet the moment he saw you, all he managed was a polite bow and a small smile. Pathetic.

Night fell.

He had just finished dinner when rain began hammering against the windows. Within minutes, the entire neighborhood was swallowed by darkness as the power went out.

Jeonghan didn’t even have to think. He opened a kitchen drawer, took out a few candles, grabbed an umbrella, and stepped outside.

“Grandma? I brought some candles.”

The old woman shuffled carefully from her room to answer the door, smiling as she welcomed him inside. While Jeonghan lit the candles one by one, she complained nonstop about the blackout.

“Is it already the rainy season?” she grumbled. “Why didn’t they announce it on TV? If it rains this hard every day, I’ll go crazy!”

Jeonghan laughed quietly. “I think the TV is the least of your worries right now, Grandma.”

“Hmph. Easy for you to say.”

As she continued talking, his eyes drifted toward the window. Your house stood completely dark. Not a single light. He glanced down at the few candles still left in his hand.

“Grandma, you’re all set.” He picked up his umbrella again. “If you need anything else, just call me.”

The old woman nodded.

“Nari? Are you home?”

A few seconds later, the door opened. “Jeonghan?”

You blinked at the sight of him standing on your porch, rain dripping from the edge of his umbrella. “It’s pouring. What happened?”

He held up the candles in his hand. “I brought these.”

It took you a second to realize the entire house was dark. “Oh…” A sheepish smile crossed your face. “I completely forgot the power went out.”

Jeonghan chuckled quietly. “I noticed.”

You stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in before you catch a cold.”

He hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside, carefully folding his umbrella near the entrance.

Your house looked even older from the inside. Half-unpacked boxes lined the living room. Rolls of wallpaper leaned against one wall, while paint samples and renovation sketches covered the dining table. It was messy—but lived in.

“I’m sorry,” you said, noticing where his eyes wandered. “I’m still unpacking.”

“It’s fine.” His gaze settled on the exposed ceiling beams. “They’re in better condition than I expected.”

“You can tell just by looking?”

“I’m an architect.”

“…Right.”

The corner of his lips lifted.

“So…”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “I guess you’re not actually a handyman.”

He let out a laugh. “I’ve been trying to convince Grandma of that for years.”

You laughed too.

For the first time since meeting again, the silence between you no longer felt heavy.

You took one of the candles from his hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

He lit the candle with a lighter from his pocket, shielding the small flame with one hand until it steadied. The warm glow slowly spread across the room, softening the unfinished walls and the distance that had lingered between the two of you for weeks.

Rain continued to drum against the roof. Neither of you seemed in a hurry to break the quiet.

“You’ve done a lot already,” Jeonghan said after a while, glancing around the room.

“I’ve had help.”

“The contractors outside earlier?”

You nodded. “They’re good.”

“I know.”

You looked at him curiously. “You’ve worked with them before?”

“A few times.” A small pause followed. “I trust their work.”

You smiled. “Good.”

The room settled into silence once more, but it no longer felt empty.

Between you, the candle gave a small, wavering pulse of light, its flame bending whenever the wind pressed against the old windows. The glass panes gave a soft, uneven rattle in their frames, as if the house itself were listening in. Outside, rain moved steadily over the roof and down the eaves, a constant hush beneath the occasional sharper tap of a branch against the siding.

Jeonghan’s gaze drifted toward the windows, his expression thoughtful in the candlelight.

“You should replace those before winter.”

You followed his line of sight, watching the faint tremor in the glass.

“I know. I've been telling myself that for the past two weeks.” A sheepish smile touched your mouth, small and apologetic.

He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm in the dim room. “I can make you a list.”

“You’ll charge me, won’t you?”

“I thought I was the neighborhood handyman.”

“Right.”

You tipped your head, pretending to consider it, though the corner of your mouth was already giving you away. “So… free?”

Jeonghan laughed, a little more openly this time, and for a moment the tension in the room loosened with it. “I walked right into that one.”

The laughter faded as naturally as it had come, leaving behind something gentler. For the first time, the quiet between you didn’t feel strained or careful. It simply existed, soft and unhurried, the kind of silence shared by two people who had run out of things to say and found they didn’t mind. The rain filled the spaces around you, and the candlelight moved over the table in slow, trembling gold.

“You’ve changed,” you said at last, your voice quieter than you intended.

Jeonghan looked up from the candle, his eyes catching the light. “I have?”

“You smile differently.”

He blinked once, as if turning the words over in his mind.

“I used to think you smiled because you enjoyed teasing people.”

“And now?”

“Now…” You hesitated, searching his face for the right shape of the thought. “It feels quieter.”

His gaze dropped to the candle flame, and for a moment the light softened the line of his mouth. “I got older.”

“I suppose we both did.” A faint smile crossed your lips, brief but real.

“You still bow every morning.”

“You never miss returning it.”

Another pause settled between you, but this one carried no sharp edges.

“I wasn’t sure if I should talk to you.” The confession slipped out before either of you could stop it, and once it was spoken, it seemed to hang there in the warm, dim air.

Jeonghan lifted his eyes to yours. “…Neither was I.”

A small laugh escaped you, half relief and half disbelief. “So we’ve been greeting each other like strangers for an entire month.”

“Apparently.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“It is.”

Outside, the rain thickened, drumming harder against the roof. Somewhere beyond the windows, the lights remained dark, the world reduced to weather and shadow. You traced the rim of your mug with your thumb, the ceramic cool beneath your skin.

“I thought you hated me.” The words came out so softly you almost wished the rain had swallowed them before they reached him.

Jeonghan didn’t answer right away. He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable at first, then slowly shifting into something more honest, more tired.

Then he shook his head. “I did.”

You went still.

He seemed to notice your reaction and continued before the silence could harden into misunderstanding. “For a while.”

His fingers tightened slightly around the mug, the warmth of it lost beneath the tension in his hand. “I blamed you.”

“I blamed myself.” His eyes lowered for a second, then lifted again, steady and clear.

“It was easier than accepting I had no idea what had really happened.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words settling somewhere deep and quiet inside you. “I wanted to apologize.”

Jeonghan’s gaze sharpened, as if that had reached him more than anything else you’d said. “I looked for you.”

Your breath caught.

“I couldn’t find you. I asked people. I even asked Seungkwan if he’d heard anything. He worried too, you know.” A small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips, softened by memory.

The room fell silent again, but this time the quiet felt different. It wasn’t the silence of distance or uncertainty. It was the silence of two people standing at the edge of something old and painful, finally beginning to see it clearly from both sides. The candle burned lower between you, its flame smaller now, but steadier somehow, as if it had settled into the shape of the night.

Outside, thunder rolled across the sky in a long, distant rumble. Inside, neither of you seemed to notice that the candles had already burned halfway down.

*

The final school bell rang just as Jeonghan and the principal finished their last inspection of the newly restored building. Jeonghan couldn’t help but chuckle every time a fourth grader came running over to complain.

“The tiles near the stairs are too slippery!”

“The sink by the football field is too tall!”

The principal immediately shooed them away with a laugh. “Off to class. You can file your complaints later.”

Jeonghan watched the children disappear down the corridor before turning to the principal. “They’re definitely the toughest clients to please.”

“They always are.”

“Teacher Y/n.” At the principal’s call, Jeonghan turned.

You stepped out of your classroom, your bag slung over one shoulder, clearly finished for the day. You bowed politely to both of them before smiling at Jeonghan.

“Amazing work, Architect Yoon.”

The principal blinked in surprise. “Oh!” He laughed. “I was just about to introduce the two of you.”

He looked between you and Jeonghan. “So… you already know each other?”

Jeonghan smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ve known each other for years.” He glanced at you before adding, “We’re neighbors.”

The principal’s eyes widened. “Neighbors?” He looked genuinely delighted.

“Then the two of you should’ve been going home together this whole time! No need for Teacher Y/n to take the bus anymore.”

Jeonghan smiled. “That works for me.”

You nodded, unable to hide a small smile of your own. “Then let me grab my things from the teachers’ room first. Excuse me.”

As you walked away, the principal let out a quiet sigh of relief before turning to Jeonghan. “To be honest, I still don’t understand why someone like Teacher Y/n chose our little school.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow.

“Her résumé is remarkable,” the principal continued. “We’re lucky she even accepted our offer.”

Jeonghan smiled to himself. “She’s always been like that.” He remembered the woman who had once told him that a person’s work—not their family name—was what truly defined them.

The principal nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! She just came back from volunteering in Africa, and this was the very first school she applied to.”

He shook his head with an admiring smile. “Sometimes I wonder what kind of life she’s lived.”

Jeonghan watched as you disappeared down the hallway. A quiet smile settled on his face. “…An amazing one.”

The principal followed Jeonghan’s gaze before smiling to himself. “I suppose so.”

After parking the car, the two of you still had to walk another five hundred meters to the neighborhood. Jeonghan carried the box of materials you had brought home from school while you explained they were your students’ art projects.

For most of the walk, neither of you spoke. Then you turned to him. “I read it. Seungkwan did a good job.”

Jeonghan looked over and smiled. “He did almost too good of a job. My father must be pleased.”

“Your father is a good politician,” you murmured.

“He is.” A small smile lingered on his lips. “Not a very good father, though.”

You nodded. “That’s true.”

He looked ahead as the afternoon breeze rustled through the trees. “But… thanks.”

You turned to him.

“Because you were willing to tell the truth—even knowing how much it would cost you—my relationship with him finally got better.”

You smiled faintly. A month ago, Seungkwan had visited to ask for an exclusive interview for his feature, The Fall of Ji Jaekyung’s Legacy. It told the whole story. How the Ji family’s real daughter had been hidden. How you had been forced to take her place. How they had manipulated the media and used both you and Jeonghan in their attempt to bring down Yoon Daemun and several other political rivals.

“That was the least I could do,” you said quietly. “After everything I put you through.”

Jeonghan let out a small laugh. “Didn’t we agree to stop feeling guilty about that?”

You smiled apologetically.

“Besides,” he continued, “your mother was unbelievable.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How she even found out I was Daemun’s estranged son is still beyond me.”

You laughed. “I have no idea either. The whole family was… something else.”

Before either of you could continue, a familiar voice called from across the street.

“There you are!”

Grandma waved excitedly from her front yard. “I’ve been waiting for you two to come home!”

She pointed at Jeonghan. “Jeonghan! Help me with the plumbing. It stopped working again.”

Jeonghan groaned dramatically. “Grandma… I’m not a plumber.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I’m not a handyman either.”

Ignoring his protest entirely, Grandma grabbed his wrist and started pulling him toward the house.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter.

Jeonghan sighed in defeat before handing you his bag.

“Which pipe is it this time?”

As he rolled up his sleeves, Grandma happily led him inside.

“He complains every single time,” she whispered to you with a grin. “But he always fixes it.”

You smiled. “Grandma… He’s not a handyman. He’s an architect.”

Grandma blinked before breaking into a sheepish smile.

“I know.”

You looked at her in surprise.

She pointed toward the house next door. “There’s a big sign in front of his house.”

You laughed. “So you’ve known all along?”

Grandma simply shrugged. “Architects know how to fix things too.”

You glanced toward the kitchen window, where Jeonghan was already crouching beneath the sink, muttering to himself while trying to figure out the plumbing.

Maybe Grandma had been right after all. Some people didn’t just build houses. They made them feel like home.

FLOWERS WILL BLOOM

Jeonghan would like to say that his interest in flowers started when he was eight, on the day of his sister's birthday. His sister wanted to go to a flower garden for her birthday and much to Jeonghan's dismay (at first), she got to. Jeonghan had thrown many tantrums about it because he said he's a boy and being caught dead in a flower garden would surely make Seungcheol and Joshua tease him to no end about it. However, he lost that manipulation tantrum and sulked all the way until they reached the garden that his sister had been talking about for months.

He dragged his feet as he sulkily trailed after his parents who were hand in hand with his sister who was looking at the flowers with her eyes as big as saucers. She rattled off some statements about how pretty the flowers were which made Jeonghan scoff as he folded his arms and looked away from them.

His eyes wandered until they widened, seeing a familiar face a few feet away between a section of red and blue flower who looked just as unamused as he was.

"Mum!" Jeonghan's mother turned around, facing her son with a look of surprise etched onto her face as she saw the visible difference in his posture and face.

"Yes darling?"

"Can I go over to play with Seungcheol?" His mother's gaze flicked towards where the other unamused boy stood, slightly hunched over a little girl by his side and immediately understood the reason for Jeonghan's posture change.

With a sigh, she nodded. "But you can't throw a tantrum when I say it's time to go later, okay?" She warned him making the boy absentmindedly nod, already on his way to bother the older boy that he had his sights on.

"Cheol!" Seungcheol, the boy in question jolted before he whipped his head around to see his gremlin of a best friend, which made his eyes widen.

"Jeonghan?" Seungcheol blinked as he fully turned his body towards him. "What are you doing here?"

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and gestured to his sister who was walking further away with their parents in tow. "Su Bin wanted to come and see the flower festival for her birthday." He turned back to Seungcheol, "Why are you here?"

Seungcheol opened his mouth to answer when a soft voice captured both of their attentions. "Who are you? Are you trying to steal my brother?"

Jeonghan peered down to see a little girl with bangs and pigtails. She donned a flower dress and had a small frown on her lips as she clutched Seungcheol's right arm, tight into her own. Jeonghan's eyebrows furrowed at the expression on the girl's face before he glanced at his best friend. Seungcheol, however, just looked at the girl with a slight fondness as he shook his head.

"He isn't stealing me away." He assured the girl and used his free hand to pat her head. "This is Jeonghan, the one that I have told you many stories about. He's oppa's best friend."

It suddenly clicked in Jeonghan's brain who this girl was. You were Seungcheol's younger sister by two years. He had only heard stories of you where his best friend had referenced you as Violet. It was a nickname that Seungcheol had coined when you had gotten lost at the age of four and ended up being found in a bed of violets, sleeping away.

Your eyes locked with Jeonghan's as you tilted your head to the side, almost calculating the man in-front of you. Jeonghan felt a little apprehensive under your gaze as he felt your boba eyes pierce his soul and made him feel something… he didn't know what it was exactly but it made his heart race and his chest uneasy.

"Did he come to play with us?" You asked your brother, your gaze unwavered as you continue to star down Jeonghan. Seungcheol spared a glance towards his best friend before a smirk appeared on his face that made Jeonghan's eyebrows furrow, not liking the look in his eyes.

"I think he came because he wanted to learn more about flowers, Violet."

Jeonghan felt his heart drop as soon as the words came out of his best friend's mouth and felt his jaw drop open. "N-no! That's not—" He had tried to sputter out but then he noticed your reaction and his words got caught in his throat.

Your eyes had widened as you looked between your brother and his friend excitedly. "Really?" You had asked him, your tone laced with awe. "You want to know more about flowers?"

Jeonghan felt his mind blank at the sheer excitement in your voice as all the words that he was going to say immediately disappeared from his head. He felt his throat dry up as Seungcheol detached himself easily from your hold — now that you were distracted by a new 'willing' subject, a smug expression on his face. Jeonghan, however, did not notice his best friend's delight and was just laser-focused on you as you moved closer to him.

"Do you?" You had asked him again, when you were just a few meters away from the boy. Jeonghan didn't know what was wrong with him, if it was any other person, he would scoff in their face and sulk or manipulate his way out of the situation. However, he felt himself nod at your words, almost as if you had placed him under a spell.

If it was even possible, your eyes lit up even more as you reached out and took his arm into yours and tugged him to your side. Jeonghan stumbled as his eyes widened, you were really strong. You excitedly jumped up and down as you stared into the hesitant eyes of the boy you had just met a couple minutes ago.

"C'mon!" You said as you pulled Jeonghan towards the red flowers. "I'll make sure you have a favourite flower by the end of today!"

Jeonghan gulped as he peered behind him to see Seungcheol stood there, a delighted expression on his face as he gave a wave. Jeonghan glared at his best friend as the cogs finally clicked in his head. He had planned this from the very start. Seungcheol had basically used him as bait to get out of your flower talk.

Jeonghan felt you literally tug him out of his thoughts as you squatted down to get a closer look at the flowers, effectively making the older boy squat as well. Jeonghan rebalanced himself, his eye twitching in the process as he tried very hard to not toss a glare your way, annoyance filling his tiny body.

He opened his mouth and was ready to turn to you, to spout some bullshit excuse when he saw you gesture to the red flowers in-front of you.

"Look."

Jeonghan looked up, analyzing the flower with an unimpressed expression on his face before he noticed that he had gotten mud all over his new shoes that he had begged his mother to buy. He felt his blood boil with annoyance and turned to you, niceness be damned, he was going to chastise you.

However, when his eyes locked with your frame, all the words he wanted to say died on his tongue and his mind blanked for the second time that hour.

You stared at the roses with a gentleness and softness on your face as your eyes lit up, the more you analyzed the red flower in-front of you. You even went as far as to stroke the petal of the one closest to you as a small, cute smile appeared on your face.

"This is a rose." You softly said, as you absentmindedly rubbed a dew off of the petal of another flower. "Did you know my mummy said that there are more than one hundred and fifty species of roses?"

Jeonghan felt his head shake at your question, an action that he didn't have full control over. "My mummy also told me that all flowers have different meanings." You chirped.

There was silence for a little while until Jeonghan's curiosity got the better of him. "What does violets mean?"

You were quiet for a bit before you opened your mouth and replied with a simple, "My mummy said that they represent modesty and faithfulness." Your nose scrunched up, "I have no idea what that means though."

Jeonghan was silent as he spared a glance at the red roses in-front of the two of you. "Did your mummy also tell you what roses mean?"

Jeonghan looked back at you as you nod with your eyebrows scrunched, almost as if you were trying to recall what exactly she had said.

"She told me about the red ones…" You started. "She said that they mean love and are mostly given from two people who love each other." With that, you turned to the older boy, your head tilted to the side, a small frown on your face.

"I bet you find that disgusting though." You state softly, recalling your older brother's words. "Because you're a boy and oppa always says that boys don't like roses because love is weird and disgusting."

If Jeonghan had paid a little more attention, he would've scrunched up his nose and agreed with your brother's words that echoed in your head. However, as he stared at your little pout and your shiny boba eyes, he felt his mouth run before he had the chance to stop it.

"No." He admitted. "I think roses are cool."

You blinked at the older boy as he processed the words that had just left his mouth with a red flush on his cheeks.

"Really?" You asked, slightly in awe which made Jeonghan's cheeks flush even more at the intensity of the way you were looking at him.

"Y-yeah." He stuttered out as his gaze shifted from your eyes to the red roses, unable to hold your gaze for much longer. "I think the red is cool and…" His voice softened. "They're pretty I guess."

His heart thundered in his ear as all he was met with from you, was silence. His face grew hotter every second that you didn't answer. He was going to save some dignity and pull back when he heard you giggle.

He turned back to you, his eyes wide as he watched as your eye lines crinkle. He felt the same uneasiness in his chest as earlier and blinked at you, unsure of what to do until you finally stopped laughing and just fixed the boy with a big smile.

"You're funny." You admitted, the smile on your face getting impossibly bigger as Jeonghan blinked at you again. "We're friends now!"

Jeonghan eyes widened even more. "F-friends?"

You nodded, a determined expression on your face. "Anyone who likes roses is my friend. So," You leaned closer to the boy as your eyes shimmered in the sunlight. "We're friends now."

Jeonghan felt the tips of his ears become hot as he turned away from you, unable to bare the intensity of your boba eyes. It was almost as if they stared into his soul, He hoped you didn't know the effect that you had on him, because if you told your brother about it, Seungcheol or Joshua would never let him live it down.

Unbeknownst to him, you were a smart cookie. You knew the effect you had on people and Jeonghan wasn't any different. You smiled to yourself before you tugged the boy up to his feet as you drew his attention back to you.

"C'mon Hannie." You said, the nickname rolling off your tongue with an ease that made Jeonghan's heart ache. "I got more flowers to show you!"

Jeonghan didn't know why but he let himself get tugged for the second time that day towards a section of yellow flowers. He spared a glance down towards your co-joined hands then peered back at the red roses that the two of you were leaving behind. He took another look at you and the big smile you had on your face as you dragged him off and felt his body warm.

Maybe. He thought to himself. Flowers weren't so bad after all.

A small smile appeared on his face without him noticing.

Or at least, Roses aren't that bad.

THORNS PROSPER MORE THAN THE BLOOMS

Jeonghan would say that he's a charmer. He also knows that it's a fact that is definitely undisputed by everyone around him.

"Aigoo!" Jeonghan exclaims, jogging over to Mrs Tam, a regular at his flower shop. "Mrs Tam! What did I tell you about opening doors for yourself?"

Mrs Tam, an elderly woman in her seventies let out a chuckle as Jeonghan pushed opened the door for her, helping her with her trolley in the process. "That I should always wait for one of you boys to do it for me?"

Jeonghan clicks his tongue as he flashes her a dazzling smile whilst taking her hand to help her inside the shop. "Bingo!" Jeonghan shoots her a wink. "I knew you were a smart cookie when you first came to the shop."

Mrs Tam laughs heartily and pats his hand with her free one, her eye lines crinkling as she gives him a smile. "You're such a charmer, my dear boy." Her eyes twinkle. "It's a wonder that you don't have a girlfriend yet… Would you like me to set you up with someone? I'll have you know that my granddaughter and her husband have been going strong for three years because I introduced them to each other!"

Jeonghan shakes his head, the charming smile on his face never leaving. "Aigoo." He cooes out, patting the elderly lady's hand. "I can't ask you to do that for me, Mrs Tam. Besides," He looks around at the store before leaning in. "If I get a girlfriend, Shua will feel really alone and I can't let that happen."

"I heard that." Comes an unamused call from the counter, making the two turn to see Joshua leaning against the counter, who rolls his eyes as soon as the two look at him. "I think I have a better chance at finding a girl than you do, Hannie."

Jeonghan shares a glance with the older lady before smirking at Joshua. "Wow." He whistles out. "Sensitive, aren't we?" He is met with another eye roll as Joshua pushes himself off the counter.

"You're lucky Mrs Tam is here." He calls out to Jeonghan who lets out a laugh before shooting her a wink.

"Saved my life again, Mrs Tam." He gives the elderly lady's hands one last squeeze before letting her go and ushering her to the counter. "What can I do for you today?"

Mrs Tam's smile grows bigger as she pulls out a picture from her wallet before passing it to Jeonghan for him to see. He takes the picture from her and his eyes widen as his jaw drops open.

"Wah!" Jeonghan exclaims, reaching over the counter to squeeze the older lady's hand once more. "Congratulations Mrs Tam!"

Joshua peeks out from the storeroom, confusion written all over his face as to what the commotion is about. Jeonghan turns and shows Joshua the picture of the ultrasound with Mrs Tam's grandaugther's name written at the top left hand corner.

Joshua's eyes widen as a smile appears on his lips as he walks over to Mrs Tam to give her a hug. "Congratulations Mrs Tam!" He pulls away and gives her a smile. "You'll make an amazing grandmother."

The older woman's smile gets bigger as she looks between the two boys, her eyes shining.

"You two are too sweet." She says before turning back to Jeonghan. "That's why I am here today! I wanted to get them a bouquet of flowers to congratulate them and I knew that you two would be able to curate a bouquet that is perfect for the occasion."

Joshua fondly smiles at Mrs Tam. "I'm sure Jeonghan has something just right for you." He shoots a teasing glance towards the slightly older man. "Don't you, Hannie?"

Jeonghan meets his teasing smile with a smile of his own as he gives Mrs Tam a reassuring nod. "I got the perfect arrangement for you, Mrs Tam. Give me a few moments to arrange and wrap it for you."

With that, Jeonghan walks around his sunlit store, weaving through the different sections grabbing a few different flowers as his mind spirals with what arrangment style he could arrange this in. All the while, Joshua ushered Mrs Tam to sit at the tea table they had and offers her a soothing green tea while she waits.

Jeonghan, in full concentration makes his way back to the counter after collecting all the flowers he needs and gets to work.

After a couple of snips and snaps and sounds of wrappers being used, Jeonghan places his palms on his hips as he looks down at his creation with a satisfied smile on his face.

He adds a finishing touch of a spritz of a citrus scent on the packaging to elevate it a little more before grabbing it and making his way over to where Mrs Tam and Joshua are quietly chatting.

Jeonghan holds out the flowers in-front of Mrs Tam with a prideful smile on his face. "Here you go!" He chirps out as Mrs Tam lets out a gasp and takes the bouquet into her hands, looking at the full floral arrangement in awe.

"This is beautiful." She breathes out, making Jeonghan's smile grow bigger. She glances up and locks eyes with Jeonghan. "What do they mean?"

Jeonghan lets out a hum and begins to point out the different flowers.

"This bouquet signifies new beginnings. These," He points to the pink flowers. "Are pink carnations. Pink carnations are known to represent maternal care so her receiving her first ones from you will mean the world to her." He moves on towards the purple flowers.

"Tulips." He said with a certain smile on his face. "Signifies joy, happiness and the promise of new life." They shift to the white flowers. "Gerbera daisies are famous for being joyful and uplifting, perfect to celebrate a bub-to-be." His breath hitches slightly as his eyes fixate on the last flowers in the bouquet.

"White and pink roses." He all but whispers out, "is the symbol of peace, unconditional love and new beginnings." Jeonghan stares at the pink and white flowers for a beat longer before he clears his throat and flashes Mrs Tam a disarming smile, trying to ignore Joshua's knowing eyes on him. "Definitely a good way to bring forth new changes and fresh beginnings."

Mrs Tam's eyes twinkle as she glances at Jeonghan, her grip on the bouquet gentle as she takes in the beautiful arrangement once more. "My dear boy." She says, her tone watery. "This is outstanding work."

Jeonghan's smile changes into a more genuine one, softer around the edges as he nods. "I'm glad that I could make it happen, Mrs Tam."

The clock chimes on the wall, making the elderly lady glance at it before letting out a soft 'oh'. "I think that's my cue to leave, my dear boys." Jeonghan nods in understanding as Joshua stands up to help Mrs Tam with her belongings.

"Let my walk you out, Mrs Tam." Joshua says softly. As soon as they reach the door, the lady turns around to face the elder of the two.

"The roses are a really lovely touch to the bouquet, Jeonghan." She says, her eyes twinkling with a certain shine that causes Jeonghan's breath to hitch as he gives her an uneasy smile.

"Yeah." He says, his voice a little raspy, as if he had just found it. "I guess they are."

With that, Mrs Tam gives the boy one last smile before bidding Joshua a 'thank you' and 'goodbye'. The bell chimes as the door shuts, silence enveloping the shop once more as the afternoon sun shines through the multiple windows of the shop, painting the shop in a lovely golden hue.

"Roses, huh?" Joshua asks, the question not really a question with his knowing tone as Jeonghan stands up and pushes his chair back under the table, actively not meeting his best friend's eyes.

"Yeah." He answers, short and sweet, leaving no room for further comments. Joshua just lets out an easy hum, walking back to the tea table to place the two teacups back onto the tray so that he can bring it to the back.

Joshua spares a glance towards his best friend who starts sorting inventory and unpacking deliveries, a serious expression on his face. Joshua internally sighs before he tries to lighten the mood.

"Can't believe Chan and Seungkwan are both late today." He says easily, exaggeratedly scoffing as he gets Jeonghan's attention. "I swear, if they were both out drinking last night…"

Jeonghan lets out a soft chuckle which makes Joshua smile to himself, pleased that he managed to get the other man out of his head a little.

"Well," Jeonghan starts, turning to cast a glance at him. "wouldn't be the first time."

Joshua shakes his head, "They're learning too much from Soonyoung." He lifts the tray to bring it to the back. "All the bad habits, might I add."

Jeonghan smiles at that. "You know how much Channie looks up to him." He runs a finger down the list before scanning the shelf in-front of him, looking for the yellow carnations. "I hope they're here soon though, we have an order for Kay's Jewels in about an hour and a half and Izzy's Emporium right after that." He glances towards the delivery shelf to find it half-full. "And Seungkwan hasn't actually finished the arrangements for that."

Joshua lets out a hum. "How many orders for each is there again?" He makes his way over to Jeonghan. "Maybe I can do one or two so that he doesn't have that much work later."

Jeonghan clicks his tongue as he flips through the sheets of paper on his clipboard, trying to find the order. As he finds it and opens his mouth to share the details with his semi-co-owner, the bell chimes as the door flies open, making the two jolt.

They immediately turn towards the door to see the two younger men, their hairs slightly disheveled as they panted, looking as if they had just sprinted a marathon to get here.

"Sorry we're late!" Seungkwan apologises between breaths as Chan nods, looking as if he would pass out if he actually said something.

The two owners share a glance, their minds running on the same frequency as they immediately turn back to the two, the only goal in their mind being 'torture' and shenanigans. Joshua is the first to speak, putting their plan into action.

"Well, well, well…" Joshua drawls out, crossing his arms. "Did you two finally remember that you have jobs?"

Chan and Seungkwan share a look, opening their mouth to say something but Jeonghan cuts them off, shaking his head as he feigns disappointment with a small pout on his face. "How could you both?" He asks, the pout deepening. "We were swamped with orders this morning and both Kay and Izzy called to double their orders!" He shakes his head again, slower this time to give it the added 'disappointment' effect before locking eyes with the two again.

"I can't believe you two would do this."

The two younger men's eyes widen as they begin to stammer out apologies, saying that they would pull extra shifts as well as do overtime for free when Joshua and Jeonghan's facades break, making them launch into a fit of chuckles.

Upon seeing the break, Seungkwan groans, catching on faster than Chan who just stares at the two in shock.

"You two are terrible." Seungkwan says, shooting them a glare. Joshua smirks walking over to the man, putting an arm around him as he tugs him closer.

"Aww." He drawls out, feigning a pout as he ruffles Seungkwan's hair. "That's not a nice thing to say."

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. "Well, only nice people deserve nice things said to them."

Jeonghan exaggeratedly gasps, placing his hand on his chest as he feigns hurt. "Hey!" He exclaims. "I'm nice!"

Seungkwan shoots him a look. "Nice like the devil maybe." Seungkwan mutters, shoving Joshua off of him which makes the older man laugh before trekking to the back, to probably get started with the delivery orders.

The two gremlins fix their gaze onto Chan who awkwardly shuffles in place, making Jeonghan walk over to him and sling an arm around his shoulder, tugging the younger body into his chest.

"Aigoo." He coos, tucking his clipboard under his arm as he ruffles Chan's hair. "Why were the two of you so late today?"

Chan looks between Jeonghan and Joshua, letting out an awkward chuckle before he swallows, unsure of how to answer which makes the two gremlins share a look.

"Were you out drinking again last night?" Joshua asks, his smirk teasing as the tip of Chan's ears turn red, indicating that Joshua had been right on the ball.

Jeonghan feigns a disappointed sigh as he shakes his head, tutting in the process. "Were you two out with Kwon again?" Jeonghan asks, his eyebrows raising. "You both do know that he's a bad influence on you right?"

Chan's eyebrow furrow slightly as he shakes his head. "No, we weren't with him last night." He answers, glancing between the two interrogators. "We were drinking with Mingyu and Vernon last night."

Jeonghan's eyebrows scrunch up. "Mingyu and Vernon?"

Chan's nod only makes the two even more confused. Vernon, they understood. He had grown up with Chan and Seungkwan, being next door neighbors and all but Mingyu had been apart of Jeonghan and Joshua's circle in high school, sure they had drifted apart a little bit but Mingyu wasn't known to hang around the Do Re Mi trio.

"That's interesting." Is Jeonghan's reply as he lets go of Chan, still slightly confused. Chan rubs the back of his neck as he nods, his eyes twinkling which makes the older boy's eyebrow raise. "You have some gossip to share, don't you?"

Jeonghan had hired Chan and Seungkwan right off the bat after high school when Joshua and him were talking about starting this business. It was a brush off of an idea at first, a drunken night where Joshua brought up the idea during one of their weekly meetups with Seungcheol. Jeonghan rolled his eyes at the suggestion but played along with the idea and playfully said that if he were to do that, Joshua would be his second in command.

They had laughed it off while Seungcheol was in the bathroom but the more Jeonghan thought about it, the more it made sense as an overall idea. The town was small, the only flower shop they had was a bit of a drive away which meant that a lot of the older people had to either opt for delivery (which was done by their children or grandchildren) or they drove out there themselves. Jeonghan also had taken an interest in flowers and due to his photographic memory, he actually remembered a lot of the facts that he had read when he was trying to impress someone back then.

So, after a bad hangover the next morning, Jeonghan started to actually craft out a plan and asked Joshua to help him with it. Joshua agreed to help the moment he had asked him about it and was in-charge of logistics, deliveries, standard operating procedure and the most important of all — keeping Jeonghan in check.

Hence, what started as a small idea grew into something that Jeonghan holds close to his heart. 'Roses Are Red' was built and has been an integral part of the community for the past eight years and Jeonghan couldn't be prouder. This also meant that he knew his employees like the back of his hand, so when Chan's eyes light up like that, it usually means that Chan had some hot gossip to share.

"I do!" Chan says, an excited grin on his face as he starts to buzz a little. Jeonghan lets out a breath of a chuckle before waving his hand at him.

"Alright," Jeonghan starts with a sigh as he turns back to inventory, "Let us hear it."

"Okay! So-" With that, Chan launches into how Mingyu had actually appeared with Vernon last night because they were having dinner just an hour earlier and because Mingyu knew Seungkwan and Chan or had talked to them before, Vernon invited him to their hangout.

He recalled how he and Seungkwan had been confused at first because Vernon doesn't normally invite people to their weekly get-together. However when Mingyu had arrived and they had started drinking, their words getting a little looser, it turned out that Mingyu had actually offered Vernon a job.

"A job?" Joshua repeats, a little confused. "I thought Mingyu's business was strictly a family one?"

Chan nods at that, getting more excited as he unpacks more of the story. "That's what Seungkwan and I thought as well! But it turns out, Mingyu's friend is coming back to town and Mingyu is helping them sort out all of the business stuff because they haven't been here for ten years."

Jeonghan had been absentmindedly listening to the story Chan was unpacking for the last ten minutes, more focused on the inventory in-front of him but those last few words pulls him out of it. His hand immediately halts as he feels his body go rigid.

It couldn't be. Is the first thought that rushes through his head, amongst many others. It has to just be a coincidence. Surely Seungcheol would've told him and Joshua if you were coming back to town. Him especially.

He thinks back to the last few weeks and how Seungcheol had been looking at him and also acting a little weirdly. Seungcheol had been on the look-out for apartments which had caused Jeonghan and Joshua to share a few glances whenever he had mentioned it because Seungcheol was already living in a house that he owned. However, they didn't push, thinking that Seungcheol wanted to get into the business of real estate and if it was something important, Seungcheol would voluntarily tell them about it anyways.

"Ten years?" Joshua repeats Chan's words, the cogs in his brain turning as he spares a quick glance at Jeonghan. "He said someone was coming back?"

Chan nods eagerly at that, "Yeah!" He snaps his fingers. "When we asked him who it was, Mingyu was a little unsure if he wanted to tell us at first but he confirmed that it was a girl."

Jeonghan feels his blood run cold as his grip on his pen involuntarily tightens.

Joshua's eyebrows scrunch. "Why?"

"Apparently it's meant to be a secret." Chan says nonchalantly as he puts a hand on his chin to think. "I remember him saying that I shouldn't be telling someone about it but..." He grimaces. "My head's a little foggy on the details."

"Anyway, after we begged him a couple more times, he told us about her and here's the kicker!" He looks between the two, his hands raised in anticipation as Joshua holds his breath. "She's apparently Seung—"

Chan gets cut-off by Seungkwan barrelling into him like a tornado. The latter slams his hand over Chan's mouth as he shoots him a warning glare.

"What are you doing?" Seungkwan hisses at Chan, taking a shifty eyed glance towards the two older ones in the room. "We weren't supposed to tell them."

Chan blinks blurrily at Seungkwan when Jeonghan turns to face them, his clipboard and pen still clutched tightly in his hand that both his knuckles were starting to turn white.

"Seungkwan." Jeonghan calls with an eerily calm and serious voice making the whole room feel a thousand times colder. "When Mingyu said the girls name. Was it Violet?"

Seungkwan hesitates, taking a glance at his boss before shifting his eyes downwards. Joshua steps in.

"Han." Joshua says, his voice careful as he looks over his face. "I don't think you want to—"

Jeonghan shakes his head, cutting Joshua off. "No." He says quietly. "I need to know."

Seungkwan glances at Joshua who looks at Jeonghan with a calculating gaze, analyzing to see what the latter is thinking about when Joshua sighs and takes a step back.

Jeonghan locks eyes with Seungkwan, his face unreadable. "So," he starts, "was it Violet?"

Seungkwan gnaws on his bottom lip as he casts a glance towards Joshua. He thinks back to Mingyu's words about Seungcheol's sister. Seungkwan had heard stories of a girl and Jeonghan when they were first starting high school and how they were something out of a fairytale. They were the dreamy 'It' couple. However, somewhere along the lines, it didn't last and she left. No one knew why and in such a small town where gossip spreads like a wildfire, it was unheard of.

Seungkwan lets his eyes drift, seeing Jeonghan's white knuckles, the slight tick in his jaw as well as the unevenness of his breathing before he sighs.

"Yes," Seungkwan admits quietly. "It was."

A tense silence envelopes the room as Seungkwan sees Jeonghan grip the pen even tighter, his hands shaking. The older man quietly takes a step back and hangs the inventory sheet back next to the rack before he turns back to the other three, eerily calm.

"Make sure the orders are ready before the next hour so that they can be delivered on time." Chan and Seungkwan blink at the seriousness in his tone, making Jeonghan raise an eyebrow at their blank expressions. "Is that too much of an issue?"

Seungkwan recovers first, shaking his head with his hands up. "N-no!" He clears his throat. "Chan and I will get them and deliver them."

Jeonghan gives the two younger ones a firm nod before turning to Joshua, his serious and unreadable expression never wavering. "Deal with the inventory for me?"

The latter nods, giving Jeonghan an easy smile. "Of course."

Jeonghan nods before he grabs his jacket and walks out of the store without another word. The tense atmosphere breaks when Seungkwan lets out a breath that he didn't know he was holding as soon as Jeonghan's car pulls away.

"We are never drinking again." Seungkwan deadpans, glaring at Chan who raises his hands in surrender.

"It wasn't my fault!" Chan defends, his voice slightly pitchier than normal.

"It so was!" Seungkwan scoffs. "You and your big mouth! Why did you even need to bring it up?!"

"I didn't think it would be that big of an issue!"

Joshua tunes the two younger ones as they continue to bicker, keeping his gaze firm on where Jeonghan had just driven off with a small frown on his face.

He makes a mental note to call Seungcheol later to ask him for drinks and to give the oldest man a piece of his mind. He knows why Seungcheol didn't tell them, but with how Jeonghan had rushed out of the place, Joshua knew that he felt blindsided and would be missing in action till he collected all his thoughts.

Joshua internally sighs, already feeling a headache on its way as he mentally prepares himself for the next week when Chan breaks his train of thoughts.

"Hyung." Chan starts, making Joshua turn to him, tiredly. "Was whatever happened really that bad?"

Joshua gnaws on his bottom lip as he glances back out the window.

"Sometimes, the thorns prosper more than the blooms."

VIOLETS ARE BLUE

You never realized how tiring moving was until you're doing it for the second time in your thirty years of living. The first move you did when you were eighteen was one of the easiest things you did logistically speaking. You were young which meant that you didn't have a lot of stuff to move because most of them were your parents things and they were also filled with memories that would hurt more if you brought them with you.

Hence, when Seungcheol helped you that time, it was just a couple of boxes and one luggage. Now, it was at least triple that.

"I don't know how one person can have so many things." Seungcheol grunts as he pushes another box into the trailer that you had rented for the move. "Plus, you were living alone."

You roll your eyes at his whining as a small frown appears on your lips. "I wasn't living alone." You glance at your baby samoyed that you had gotten a year ago and point at her. "Mandu's with me."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow as he gives you the big brother look of unamusement. "You're telling me that because of Mandu, you had to buy triple the amount of stuff that you used to have?" He asks, gesturing to the trailer that is almost filled to the brim with boxes and bubble wrapped pieces of furniture.

"Yes."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You're such a liar."

You open your mouth to argue when a sigh interrupts you.

"Can we please finish packing first before you two go at it again." Minghao deadpans, carrying a box that was labeled, 'Books #2'. "I cannot spend another night on Violet's hardwood floor."

You roll your eyes at his statement. "Firstly, its seven in the morning, Hao. I don't think we need another night to get two or three more boxes into the back of the trailer. And secondly," You frown before you ask. "What's wrong with my floor?"

"The fact that we're sleeping on it, is what's wrong with it." Minghao says, his eyebrows furrowing as the frown deepens. "I can't believe the three of us were able to fit on the floor."

"Years of college have taught us better." Seokmin states, wrapping an arm around Minghao's shoulders with a cheeky smile on his face. "Besides, Violet's floors were definitely better than whatever our dorm floors were back then."

"I did offer up Cheol's room as well." You state, sparing a glance towards your older brother. "Not my fault that he's a little selfish."

Seungcheol scoffs. "I'm not selfish." He defends, "I just don't think that all of them should be sleeping in my room."

"Oh and my room floor is fine then?"

"Yeah-"

Minghao lets out another tired sigh as the two of you start to squabble like chickens again. He walks around the two of you to get to the trailer and places the second last box into it. He turns to Seokmin to see him watching you and Seungcheol argue with a fond smile on his face before shaking his head.

"Does Mingyu have the last box?" Seokmin's eyes flit towards Minghao before he nods. "He was taping up the last bunch of things in the kitchen. He told me to come out and see if the disaster siblings needed any help but…" He takes a glance at the two of you, a more amused smile appearing on his face. "I think they're fine."

Minghao spares a glance towards the two of you and rolls his eyes. "Can't believe we're almost thirty and these two still go at it as if we're in high school." Seokmin lets out a chucle at Minghao's words as Mingyu comes out of the house with the last box in his hand, pressed into his side.

"Alright!" He exclaims out, getting everyone's attention as he flashes one of his signature pearly white smiles. "The whole house is packed and," He walks up to the trailer and places the box on-top of the one Minghao had just placed down, "loaded!" He finishes, his tone filled with pride.

Your best friend turns to you, a teasing smile on his face. "Aren't you glad Cheol brought us along to help you pack?"

You roll your eyes at his words, "Glad might not be the word that I would use." However, even as you say it, your face betrays you as a grateful smile appears on your lips as you look at the four men. "But this process was a lot faster because of you four. Thank you for coming to help me pack on such a last minute notice."

Seokmin waves you off before slinging his arms around both Mingyu and Minghao's shoulder, pulling them closer to him with a big smile on his face. "Of course!" He chirps, his eye lines crinkling. "We're so excited to have you back in town after so many years! We also can't wait to be the biggest supporters of your flower shop."

You smile at that as Seungcheol ruffles your hair. "Its about time for you to come back anyways." Your older brother says, a knowing look on his face.

His words and expression causes your resolve to falter as your nerves spike. You knew your move to this town was always going to be temporary. At first, you did it because you had to, every part of your hometown reminded you of him and after a while, it felt suffocating. You needed the fresh air and a fresh start.

Hence, you applied for a college in the city, opting for a fresh new start. It was fun for a while but, you knew your heart always longed to go back to your hometown.

You just haven't decided how you were going to face him.

"Yeah." You softly say, peering upwards at your older brother. "I guess it is time to go home."

Seungcheol notices your faraway gaze at the house and gives your shoulder a squeeze making you peer upwards at him. "Do you want to take one last look around?"

You gnaw on your bottom lip before shaking your head, "No, I'm ready to go."

Seungecheol mirrors your smile before giving you a kiss on the top of your head. "Alright." He says, patting your hair. "Let's go."

You whistle for Mandu who immediately perks up and gives you a pitchy bark in response before she pads her way over to you. You squat and pick her up in one smooth movement, cradling the little samoyed to your chest. You smile softly at her as she nuzzles into your hands making you coo at her.

Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, letting you slip into the seat with Mandu in your arms before he rounds the car to slide into his seat. The car starts up with a hum before Seungcheol pulls out of your street in one swift movement.

You spare one last glance at the house through the window before your brother clears his throat, getting your attention.

You lock eyes with him through the rearview mirror, his eyes glinting with empathy before they shift into something cheekier and more older brother like. "So," he starts, enticing you with a smile making you raise an eyebrow. "Ready to see your shop?"

Its around the five hour mark of driving when you see the familiar sign that welcomes you back to your hometown making you smile as it whizzes past you.

Seungcheol squeezes your intertwined hands making you glance at him as he gives you a smile while his eyes are still focused on the road. "Welcome home."

You feel your heart soar with excitement and slight anxiety as you see the familiar spots of the front of your hometown. Feeling the wave of nostalgia hit you, you begin to point out spots with Seungcheol who reciprocates by pointing out a few of his favourite ones making the two of you momentarily break out into fits of giggles as you both recall the old memories together.

"Could we drop the stuff off at the house and then maybe go check out my shop?" Seungcheol quickly glances at you before flashing you a smile.

"Of course." He hums out. "I think the guys would want to come with you as well so how about you let them know."

You hum out in agreement before shooting Seokmin a quick text about the plan.

No more than an hour later, you slam Seungcheol's car door close as Mandu does a shake of herself, warming up her body as she takes in the new environment around her.

"Don't look!" Mingyu calls out to you from behind making you giggle as you avert your eyes downwards, not looking at your store, no matter how much you want to. Mingyu jogs over to your side before placing his hands over your eyes making you let out a small squeal as you try to pry his hands off of your face.

"Gyu!" You exclaim. "Your hands are cold, get them off my face!"

Mingyu chuckles before he relents and puts his hands on your shoulder after meticulously checking that you didn't have your eyes open. "You ready?" You hear him ask, his voice buzzing with excitement as you let out a giggle before nodding.

"Show me what you found for me, Gyu."

As it was a last minute plan to move back to your hometown, you had asked the guys for help in setting up your new shop with around half of the savings that you had saved up from your previous soul-sucking corporate job. Mingyu had taken on the task of finding the perfect place for you to set up the flower shop of your dreams while you continued to pack for the move of your life.

Mingyu guides you to the storefront as you cautiously walk in the direction that he's leading you in. You hear the guys trail behind the two of you before Mingyu firmly grasps your shoulders, signaling for you to stop. Your heart pounds in your chest as your best friend begins a countdown for you before whispering, "Open."

You look upwards and open your eyes before it locks onto the signage, making your heart swell with joy as your jaw drops open.

"Oh my god!" You exclaim, your hands flying to your mouth as you take a step forward, not quite believing your eyes. "It's so pretty!"

What sits at the top of the store is a vibrant blue and purple blend with the words, 'Violets Are Blue' written in a gold cursive with your logo that Minghao helped you design at front. You are speechless as you stare at it before you feels someone brush your arm.

You peer upwards to meet Minghao's eager eyes as he gives you a small smile. "Do you like it?"

You give him a look of disbelief as you gape at him. "Like it?!" You wrap your arms around him. "Hao, I love it!" You affirm making the taller man giggle as he wraps his around you, hugging you back tightly.

"I'm glad, Vi." He says, giving you a small kiss on the top of your head as you pull away with watery eyes.

You take a step backwards to admire the whole shop as a whole. Along with the beautiful signage, your store has a golden trim with a lovely light blue and purple gradient walls. They are accompanied by four beautiful stained glass windows that are definitely a Minghao DIY because of how personalized and homemade the designs look.

You feel tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the shop before you hear a set of keys jingling behind you. You turn to see your older brother and your best friends standing in a row, looking at you with a big proud smile as Seungcheol walks forward with the keys in between his fingers.

He steps forward with a proud grin on his face as he holds out the keys towards you.

"It isn't much." He says quietly. "The inside isn't finished because we want you to be able to decorate the shop in your own vision." He uses his free hand to grab yours and outstretch your palm so that he can place the keys into it before he wraps his hands around yours, encasing them.

"However," he continues, "we're here to help you move furniture and put everything in place, exactly the way that you want it."

You swear your eyes get wetter as you lift your hand to wipe away all the stray tears. "I love you guys." You softly admit, going back to admire the store. Your store.

It feels unreal saying it aloud.

The four gaze at you fondly as you continue to take it in as Minghao peers behind before leaning into Seungcheol. "Are we not going to tell her about the problem right behind us?" He whispers out, loud enough for only Seungcheol to hear as he keeps a cautious eye on you.

Seungheol purses his lips, taking a glance at the shop behind him. "I'll tell her later." He assures the younger man. "Right now, she needs to focus on—"

His words get cut off by the sound of the familiar bell chime from behind them, across the street making the four men's bodies tense up.

You, however, peer backwards to see where the source of the noise is coming from.

You blink as you spot what looks like another flower shop across the street whose colour scheme looks exactly the opposite of yours. You frown, turning to fully face the shop as you spot a person — the owner you presume — sweeping the front of the shop, gathering the fallen leaves from the nearby trees.

You turn to Mingyu and Seungcheol whose faces look paler than before. "How come you guys didn't tell me that there was another flower shop in town?"

Mingyu internally, starts to panic. They didn't plan for this. It is a Tuesday and according to the information that Mingyu had gathered from Chan and Seungkwan last week, they said that Jeonghan always leaves the shop to Joshua on Tuesday.

So why the hell is he, sweeping the floor right behind them?

Mingyu sees you get more suspicious by the second and panics more. He is unsure of what to stammer out as he glances at Seungcheol, hoping that the older man has some kind of plan.

You frown as you stare at the guys share knowing looks and glances at each other. "Are you guys okay?"

"Of course!" Mingyu says, his brain scrambling. "Just peachy!" They only had a couple of seconds to maybe turn you around before either you or Jeonghan spot each other. So, he enacts the plan and reaches out to you, to try to swerve you back to your shop.

"How about we—"

However, Mingyu didn't have a chance to enact any plan when the owner of the flower shop turns around, feeling eyes on him.

You freeze, immediately feeling your heart drop into the pits of your stomach as you stare at the older man across the street, your jaw dropping open.

Yoon Jeonghan blinks as he catches your eye, the exact same shell-shocked expression as yours, overcoming his features.

You feel time stop as you stare at the man that was your first love. All the memories and feelings rushing back, as if you were twenty again, gazing into his eyes while you both were on too of 'Lovers Hill', stargazing under the night sky.

You know he's thinking about it too, it may have been ten years since you last saw him but his eyes still hold the same calculating gaze that you have a love-hate relationship with. He looks good, definitely grown more into the boyish features that you fell in love with.

You feel your heart thunder in your chest as he turns to fully face you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tries to figure out what to do. You feel your feet move on their own, taking a step forward towards him as you watch him do the same. His gaze is intense as he swallows, opening his mouth to finally say something. However, before you have the chance to figure it out, a car whizzes past, breaking the spell between the two of you.

Jeonghan rapidly blinks as if he finally realizes what he was doing before he takes a step backwards and turns to briskly walk back into his store without a second thought.

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the place where Jeonghan had stood a couple of seconds ago, feeling your heart beat unsteadily in your chest. Seungcheol drags you out of your thoughts as he brushes his hand against yours, making you jolt slightly before you peer up at your older brother.

Seungcheol has a knowing look on his face as he gives you a small frown. "Are you alright?" He asks you softly making you purse your lips as you glance around, seeing the other three men also staring at you with the same apprehensive expression on their faces.

You swallow your nerves before forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your ears on your face. "Y-yeah." You clear your throat. "C'mon, I want to see the inside of the shop."

Before anyone can say anything else, you turn around and walk to unlock the door, doing your best to ignore their eyes on you as well as the secret glances that you're sure that they're giving each other, all of them unsure of how to approach this situation.

You knew that the second you saw Jeonghan, that he would hate your guts or give you the cold shoulder. You spent the last week in your house, pacing around your bedroom and practicing what you will say to him the first time that you see him after all these years. However, the second that you did, all that practice went out the window.

You internally curse, feeling disappointed in yourself as you unlock the door.

You steel your nerves and put on a brave face before turning to your entourage, "Well." You try to jest, a teasing smile on your face. "The shop isn't going to decorate itself, is it?"

THE NICKNAME ROSE

You realized that you had a crush on your brother's best friend at the age of thirteen when his teasing started to make you a little more flustered than annoyed, when his boyish smile made your stomach do flip flops and when seeing him made your heart thunder in your chest as you willed for the floor to swallow you whole.

You blame it on your best friends, Izzy and Kay who were over at your house for a playdate when a few figures breeze past your room to go to your brothers room which was right next to yours. You ignore it, knowing that it was just your brother and his best friends when you feel a presence to your right and a soft knock accompanied with it.

The three of you peer upwards to see Jeonghan stood there, dressed in his normal school attire with his tie undone, hanging loosely around his neck as he leans against your doorframe.

"Rose." He greets, the nickname rolling off of his tongue making you scrunch your nose at the older boy.

"Don't call me that."

A smirk curls onto his lips. "And why not?"

You roll your eyes, frowning at him. "You know why."

Jeonghan hums, feigning a thinking motion. "Maybe, you should enlighten me again."

You scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him. He shrugs, the cheeky smirk on his lips growing as he turns to your best friends.

"Kay, Izzy, nice to see you girls."

Your best friends cast a glance at each other before blinking at the boy as you raise an eyebrow.

"Hannie." You deadpan, slightly exasperated. "What are you doing here?"

He gives you a small frown. "Am I not allowed to say 'hi' to my best friend's sister?"

Your eyebrows furrow at that but you keep your guard up. You know Jeonghan well enough that he likes to lull people into a false sense of security before doing something unexpected. Your brother was normally the victim of Jeonghan and Joshua's pranks, the two of them being nicknamed as the evil twins by all the kids in the area for a reason.

"You are." You answer cautiously. "But Cheol said that the three of you have a rather intense amount of board games to play today."

"We do."

You grow even more confused. "So…" You glance out of your room. "Aren't you like late?"

Jeonghan hums in agreement before he gives you a boyish smirk and walks into your room. He crouches down to your level making you jolt backwards a little, realizing how close he is to you.

He scans for your face for a few moments as you hold your breath, feeling your nerves spike as your throat dries up. You open your mouth to ask the boy what he wants when he reaches his hand out from behind him and tucks something behind your ear.

You blink, feeling yourself freeze as Jeonghan gives you a soft smile.

"There." He breathes out making you blink at him, confusion written all over your face.

"What?" You dumbly blurt out. Jeonghan's smile curls a little more as his gaze never wavers from your face making your mind go blank.

You watch his eyes flit around your face for a little bit before he mutters. "Pretty."

The effect that one word causes is immediate as you feel your jaw drop open and your face flush. Your face makes Jeonghan's genuine smile turn into a cheeky smirk. He pats your head before he stands up to walk out of the room, as if he didn't just cause your brain to combust.

"See you later, Rose." He calls, giving you a small wave before he disappears down the hallway to your brothers room, his footsteps getting softer by the second.

Silence envelopes the room as you blink at the door, your brain fried from trying to process whatever just happened.

"Wow." Kay breaths out, breaking the silence. "He has a crush on you."

At their words, you immediately whip your head towards them and blink, your mouth agape. "N-no!" You manage to sputter out, "He so does not."

Izzy raises an eyebrow at your sputters, a small smirk on her face. "Are you sure? He literally just called you Rose and gave you a rose."

Your eyebrows furrow as you stare them down. "What? What are you—"

Your two best friends point towards the mirror making you turn mid-sentence, the sight of yourself making you halt your words. Your eyes widen as you spot the flower in your hair.

A rose to be more precise, just like Izzy said.

"What in the world." You mutter out to yourself, bewildered beyond means as Kay and Izzy exchange a cheeky knowing grin.

"Looks like you got yourself a boyfriend." Kay cooes out making your cheeks flush as red as the rose in your hair.

"W-What?!" You sputter out making your two best friend's smirks grow wider as they continue to tease you. In retaliation and a desperate attempt to get them to stop, you grab at the pillow on your bed before smacking them both with it hard, making them both squeal before it turns into a full-fledge pillow fight.

The three of you continue to yell, squeal and giggle as you all continue to attack each other with the fluffy pillows but Jeonghan's words never leave your mind.

Maybe… just maybe, you like the nickname Roses more than you thought you would.

GETTING STUCK IN THE BLOOM

You frown as your recollection of the memory ends as you stare dumbly at the homemade resin bookmark in your hands. You gently run a finger over the smooth edges of it as memories of how you made it come rushing back.

You recall researching the best ways to preserve flowers and begged your mother to bring you to the nearest arts and craft stores to get resin so that you could preserve the flower that the older boy had given you. You smile fondly to yourself as you let your eyes flit around the bookmark, the golden sparkles glinting as you let the light shine onto it.

How did you and Jeonghan even get to this point.

You internally sigh, knowing that you were the reason as to why it got to this point.

You glance downwards at your feet, where Mandu was snoozing and smile to yourself, thinking how cute your samoyed was. She's a ball of sunshine in your life. You jolt out of your thoughts when the front door to your store slams close making you immediately jump to your feet, feeling your nerves spike before it settles as you see Vernon appear in your vision.

Mandu perks up at the sound before noticing the younger boy as well. She wags her tail happily, stretching before making her way to his side. You breath out a sigh of relief as Vernon places down the box of little trinkets that you had gotten to brighten up the shop and give it more personality.

"I think this is the last box of stuff." Vernon says with a soft huff as he dusts his hands. Mandu paws at his legs, wanting to be picked up making Vernon smile softly at her. He crouches down to pick her up, cradling her in his arms.

You flash Vernon a fond smile as you give his arm a quick squeeze. "Thank you, Non." You sing-song, making the younger boy give you a gummy smile as he continues to scratch Mandu behind her ear making the dog keen at the younger boy. You check the stock with a soft hum before your eye catches the clock at the corner of the store. Your eyes widen, noticing that it was almost half past six.

"Oh my god!" You exclaim, frowning as you turn to the taller boy. "I'm so sorry, I didn't notice the time."

Vernon's eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head, crouching to put Mandu down. "It's no issue at all." He assures you as you shake your head, grabbing your wallet out of your pocket.

You dish out a few bills from it before giving it to the younger boy whose eyes widen in surprise. "Here." You say, holding it out to him with a smile. "Buy yourself dinner on me please! For the extra overtime that I made you do."

Vernon shakes his head as he holds up his hands, shaking them too. "It's really no probl—"

"Non," You say sternly, pressing the bills into his open palms. "I insist."

Vernon looks between your face and the bills that you pressed into his palms before he sighs and pockets the money. He was playing a losing game and he knows it with how stubborn you are, knowing that even Seungcheol — who is pretty stubborn — will always lose to you on that front.

"Fine." He huffs as you give him a smile of triumph. He peers behind you, taking a look at your desk that is filled to the brim with stuff. "Do you still have a lot of things to finish?"

You spare a glance at your desk before you shake your head, giving the younger boy a tired smile. "Not really." You assure. "Just a bunch of logistical stuff for the grand opening this weekend."

Vernon nods. "Are you excited?"

You ponder for a moment, taking a look around the store that had been decorated with so much love the last few days. You had gone out shopping with the guys the last two weeks, purchasing and assembling all the furniture and shelves that you needed as well as sorting out all the inventory stuff with Mingyu and Seokmin.

You were re-introduced to Vernon a day after you came back into town, having seen the boy around in high school once or twice. You had taken quite a fond liking to the boy who was nicknamed as your personal assistant as he started to help you with whatever task you needed.

Since the rest of the guys and your brother had actual full-time jobs, they were only available after a certain time — which was usually at night — where they helped you to put together furniture, set up shelves in the store as well as carry new inventory into the store.

It was just a lot of back and forth and since the grand opening was less than two days away, you had told them that you would be able to handle the rest of the logistic by yourself. They had checked in a couple of times, seeing if you needed their help but you always denied, saying that you also needed to find your own footing for this.

However, Vernon was stubborn and turned up anyways, insisting on helping you get the inventory that slipped your mind or some thrifty things that made the shop feel more you.

You smile fondly at the cozy space that all of you had managed to create in the last two weeks and nod at Vernon. "Yeah." You breathe out. "I am."

Vernon nods before giving you a soft smile. "Good." His phone chimes making him peer downwards to pull it out of his pocket. His eyebrows furrow as he checks it before letting out a soft breathe of a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Friends?"

He nods showing you the message that Seungkwan sent to him. You giggle seeing a selfie of him and Chan in one of tent bars just a few blocks away with a few messages after asking where Vernon was.

"You should go." Vernon frowns at that, giving you a knowing look.

"Are you sure?"

You quickly nod, ushering the younger boy out of the door. "Just because I'm working overtime and don't have a social life, doesn't mean that you shouldn't have one either."

Vernon frowns and is about to reply when Mandu barks, panting slightly making you glance downwards at your little companion. You gesture to her before giving Vernon a teasing smile. "See, even Mandu agrees."

"But—"

"Hansol." You say, the same stubborn tone as before shining through making Vernon lift his hands up in surrender.

"Alright," he breathes out. "Geez, you don't need to bring out the full government name."

A smile pulls at the corner of your lips as you see Vernon trying not to smile as well as you open the door to the store for him. He goes through but leans against the door, peering back at you with a serious expression on his face.

"Call me if you need anything okay?"

You nod, biting back a teasing smile as you push the man further out the door. "Go already! Seungkwan's going to sulk if you aren't there in the next twenty minutes."

Vernon breaths out a chuckle as he lets you push him out the door before he gives you and Mandu a wave, biding the two of you goodbye. You pick up Mandu to use her paw to give him a small wave as well making the younger boy laugh before he fully turns and walks down the street.

You watch him go with a fond smile before turning to your little fluff ball in your arms.

"Let's finish all this overtime, huh?" Mandu lets out a little pitchy bark as you place her down onto the floor before putting on some music to get to work.

You didn't notice how much time had passed until your playlist playing had started to loop, the first song you put on softly flowing through the speakers. You glance at the clock, noticing that it was just after one in the morning making you let out a sigh as you stretch.

Seeing Mandu back in her spot underneath your desk makes you realize that maybe it was time to wrap up for the day. You stand up, rolling your neck as you let out a satisfied sigh, feeling good about the amount of work you had gotten done for the day.

Mandu lifts her head up from her spot making you give her a fond smile as you crouch down to give her a scratch behind her ears which she happily accepts.

"We can go soon girl." You coo out. "I just need to put all the inventory down in the basement and then we can go alright?"

Mandu lets out a soft bark making your smile grow bigger before you stand up to open the door, airing the store out and begin to tidy up. You huff out a grunt as you place the last box in the storeroom, right below your shop.

You brush away a few strands of your hair that was falling in-front of your eyes as you look at the amount of stock and inventory that occupies your little basement. You smile, feeling your nerves in a bit of a flux as you think about how your grand opening is just in a few days.

You couldn't be more proud of yourself. You walk up the low-bearing staircase and place your hand onto the doorknob before going to twist it.

You freeze when you feel the doorknob get stuck in it's path making you panic internally as you try to jiggle it loose.

"C'mon. C'mon." You repeat to yourself, whispering as you use your strength to jiggle it more. You let out a frustrated grunt, realizing that the doorknob would not budge as you go to dig for your phone in your pocket, hoping that someone would still be awake at this ungodly hour.

However, your blood runs cold when you find nothing in your pockets. You dig deeper and check more than once in both of your pockets, patting yourself down to come up empty.

You let out a exasperated sigh, realizing that you had left your phone on your desk. Meaning that you are stuck here until someone realizes you went missing in action or till God knows when.

You sigh as you take a seat on one of the more stable boxes before leaning back as you stare at the ceiling, your thoughts running wild.

You had a little hope in your chest that someone will come and find you soon but you know that it might be at least an hour or two before that happens. Seungcheol was definitely asleep, needing to wake up early today because he had an important client meeting. Seokmin was doing some drunk karaoke with Soonyoung, Jihoon and Kay and the last time he checked in two hours ago, the four of them were already incredibly wasted which meant that they won't be coming to your rescue anytime soon. Minghao, Mingyu, Izzy and Vernon were with Seungkwan and Chan and having last checked in with them not even more than twenty minutes ago, they will definitely not be checking back for at least another hour.

You sigh, running a hand down your face.

What were you going to do?

SERENITY AND MANDU

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay and help?" Joshua asks Jeonghan, a skeptical look on the younger man's face as he eyed his best friend.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes as he all but pushes his chief operations officer out of the door. "Yes." He answers shortly, growing more impatient by the second at his best friend's worrying. "As I said the last two times that you asked me, it's just a few payslips that I need to file and accounts that I need to account for that I, can handle."

Joshua frowns as Jeonghan pushes his bag into his hands.

"And you're sure?" Joshua asks, his tone confused as he stares at the amount of papers on Jeonghan's desk. "There's no shame in asking for help, y'know."

Jeonghan internally sighs. Of course he knows there's no shame in asking for help. The amount of papers that have been piling up on his desk is enough to give him a migraine for a week. However, Joshua's been hovering over him like an overbearing mother goose the last two weeks, after he had made the mistake of going into the store looking as if he had seen a ghost.

When in actuality, he just saw you.

Jeonghan made the mistake of telling Joshua everything, airing out all the feelings that was brought on from seeing you again for the first time since prom night, ten years ago. He knew that Joshua is just trying to be a good friend. He knew and appreciated that more than anything but, he hasn't had a moment of peace since then.

Joshua was always around, he made sure that Jeonghan wasn't thinking about you by trying to distract him with new orders with the help of Izzy, Mingyu's girlfriend who definitely ordered more than enough bouquets to last her for the next year of her life. Kay and Soonyoung also had a part in it, the two constantly calling Jeonghan to ask about really weird flower facts when Jeonghan was just trying to work in peace.

Instead of helping him take his mind off of you, it just highlighted the problem even more and Jeonghan spent every other moment when he was supposed to be working, thinking of you instead.

So, enough was enough and he needed to put his foot down.

"I'm fine, Shua." Jeonghan deadpans, ushering his best friend towards the open door. "I just really need some peace and quiet today to finish all the paperwork that I am behind on."

Joshua looks like he wants to argue but thinks better of it as he stares at Jeonghan's tired expression, looking like he might combust at any second.

"Okay." He says, slinging his bag over his shoulders. He steps out onto the street, pauses and turns to face Jeonghan with a sympathetic expression on his face.

"Han." Joshua calls out, making Jeonghan raise an eyebrow as he hums out in response. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Jeonghan gnaws on his bottom lip at Joshua's tone before giving his best friend a reluctant nod, knowing that he's just looking out for him. The two bid each other 'goodbye' before Jeonghan closes the glass door, locking it and pulling down the blinds.

He lets out a long exhale, feeling the weeks fatigue catch up with him as he closes his eyes for a second, letting the weight of everything rush through his veins. He finally had some peace and quiet.

Jeonghan opens his eyes, walking to his desk to connect his phone to the speakers and scrolls till he finds the playlist he's looking for, putting it on as it softly flows out of the overhead sound system. He sits down at his chair, feeling slightly more at ease before he opens the first stack of papers that he needs to compile.

"Alright." He whispers to him. "Let's do this."

About three to four hours past before Jeonghan looks back up at the clock again, blinking in surprise to see that he's almost been doing the paperwork till almost two in the morning. He closes the file in-front of him and counts the amount of files that he still needs to work on.

Realizing there is only four left, he lets his shoulders drop as he sighs and spins his chair around while his eyes are closed. He should go home now, it's Joshua's day off tomorrow which meant that he needed to be around for both Seungkwan and Chan to be able to get into the store to prepare the multiple delivery orders for a wedding in the next town over.

Jeonghan feels himself freeze at the word wedding. He hadn't thought about that in a long time, always pushing the word and it's entailment to the back of his mind. He lets out a frustrated groan as he runs a hand over his face, feeling more fatigued and unfocused by the second.

"Alright." He mutters, standing up to pack up for the night. He tidies up all the loose papers on his desk, writing himself a little post-it note to remember where exactly he left off so that he can just continue when he comes in the morning.

He grabs his hoodie and his bag before switching off the store lights and locking the door.

Jeonghan inhales, filling his lungs with fresh air as he closes his eyes, feeling said air course through his veins, rejuvenating him more by the second. Jeonghan feels a small smile appear on his lips as the night ambience seems to soothe him. When he was younger, he never really enjoyed the serenity of nights but now that he was older, he learned how to appreciate the quietness and the ambience of it, realizing how much more at ease he felt during these hours.

He allows himself a few more seconds to soak in the quietness when his eyebrows furrow hearing a pitchy bark coming from across the road. He peers across to see a white little fluff ball padding about, looking for something… or someone?

His eyebrows scrunch more as he slowly approaches the little dog that's pacing the front of… your flower shop? Jeonghan gets more confused by the second as he approaches the little dog.

"Hey girl." Jeonghan mutters out, crouching down so that your dog could sniff his hands and get familiar with him. The samoyed does a circle around Jeonghan, sniffing him cautiously before nudging his hands with her head, licking it once.

Jeonghan lets out a soft chuckle as he picks her up, cradling her in his arms before stroking her stomach, her collar moving as he does. He peers at the name on it before rolling his eyes.

Of course you would name her Mandu. He shakes his head before noticing that you had left the door to your store open. He peers downwards at your dog, internally wrestling with himself.

He could just put Mandu back into the store and then close the door behind him so that he doesn't have to deal with you because apparently ten years and two weeks was still not enough for him to deal with the complex feelings that he has for you.

However, he couldn't deny the unexplainable pull that your shop had, almost as if it was tugging him to go into the store. With one last glance at Mandu who was in the midst of licking his free hand, he sighs, steels his nerves and walks into the store.

Upon entering, he notices how the interior is just very much you, the coziness and how everything was organized was just a reflection of you as a person. Everything had it's own little space, the shelves were organized but in organic places to make it more natural. The different trinkets that you had placed around reflected more of the homely and cozy feel that you were going for and all the inventory that was on the shelves were organized according to different categories.

Jeonghan smiles to himself. You really hadn't changed that much. He wanders around the store more, cradling Mandu more as he looks around for you, his face getting more confused by the second as he is unable to find you. He approaches your desk, frowning more when he sees your phone there. He looks around, placing Mandu down as he places his bag on your desk.

He calls out for you, your name slipping past his lips making him cringe slightly. "Violet?" He tries again, feeling a little awkward as the unfamiliar nickname passes through his lips. Your phone buzzes making him glance over at it, seeing a text from your groupchat with Mingyu, Minghao and Seokmin appear on the screen.

However, what Jeonghan sees behind that is what causes him to freeze. The background image being something that he recognizes instantly.

It was a picture of you and him on your first date together where you had gone for a flower garland making workshop together. He remembers scrambling to find something perfect for your first date and came across this poster for a flower garland workshop that was happening that very weekend. He was also so delighted to find out that the workshop took place in the flower garden, the very same place where the two of you first met.

He made sure that everything was perfect, checking the weather every other hour, preparing food, snacks and drinks for the two of you to enjoy as well as begging Joshua and Seungcheol to find the perfect place for the two of you to have a little spring picnic after the workshop.

Joshua had instantly agreed to it but Seungcheol was a little more reluctant, not sure if he wanted to help set up his sister and his best friend more than he already needed to but after Joshua talked to him, Seungcheol sighed and agreed to help.

The picnic setup was the least of his worries though because on the day itself, Jeonghan felt like he was losing it. His palms kept getting sweaty everytime you looked at him and that caused the flower garland that he was working on to slip out of his hands every other minute. He scrambled to pick it up everytime, praying that you didn't see it or notice but he knew better than that. He knew that you noticed everything.

A giggle passed through your lips as he dropped it for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes alone causing him to peer upwards at you, his blood running cold.

'Good job, Jeonghan.' He thought to himself. 'Now she thinks you're the biggest loser on the planet for not being able to hold a flower garland properly.'

However, you surprise him by placing the flower garland that you made onto his head, a shy smile on your face.

"Pretty." You breath out, causing Jeonghan's eyes to widen as his jaw drops open. The familiar turn of events effectively frying his brain which causes you to giggle more as you raise an eyebrow.

"You going to give me your flower garland or what?"

He blinked at you before placing the uneven flower garland on your head, gnawing his bottom lip as he did so. It was safe to say that his flower garland skills could use some work.

However, you didn't seem to mind, a rosy blush blooming on your cheeks as you gave Jeonghan a soft smile. "How do I look?"

Jeonghan thinks that question is moot. You looked ethereal, you always do but something about the spring sunlight today and maybe just being on this date with him. You looked more beautiful than he ever thought was possible.

"Beautiful." He remembers blurting out. "You look beautiful."

Your cheeks had flushed more at his admittance, your smile widening as your eye lines crinkled causing Jeonghan's heart to flutter.

"Thank you." You softly say, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Jeonghan felt his throat go dry, darting his tongue out to wet his lips as he opens his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a crackle in the sky.

The two of you peered upwards to see the once beautiful sky turn gray as it starts to drizzle.

Jeonghan felt his heart drop as the drizzle slowly transitioned to a full on rain making the two of you scramble for your stuff. The two of you dashed underneath a tree close to the roses, standing there as the rain began to pick up more.

Jeonghan internally cursed as he pulled out his phone to see two messages from Joshua and Seungcheol telling him that they had packed up the stuff a couple minutes earlier because they noticed the clouds coming in.

He was too enthralled by you to even notice the change in the weather. He shoved his phone back into his pocket before he peered at you. Your baby blue dress had a few splatters of rain on it, turning it into a darker blue as your hair was slightly damp, sticking to the side of your face.

However, Jeonghan thought you never looked prettier.

"I'm sorry." He found himself blurting out. You glanced upwards at him, your eyebrows furrowed which caused him to continue. "I constantly checked the weather and it said it was going to be sunny the whole day but it turned into this and now your dress is ruined and—"

You cut his ramble off by stepping closer to the boy with a small frown on your face. "Are you seriously apologizing for the weather?"

Jeonghan blinked at you, his throat dry as a flush crept up his face from his neck. He realized how stupid it sounded now that you phrased it like that. Before he had the chance to make a fool out of himself further, you giggle.

Jeonghan felt his heart rate pick up as you stepped even closer to him, your flowery scent filling his nose as you peered upwards at him, your eyes locked onto his as you scan his face.

"Breathe, Hannie." You said softly, giving the boy a small smirk. "You look like you're going to pass out."

Jeonghan didn't even realize that he was holding his breath until you pointed out, causing him to slowly exhale and inhale as he tried to steel his nerves, the effect you have on him very obvious.

"Sorry." He muttered out which caused your smirk to curl more as you hummed out an 'it's okay'. Jeonghan felt like he was losing it, your scent overwhelming his senses as he had the biggest desire to kiss you, his eyes involuntarily flicking downwards.

He watched you dart your tongue out to wet your lips causing him to inwardly groan at the sight, the desire to kiss you growing more by the second.

"Don't." He hoarsely stated.

"Don't what?"

"You know what."

Your lips curled into another smirk as you tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence. "I'm not sure I do."

Jeonghan felt his hand twitch at his side as he watched your own eyes flick to his lips. "If you continue to act this way." He whispered out as he leaned in a little. "I might not be able to control myself."

He watched your eyes flick downwards to his lips once more as you dart your tongue out to wet yours before saying. "Then don't."

Jeonghan immediately felt his resolve snap as he pulled you flush into him, his lips on yours. You gasped into his mouth which Jeonghan used as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to massage against your own. Jeonghan groaned as he pulled you impossibly closer to him, his hands firm on your waist.

You pulled away a couple seconds later, panting a little as you rest your forehead against his. He watched you gnaw on your bottom lip which caused him to inwardly groan again.

"You're doing it again." He muttered out causing the cheeky smirk to appear on your lips again as you breathed out a giggle.

"Am I?" You asked as nonchalantly as you could, your smirk giving you away making Jeonghan nod. You pulled back, meeting his eyes again as you tilted your head to the side.

"What are you going to do about it then?"

Jeonghan rolled his eyes before bringing you in for another searing kiss as the rain continued to pour down, drenching the two of you more by the second but the two of you didn't care.

Because what else was meant to matter when you both were in each others arms?

Jeonghan feels Mandu pawing at his leg, bringing him out of the memory as he sighs, still unsure as to where you are. He hears a shift of something beneath him making him tense slightly as he tries to listen for it again. He glances to the corner of the room before noticing that there was a staircase there.

He peers at Mandu. "Stay." He tells her sternly. She pants before tilting her head to the side, a habit that she had no doubt, picked up from you.

Jeonghan trudges down the stairs to find a door. He swallows his nerves before lifting his hand and knocking on it.

"Violet?" He calls out. "Are you in there?"

There's silence for a bit causing him to frown so he tries again.

"Vi?" He calls out, louder this time as he knocks a few more times. "Is that you in there?"

"Hannie?" The nickname causes him to involuntarily shudder, sounding so sweet as it falls from your lips. "Is that you?"

"Yeah. Are you alright?"

"No." He hears you say with an exasperated scoff. "The door won't budge so I've been trapped in here for god knows how long."

He frowns. "Alright, hang on!"

You wait patiently behind the door, palms getting sweatier by the second as you internally prepare to see your ex-boyfriend for the first time in two weeks. The doorknob jiggles a little before it turns and your heart races as you see Jeonghan appear as soon as the door opens. He's dressed in a comfortable black hoodie and sweatpants, looking like he just got off work with a beanie on top of his head.

He blinks a little, his eyes adjusting to the dark room before they lock onto you.

Silence wraps around the two of you as you just stare at each other, a weird tension filling the room. You swallow as you feel Jeonghan eye you up and down, feeling yourself getting warmer by the second.

Mandu's high pitch bark interrupts whatever weird moment the two of you have going on as she wanders past Jeonghan and hops down the steps to get to you. She doesn't get far though, missing one of the steps as they were bigger than her, causing her to fall.

Your heart drops as you scramble up from the box you were seated on. "Mandu!" You exclaim, reaching out for her. Jeonghan reacts faster, immediately jumping down a few steps to crouch down and scoop her up into his arms, causing the door to slam close.

Your blood runs cold. "No." You whisper as you push past Jeonghan to get to the door, trying to turn the doorknob again.

"Fuck." You swear, jiggling the doorknob more by the second, realizing that the door wasn't opening.

"We're stuck!" You exclaim, tossing your arms up in an exasperated gesture.

You watch Jeonghan freeze with Mandu in his arms as he eyes all over your face to see if you were joking or not. When he finds no humour in your features, he immediately hands Mandu over to you and tries to jiggle at the doorknob.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." He deadpans, muttering under his breath as he rips his beanie off to run a hand through his hair.

He turns to you, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you tell me the door was broken?"

Your eyebrows furrow as you hug Mandu closer to your chest. "I did."

"No, you told me the door was jammed! That isn't the same thing as can't be opened from the inside."

"What the fuck is your definition of jammed then?"

"When both sides don't work because there's something stuck in there!" Jeonghan exclaims, growing more frustrated by the second. "Not whatever the fuck this is." He gestures to the whole door, his arms waving animatedly.

"Well, I'm sorry!" You yell back at him, getting tired of him blaming this situation on you. "I didn't think you would go and save Mandu."

He glances at the fluff ball in your arms and gives you an 'are you being serious' look before he pushes past you, shaking his head.

"Yeah." He answers shortly. "Is that why you left? Because you think I don't like animals as much as you do?"

Your heart stops at his statement, unsure of how to answer him as he goes to sit on the floor, leaning against one of the inventory boxes.

"No." You softly breathe out, Mandu feeling ten times heavier in your hand as you adjust her awkwardly in your hold.

Jeonghan scoffs, bringing his knees up to his chest as he places his arms on them.

"I left my phone on your desk." He mutters, not looking at you. "You might as well get comfortable because I think we'll be here for a while."

You purse your lips before trudging down the steps. You sit a few feet away from him, leaning against one of the other boxes as you lay Mandu down in your lap, playing with her little paws as she pants happily, unaware of the tension in the room.

You continue to stroke her as you try not to look to your right at the man who you figured held a grudge against you. Mandu slowly dozes off in your lap, her breathing getting heavier by the second as her eyes close, keening more into you.

You smile softly at her, patting her once more before you fully lean against the boxes, gazing upwards. You blink at the ceiling for a couple of seconds before you risk taking a glance at the man who has plagued your thoughts for the last two weeks. His knees were still pulled to his chest his beanie still in between his fingers with his head bowed, covered by his knees.

You let your eyes scan him, his physique to be more specific. He had grown more muscular since the last time you saw him, his hoodie pressed against them, leaving little room for imagination. You let your eyes drift lower to admire the beanie in his fingers, realizing that it was one you had bought for him when the two of you were still together. Your heart clenches at the realization as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

You let your eyes drift upwards to get the shock of your life when Jeonghan suddenly lifts his head up, locking eyes with you. You jolt a little as he raises an eyebrow at you, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"Want to take a picture?" He asks, his tone dry as he tilts his head to the side. "I heard they last longer."

You feel your cheeks heat up as you turn away from the boy. "Shut up."

Jeonghan snickers at your reaction. "You were the one that was staring."

"And I regret it now."

"Do you?"

You feel your breath catch in your throat before you clear it and nod, knowing that his eyes are on you. "Yeah." You breath out, your voice low making Jeonghan scoff.

"You've always been a terrible liar, Rose."

The nickname causes your breath to hitch, your head immediately turning to the man to your right. "Don't call me that." You mutter out, almost on instinct.

Jeonghan blinks at you, his face unreadable as he stares at you. "And why's that?"

"You know why Jeonghan, don't play dumb now."

Jeonghan scoffs. "Can't believe you're still affected by the nickname because of Titanic."

"There was enough room on that door for the both of them!"

Jeonghan shakes his head, a breath of a chuckle escaping.

Rose is the nickname that Jeonghan coined for you after that day at the park. You had qualms about it because of Titanic. You watched it when you were younger and thought it was really selfish of the leading lady to not move a little more so that her boyfriend had more space on the door.

Hence, you didn't like the nickname.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, seemed to thrive more off of your hate for the nickname, making him use it more than your actual name or Violet which was the general nickname that everyone else called you. Even your parents used it.

But to Jeonghan, that nickname that didn't sit right so he used Rose every chance he got.

You grew to love the nickname when you and Jeonghan were dating because you learned that he called you Rose because you are his love and you've been since the two of you were kids and that he was enamored by you.

The effect of the nickname is so great that even after ten years of not seeing each other, that nickname still causes your stomach to flip.

"Are we really not going to talk about it?" Jeonghan asks softly making you tense up as you stare at the gray floor in-front of you.

"Talk about what?" You cringe the second the question leaves your mouth, knowing that it was a stupid thing to ask.

"Don't play dumb with me, Rose." He says making your heart race. "I think you forget that I know you like the back of my hand. Even if we haven't seen each other for the past ten years."

He was right. The two of you had grown up together and dated for almost five years before you left. He knew you, in and out. The two of you were each other's first for everything.

First kiss (from experimentation), first relationship, first real couple fight and you both even took each other's virginity.

Everyone thought the two of you were it for each other, despite your young ages. Everyone wanted what the two of you have and you two were glued to the hip that everyone always referred to you as a pair, never seeing one without the other.

But, that's probably the reason you left.

"I know." You whisper out.

"Since we're not going anywhere." Jeonghan says, moving his legs downwards to sit cross-legged in-front of you. "I think we have plenty of time to talk about prom. Don't you?"

You feel your pulse pick up as all the blood rushes from your face, gnawing at your bottom lip before you face him.

"Okay." You whisper out. "Let's talk about prom."

LET'S TALK ABOUT PROM

Prom.

If you were to ask anyone which day the seniors were most excited for, everyone's answer would be prom. It was such a monumental occasion that missing it would be the most devastating thing as a senior.

However, prom to you would always be something that had to end.

You and Jeonghan had been dating for around four years at this point. The two of you were constantly glued to the hip and everyone in the school knew that the two of you were together, including the teachers. Despite your age difference of two years, you still had a lot of common friends, your best friends integrated well into his group with consisted of your brother, Joshua as well as Jun, Soonyoung and Jihoon who were a year younger than them and a year older than you.

You loved Jeonghan. You realized that you loved him during one of the dates he took you on where you both went to a meadow just a little out of town that was filled with a bunch of different flowers and he just let you ramble on and on about their meanings with a lovesick grin on his face.

You loved him but you were also twenty, trying to figure out what you wanted and where you were meant to go in this big world. You always knew you were going to leave your small hometown, no matter how much you wanted to stay, your heart always strayed for something further. For something that couldn't be found in this small town that you called home.

So, you applied for colleges out of this small town, the only people knowing being your best friends and your family members. You didn't tell Jeonghan because it wasn't set in stone yet. It wasn't something that you wanted him to worry about or try to make sense of because to him, you were always going to stay.

So, when you got a letter, detailing how you were accepted into one of the courses that you applied for, five hours away, you were at a lost for words.

You remembered bringing the letter to Seungcheol's room and the two of you sat on his bed, staring at the letter as you cried in his arms. You didn't want to go. You didn't want to leave Jeonghan behind but you had to.

Which leads you to the night of prom, also known as your last night in town.

You had ordered a rosy red dress months ago, realizing that it's Jeonghan's favourite colour on you as it went so well with your skin colour and just made you look like the most ethereal person in the room.

The theme for prom this year was coincidentally spring so your dress was perfect. You applied the finishing touches to your makeup with shaky hands as Kay and Izzy shared a glance with each other.

"Babe." Kay said gently, taking the mascara brush from your hands, putting it back into it's case. "You're crying."

You let out a soft sob, unsure of what to do. Izzy dabs at your eyes, removing some of your makeup but you didn't care. Not when you were staring at your childhood room filled to the brim with memories of you and Jeonghan but you couldn't bare to bring any of it with you, opting to leave it here just like you were leaving him.

Your closet was empty for the most part, you only bringing a set of toiletries, clothes and some memorabilia that you couldn't bear to part with that were all packed in Seungcheol's car.

"You need to stop crying, babe." Kay breathed out as Izzy helps you to touch up your makeup. "If not, Jeonghan's going to know that something's wrong."

You sniffled, looking in the mirror to see that Izzy had managed to fix your makeup as if you hadn't cried at all. You felt sick in the stomach.

"He's going to know." You whispered out as you shook your head. "He knows me like the back of his hand guys… It's going to be so hard to hide it from him."

Your best friends shared a glance with each other. "Then why can't you tell him, babe?"

"Because it's going to break his heart on what's meant to be the happiest occasion of high school."

Your best friends were silent at that, unsure of what to say. Before they could though, a soft knock was heard at your door. The three of you turned to it, to see Seungcheol stood there, leaning against your doorframe.

"Hey." He greeted softly as he pushed off the door to walk over to you. He gave you a once over, a prideful smile on his face. "You look beautiful." He whispered out making a small smile appear on your face.

"Thank you, Cheol." Seungcheol gave you a soft shoulder bump.

"I didn't mean to interrupt the three of you but Hannie and Gyu are already here, so I figured that we should get going."

You felt your heart drop at the information but steeled your nerves as you stood up from your bed shakily. The three in the room all shared glances as they looked at you as you put on your best brave smile.

"Let's conquer prom."

The four of you made your way downstairs as two loud voices other than your parents met your ears. You reach the bottom to see Jeonghan and Mingyu stood there chatting with your parents, their hands in their pockets as they laughed at something your father said.

Mingyu was the first to notice you and your entourage, his eyes immediately locked on Izzy as he took her in. "Wow." He breathed out, making the girl in question blush.

"Shut up." She muttered out, but from the way she was trying to hide her smile, you could tell that she was enjoying the attention.

However, you weren't really paying attention to the soon-to-be couple at your side, instead more focused on the angel of a man that was stood in-front of you.

Jeonghan was clad in a black stunning fitted suit that left very little for imagination. His mouth was agape as he stared at you, his eyes shiny as he tried to figure out what to say.

"Gosh." Is the first word that left his mouth as he continues to gape at you. Your cheeks are definitely flushed at this point as you gave him a shy smile. "You look absolutely breathtaking, Rose."

"Really?" You asked, your voice small as you try not to allude that you were crying. Jeonghan doesn't seem to notice, completely enthralled by you as he took your hands into his, bringing your dominant hand up to his lips as he brushed a kiss onto it.

Your heart raced as he brought you closer to him. "Of course, baby." He lowly says. "I'm so lucky to have you."

You felt your heart crack slightly at his loving words but you fake a smile all the same as you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "You look so handsome." You told him. "Can't believe you're all mine."

He gave you a devastating smile before his eyes lit up. "I almost forgot." He walks to the nearby table before he returned with a box, a shimmery rose inside. He gestured for your hand, which you gave him without a second thought. With the help of your father, he opened the box and carefully slid the rose corsage onto your non-dominant wrist.

"I made this." He softly admitted making your eyes widen as you glanced downwards as the perfectly shaped corsage.

"You did?"

Jeonghan gave you a nod, a nervous smile on his face. "I wanted your prom to be special. So I took a little workshop a few days ago to lear how to make the corsage for you." He held up your hand in his as he brushed his fingers over your knuckles. "Do you like it?"

Your heart raced at his question. "Like it?" You whispered out before you pulled him closer to you. "I love it, Hannie. Thank you." You tugged your hand out of his before you sprinted to the kitchen, grabbing the boutonniere that you had prepared the night before.

You made your way back over to Jeonghan before you showed him the boutonniere in your hands. He gawked at it before a genuine smile appeared on his face.

"No way." He breathed out making you giggle.

"Way." You replied, stepping closer to him as you pinned it onto his suit with as much care as you could. "Now," you breathed out, stepping backwards to admire your handiwork. "We match."

The two of you did match. You wanted to create a boutonniere that would go with your corsage and it didn't take rocket science to figure out that Jeonghan would probably give you a rose corsage considering that it was your nickname for him.

"I love it." Jeonghan stated before he gave you another dazzling smile and holds up his arm for you to curl into. "Shall we?"

You gave him a nod, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. "We shall."

Music is the first thing you hear as soon as you and your friends entered the prom hall. Mingyu and Izzy immediately moved towards the end of the banquet table where Minghao looked like he was about to have a heart-attack from how many eclairs Seokmin was stuffing into his mouth.

Kay and your brother made their way towards where Joshua was with his date, the four of them immediately picking up a conversation which left you with your dear boyfriend whose heart you were about to break.

Jeonghan scrunched his nose at the loud music and noises. "It's really loud in here, huh?"

You rolled your eyes as you continue to scan the room. "It's prom!" You shout over the music. "What did you expect?"

He gave you a shrug before he cocked his head to the middle of the room. "Dance?"

You giggled at his smirk before nodding. "You're on."

The two of you giggled as you dance with each other to the funky tunes that were playing. It only took two songs before the rest of your friends joined the two of you. Seokmin ended up starting a weird dance competition which Mingyu also took part in that caused almost all of you to end up on the floor in a fit of giggles.

You stare at your wonderful group of friends and smiled fondly to yourself, feeling a little teary eyed, knowing that tonight was the last night that you had with them until you went off to college. You had always imagined going to college with your best friends, unsure of what you would do without them but you were following your dreams and sometimes sacrifices had to be made in order to do it.

A shoulder nudged yours which brought you back to reality as you peered to your right, seeing your boyfriend stood there, looking as devastatingly handsome as always.

He leaned into you. "Tired?" He whispered, loud enough only for you to hear.

You shrugged. "A little, but not too bad."

Jeonghan nodded at that before he cocked his head to the exit of the gymnasium. "Want some fresh air really quickly?"

You glanced at the time and at Seungcheol who was watching you, knowing that you had less than an hour before you had to leave. However, if this was the last night that you had with the love of your life, you would willing say—

"Yes."

The fresh cold spring air rejuvenated your body as soon as you stepped out into the moonlit night. You and Jeonghan walked hand-in-hand to the back of the bleachers, both of your favourite spot to hangout at during lunch hours.

"Can't believe you're graduating next week, Rose." Jeonghan said as he bumped your shoulder, taking a seat on the metal benches. "Felt like yesterday when I was just graduating."

You forced out a soft laugh as you took a seat as well, hoping that it would just miss Jeonghan's ears so that he wouldn't suspect anything. "Yeah." You softly said. "I can't believe it either."

Silence enveloped the two of you as you both watched the stars glint in the sky. You were nervous, your eyes flickering to your phone every few seconds to see if Seungcheol was going to call you and break this bubble that you were in with the love of your life.

"Rose."

You whipped your head to your boyfriend, seeing that he was already looking at you, his eyes filled with nervousness and something else that you couldn't name. You raise an eyebrow at the man.

"Hannie." You cautiously breathed out. "Did you do something?" You deadpanned.

A soft chuckle passed Jeonghan's lips as he shook his head 'no'. "I just have something for you."

You looked at him a little more suspiciously as he dug through his pockets before he pulled out a box. A velvet red box to be exact.

You felt your heart rate speed up as Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Rose." Jeonghan said gently. "Before you freak the fuck out, take a deep breath with me and let me explain."

You hadn't realized that you held your breath this whole time as soon as Jeonghan had produced the box in-front of your eyes so you slowly breathed in and breathed out, regulating your breathing back to normal before you locked eyes with Jeonghan.

He popped the box open to show two rings in there, one that was slightly thicker than the other. "I know we're much too young to get married now, Rose." Jeonghan breathed out, his hands shaking as he held the rings for you to see. "However, after knowing you for so many years and dating you for some of it. I know another things that's for sure is that you're it for me." He said softly, his eyes on your face as he watched your eyes continue to flicker between the two rings.

"This is a promise ring. It's a promise that no matter what happens, no matter how many fights we get into and no matter how many times I push your buttons and piss you off, no matter how many days we go without seeing each other…" He lets out a shaky exhale. "That I will always love you and that I will never stop loving you until the day that I breathe my final breath."

A full fresh set of tears have brimmed your eyes at this point which caused you to involuntarily let out a watery sob that has Jeonghan wiping the tears from your eyes.

"Don't cry, baby." He cooed out.

"You can't say shit like that and expect me not to cry, Yoon Jeonghan."

He chuckled at your use of his full government name as you lifted up your hand. "Slip it onto my finger already, you asshole."

Another laugh bubbled out of his throat before he met your demands all the same, taking the rose studded ring and slipped it onto your middle finger, the traditional place where promise rings sat before he did the same with his own ring.

The two of you placed your hands side by side, comparing the two rings together before you pulled Jeonghan in for a kiss. He groaned into it, immediately gripping tightly onto your waist as you slowly moved your hands up from his chest to the back of his neck, messing with the back of his nape.

He let out another grunt, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting the strawberry mint that you had earlier. The two of you made out for what felt like an eternity before your phone rang, making the two of you jolt apart.

Still dazed and panting from the remnants of the kiss, you scrambled for your phone to see your older brother's caller ID on it.

Your heart dropped. This was it.

You turned to Jeonghan who blinked at you before he tilted his head to try and peer at who was calling you. You moved your phone away from his eyes before you cleared your throat. "It's just Cheol asking where we are."

He eyed you suspiciously but didn't press as he nodded before he stood up. "I guess I have stolen his little sister away for too long." He cheekily said, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Shall we go back inside?"

You gave him a brief nod, knowing that if you did anything else, you might crack under the pressure and just admit to him that you were leaving in the next ten minutes. He gave you a forehead kiss before he led you back into the building. The two of you were about to enter the gymnasium when you pulled away.

"I need to use the bathroom, baby." You said, careful with your tone so that it wouldn't waver as you gave him a smile. "You go on ahead, I'll see you inside."

Jeonghan eyed you for a few seconds before he nodded, letting go of your hand. "Don't take too long." He called out to you as you trailed down the hallway to the bathroom. "I got some mean moves to show Seokmin that might win me his weird dance competition."

You flashed him a small. "I can't wait!"

You watched as he turned and walked back into the loud booming room and your whole facade broke, a wretched sob escaping your throat as you remove your heels to walk back down the hallway.

You spared a glance into the gymnasium where you spot Jeonghan with the rest of your friends happily talking to each other and let your eyes drift further down his figure to the ring that sat on his right middle finger before ypu glanced at your own.

This was the right decision.

Is the last thing you thought to yourself before you slip out the doors of the school to your brothers parked car where you were about to leave your whole life behind.

"Are you alright?" Seungcheol asked as soon as you slipped into the passenger seat, dumping your shoes into the backseat.

You let out a shaky exhale as you shook your head 'no'. "But." You breathed out, recalling how good Jeonghan looked on your last day together. "I'll be alright."

Seungcheol said nothing as he put the car in drive and pulled out of your high school carpark, leaving behind what was meant to be the best day of your high school year and the love of your life.

You recall the whole story to Jeonghan who has scouted closer to you in the time that you had told it. He had been silent the whole time so when you finished the story, not a single word came out of the man.

You tuck Mandu closer to your chest as she keens slightly, fluffing around for a bit before settling again as Jeonghan lets out a bitter laugh.

"So," He states, eerily calm. "You're telling me this whole time, you could've told me and we could've just done long distance?"

You feel your blood run cold as he repeats the situation back to you as he stands up and begins to angrily pace the room.

"Jeonghan, I—"

"No." Jeonghan cuts you off. "You don't get to sit there and try to fucking defend yourself when you left like that, Rose." He chuckles lowly as he runs a hand through his hair, the beanie now abandoned on top one of the boxes. "Why couldn't you have just told me?!" He exclaimed. "Did you think I wouldn't understand? Did you think I wouldn't be happy for you?" He asks, agony deep in his tone.

You feel your throat go dry as you place Mandu down onto the ground to try to be on the same level as the man.

"N-No." You stammer out, lifting your hands in a surrender position as you try to appease the man in-front of you. "I was just scared and I didn't want to hurt you, Hannie."

Jeonghan scoffs at that. "You didn't want to hurt me?" He shakes his head. "Well, congratu-fucking-lations. You managed to do it anyways, Rose." You wince at his words as you feel tears brim your eyes.

"I thought it was the best thing to do." You softly admitted.

"I don't fucking understand, Rose." Jeonghan breathes out, locking eyes with you. "I told you I loved you, I told you that you were it for me. Which part of that statement did you not understand or get? That I would be happy for you no matter what you were doing or what you were going to do?" Jeonghan stops pacing to stand in-front of you. "That I would be able to die a happy man just because I have you by my side?"

You feel your heart stop as he admits that, staring intently into your eyes as you let out a shaky exhale. "I didn't want you to wait for someone who wasn't sure if they were going to come home or not, Hannie." You softly admit. "I was wrong. I'm sorry that I made the decision on behalf of the both of us when you were right and we should've talked it out."

"Yeah." Jeonghan replies. "We should have talked it out, baby. I would've told you that I was happy for you, that I would drive down every other weekend to see you. That I would bring you flowers every weekend to brighten up your bedroom so that you have reminder to smile even when everything looks bleak."

He shakes his head. "I would've done it all if you had just let me in."

You let out a soft sob as you imagine all of that, thinking how it would've been different if you just told him. If you didn't make the decision on your own and assuming on your own.

"I guess it would've been a lot different." You softly admit, sniffling a little. "If I had just told you."

Jeonghan sadly looks at you. "I guess we will never know now." He softly says, his words getting softer and softer by the second.

"Yeah, I guess not."

The two of you stand in a semi-tensed silence for a couple more seconds before Jeonghan steps closer and reaches out, his fingers brushing your chin upwards so that you are now looking at him. His eyes scans yours before he sighs, brushing his forehead against yours.

"It's been ten years." He softly whispers. "Yet you still make me feel the same way you did when I first met you in the park where I hated flowers."

You feel your heart rate pick up as you finally realize how close the two of you were now, his familiar floral and citrusy scent filling your nose as you stare into his irises. You didn't notice the two of you leaning in until the the door to the basement cracks open making the two of you jolt apart.

The two of you whip your heads to the door to see a few figures standing there, looking between the two of you, unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Erm." Chan starts, his eyes shifting between the two of you. "Did we interrupt something?"

Jeonghan takes that moment to regain his composure as he shakes his head. "No." He answers shortly, sparing you a glance before he grabs his beanie and makes his way towards the staircase. "You didn't interrupt anything at all."

His cold answer makes your heart drop as he trots up the stairs. "Excuse me." He mutters out as Seungkwan and Vernon share a glance before letting the older man leave. Your friends watch Jeonghan pick up his bag from your desk before he walks out of your store, the door slamming behind him without another word.

All attention turns back to you as Minghao cautiously walks down the stares, approaching you who looked like you had just seen a ghost.

"Vi." Minghao breathes out, getting your attention as he meets your eyes with his soft doe ones. "Are you alright?"

You break, reaching out for Minghao who catches you before you cry in his arms. The taller man soothes you, running a hand up and down your back as he whispers comforting words to try to get you to stop crying.

"I really messed up, Hao." You admit between sobs. "He loved me so much and I hurt him so badly by just leaving. Why didn't I just talk to him?"

Minghao's hand on your back pauses for a millisecond before he strokes your back again. "We've all made stupid decisions in our lives, Vi." He softly admits, moving his hand up to pat your head. "We've all been there because we're rash and we're young and we make decisions based on our emotional states sometimes. Yes, we may make mistakes but making mistakes is what makes us human. If we don't make a mistake here or there, how do we know we're making good decisions?"

His words make you think as you continue to sniffle into his shoulder. "Let's take a rainy day for example." Minghao softly starts. "How do you know sunny days are sometimes better than rainy ones without experiencing both?" He pulls back from you to meet your eyes. "Living is about experiencing, even if you experience the wrong thing or make mistakes, the important thing is to learn from them and to not repeat the same mistake twice."

Minghao eyes you for a couple of seconds. "If you thought leaving instead of telling Jeonghan was the best decision, it would've continued to be the best decision because it was already in your mind, Vi. It was meant to happen and I think you learned a lot from it because it happened."

Minghao in all his glorious wisdom is right.

"Since when did you get so wise." You breath out making the man chuckle as he rolls his eyes.

"Aren't you lucky to have such a wise person in your friend group that can actually relate to whatever you're saying?"

A scoff is heard from behind the two of you making you glance up to see Seungkwan's face scrunched up. When he realizes that both your eyes are on him, his face immediately flushes as Mingyu smacks him on the back of his head.

"Way to ruin the moment." Mingyu chastises, causing Seungkwan to flush even more. You let out a watery giggle at their bickering, a teary smile on your lips. Minghao reaches out to wipe some of the stray tears that didn't get picked up by his sweater.

"Feeling better?"

You purse your lips. "Not at the moment." You honestly admit but give him a small all the same. "But I'll be alright."

He gives you a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to where the entourage of Mingyu, Izzy, Vernon, Seungkwan and Chan stood. He gives you a tiny kiss on your hairline before snapping his fingers at Mandu to get her attention to follow him.

"Let's get you girls home."

THE CHAOTIC TRIO

Jeonghan swears that he's never had trouble getting out of bed before. After last night though, he thinks that going to the store might make him combust instead of providing the serenity that used to.

Before he went home last night, he dropped Joshua a text asking if they could swap their off days just for the week. Joshua who was not sleeping sent a question mark before agreeing, saying that Jeonghan was lucky that he didn't have any prior plans.

Hence, that's why Jeonghan is at home and just staring at the ceiling, his mind blank with a body that is unwilling to move. He barely got any sleep, his mind plagued by your proximity last night and how the two of you had almost kissed.

He places his hands over his face and groans into them before hiding into his pillows. He wants the ground to swallow him hold. Ten years of not seeing you and the second time that he does, he almost kisses you.

'Stupid.' He thinks to himself. That's what he was.

He can't believe he hasn't gotten over you. He's tried dating. Joshua has even tried setting him up on one or two blind dates but after the second one was a bust, Jeonghan just swore off dating and hid his heart behind his dazzling charm to protect himself.

But the truth of it all is that he still loved you with his whole entire being and that is definitely not changing anytime soon.

He sighs into his pillow, willing himself to go back to sleep to maybe wake up in an alternate reality where you didn't leave.

"Are you trying to melt into the bed or something?"

Jeonghan's nearly launches himself off the bed when he hears the stern voice coming from his room door. Luckily, he manages to catch himself before he did and just stops a few centimeters from the edge of the bed.

"Jesus!" He exclaims, holding a hand to his chest as he wills his heart rate to slow down. "How the fuck did the two of you get in?"

Seungcheol and Joshua share a glance before the latter holds up a key in between his fingers. "Did you forget that you gave me a spare key in case of emergencies?"

Jeonghan scoffs. "What kind of fucking emergency is this?"

"The self pity kind." Seungcheol answers without a second thought as he walks into Jeonghan's room and flops down onto his bed with a soft groan, stretching a little.

Jeonghan frowns, smacking the older boy with the bolster that he has near him. "Get off my bed."

Seungcheol lets out a yelp when the bolster makes contact with him but doesn't move, instead eyeing Jeonghan with a knowing look. "I will if you talk to us about what's going on."

The heartbroken boy doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry at his best friend's statement, considering Seungcheol is tied deeper into this than he thought.

"What's going on is that your sister came back into town and somehow opened a flower shop right opposite me. We got stuck in her basement last night and I finally learned the reason why she left on prom night and you somehow, knew everything about it but decided to leave me in the dark for all of it." Jeonghan rants, his voice getting louder by the minute as he continues. "What's the fucking cherry on top is that you knew about the promise ring and still told me to give it to her anyways!"

He glares at Seungcheol as his voice goes low. "Did you want me to get heartbroken that badly?"

Seungcheol is silent for a few moments as Joshua just observes, leaning against Jeonghan's desk.

"I wanted her to stay." Seungcheol admits quietly. "I thought that if you gave her the ring, she would forgo whatever she wanted to do and stay because she's so in love with you, Han."

Jeonghan doesn't reply, giving Seungcheol the cue to continue. "I should've known that she's too much like me to do that though. You should've seen her the night that she came into my room with the letter, Jeonghan. She was so heartbroken. She had just gotten into the college program of her dreams and she was heartbroken because she had to leave you." He lets out a sigh as he sits up. "Maybe it was wrong of me to not tell you, maybe it was wrong of her to leave like that but I think she knew that if she talked to you about it, she wouldn't have gone through with it. You would've told her to go and she wouldn't have because she's that in love with you."

He flashes his best friend an apologetic smile. "Again, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that she was leaving or that she was coming back and there's no excuse for my actions and I hope that you forgive me someday but," Seungcheol looks around Jeonghan's room before his eyes settle on the printed out collage of photos of you and Jeonghan together from an array of dates that you've been on.

"Are you going to let the supposed love of your life slip through your fingers again?"

Jeonghan wants to yell and defend himself or deny that he's still in love with you but Seungcheol fixes him with a hard gaze.

"Don't even try to lie to me, Hannie." He says. "You forget that I've been your best friend longer than you've known my sister. I was here first."

At that, Jeonghan's mouth snaps close because as infuriating as Seungcheol was, he was also infuriatingly right.

"I hate you." Jeonghan deadpans with as much venom in his tone that he can muster. Seungcheol rolls his eyes.

"Yeah yeah." He tugs at the sulky boy's hand. "C'mon, Shua brought some beer, we're going to drink and we're going to have a good time."

Jeonghan frowns, not budging from his spot. "First of all, its one in the afternoon. Secondly," he turns to his chief operations officer. "if you're here, who is managing the store?"

"Well, we only had two delivery orders today which Seungkwan and Chan finished pretty promptly in the morning even though they looked so hungover." He clicks his tongue. "So I made the executive decision to send them home, close up shop and come over to make sure that you're okay." He glances between Jeonghan and Seungcheol before a cheeky grin appears on his lips. "Besides, I didn't want to touch the amount of paperwork on your desk."

Jeonghan lets out a scoff at that, shaking his head. "You lazy ass."

Joshua feigns hurt. "Says the one whose only role is to do paperwork."

Jeonghan opens his mouth, ready to argue when Seungcheol sighs, having had enough of this and yanks Jeonghan off the bed in one swift movement, barely letting the man get his bearings before he uses his other hand to tug at Joshua's hoodie.

The two of them let out sounds of protest but Seungcheol just drags them to the living room where three six packs sit. He let's them go before opening the carton for himself as the other two stare at him.

"If you two are going to fight." Seungcheol says, lifting the beer in a 'cheers' motion. "I'm going to need a drink to get through it.

Jeonghan and Joshua share a look before they took a pillow each off the couch and turn to the smart alec in the room whose eyes widen before he takes off sprinting, the two hot on his tail.

As yells, swears and laughs were heard for the next few hours, Jeonghan couldn't help but keep Seungcheol's words at the back of his mind.

Will he really let you slip through his fingers for the second time?

IF THE UNIVERSE GRANTS IT

You swear you could feel your own nauseous clawing at your throat with how nervous you are. It's the day of your grand opening and a sizable amount of people had turned up making your nerves spike more than it did before.

"You're going to put a hole in your newly furnished store if you keep pacing like that." Seungcheol states as he watches you go back and forth with just five minutes before you officially open.

"I feel like if I stop, I'm going to throw up." You state, not stopping your pacing for even a second.

Mingyu who was on clean-up duty today pales as he looks between the two of you.

"That doesn't mean you wear out the floor before your customers even have the chance to come in." Seungcheol deadpans as Mingyu tosses a glare his way.

"Keep pacing if it helps for you, Vi." Mingyu says gently, tossing Seungcheol another dirty look. He did not want to clean up any messes that big for free, during something as big as the grand opening.

"You're going to do fine, Vi." Seokmin calls out from behind the counter, his role being cashier today that sends the customers off with a warm smile or a good laugh. "The shop also looks splendid! This is going to go so well!"

You give the tall man a slightly constipated smile as Vernon appears from the back with a clipboard in his hands, in-charge of making sure everything was stocked up. "Done with last minute stock check." He gives you a small smile. "We're all ready to open up when you are."

You take a glance over the store, your eyes briefly landing on Minghao for a second as you spot him messing with the angle of one last trinket, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. When he finally finds the right spot for it, he smiles to himself before turning to you to give you a thumbs up.

Your heart swells with warmth as you admire the store that you and your friends had spent the last two weeks building. Every detail and placement intimate as you take a deep breath.

This is it.

You steel your nerves and put on the bravest face you can muster as you unlock the glass door and open it to see a bunch of customers already waiting outside, peering through the open door to see what all the fuss is.

"Let's do this." You say making all your friends nod as you open the door, welcoming all the new customers in and the official start of your journey.

It's mid-afternoon when sales start to slow down and you feel exhaustion creeping into your bones as it begins to drizzle outside. You don't remember another time where you had to stand for such a long period of time. You stretch as the rest of your friends lean against the front desk, chatting happily.

You smile fondly at them as they recount all the funny stories of the morning as Minghao looks through which flowers were the best flowers of the morning. You peer through the windows too admire the rain and the serenity of it all.

You let your eyes drift before they land on the store across the street from yours which had their blinds down. You frown, tilting your head to the side. You vaguely remember Seungcheol telling you that Jeonghan and Joshua only officially close the store on Tuesdays because it's a good time for them to catch up on paperwork as well as restock inventory from the weekend rush.

However, it's a Sunday today, meaning that they should be open.

"Hey Cheol." You call, getting your brother's attention as he breaks away from the group, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Yeah?"

"How come Jeonghan and Joshua aren't open today?"

Seungcheol follows your gaze to their shop before his eyebrows furrow. "I don't know, they didn't mention anything when I saw them."

You frown but try to push it out of your thoughts as Mingyu gets your attention.

"Yeah, Gyu?"

"You had a letter delivered with the bills." You tilt your head to the side as Mingyu passes you it to you.

You analyze the letter as you try to figure out who it is from, flipping it in your hands. It just had your name on it, written in cursive with a wax rose seal at the back. Your heart thunders in your chest as you carefully open the envelope to reveal the letter and its contents.

Rose,

I know you probably weren't expecting a letter from me but I think this is a better way to articulate whatever I want to say without getting too emotional or too invested in the way that you're looking at me.

Let me start this letter off by saying I love you.

I know we've said it a few times when we were together but I don't think you ever knew when it was because I never told you, I wanted to save it for when we get married but then you left ten years ago and now, I'm here saying 'Fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?' You leaving me a second time?

Sorry bad joke…

I knew that I loved you the second you showed me the roses in that godforsaken flower garden that I truly did not want to go to. I guess I have Su Bin to thank for dragging us there that day because if she didn't, we would never have met.

Maybe we would have at a later date considering Seungcheol and I were friends but I think I wouldn't have fallen in love with you that early if we hadn't met that day. If I wasn't bait for Seungcheol's plan to get away from flower talks with you, I wouldn't have learned about what Roses meant and I wouldn't have learned what it was like to fall in love with you.

I wouldn't have spent ten years of my life after that yearning for you, four after that getting the experience of loving you and another ten after that waiting for you to come home.

Which is actually why I opened the flower shop in the first place. I couldn't bear to be without you so I made something that might get you to come home, back to me and choose me again. Roses are Red would never have been built if I never met you.

Which is why I'm proposing that we give our relationship another shot.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still heartbroken by you and it'll definitely take a lot of time to rebuild that trust so that I don't think you're going to leave me again but… I realize that the universe doesn't make mistakes.

We, humans can make mistakes but the universe doesn't.

It wasn't a mistake that Su Bin managed to convince our mother to bring us to the flower park that day, it wasn't a mistake when Seungcheol roped me into becoming bait to meet you, it wasn't a mistake that it rained during our first date and… it wasn't a mistake that you left the same day that I gave you the promise ring.

Maybe this is a bad decision and maybe our relationship will be in tatters after this but from how I see it, I still love you. I spent a long time thinking about it the last few days and I realize that I'm not ready to give you up just yet.

Because I know that deep down, you still love me too.

If all this is said and true, I'm waiting for you at our spot, Rose.

Don't overthink it and if you are going to, overthink it with me. There's enough space on that door for the both of us.

~ Hannie <3

You stare at the letter for a couple more seconds, not believing your eyes as your mind races with a million thoughts per second. You jolt out of them when Minghao puts a hand on your shoulder, an easy sympathetic smile on his face.

"This is the part where you run, Vi."

You feel your heart rate speed up as you nod, immediately hopping out of your chair as you fling the door open and run out into the street not caring about the rain. You sprint down the street as the rain dampens your clothes, making your way to the flower garden that you knew by heart since you were six years old because if there's one thing you knew for sure:

If the universe gives you a second chance, you have to take it.

Jeonghan feels at ease as he stands under the tree where the two of you had your first kiss. He thought that he shouldn't be feeling like this, since there's a chance that you wouldn't have read the letter that he had passed to Seungcheol this morning when he was closing up the store.

There's also a chance that you did read the letter and he was wrong, you didn't love him anymore and the last couple of days was just a fluke.

But as he stares at the spring rain falling on the trees and his umbrella, he knows that you're going to come.

He hums to himself as he patiently looks around, before he hears hard but fast footsteps just a couple feet away from him. He smiles to himself, knowing who those footsteps belonged to because he's always kept a listen out for it.

He turns to face you, who looked almost the exact same as you did that day when he first kissed you. Your hair's damp, sticking to each other and parts of your face and you sported a rosy red dress with a white knit sweater that just brought out the rosiness of your skin and a pair of sneakers.

Even though your makeup was lesser than that day of prom or on your first date, Jeonghan swears that you've never looked more beautiful and 'his' in this moment.

"Are you crazy?" Is the first words to leave his mouth as you end up under his umbrella. "You're going to get sick."

"Don't care." You reply, looking at the man in-front of you with as much love as you can express. He doesn't seem to catch it though, ranting about how you're so stupid to run here without an umbrella as he sheds off his jacket, placing it onto your shoulders.

"— do you have any idea what a common cold does to people? This is the stupidest thing you've ever done, you could've driven here, you could've at least taken an umbrella when you left the store. Like are you saying that you don't have any at the store because that's — mmph!"

You cut him off by pressing your lips against his, your hands going to the back of his neck as if it was just muscle memory. Jeonghan stands there frozen for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close, the umbrella forgotten as he lets it go, his hands more invested with being around your waist than keeping the two of you dry.

He groans into the kiss and you take the opportunity to deepen it, sliding your tongue into his mouth which he gladly reciprocates with his own. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you flush against him, not caring about how your wet clothes were soaking his own. You hum, smiling into the kiss as the two of you continue to make out.

Only when the two of you remember that oxygen is a thing, is when you two pull away. Jeonghan's lips pressing three more chaste kisses onto yours as if trying to remind himself that this isn't a dream and you are actually standing in-front of him, saying that you want to give your relationship another shot.

He bumps his forehead with yours before he leans his forehead against yours, a small teasing smile on his face.

"If I knew you missed me that much, I would've convinced you to take that photo of me in the basement the other day."

You roll your eyes, a soft scoff escaping your lips. "You wish."

"I do, Rose." He admits, without a second beat, the genuine honesty surprising you a little. "I wished that you missed me everyday in hopes that you would come home to me."

Your heart drops at that as you stare into Jeonghan's eyes that are filled with love and vulnerability.

"Hannie." You softly breathe out. "I'm sorry for making the decision for both of us and leaving without giving you a chance. There's no excuse for my actions and I thought I was doing it because it was the best decision for the both of us. However," you shake your head. "I realized that it was stupid of me to do so because it hurt a lot more than if we had just talked it out."

"I was so badly homesick during my first year in college that I wanted to dropout and come home to this town, come home to my family and friends but more importantly, I wanted to come home to you. However, I was scared that you weren't going to want to talk to me, that you hated my guts for what I did and I couldn't bare the thought of that happening."

You take a deep breath before tugging at the chain necklace hidden under your dress, taking it out of it to reveal the promise ring that Jeonghan gave you ten years ago.

"I never took it off." You softly admit as Jeonghan stares at the necklace, his eyes wide. "It was the one thing that kept me sane during college and what got me through the worse of the worse when I was working in corporate. Because every time I looked at it, I found my life a little less bleak and a little more hopeful, because I was thinking about you."

Jeonghan looks slightly teary eyed as he gazes into your watery ones. "If you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life hoping that you would forgive me. I'll work hard for all our dates, I'll plan and pay for every single one if you let me and I will always go the extra mile for you, just so that you know that I love you and that this is something that I want because like you said." You give him a soft, cheeky smile. "Humans may make mistakes but the universe doesn't."

Jeonghan stares at you for a few seconds, his eyes flitting around your face as if he's trying to commit your features to memory before he reaches into his own shirt neckline to pull out a chain similar to yours. Your eyes widen as you see the same promise ring nested on the chain as Jeonghan gives you a soft smile.

"I've been in this since I first saw you at the park, baby." He whispers out, letting the chain now rest on his neck, the ring glinting in the spring rain. "Let's just take it slow and see how it goes."

You nod, a soft smile overtaking your features as you lean more into the man that you love.

"So," You ask, wrapping your arms tighter around Jeonghan's waist. "What's the first step in taking it slow?"

Jeonghan's eyes lit up with a familiar mischief as he feigns a ponder before leaning closer to you, eyeing your lips.

"I can think of quite a few."

©livmarauder2026 Thank you guys so much for reading my collab fic for svthub! Be sure to check out all the other amazing works in this collab <3 Another fic will be coming out in a bit... be sure to watch out for that! <3 Like my work? Join my Permanent Taglist! All my fics are 18+, which means blogs without age or age indicator will not be tagged! If you like this, please consider reblogging or liking! It really makes my day! <3 Thank you for showing yearner jeonghan so much love!

Mark Lee ･ *･ﾟ✧

Meeting death’s son @hyuckles-chuckles

you’re just minding your own business when suddenly you’re being chased by a weird looking man. you turn down a dark alley to try and hide when you ran into someone; mark lee from your high school.

son of hades mark x daughter of Demeter reader

Demigod au / Percy Jackson au

Words : 5.4k

06.30 @strrykais

every weekday after 6:30am mark lee watches you take over his spotify account. it’s probably his favorite part of his very long days.

Smau

Labyrinthine @prodbymaui

You don't crumble at any man's words, but Mark Lee— God, Mark Lee.

Words : 1k+

Smut / mdni

Lucky

princess of isle caliriel, you naturally become best friends with the neighboring prince , mark lee of eloweth. always together and hardly ever apart , however, a marriage proposal from another isle looms over your head. mark feels himself spiral as he tries to support you , but even you feel indifferent to the proposal , why is that?

prince ! mark lee x princess ! reader

Words : 46.9k

Baby , i’m a rockstar @vnti-vnxiety-recs

After your boyfriend breaks up with you to focus on his music career, you devise a scheme to get back at him by attending his band’s open auditions. To both your surprises, you end up joining the band. It would be foolish not to seize this opportunity for some well-deserved revenge.

Words : 12k

Smut / mdni

The best man @mrkis

meeting the one for you at your best friend's wedding wasn't exactly how you imagined this day turning out, neither was fucking him in the bathroom of the venue.

Words : 6.5k

Smut / mdni

Craving you like the devil craves heaven @sluttyten

you’re a succubus (a female demon that seduces men to death) and you task yourself with seducing someone difficult. enter mark lee, a priest with a vow of celibacy that he’s already struggling with. you think you’ll have some fun.

Words : 8,622

Smut / mdni

Closed doors @starryhyuck

when your brother asks if a friend can stay in your spare bedroom, you don’t expect mark lee to show up on your doorstep.

Words : 5k

Smut /mdni

Personal fav !

How to get the girl @neocitylights

In the heart of New York City, Mark Lee leads a dual life: one as Spider-Man, the beloved Queens’ friendly vigilante, and other as just Mark, the awkward physics student that’s been harboring a crush on you for a ridiculously long time. As Mark tackles his latest mission—make your clueless self finally notice him—Spider-Man crosses path with Moonlight, a fresh-faced vigilante that sparkles his curiosity. Between rooftop encounters and failed flirting attempts, Mark finds himself juggling criminals, feelings and an ever-growing list of advice from his best-friend. After all, it’s about time for him to finally learn how to get the girl.

Words: 15k

Breeze @neochan

whatever was in the air, it left mark desperate, and you were the only one close enough to help

study buddy!mark x afab!reader

Words : 2.6k

Smut / mdni

Spiderm-mwah @k-oimani1

mark cant stop yapping about spiderman and you cant stop kissing him. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Personal fav !

Back to friends @leejenowrld

after years of crossing lines and pretending you’re just friends, one reckless night destroys every boundary between you and mark. you fuck like you’re starving—filthy, desperate, angry—never able to stop wanting him, no matter how much it ruins you. now, tangled in a mess of jealousy, heartbreak, and possessive sex, you both spiral through hookups, fights, and raw confessions, knowing the truth is the one thing that could end you. this is a story about the addictive, ruinous pull between best friends who can’t stop breaking each other open, and the fear that you’ll never be able to go back to the way things were.

Words : 21k

Smut/mdni

Backflips in a restaurant @ddorizrem

in which y/n, the trinket collecting fiend finds comfort in a boy singing on youtube and ends up face to face with him

Smau

Personal fav !

____

Huang Renjun

Woman @sincerelyneo

Renjun is selfish - he knows. He knows that he has no right to be jealous of Shotato, your dance partner, but he is. Because even though he broke up with you, you’re still his.

Words : 6.5k

Smut / mdni

runaway bride @https-lvesick

Just weeks before your wedding, doubts begin to creep in, and on the big day, you panic and make a break for it. Desperate and still in your bridal gown, you flag down a passing car driven by a friendly stranger. He offers to take you to safety, but what starts as a temporary stop turns into something much more. As you hide from the life you left behind, feelings grow, and the lovely stranger finds he doesn’t want you to leave.

words : 23k

Smut / mdni

New beginnings @hyuckles-chuckles

it’s your first day at camp half-blood after being found by a satyr in your science class. when the head of your new house is unavailable to give you a tour around the camp you get the next best thing; huang renjun.

son of athena!huang renjun x daughter of hephaestus!reader

Words : 5k

personal fav !

My best friend wants to be abducted by aliens @choerrypuffs

summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

son of athena!renjun x daughter of aphrodite!reader

words : 14.6k

I don’t want you to leave yet @haechani4ever

huang renjun x fem!reader

Words : 0.2k

En garde @alicanta77

you and renjun didn’t enjoy spending time together. any interaction the two of you had always led to a verbal competition, each of you desperately trying to beat and put down the other. and those encounters translated into your fencing. as much as you and renjun butted heads, he was the best fencer in the school and his help was invaluable. but soon it starts to get difficult to separate the sport from your relationship. let the battle begin.

fencer!renjun x reader

Words : 19.9k

I hate fruits @withlovemark

renjun, the fuckboy by association, couldn’t give less of a fuck about romantic relationships. he’s perfectly fine with being single. loves it actually. when he accidentally drops a box on your head and you wake up with amnesia, he’s forced to finally take care of a person other than his own self. what’s worse? you think he’s your boyfriend.

fake bf! renjun x best friend’s gf! reader

Words : 48k+

Smut / mdni

Acrylic dreams @renctlab

The things you stopped doing @maiochiruhanabiraaa

you stopped painting, stopped doing the things that made you light up. renjun doesn’t realize at first that he’s the reason why — until he finds your old sketchbook and sees what you never said.

Words : 3.1k

Forget me not @fullsunalicia

there’s a secret admirer leaving little notes in your locker. painted in every corner of the paper are forget-me-nots, and on your quest to find the secret admirer, you wonder if they know what the meaning behind these flowers is - and if they themselves mean it.

son of apollo!renjun x daughter of demeter!reader

Percy Jackson / demigod au

Private story ! @florihaei

the texts stopped, the silence stayed. but you still see renjun everywhere, every post, every late night thought, every version of who you used to be. and the worst part? he’s still watching too

ex best friendrenjun!xfemreader

Words : 2.9k

The ghost of you @mingoner

you get stuck patrolling hogsmeade on halloween night with your ex-boyfriend huang renjun, what happens when things go a little awry?

Hogwarts au

____

Lee Jeno

The lucky one @hyuckles-chuckles

you are told by mr d to find and bring a son of zeus to camp who has been under the radar for far too long. however when you find lee jeno, you don’t want to take him away from his life.

Words : 4.9k

son of zeus!lee jeno x daughter of athena!reader

Percy Jackson / demigod au

personal fav !

Rich purity @jenonctcity

Jeno often found that he had a lot of free time on his hands. Between going to his classes, studying, and going to the gym, he didn’t do much else apart from lounge around the apartment eating snacks. Not needing a part time job like his roommates because of his well-off parents, Jeno knew he had it easy, but it never got to his head, and he was always seen as the sweet, kind person he was. But this pact really threw his head into a spin. As he sat in class thinking about it, a lightbulb went off in his head as he saw you struggling with the work in the front of the class. You suddenly found yourself in a deal that threw your life into a spin. If you took Jeno’s virginity, he would give you tutoring for the rest of the semester. It was the deal of a lifetime to you, a handsome boy offering you sex and tutoring. But when you don’t end up sticking to the one-time sex thing, can you keep things strictly studying and sex with no feelings?

Words : 11.5k

Smut / mdni

The tale older than mine @fullsunalicia

the gods still can‘t keep their pesky hands to themselves, and thus still meddle with mortal lives thousands of years later. it‘s 2020, and y/n would love to fix her sleep schedule, if it weren‘t for those annoying visions of the man in the darkness.

son of erebus!jeno x daughter of aphrodite!reader

The dumbing down of love @luvdsc

the six times you caught him staring at you, and the one time he caught you.

↳ alternatively: dumb and dumber fall in love.

Words : 12.3k

Class crush ! @kiszjuli

in which your shy and reserved TA from your literature class started acting a little different. harboring a crush on you for months, he finally gets the courage to confess to you…on valentine’s day.

TA!jeno x fem!reader

Words : 2k

Fatherhood @featjunranghae

when jeno's girlfriend left him to deal with fatherhood alone. he decided he'd never let anyone in his or his daughter's life. that was until he met you. his neighbour whom his daughter seemed to love way too much

i suddenly realize my archnemesis is hot (during a battle to the death). @choerrypuffs

summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

son of ares!jeno x daughter of nike!reader

Words : 22.5k

Crush diaries @stuckonmark

you were a growing youtuber that posts interesting content about your life. you remember a trend that was blowing up a few years back, but you had always been too nervous to do it. it was the viral “sending a quiz to every boy i’ve had a crush on.” you honestly weren’t expecting to hear back from anyone, but you thought it was worth a shot. what happens when you actually do hear back from all of your crushes? what happens when fans try and figure out who all the anonymous crushes are? but most importantly, what happens when one of your crushes, who is now a famous kpop idol, reaches out to you after so many years?

idol!jeno x youtuber!reader

Smau

Protector @blue-jisungs

jeno knew you shouldn't have came to his boxing fight...

Words : 4.3k

Room(hate) @jaeminvore

all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

Words : 18.3k

Smut / mdni

Slut! @sincerelyneo

Jeno’s always been yours. You were the one too scared to be his, actually. But not anymore. Not tonight. Not now that you’ve decided being called a slut might be worth it, so long as it means they know he’s yours.

idol!jeno x fem!reader

Words : 3.5k

Smut / mdni

Call me when you hate me less @jaylaxies

Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way

lee jeno x fem!reader

Words : 18.3k

Smut / mdni

____

Lee Haechan

Lemonade @neochan

after meeting your brothers bestfriends, you become attached to one in particular, even inviting him to your room the night he stays over.

Words : 5.3k

Smut / mdni

Personal fav !

…I was so miserable? @ilovedinodino

Haechan was in love with a girl from his dance studio, but one day he accidentally found her Twitter account with her terrible secrets

or how Haechan found out that his crush suffers from depression and anxiety and he's trying to hide it.

nonidol!haechan x f!reader

Smau

Heart can’t lose @najaemism

fourth year pre-med student and neo university student council president, haechan lee does not have the time for relationships. instead, he focuses his attention on his studies and extracurriculars, so as not to disappoint his parents. that is until hera seo came along—and everyone starts to wonder if the university’s golden boy would finally let his heart lose.

lee haechan x fem!oc

Smau

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin) @choerrypuffs

revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

Words : 8.6k

Personal fav !

And now us @haechanhues

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

frenemy! haechan x fem! reader

Mdni

Will you film my s*x tape ? @sweetiechenle

you and your best friend haechan are strapped for cash and desperate to make some... quick. thank god he has the best idea ever to make a sex tape!

non-idol!collegestudent!haechan x collegestudent!afab!reader

Smut / mdni

Target aquired! @winwintea

as part of your next mission, you've been tasked to 'capture' an infamous demon, lee donghyuck who's been causing mischeif on the mortal realm. this won't be easy.

demon!lee donghyuck x angel!reader

Words : 2.6k

I become attracted to seaweed @choerrypuffs

summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

son of poseidon!donghyuck x daughter of athena!reader

Words : 18k

Swords and arrows @hyuckles-chuckles

you and lee haechan have never gotten along, you being a daughter of ares and being the son of apollo. despite that, you still develop a crush on him…and you may think he’s developed one on you.

son of apollo!lee haechan x daughter of ares!reader

Words : 5k

The breakup ritual @justalildumpling

it was supposed to be closure. a breakup ritual. just a silly little tweet about your love for a failed hinge match. but instead of cursing your ex, it summoned him—and somehow you keep finding yourself (on your knees) in the backseat of his car.

haechan x fem!reader

Smau

Hostile work environment @midasriku

with student loans and his apartment rent due, psychology major haechan swears he’ll get a job at the record store despite never having worked a day in his life. what happens when he creeps out his workplace mentor, first day on the job? and what happens when she kinda finds him funny?

haechan x fem!reader

Smau

Milady @ickelwoong

after a drunk haechan is called an uber by y/n on their first meet, he does something that can never be reversed. he's seemed to completely forgotten the events of that night but when the two meet through chenle, haechan wonders why y/n - who he thinks he's never met before - is acting so weird towards him?

haechan x fem!reader

Smau

Bad idea right ? @remtrack

lee donghyuck — or rather, haechan, talks a big game. much bigger than he can actually bite. upon being asked to bring his imaginary girlfriend to the 127 summer bash, he has no choice but to ask for help from the only girl he knows — you, his high school ex-girlfriend.

haechan x fem!reader.

Smau

Summer sun @82sim

when you start your summer job at an ice cream shop, your new co-worker isn’t exactly what you expected.

(haechan x fem!reader )

Smau oneshot

Jingle bells @hyuckiefluff

you send a spicy photo to the wrong lee and suddenly your brother's best friend is at your door with mulled wine and a space heater talking about "keeping you warm"

brother's best friend!haechan x fem. reader

Words : 7k

Smut / mdni

She thinks I can milk @hnykiss

celebrity!lee donghyuck x farmgirl!reader

Smau

Personal fav !

Haechan twink chronicle @susicheng

Smau one shot

Personal fav !

____

Na Jaemin

On the way home @dreamzenniee

A minor car accident reminds you that sometimes, home isn’t a place—it’s the person waiting for you.

Words : 600+

Go go juice @sincerelyneo

A week ago, you never imagined you’d be here—sitting in a random bar on a Tuesday night. But a week ago, you didn’t know your boyfriend was cheating. A week ago, you weren’t single. A week ago, you had no reason to be ordering your sixth drink—or to be drunk dialing your best friend’s brother.

jaemin x fem!reader

Words : 7.1k

Smut / mdni

Captain sparkle fingers revives me from the dead @choerrypuffs

summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

son of apollo!jaemin x daughter of hades!reader

Words 13.2k

Quest for romance @hyuckles-chuckles

you and na jaemin have been friends since the very first day you arrived at camp. but with him being a son of aphrodite he’s obviously one of the best looking people at camp and you develop a crush on him, but little did you know he also had a crush on you.

son of aphrodite!na jaemin x daughter of hephaestus!reader

Words : 4.9k

Team spirit @vnti-vnxiety

Clingy boyfriend Jaemin joins the cheer team to get closer to his girlfriend. You aren’t happy because you know he only joined to fuck you. He swears he didn't join for that reason (he did)

Jaemin x cheerleader! Reader

Words : 8.5k

Smut / mdni

Brat @iceonneo

the sexual tension has gotten frustrating enough, high time they do something about it. and yes they were roommates!

jaemin x fem! reader

Words : 1.6k

Smut / mdni

Teddy bear @jungaji

struggling with recurring nightmares, jeno suggests an app called "teddy bear," a sleep bot designed to offer comfort. over the course of a few nights, the bot’s messages start to feel increasingly familiar and seem to echo the warmth and understanding of someone who knows you deeply. as you connect with the bot, you uncover a touching secret that ultimately helps you find the peace you've been searching for.

na jaemin x gn!reader feat. lee jeno & lee donghyuck

Smau

Personal fav !

Backseat chronicles @notnctu

There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back.

fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin

Words : 8.5k

Smut / mdni

Diet Pepsi @sincerelyneo

Jeno has one rule — his little sister is not allowed at street races. Jaemin knows this, and still, he can’t help but feel a thrill when he spots you sneaking out to watch him race. That is, until he sees you with another guy, and suddenly, he’s all in favor of Jeno’s rule. And he’s pretty sure that rule also means he should intervene and give you a ride home.

jaemin x virgin fem!reader

Words : 5.6k

Smut / mdni

Slytherin jaemin @jenosbliss

fem! ravenclaw reader x slytherin jaemin

Words : 1.2k

Enemies to lover au

____

Zhong Chenle

Stop posting about BALLER @winwintea

chenle loves basketball more than you. unfortunately.

boyfriend!zhong chenle x reader

Words : 1.3k

Out of time @johnnysuhbmarine

You'd be lying if you said feelings weren't caught within the thirteen years of friendship you had with Chenle, but even when you both wanted to be more, you agreed to shut any idea of it down - his future marriage was already arranged as part of a business deal, there was no point setting your hearts up for breaking. So, why is he on your doorstep begging for a chance just three months before he has to go back to China?

Words : 16.3k

Loaded @featjunranghae

in which a desperate joke about needing a sugar daddy accidentally manifests a millionaire classmate who takes his new role very seriously.

Smau

Playing dirty @hyuckiefluff

you’re tired of chenle ditching you for basketball practice, so you do what any rational girlfriend would do—show up to his practice in a slutty version of his team’s uniform. turns out you’re kind of good at basketball. turns out chenle can’t handle watching his teammates ogle the love of his life. turns out the locker room has a lock for a reason.

basketball captain! chenle x fashion major! fem.reader

Words : 4k

Smut / mdni

Training wheels @sincerelyneo

When your jerk of a boyfriend dumps you for being a virgin, the last thing you expected was to find comfort in your roommate, Chenle. But here you are, and now you're asking him to take your virginity…

chenle x fem!reade

Words : 4.9k

Smut / mdni

Once bitten , twice shy @onmyneo

… in which yn asks chenle to be her boyfriend for the night

best friend!chenle x fem!reader

Smau

When did you get hot ? @sincerelyneo

Your best friend’s kid brother is getting married—and his best man just so happens to be ridiculously sexy. Wait. Hold on. Is that Zhong Chenle? When the hell did he get hot?

chenle x fem!reader

Words : 7.3k

Smut / mdni

aita for hooking up with a random man i met at the club while i was in a fight with my boyfriend? @pinkynana

Your boyfriend always told you that he hated girls at the club, saying that they were easier than prostitutes and such. Which drove you to the decision to go to a club after your hundredth fight with him, just to provoke him. It was never your intention to be in another man’s arms that night.

Words : 1.7k

Smut / mdni

Business proposal @bbina

things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.

Smau

My first and last @withlovemark

zhong chenle, the lowkey fuckboy, captain of the basketball team, doesn’t believe in romance. flowers? chocolates? handwritten letters? ew. too cheesy. but he can’t seem to shake this crazy girl off of him so he goes to you, his best friend, cheerleading captain, for help. will you be his fake girlfriend? sure. the catch? it has to be believable so for the first time in his life he buys the flowers and the chocolate and writes the handwritten letters.

bff! chenle x fake gf! reader

Words : 31k

Smut / mdni

Personal fav !

The only one @hyuckles-chuckles

being the only child of the big 3 was always tough for zhong chenle, so you, being his best friend, was always there to comfort him. but then one day out of the blue, he just started ignoring you, and you would like to know why.

son of poseidon!zhong chenle x daughter of demeter!reader

Words : 5.1k

____

Park Jisung

Stolen moments @maunologue

he thought bringing his girlfriend to practice meant more time with her, until his members stole the spotlight.

park jisung x female reader

Words : 894

Obsession @winnietheboos

park jisung is the nation’s (secret) newest boxing obsession. hushed whispers, feared stares and his forgotten bloodied bandages left in the ring after every match. you're the girl living in the apartment next door because you can barely afford anything better while finishing your degree, and you can't help but notice the boy who comes home bloody and bruised every night. so what do you do? you follow him.

Words : 16.9k

Kiss it away @maunologue

a drunk and clingy jisung is brought home after their tour celebration, leaving his girlfriend to soothe him, clean up his mess, and kiss it all away.

park jisung x female reader

Words : 731

Tangerine love (favorite) @neocitycafe

You like tangerines. Jisung likes you. Someone is hiding citrus fruit in your apartment.

Finals are brutal. Winter is cold. And you’re not ready to admit that you already know who it is.

Words : 1.5k

7 minutes in heaven @heyjwi

you decided to attend your campus’ halloween party in hopes of seeing your crush, jisung. one thing leads to another and you both end up sweaty and breathless, locked in a closet..

crush!jisung x fem!reader

Smut / mdni

Haunt me , baby ! @ukiyoexo

when you see a ghost, you’re supposed to be scared right? yeah, that’s what jisung thought too until he met you.

a night spent in boredom leads you to lighting random candles and attempting to summon a ghost. you never expected it to work — or for the spirit to be so cute.

Words : 5,2+

Personal fav !

Dragon heart @kacchand-archive

there’s a certain charm to things people say when drunk, and when you said you wanted to be the ultimate dragon enchantress of all lands, you never thought it would come true. but with the help of a little magic, and a lot of uncontrollable teenage emotions, anything can happen.

and in this case, even dragons can come to life out of nothing. you just hope you don’t get expelled when Dumbledore finds it hidden in the forbidden forrest.

or the story in which Jisung and his overpowering feelings for you create an all new drunken mistake; one that breathes fire.

Hogwarts / Harry Potter au

Words : 4.5k

Travel buddies @hyuckles-chuckles

you were minding your own business when you heard a disturbance not that far from you, so you investigate it. you learn that you found a new demigod, park jisung, so in the moment you decide to take him to camp in the tiny car your mom got for you for emergencies, the only problem was is that camp was 840 miles away.

son of hermes!park jisung x daughter of aphrodite!reader

Demigods / Percy Jackson au

Words : 5.2k

Personal fav !

My Minecraft boyfriend @suhnandmoon

a joke tweet about your boyfriend on minecraft from when you were in middle school ends up reaching the boy in question and oh no- he's hot.. this sudden reunion with park jisung was completely unexpected for multiple parties. will this old romance rekindle, or was it just meant to stay in the past?

park jisung x fem!reader

Smau

Two dumb virgins @luvyeni

you wanted to lose it . he was tired of being made fun by his friends. both of you thinking he’d pull out fast enough… but what can you expect from two stupid virgins ? …

Smau

Suggestive

Personal fav !

Hair messy from running his fingers through it, reading glasses perched on his nose, wearing his favourite hoodie. A pen resting against his lips as he thinks.

You aren’t sure what prompts you to do it, but soon your phone is in your hands and you’re taking a candid shot. And when you pull up the photo from your ‘recently taken’ album and onto your phone screen, you find it impossible to look away. 

He looks so… soft. Cute. Warm. Cosy. 

Your eyes move between the picture and the boy beside you, your entire body filled with a fuzzy sort of warmth at the sight before you.

You’ve seen him like this before, sure. He’s your kind-hearted, sarcastic, brilliant friend, and so you've been blessed to see him in all sorts of ways. You’ve seen him on early mornings and through late nights, you’ve seen him drunk out of his mind and performing karaoke as all of the Wonder Girls, you’ve seen him before and after coffee, and before and after shitty exams. Studying together is nothing new, either. You’ve seen him in all of his ways, so of course you’ve seen him looking like this — like the perfect boyfriend. You’ve never dared try and capture it anywhere other than in your mind, though, and now that you have it in concrete form, you aren’t sure what to do with it.

You have a lot of pictures of him. There’s a mix in your phone’s photo album of Seungkwan in all his glory: some of him caught completely off guard, some blurry ones where he’d shot a hand out to try and stop you from taking the picture, some of him laughing so hard his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. To his dismay, you always joke that you’ll use the funny ones for blackmail one day, but he never actually makes you delete them. You cherish those. 

There are also some photos in your phone where he looks like everything you’ve ever wanted — ones where he looks so breathtaking that it hurts. This one you just took is quickly being filed into that same mental folder. It has to be your new favourite, and you’re sure it’s going to be your favourite for a long time to come. And as you continue to stare down at the photo, your eyes tracing over his features, you can’t help but smile down at it.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N.”

Your phone is suddenly being snatched from your hands, and your eyes snap up to meet Seungkwan’s gaze. He raises his eyebrows, your phone dangling between the two of you in his hand, and you resist the urge to grab it like a feral cat.

“What?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant even though you’re freaking out. Your gaze stays locked on your phone as he holds it up in the air, your eyes following it like a hawk.

“I asked what you were smiling at,” he says. “You were zoning out.” 

“Oh, nothing, it’s just—“

You know it’s coming, but it still has you frozen when he inevitably glances at your screen. You watch in horror as his eyebrows raise, he blinks, and then he’s handing you your phone back wordlessly. It remains silent for a minute or two before he speaks again.

“Why were you smiling at a picture of me?”

You’re trapped — there’s no way out now. How are you possibly supposed to answer that? Because you’re the cutest boy I’ve ever seen? 

“It’s a good picture,” you finally manage, trying desperately to keep your voice steady. 

“It’s not that good.” 

His comment comes out much less teasing than you’d expected. You really thought you were in for it. He sounds a lot more serious, and your gaze finds him again in surprise. He’s looking at his computer, but you can tell he’s not really taking in any of the information as he crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, and you can hardly breathe. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been more embarrassed in your life.

“Jeonghan said you like me,” he finally says, and you suddenly want to sink into the floor. 

“Oh.”

He shrugs. “It would be cool if you did.”

“It would be… cool?” You think you probably sound slightly deranged, your voice at least two octaves higher than usual, but you barely register it. 

“Yeah.” He shrugs again, and you can only dream of having even an ounce of his nonchalance. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“You wouldn’t mind.” You have to be hallucinating. He’s just stated that he knows you have a crush on him, and he’s saying it’s cool? That’s almost worse than him rejecting you outright. Worse than him ignoring you forever and —

“As long as you don’t mind that I like you too.” 

You gape. You actually gape, mouth open like a fish as you process. His eyes meet yours, signature smirk on his lips as he takes in your expression.

“Does that really surprise you?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true,” he says, smiling amusedly over at you for a moment before he turns back to his computer. You watch in disbelief as he resumes his work as though nothing had happened. 

“Are you seriously working again right now?”

Seungkwan nods, eyes moving between his notes and his laptop. “I just need to finish this before we can make out, alright?”

The words coming out of his mouth send a shock straight to your system. Since when is he so fucking smooth?

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for months,” you finally say sarcastically, slumping back into your chair. “Another hour won’t make any difference.” Your tone is dry, and you can feel him look over at you. You suddenly realize what you’ve just revealed, and your eyes squeeze shut. You're expecting him to tease you again but instead, his response comes out filled with confusion.

“Months?”

You freeze. “Hm?”

“Did you say months?”

“…Maybe.”

“How many months?”

You feel your face flush, and your hands lift to cover your eyes, voice muffled when you respond. “Since September, I guess?”

Pause. “Since we met?” 

You let out a groan. Now he’s teasing you. “Leave me alone.”

You can hear the smile on his face. “Cute.”

You’re about to cross your arms and let out a childish huff when you’re jolted by the sound of Seungkwan’s chair scraping across the floor, your eyes shooting open. He stands up, moving his chair closer to yours before sitting down again, and the sudden close proximity has you reeling. Then he moves to rest his hand on your thigh.

“Hold my hand?”

The question is soft, quiet, but you hear it. Seungkwan’s eyes search yours, a smile on his lips, and he raises his eyebrows. His palm remains face up on your leg, and you take a deep breath before shyly moving to rest your hand in his. His fingers curl into yours immediately, and then — he’s back to work. 

Since when has Seungkwan ever been this chill? About anything?

“Stop looking at me,” he speaks up again after a moment, eyes still on his paper, and you shake your head.

“I can’t.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you for the first time since he’d taken your hand, and you can feel yourself flush even more. 

“You can’t what?”

“Stop looking at you.”

You watch as he chews on his bottom lip. You wait, recognizing his silence as thoughtful, and hold your breath.

“Why, though?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Are you not bored?” His eyes meet yours again, and you blink in confusion.

His hand is still firm in yours, and you’re silent for a moment before replying honestly, “Trust me, I’ve looked at you quite a few times since I met you, and I’ve never once wanted to look away.”

He searches your eyes, and you can see the surprise that flashes through them. You feel tremendously shy under his gaze, beautiful brown eyes peering at you from behind his study glasses, and you can’t hold strong for much longer. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes fall to the floor.

“Hey,” Seungkwan says, squeezing your hand. “You just said you liked looking at me.” His tone is definitely teasing now.

“I just changed my mind. It’s not as easy when I know you’ll be looking back.”

You can practically feel him smiling. “Come on. Look at me, please?”

You brace yourself before doing what he asks. He smiles when you do, and your breath catches. His gaze is so fond, and you’re about to ask him why when he closes the rest of the distance, his mouth finding yours with ease. You let out a soft, surprised gasp against his lips, eyes immediately falling shut as you melt into him.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low. 

“Today, or for the last 6 months?” You manage when he pulls back just slightly, cursing the way you’re already breathless just from one kiss. He smiles at your question, his eyes hooded, but he doesn’t offer any verbal response. He simply kisses you again, and every single remaining thought leaves your mind. 

He kisses you one more time before settling back into his seat, turning back to his computer. His hand stays on your thigh, and you think you must look like the loading screen of a computer as you try and register what’s happening.

“You know I do it a lot, too, right?”

You tilt your head as his voice breaks you out of your daze. “Hm? Do what?”

“Look at you.”

You feel your cheeks flush. “Oh.”

“You’re very nice to look at, you know.” 

You have to be beet red by now. For claiming to not be the overly romantic type, he sure is doing a great job. 

“Seungkwan-“

“I’m doing this one more time and then I really, really have to finish this paper.”

You’re about to speak again, to ask more questions, when he pulls you in by your joined hands and kisses you again firmly. This time, his free hand finds your face, his mouth pressed to yours with intent. You let out another involuntary sigh, feeling terribly satisfied when he hums back against your lips.

He pulls back abruptly before letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re done with your work, right? You really might have to leave for the sake of my grades.”

You can’t help but pout. “Rude.”

He grins at that. “I’ll come over to your place as soon as I’m done.”

A/N: please please please reblog if you liked! it’s what us writers rely on :) 

TAGLIST: @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies @starsstuddedsky@hopeinthebox @tae-bebe @eoieopda @savventeen @wqnwoos

The first time you met Seungkwan, he was halfway through an argument with a stylist over a cardigan.

“It’s not ugly,” he insisted dramatically, one hand pressed to his chest. “It’s vintage.”

“It’s orange,” the stylist deadpanned.

“It’s fashion.”

You’d stood in the doorway of the conference room holding a clipboard and an iced coffee, watching him wave the cardigan around like he was defending a human rights violation instead of knitwear.

Then his manager had pointed at you.

“Great. You’re here. This is your new PR manager.”

Seungkwan blinked.

You blinked back.

The stylist muttered, “Good luck,” under their breath before walking out.

That should’ve been your warning sign.

Instead, you smiled professionally and introduced yourself.

Three years later, you were ninety percent sure your actual job description was preventing Pledis Entertainment from suing him for emotional damages.

“Tell me again,” you said slowly over the phone, “why there are seventeen separate videos of you attempting to fight a haunted house employee.”

“I didn’t attempt to fight him,” Seungkwan argued from somewhere that sounded suspiciously public. “I was defending myself.”

“You chased him.”

“He started it.”

“He popped out and said boo, Seungkwan.”

“That’s psychological warfare.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Across from you, your coworker nearly choked trying not to laugh.

“Please tell me you at least apologized.”

“I bought him churros.”

You sighed.

“You’re exhausting.”

“And yet,” he said smugly, “you continue to answer my calls.”

Because unfortunately, he was impossible not to answer.

That was the problem with Seungkwan.

He was loud and dramatic and occasionally a public relations nightmare wrapped in designer jackets. But he was also painfully sincere. The kind of person who remembered everyone’s birthdays, who bowed to staff members after every schedule, who noticed when you skipped meals and silently handed you protein bars during meetings.

You spent half your life cleaning up after him.

And the other half trying not to care too much about him.

Which was going fine.

Mostly.

Until the scandal happened.

—

“Absolutely not.”

Your director looked up from his laptop calmly.

“It’s already trending.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fans think you’re dating him.”

“That sounds like a them problem.”

“You were photographed leaving his apartment at midnight.”

“Because he had food poisoning.”

“And you stayed until morning.”

“Because he thought he was dying after WebMD told him stomach cramps could mean organ failure.”

“It’s convincing.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

Behind you, Seungkwan raised a cautious hand.

“To be fair,” he offered, “I did look really fragile.”

You whipped around.

“This is your fault.”

“How?”

“You posted a selfie with me in the background.”

“I thought you looked pretty.”

The room went silent.

Seungkwan froze.

You froze.

Your director blinked slowly.

“…That did not help,” he muttered.

Seungkwan coughed violently into his fist. “I meant professional. Pretty professionally competent.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Unfortunately, the internet had already decided otherwise.

Articles spread overnight.

Anonymous insider reports.

Speculation videos.

Photos zoomed in so aggressively that someone had identified your shampoo brand sitting in Seungkwan’s bathroom.

Which was invasive in ways you didn’t even want to process.

The company had two options:

Deny everything aggressively and risk escalating the rumors.

Or lean into it temporarily until the public lost interest.

Guess which option they picked.

“You want us to fake date,” you said flatly.

Your director nodded.

“For two months.”

“Two months.”

“It’ll stabilize his image.”

Seungkwan frowned. “What’s wrong with my image?”

Three people in the room laughed.

“I’m sitting right here,” he complained.

“You’re beloved,” the director corrected. “But chaotic. Domestic dating rumors actually help.”

Seungkwan pointed at himself proudly. “Domestic.”

You ignored him.

“This is ridiculous.”

“It’s temporary.”

“It’s invasive.”

“It’s strategic.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s effective.”

You turned toward Seungkwan for support.

He stared back thoughtfully.

Then—

“I think we could pull it off.”

Traitor.

—

The first fake date happened three days later.

You wore sunglasses and a baseball cap despite the fact that it was nearly evening.

“This feels illegal,” you muttered.

Beside you, Seungkwan looked delighted.

“This is exciting.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He gasped dramatically. “I’m an entertainer. Public romance is part of my cultural heritage.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet here you are.”

Unfortunately, he looked unfairly good.

Simple hoodie.

Black mask pulled beneath his chin while walking between quieter streets.

Soft hair falling over his forehead.

Relaxed in a way idols rarely got to be publicly.

You’d seen him exhausted, sick, annoyed, overworked, emotional.

But this version of him—the comfortable one—was dangerous.

Especially when he reached over casually and took your hand.

Your entire body short-circuited.

“Seungkwan.”

“Cameras.”

You looked up.

Sure enough, someone lingered across the street pretending very badly not to stare.

“Oh.”

His fingers tightened slightly around yours.

Warm.

Comfortable.

Natural.

Too natural.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You forced yourself to nod.

“Fine.”

He smiled softly.

And for some reason, that expression affected you more than the hand-holding.

Because Seungkwan smiled at everyone.

But this one felt smaller somehow.

Realer.

As if it belonged only to you.

Which was ridiculous.

This was fake.

You repeated that to yourself the entire evening.

Fake while he pulled your chair out at dinner.

Fake while he wiped sauce from the corner of your mouth absentmindedly.

Fake while he leaned close to show you something on his phone and your shoulders brushed together.

Fake.

Fake.

Fake.

Then he laughed at one of your jokes—head thrown back, eyes crinkling—and your heart betrayed you completely.

—

The public lost their minds.

“Fans are calling you soulmates,” your coworker informed you the next morning.

“Great.”

“One article referred to him as lovesick.”

You nearly spit out your coffee.

“What?”

She turned her monitor around.

There, in horrifying HD clarity, was a photo of Seungkwan looking at you like you personally hung the moon.

You stared.

Then stared harder.

Because—

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t acting there.”

Your coworker slowly lowered the monitor.

“That sounds concerning.”

“It is.”

—

Things escalated after that.

Because once the public accepted the relationship, Seungkwan committed to the role with alarming enthusiasm.

He started showing up at your office with coffee.

Texting you constantly.

Posting suspiciously boyfriend-coded captions online.

“Is this necessary?” you asked one night while reviewing an interview script.

“Yes.”

“You posted a photo of my hand holding a tangerine.”

“It was artistic.”

“The caption says my girl feeds me well.”

“You do feed me well.”

“I ordered takeout because you forgot to eat again.”

“Exactly. Romance.”

You groaned.

But secretly—

Secretly, you started looking forward to him.

To the messages.

To the late-night calls.

To the way he always saved you a seat beside him during schedules now.

It blurred too easily.

The line between performance and reality.

Especially because Seungkwan had become… clingier.

Not obnoxiously.

Just quietly.

A hand at your lower back.

His head on your shoulder during long car rides.

Little glances across crowded rooms searching for you automatically.

Like he’d gotten used to orbiting around you.

And the worst part?

You’d gotten used to it too.

—

“You know,” Jeonghan said casually one afternoon, “he’s in love with you.”

You almost dropped your tablet.

“What?”

The older idol looked deeply unbothered.

“You heard me.”

“He’s acting.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s the whole point.”

Jeonghan gave you a pitying look.

“You really think Boo Seungkwan is capable of pretending to shut up about someone twenty-four hours a day?”

“He does not talk about me twenty-four hours a day.”

Jeonghan stared.

From across the room, Seungkwan yelled suddenly—

“Did she eat lunch yet?”

You closed your eyes.

Jeonghan sipped his iced americano.

“He’s down catastrophic.”

“This conversation is over.”

“You should probably figure your feelings out before he combusts.”

“I don’t have feelings.”

“You came to his schedule on your day off.”

“…As PR support.”

“You brought him vitamin gummies.”

You hated that everyone in this group was observant.

—

The breaking point came during a livestream.

It wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

Just Seungkwan casually chatting with fans in the company studio while you monitored comments nearby.

Easy.

Normal.

Manageable.

Until someone commented:

Blink twice if the relationship is fake.

You stiffened instantly.

Seungkwan read it aloud.

Then he looked directly toward you off-camera.

And smiled.

Not the exaggerated idol smile.

Not the variety-show grin.

Something softer.

Warmer.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been very good at pretending,” he said lightly.

Your breath caught.

The comments exploded immediately.

He continued before you could panic.

“But thank you for worrying about me,” he added smoothly, redirecting the conversation like a professional.

The livestream continued normally.

You, however, stopped functioning.

Because his eyes had lingered on you too long.

Because the words felt too honest.

Because suddenly you weren’t sure either of you were acting anymore.

After the stream ended, you cornered him backstage.

“What was that?”

Seungkwan blinked innocently.

“What was what?”

“You know exactly what.”

He leaned against the table behind him.

For once, he wasn’t smiling theatrically.

Just watching you carefully.

“You’re upset.”

“I’m confused.”

That seemed to catch him off guard.

His expression softened immediately.

“Oh.”

The single syllable carried surprising gentleness.

You crossed your arms tightly.

“This arrangement is getting out of control.”

“Do you want it to stop?”

The question came too quickly.

Like he’d been waiting to ask it.

And suddenly your chest hurt.

Because the truthful answer should’ve been yes.

This was messy.

Unprofessional.

Dangerous for both of you.

But instead—

“No,” you admitted quietly.

Seungkwan went still.

The room felt painfully silent.

Then he laughed once under his breath.

Not mocking.

Almost relieved.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, “how happy that makes me.”

Your pulse jumped.

“Seungkwan…”

“I tried not to mean it.”

His voice stayed calm, but his eyes gave him away completely.

“I really did.”

You couldn’t move.

“I know this started as work,” he continued softly, “but somewhere along the way, you became the first person I wanted to tell everything to. The first person I looked for in every room.”

Your throat tightened.

“And honestly?” he said with a weak smile. “Pretending to date you was kind of horrible.”

You blinked.

“Horrible?”

“Yeah. Because I had to act normal when all I really wanted to do was kiss you.”

Your brain completely stopped.

Seungkwan noticed immediately.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “I overwhelmed you.”

“A little.”

“Sorry. I can make it less intense.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

You stared at him helplessly.

Then laughed suddenly because this was absurd.

Entirely absurd.

You had spent years professionally managing scandals.

And somehow the biggest disaster of your career was falling for Boo Seungkwan.

“I think,” you admitted carefully, “I forgot where the acting ended too.”

His expression changed instantly.

Hope.

Bright and disbelieving and terrifyingly open.

“Really?”

You nodded once.

And Seungkwan—usually loud, dramatic, overflowing with reactions—went strangely quiet.

Like the answer genuinely mattered that much.

Then he stepped closer carefully.

Giving you time to back away.

You didn’t.

His hand slid gently against your jaw.

Warm fingertips.

Shaky breath.

“You know,” he whispered, smiling slightly, “I can’t believe I had to fake date you first. That’s so embarrassing for me.”

You laughed despite yourself.

“There’s the ego again.”

“I’m trying to be vulnerable romantically. Don’t ruin this.”

“You literally confessed by complaining.”

“And yet it worked.”

Unfortunately, it had.

Completely.

His forehead rested lightly against yours.

For a second neither of you moved.

Then—

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

Professionalism should’ve stopped you.

Common sense too.

Instead, you whispered—

“Please.”

Seungkwan kissed like he did everything else:

Earnestly.

Completely.

One hand cradling your face like something precious.

Like he’d thought about this longer than he wanted to admit.

The kiss was soft at first, almost cautious.

Then you kissed him back properly and he made the tiniest surprised sound before pulling you closer immediately.

And suddenly every lingering look, every accidental touch, every moment that felt too real finally made sense.

When you finally pulled apart, he looked dazed.

Then unbearably smug.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “I knew it.”

You shoved his shoulder weakly.

“There he is.”

“My girlfriend likes me back,” he informed the ceiling emotionally. “This is the best day of my life.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And now,” he said proudly, stealing another quick kiss, “technically not fake dating anymore.”

You stared at him.

“…You’re going to become even more unbearable now, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned. “But your job security has never been stronger.”

You laughed so hard your forehead fell against his shoulder.

JUNE 2012

The air in Jeju at five in the morning had a specific smell: a mixture of saltpeter and damp earth. For you, that smell would always mean home. But for Seungkwan, from that day on, that smell would be just a memory stored in a distant compartment of his mind.

You were both sitting on the stone parapet behind Jeju-si High School. It was your spot, a blind one for the security cameras where the school wall meet the precipice overlooking the ocean. Below, the waves crashed against the rocks with rhythmic violence.

A pair of wired headphones connected the two of you, and the music playing was an acoustic demo of Last Love he’d recorded on his phone. His voice, still hoarse from sleep — because he’d woken up in the middle of the night to record it so he wouldn’t forget and you could listen — filled the silence between you.

“You’re not going to need a stage name name,” you finally said, kicking your heels against the stone, the thought occurring to you all at once. “Seungkwan is great. It’s unique. Boo too.”

He let out a nasal laugh, the vapor of his breath condensing in the cold of the early morning, his heels mimicking the same movement as yours. Seungkwan studied your profile, not understating why you gaze was avoiding his.

“Why does it sound like you’re going to cry when you say that?”

You shrugged, sulking internally. “I’m not.”

You did felt like crying, way more than you liked to admit. You were incredibly happy and proud of him, but you couldn’t shake the fear in the pit of your stomach telling you everything was about to change. And as silly as it sounded, you were trying to hold on to that small part of who he was in that moment.

“Then are you already planning my marketing?” He bumped your elbow with his. “I haven’t even stepped through the company gate yet. I could be sent back in the first month if I can’t keep up with the pace of the other trainees.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t talk nonsense.” Below you, the waves began to decrease in intensity as the day began to rise. “I saw you rehearse that choreography until your feet bled at the harvest festival. Pledis doesn’t know what’s coming for them.”

“You should come with me,” he says like if it were the easiest thing in the world, eyes locking with yours with a small sparkle.

You can’t help but laugh at his suggestion, turning to him. The bluish light of pre-dawn sculpted his profile, and you felt a tightness in your chest that you couldn’t name. It was pride, but it was also the anticipatory grief of a loss.

“And do what? I can’t sing or dance for the life of me, Kwanie.”

“You can be my manager.”

“I’m pretty sure they already have people for that,” you argued, like that was the only problem.

“Then you’ll be my producer,” he countered instantly, his voice dropping the playful edge. He shifted his weight, turning his body entirely toward you so that the wire of the headphones tugged slightly between your ears. “It’s only eight months, tokki.”

You want to tell him he’s not coming back in eight months. That there’s no way in hell they’ll let him go without turning him into something bigger than this island could ever hold. But instead, you take a deep breath and watch the waves below.

“Eight months is a long time. There’s time to have had a child in that time.”

He scoffed. “A child with whom?”

“I don’t know! Youngjae is cute.” You shrugged again, pouting just to annoy him before flicking his forehead lightly. “We’re sixteen, dummy.”

Cho Youngjae.

He’s a cool guy. Tall, looks like a baseball player or something equally appealing, even though he’s only a few years older than the two of you. He’s always announcing that he wants to be a surgeon. Seungkwan swears he thinks he’s a good guy. The problem is that everyone at school knows he has a big fat crush on you.

And so does he.

“Why are we suddenly talking about Cho Youngjae?”

“Well…” There you were, avoiding his gaze again. “He invited me to watch him practice and get banana milk after school the other day.”

Seungkwan’s entire posture stiffened, and even though he tried so obviously to hide it, you noticed. The rhythmic kicking of his heels against the stone parapet stopped abruptly, leaving only the sound of the crashing waves and the soft hum of his own voice through the shared earbuds.

“Practice,” he repeated, his voice flat, devoid of the melody it usually carried. “And banana milk. Wow. He really pulled out the big guns, didn’t he?”

He looked away, staring out the horizon where a thin, pale line of orange was beginning to bleed into the indigo sky. The jealousy he felt wasn’t a sharp pain; it was a dull, heavy ache, a realization that while he was moving toward a future with the possibility of bright lights and crowded stages, he was leaving a vacuum behind.

And people like Cho Youngjae—people who didn’t have to leave, people who could stay and buy you a snack after school—were already waiting to take his place beside you.

“He’s just being nice, Kwanie. Don’t be like that,” you mumbled, though you secretly relished the way his jaw tightened.

“I’m not being like anything,” he retorted, though he finally reached up and yanked the earbud out of his ear. The silence of the morning rushed in to fill the space. “It’s just… you don’t even like banana milk that much. You like the strawberry one.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you countered, crossing your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the dawn chill.

You didn’t even know Seungkwan cared that much about strawberry milk or banana milk.

He turned back to you, and the playfulness was gone. He wanted to tell you not to go with Youngjae. He wanted to ask you to wait the eight months. Or ten. However long it took for him to get settled. He wanted to promise he would call you every night. That he’d send you the demos of every song he learned. That you shouldn’t let some high school baseball player wannabe make you forget about him.

But that wouldn’t be fair to you.

So instead, Seungkwan exhaled deeply and softened his expression as he sat back down beside you, slipping his side of the earbud back in.

“And you?” he asked, changing the subject, as he always did when the conversation was about to get too serious. “Are you going to keep hiding your talent for communication behind the inn counter?”

You sighed, glancing towards the horizon, where the orange line was growing bigger.

“My mother needs me here, you know.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the sturdy warmth of him through his jacket. “Since my father passed away, the inn is all we have.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Kwan,” you breathed, watching the sun finally break over the water. “The women around here don’t retire, they just merge with their work.” You shrugged. “Plus, someone has to carry the sheets and check in the tourists who think the island is an amusement park.”

There was a melancholy in the way you spoke, even though you tried to be humorous about it, and Seungkwan noticed.

“It’s temporary, tokki,” he said, resting his head against yours. “Someday you’re going to be the voice everyone hears on their way to work. I’ll be in the back of a black van on the way to some show, and I’ll turn on the radio, and I’ll hear your voice.”

You smiled, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. The idea seemed like a perfect fairy tale. A few years back, you would have believed it wholeheartedly. Now, you knew that the distance between Jeju Island and stardom in Seoul was greater than a few kilometers of ocean; it was an abyss of social classes, restrictive contracts, and a lot sleep deprivation.

“Just…” you said suddenly, voice lost its lightness. “Promise me.”

Seungkwan leaned closer, the headphone cord stretching between you. “Promise what?”

“Promise you won’t abandon me.” He looked rather confused, opening his mouth to argue that he wouldn’t, but you didn’t let him finish. “Not physically, I know you have to go. But don’t let whatever is waiting for you there… change you.”

“Tokki…”

“Don’t let them turn you into a product I can’t recognize. I want that, ten years from now, if we meet again, I can still see the boy who used to steal tangerines from the neighbor’s orchard with me.”

He held your hand. His skin was warm against yours, which was frozen by the wind. “I could never forget you, even if I tried. You are my anchor, tokki. Seoul can give me the world, but Jeju is where my heart is.”

Even if that were true, the two of you couldn’t help but laugh when Seungkwan fell silent.

“You’re so dramatic, Boo,” you breathed, watching the sun finally break over the water. “Pledis really is going to love you.”

Silence returned, but now it was different, the sun finally breaking through the sea’s edge and bathing the volcanic rock in gold. It was your signal: Seungkwan will be leaving for the airport in less than three hours.

“It’s time,” you murmured, though you wished you could freeze time. “Your mother must be finishing her coffee. She’ll be furious if you leave on an empty stomach.”

You stood, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along toward the low houses of the neighborhood, your hands brushing against each other but never truly intertwining due the silent fear that the contact would be too painful to break afterward.

“Are you really sure about this?” you asked, voice faltering slightly. You kicked a small stone, eyes fixed on your own feet. “Seoul is… far. Like, really far. It’s not like going to the airport. It’s another world.”

Seungkwan looked out at the sea in the distance. In Jeju, the horizon seemed like the end of everything. In Seoul, he heard the horizon was made of skyscrapers.

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Okay.”

As you reached his door, the smell of seaweed soup and grilled fish wafted through the cracks. It was his last breakfast as a nobody. Before entering, you paused under the stone portico. You held his shoulders, forcing him to look at you one last time without the distractions of the adult life that awaited you.

“Listen carefully,” you began, voice firm despite the urge to cry. “Don’t look back when you get on that plane, okay?”

“What—”

You covered his mouth with both hands. “Just… let me finish, please.” He nodded, looking between your hands over his mouth and your eyes. “Jeju will be here. I’ll be here. But these… these are your dreams now. They’re no longer our childhood plans, they’re your reality. Go and conquer everything you said you would.”

Seungkwan pulled you into a quick, tight hug. It was the kind of hug meant to hold on to the other person’s scent for long days.

“I’ll go,” he whispered against your hair. “I swear I will.”

You watched him go inside, his silhouette swallowed by the warm light of the kitchen where his family awaited him. You stood there for a minute, alone in the morning chill, knowing that from that moment on, your lives would never be the same.

Then you walked toward your mother’s inn, the battery-powered radio in your pocket weighing like lead. You had a shift to work, sheets to change, and an ordinary life to lead, while he was about to become a constellation.

PRESENT

Studio B at the Jeju City Broadcasting was roughly the size of a walk-in closet—practically a shoebox—and smelled distinctly of stale iced americano, sea salt drifting in from the open window down the hall, and Seungkwan’s ridiculously expensive cedarwood cologne, which had seeped into the walls over the months.

It was a chaotic, cramped little ecosystem, and for the last fifteen years, it had been you’re entire world.

“You’re tapping your pen again,” Seungkwan murmurs, not even looking up from his phone as he lounges in the squeaky host’s chair.

You immediately freeze your hand over the mixing console. “I am not tapping. I am keeping time.”

“You’re tapping,” he insists, casually reaching across the desk to steal the iced Americano you had bought for yourself and yourself only. “And it means you’re stressed about the timing of the transition for the second segment.”

You snatch the coffee back, glaring at him as condensation drips onto your meticulously highlighted run-of-show. You sigh. “I’m stressed because you went off-script yesterday and we had thirty seconds of dead air while you monologued about the emotional depth of a drama you watched in 2018. If you—”

“—miss the cue, Chief will throw a fit,” he finishes, waving a hand dismissively. “I know, I know.” He finally puts his phone down and shoots you a blinding, practiced smile that practically sparkles under the fluorescent studio lights. “Relax, tokki. You’re working with a professional.”

You roll your eyes so hard they actually ache. You hate that damn nickname he gave you when you were eight years old and your front teeth refused to grow no matter how long you waited and wished for them to, giving him endless fuel to tease you until you finally threatened to beat him to death.

After so many years apart, you would have expected Seungkwan to forget that damn nickname. Especially now that you were both already in your thirties. But no. Quite the opposite, actually.

Your phone buzzes against the console, vibrating so violently it nearly rattles off the edge. You don’t have to look at the screen to know who it is, and the familiar knot of dread tightens instantly in your stomach.

[Youngjae - 8:14 PM]: Are you seriously working late again? You told me you’d be done by 6.

You sigh, picking up the device. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, already drafting an apology you didn’t actually owe him.

You didn’t use to work late until six months ago, when Seungkwan arrived and the Chief reassigned you from the Non-stop Nostalgia show to the late-night slot. The workload had doubled now that his co-host had given birth three weeks earlier than expected and you were filling in for her because, of course, you didn’t find a replacement for her sooner.

[You - 8:15 PM]: I’m sorry, babe. The 9:00 PM live slot is still a mess. They still haven’t found anyone to replace Yoona and we’re scrambling. I might not be out until 11.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

[Youngjae - 8:17 PM]: Whatever. You always put that stupid station first. [Youngjae - 8:17 PM]: I don’t even know why I bother making plans with you. You need to figure out your priorities.

You lock the screen and set the phone face down. A heavy, exhausting silence settles over you, and you can feel Seungkwan’s eyes on you, studying you, even though he doesn’t ask anything.

You trace the edge of the promise ring Youngjae had given you six months ago; a silver band that felt more like a shackle than a symbol of affection. You are constantly walking on eggshells, constantly apologizing for having a career, constantly trying to shrink yourself to fit into the “normal, peaceful life” you thought you wanted.

Why were you with him? That was a question you didn’t like to ask yourself.

“Hey. Earth to PD-nim.”

You jolt, snapping your head up to see Chan, the junior writer, waving a hand in front of your face. “Sorry,” you blink, shaking off the lingering guilt. “What is it? Did we secure a backup for tonight?”

Chan’s eyes were wide, a mix of sheer panic and starry-eyed excitement. “Chief Kang is calling for an emergency meeting in the briefing room. Right now. And yes, we secured a backup. Apparently, he pulled off an absolute miracle.”

You push yourself out of your old squeaky chair, grabbing your clipboard and glancing in Seungkwan’s direction, who, for some reason, avoids your gaze.

“A miracle? Who did they get with three hours’ notice?”

“Just get in there,” Chan urges, practically shoving you toward the door and following right behind you.

The small briefing room was buzzing with frantic energy when you walked in. Chief Choi Seungcheol—a notoriously stressed, soft man who practically lives on black coffee —is pacing in the front of the room like he was trying to outrun whatever news he was about to deliver.

The small radio station belonged to his grandparents, and since you were hired after returning from university, you’d seen the ups and downs he’d faced trying to keep this little corner of Jeju running over the years as radio slowly faded for the younger generation. It had basically been on life support, kept alive mostly by the island’s elderly listeners… well, until Seungkwan arrived and the audience grew exponentially.

As soon as you take your seat, Seungcheol slams his hands down on the table.

“Alright, listen up,” he barks, though there’s a triumphant gleam in his eye. “We’re not going to hire someone to replace Yoona.”

Your eyebrows arch in shock as you set your clipboard down on the table. “What? But Seungkwan needs a co-host now!”

He’s smiling almost maniacally at you now. “Yes! And we’re giving him one.”

The sound of the door opening and closing catches your attention, and when you look back, Seungkwan is standing there, his lips wrapped around the straw of your coffee as he stares at you with a mischievous glint in his deliberately wide eyes.

You look between Seungkwan and Seungcheol, taking exactly the amount of time it takes for a breath to pass before realizing what’s going on.

“Okay, no!” you say, immediately getting up from your chair to walk out of the room, but Seungkwan quickly steps toward you and places his hands on your shoulders.

“The listeners want this,” he argues. You grimace, pulling away from him as the condensation from his iced coffee brushes against your skin before sitting back down. “Yesterday Gyeonghee halmoni stopped me on the street just to tell me you should be the permanent co-host.”

Gyeonghee halmoni was the oldest woman in your neighborhood, and you knew she listened to the radio religiously, always insisting she was never too old to take love advice. You knew she was a particular fan of the Time Capsule of Love segment, where you only played very old love songs, mostly because she called almost every night to make a request.

It was at her eighty-ninth birthday party that you and Seungkwan reconnected six months ago.

“Gyeonghee halmoni is biased,” you say, shaking your head. “She watched us grow up.”

Seungkwan doesn’t just sit; he sprawls into the chair next to you, leaning in until the scent of that expensive cedarwood is all you can process.

“My mother said the same thing too,” Chan says from the corner of the room where he’s squeezed in, raising his hand slightly as if he were in a classroom.

“The ratings for the ‘PD-nim interjections’ are higher than the guest segments, and you know it,” Seungkwan adds, his voice dropping into that smooth, persuasive register he usually saves for the microphone. You liked to think you were immune to it.

“I am a producer,” you hiss, ignoring the way Seungcheol is nodding along like Seungkwan is delivering a sermon. “I stay behind the glass. I don’t talk into microphones. I manage the chaos you create, Boo Seungkwan. I don’t join it!”

Especially considering the program’s content: relationship advice and dating reality shows. What did you know about relationships? Nothing. Your own relationship was proof of that. Seungkwan, on the other hand, apparently knew a lot, which was exactly why he was perfect for the job.

You blamed only yourself for being in this situation, for not looking for a replacement for Yoona sooner, for leaving everything to the last minute. Now you were stuck in this position.

“But that’s exactly why it works!” Seungcheol interjects, pacing across the small rug in the center of the room. “Your chemistry, the bickering. It’s nostalgic.” Seungkwan is now the one nodding alone to the nonsense. “It’s Jeju’s childhood friends story, only now you’re both working together. It’s a goldmine. The sponsors are already asking about the girl who rage baites Seungkwan.”

“The girl has a name,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “And she has a boyfriend who is currently one text away from a total meltdown if she gets home any later.”

At the indirect mention of Youngjae, Seungkwan’s expression shifts. The mischievous glint doesn’t disappear, but now he also looks noticeably annoyed. You know his opinion of Youngjae inside and out. It isn’t news to you now, just like it wasn’t news when you were teenagers.

He glances at your phone, still gripped in your hand, and then back at your face. He sees the fatigue you try to hide behind your professional mask and the way your shoulders are slumped not from work, but from the weight of the apology you’re still drafting in your head for later.

“Think about it, Y/N,” Seungcheol insists, looking at you expectantly. “This could double our listeners.”

The room goes quiet as you close your eyes and bury your face in your hands to avoid the three pairs of eyes fixed on you, waiting for you to change your mind. Even Chan looks like he’s about to faint from the drama of it all.

Your phone buzzes again.

[Youngjae - 8:27 PM]: Don’t expect me to wait up. You’re being selfish.

The ring around your finger feels particularly heavy now. You look at Seungkwan. He’s annoying, he’s loud, and he’s currently trying to change your career for God knows what reason. But he’s also the only person in this city who looks at you like you’re the lead character in your own life rather than a supporting role in someone else’s.

You narrow your eyes. “This was your idea.” It’s not a question, it’s an affirmation. It’s clear on his face, because unlike what he tries to convey, Boo Seungkwan is an open book.

He raises his hands to shoulder height in a guilty gesture, but he doesn’t look guilty at all. “You’re perfect for the job, tokki.”

You let out a grunt, throwing your head back. Fucking Boo Seungkwan. Fucking soft spot you still have for him despite everything, especially when he gives you that Boo-Poor-Little-Seungkwan look.

“One week,” you say, after a long sigh, pointing a finger at his chest. “A trial run. If the listeners hate it or if you go off-script about a drama for more than ten seconds, I’m going back behind the glass and you’re finding a new co-host yourself.”

You’re staring at each other, but out of the corner of your eye you can see Seungcheol and Chan celebrating while exchanging a high-five. Seungkwan’s grin is blinding, wide, triumphant, and fucking annoying. He reaches out, not to shake your hand, but to give your ponytail a playful tug, just like he used to when you were ten.

“One week is all I need,” he says, and for a split second, the way he looks at you makes the small, cramped briefing room feel like it’s spinning at a different frequency. “Trust me, PD-nim. We’re going to give them a show they’ll never forget.”

6 MONTHS AGO

The neighborhood recreation center was loud, sweltering, and smelled intensely of freshly fried pajeon. Gyeonghee halmoni’s 89th birthday had essentially become a town festival, and you were already thirty minutes late.

Dodging wandering toddlers and plates of tteokbokki, you immediately spotted the one thing you were dreading: your mother. She was standing by the gift table, deep in conversation with Mrs. Boo.

They were huddled close together, holding paper cups of sweet rice punch, radiating the kind of synchronized, terrifying energy only two mothers who have known each other for over twenty years can possess. You tried to stealthily make you way toward the food buffet first, but your mother’s radar was unparalleled.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” your mother announced loudly, abandoning her hushed conversation to fix you with a pointed glare.

“Hi, mom,” you pratically dragged the word out of you. “Hello, Mrs. Boo,” you greeted, bowing respectfully to Seungkwan’s mother. “I’m sorry I’m late, the afternoon broadcast ran long and traffic was terrible near the—”

“Aigoo, look at you!” Mrs. Boo interrupted, entirely ignoring your excuse as she reached out to pat your arm affectionately. Her eyes crinkled in a warm smile. “You get prettier every time I see you. Are you eating well, sweetheart? You look a little thin.”

“Prettier?” you mother scoffed, though she was secretly pleased. She waved a hand dismissively. “She looks like she hasn’t in a week. All she does is work at that radio station. I tell her she needs to get out, make new friends, but does she listen to me?”

“Mom, please,” you hissed under your breath, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Not here.”

You knew this conversation by heart, but that didn’t mean Mrs. Boo needed to hear it too.

“Ah, let her be, she’s building a career!” Mrs. Boo laughed, though there was a sudden, distinct twinkle in her eye. She leaned in a fraction closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a state secret. “You know... our Seungkwanie is here.”

Your stomach did a strange flip at the mention of his name. “Oh. Really? I thought he was still in Seoul.”

You knew he was back; he’d been the talk of the neighborhood all week. You’d just chosen to ignore the fact, and forget that you could run into him anywhere now, that it was only a matter of time until you did.

“He came back last week. Taking a break,” Mrs. Boo beamed, her pride evident. But then she share a very deliberate, conspiratorial look with your mother. “He was just asking about you the other day, actually. Wondering how his favorite childhood friend was doing.”

Funny, considering he never even bothered to call in the last twelve years, you thought, still holding a polite smile on your face.

Your mother’s eyes lit up with a terrifying gleam. She immediately reached out, grabbing your shoulders and physically turning you away from the buffet table and toward the back of the hall.

“Go say hi,” your mother ordered, giving you a firm push.

“Mom, I literally just walked in. Let me get a plate of food first, I haven’t eaten since—”

“The japchae isn’t going anywhere,” she interrupted, adjusting the collar of your shirt with quick, fussy movements. “He just got here too. He’s standing right over there by the punch bowl looking lonely. Go talk to him.”

“Yes, go catch up!” Mrs. Boo chimed in, shooing you with her hand. “Tell him his mother said to get you a drink.”

Seeing them together like that felt like a childhood flashback; like being forced to stay close to Seungkwan or made to do things with him all over again just because they wanted too. Like being forced to dance together at school events, or serving as ring bearers for the newlywed couple who lived three houses down.

Realizing you had absolutely no way out of this trap, you sighed, offering them both a tight, resigned smile. “Fine. I’m going.”

“Stand up straight!” your mother called out after you in a loud whisper.

You rolled your eyes, smoothing down your outfit as you navigated through the sea of relatives and neighbors until you finally spotted him.

He was standing by the punch bowl, looking both ridiculously handsome and slightly out of place in a crisp, white button-down. Even without the stage makeup and the flash of cameras, Boo Seungkwan had an undeniable glowing aura.

You took a deep breath, trying to push down the sudden spike of nerves caused by the realization that the moment you’d pictured in your head thousands of times was actually happening. Then, quietly, you sidled up beside him.

“Excuse me, sunbaenim,” you said, leaning in just enough to mock a polite bow. “Can I get your autograph?”

Seungkwan turned, a polite, probably practiced smile already forming on his lips, until his eyes met yours for the first time in nearly fifteen years. Then he completely froze.

The plastic cup in his hand halted halfway to his mouth. His eyes went wide, sweeping over your face, your hair, the way you stood there looking at him. You immediately started talking, rattling off a quick string of teasing remarks. He could see your mouth moving, but he wasn’t hearing a single word, almost like he was underwater.

Seungkwan was entirely captivated, his brain short-circuiting as the intoxicating, familiar scent of your perfume hit him. It was scent that instantly bypassed the last twelve years of his life, striking a match directly to the teenage hormones and memories he’d buried long ago.

You stopped talking, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Sungkwan?”

He blinked rapidly, practically shaking himself out of the stupor. “You… wow. Hi. You look… you look really good.”

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest. “Oh my God, Boo Seungkwan said I look good. I’m going to write a fanfic about it.”

You could see the moment the shock wore off, instantly replaced by the familiar, comfortable irritation he always fell into when you teased him all those years ago.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Please. I bet you’ve already written several where we end up in love.”

You clicked your tongue as your shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. “Actually, I think your friend Jeonghan is cuter.” You smiled broadly, watching his jaw drop and his eyes widen again. “He’s so handsome. Is he single?”

You emphasize the word deliberately, watching his face contort as he processes it. But all he says is:

“You think what?” Seungkwan choked out, his competitive streak flaring up in a millisecond. Or at least that was what you thought. Inside, Seungkwan felt a possessive pull toward you that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

You tried to bite your lip to hold back your laughter, but you simply couldn’t, bursting out laughing as you stepped just a fraction closer to him to let two little boys run past you toward the playground.

“You’re still so easy to mess with, Boo.”

His face morphed into an outraged expression, though you could see a smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “And you’re still crazy, I see.”

“He is, indeed, handsome, they all are.” You paused, clearly enjoying his reaction. Your voice dipped playfully as you tapped your chest in a steady rhythm. “...but my heart still beats for Boo Seungkwan. Boo Seungkwan.” You laughed, eyes crinkling. “Old flame, you know. Right?”

If only you knew.

Seungkwan stared at you, his ears turning a violent shade of red. He tried to scowl, to muster up some kind of witty retort, but the sheer relief and joy of realizing you hadn’t changed at all completely overwhelmed him. He let out a breathless, defeated chuckle, running a hand through his hair before dragging the tips of his fingers down his neck.

“You’re terrible,” he muttered, though his eyes were painfully fond. “A decade without seeing you, and within two minutes you’re already giving me a headache.”

“It’s a gift, really,” you replied, finally grabbing a cup of punch for yourself.

The silence was slightly awkward — but only because it’s been twelve years of radio silence —, not uncomfortable, though. In fact, you had a million questions that could fill it, but since starting with Why haven’t you contacted me in twelve years, you stuck-up idiot? was probably a terrible opener, you settled for something lighter.

“So. You’re really back, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, lifting the glass to your lips mostly to keep yourself from saying anything out of spike. “The neighborhood aunties have been gossiping all week. They said you’re officially retired from the idol life.”

“Taking a very long, very permanent hiatus,” he corrected with a dismissive hand, leaning against the table so he could fully face you. “I needed a break from Seoul. Plus I heard my favorite childhood friend was running the local radio station now.”

You quickly built your defenses back up, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Favorite feels ironic, again. You’re almost certain it doesn’t fit what happened between you two over the past years; if anything, it feels like the opposite.

“Not running it. Producing.” It was your turn to correct him. “The afternoon slot. It’s chaotic, and I practically live in the editing booth. But I love it.”

Seungkwan watched your face light up as you talked about the station. The way your eyes sparked—the genuine passion in your voice—was entirely real. It was the same look you used to get when you figured out a particularly difficult math problem in high school, or when you finally beat him in a volleyball match.

“Producing,” Seungkwan repeated softly, testing the word on his tongue. A small, genuine smile broke through his initial shock. “I’ll be honest. I’ve tuned in a few times since I got back.”

You nearly choked on your rice punch. You lowered the paper cup, staring at him suspiciously. “You did? You listened to my show?”

“Of course I did,” he said, shifting his weight. He looked down at his shoes for a split second before meeting your eyes again, his gaze suddenly much heavier. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

The casual confession hit you right in the chest, entirely unbalancing you. This was the danger of Boo Seungkwan. He could flip the switch from annoying childhood best friend who hadn’t spoken to you in twelve years to a devastatingly sincere, loving man without even trying.

Holding a grudge against someone like that isn’t easy.

“I always knew you’d end up bossing people around for a living,” Seungkwan laughed, the sound warm and effortlessly familiar. One smile, and suddenly the years between you don’t feel so large anymore. You hate that most of all.

“Someone has to keep things in line,” you countered, taking the last sip of your punch. You looked up at him, letting the teasing persona slip away for just a moment, offering him a sincere smile. “But really... it’s good to see you, Boo. I’m glad you’re back.”

And you meant it with all your heart, far more than you’d ever imagined.

Seungkwan’s eyes softened, a profound sense of relief washing over his features. He had been so nervous about how you would react to seeing him after so much time had passed, but standing here, falling right back into your easy, comfortable rhythm, he felt an anchor drop.

“It really has,” he agreed, his voice dropping into a more earnest tone. He glanced around the chaotic recreation center, at the aunties dancing and the kids running around, before his gaze settled back on you. “I missed this. And,” he paused, a fond smile pulling at his lips, “I missed you.”

The words sat on the tip of your tongue, but you weren’t going to ruin this moment by saying them.

You bumped your shoulder playfully against his arm. “Don’t get soft on me now, sunbaenim. You have a reputation to uphold.”

“I’d prefer it if you just called me oppa,” he said playfully, bumping his shoulder against yours in return.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Back then, it had always been a running joke between the two of you. “Apparently not all your dreams came true.”

Before he could formulate a comeback, a loud voice shattered your comfortable bubble.

“Look at them! Didn’t I tell you?” your mother crowed, suddenly appearing at Seungkwan’s elbow with Mrs. Boo right behind her. Both women looked like cats who had just cornered a very plump canary.“Like no time has passed at all!”

You immediately stood up straighter, shooting a panicked look at Seungkwan. “Mom, please. We’re just catching up.”

“Well, keep catching up!” Mrs. Boo cheered, clapping her hands together. “Seungkwanie, why don’t you get Y/N a plate of food? The poor girl is starving, her mother said she practically lives at that radio station.”

Seungkwan cleared his throat, stepping back into his polite and respectful persona with practiced ease, though he threw a quick amused glance your way. “Of course, Eomma. I’ll take good care of her.”

As the two mothers linked arms and walked away, practically vibrating with matchmaking glee, Seungkwan turned back to you, the smirk firmly back in place.

You let him lead you toward the food, shaking your head even as a smile spread so wide across your face that your cheeks began to ache. In just a few minutes, you realized how effortlessly he could slip back into your life. Boo Seungkwan was home, and suddenly, everything felt a whole lot brighter.

PRESENT

They were right. The number of listeners had increased exponentially in less than a week, and although you hated to admit it, Seungkwan was right. You were happy with what your presence as co-host was doing for the station, more than happy, actually. Even on the street, people stopped you to say how much they loved the show, how they tuned in every night.

Everyone at the station was celebrating the results, and it felt as though everything had come back to life. Besides, you couldn’t deny it: the show really was that good.

Pulled out of your daydream by the sound of someone lazily tapping on the glass, you see the only other person you trust in your control booth: Hansol. He point his indicator at both of you and flashes up three fingers. Thirty seconds to air.

You nod, keeping your eyes locked on the console. The ON AIR sign bleeds neon red across the studio glass, emitting a low, sixty-cycle hum. You push the faders up, and the bright, tropical synth-pop intro of your show, Love Is on the Radio, fills the booth. You slide Seungkwan’s mic fader up first, then bring yours up a second later.

Instantly, the annoying best friend vanishes out of him. His posture straightens, his chin tilts to the perfect angle for a camera that isn’t even there, and he leans into the microphone.

Seungkwan is usually a very confident man, but watching him in his element always feels like seeing a whole new side of the boy you once knew, or the man you found six months ago in his childhood bedroom at his mother’s house, quietly moping and counting the petals on her hydrangeas because he was bored out of his mind.

“I was meditating, not moping,” he defended himself when you brought the subject up two weeks ago, a hand placed over his heart, looking personally wounded.

You were the one who suggested to Seungcheol that he could offer Seungkwan the position after you ran into him at the party. So now, because of your brilliant idea, if the people of Jeju don’t buy into Seungkwan’s “revolutionary ideas” about love and romance, your reputation is going down the drain right along with his.

“Good evening, Jeju! You’re back with your favorite duo,” you say, leaning into your mic with a practiced, bright energy, settling into your radio voice. “I’m your temporary host, Kang Y/N, and sitting across from me is the man who spent forty-five minutes this morning debating whether or not he’s a Taejoon or a Jungwoo: it’s Boo Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan let out a soulful chuckle that rumbles smoothly through your headphones. “Listen, the new season of Single’s Inferno is a sociological study! It’s about the raw human condition! Hello everyone, I’m Seungkwan. And for the record? I’m definitely a Taejoon. I’m loyal, I’m funny, and I look great in a vest.”

When Seungkwan speaks, his voice drops an octave, dripping with the velvety, honeyed charisma that had made him the nation’s beloved vocalist for more than a decade. By now, you’re trained to ignore the things it does to you.

“You’re a Eunseo at best, dramatic and prone to crying in the back of a van,” you retort, checking the monitor. “But we aren’t here to talk about your identity crisis, my friend. We’re here to talk about the Paradise dates. Kwan, as our resident romance expert, what did you think of the bonfire confession?”

You already knew what Seungkwan thought about them, considering the two of you had watched the episodes together on your couch the night before. Your mom and grandmother had spent the entire evening pampering him so much that, at one point, you found yourself wondering whether he was the real member of the family and not you.

“It was amateur hour, Y/N. If you’re going to confess your feelings, you need atmosphere. You need a build-up. You can’t just blurt it out between bites of grilled sea bream!”

You both move like a well-oiled machine. For the first fifteen minutes, it’s a masterclass in broadcasting. The two of you debate the new episodes of the latest season of Single’s Inferno, practically disagreeing with everything the other says for no reason at all, just for the fun of arguing and rage-baiting each other.

“Spoken like a man who has watched exactly three hundred dramas and participated in zero actual dates,” you tease after he describes how perfect one of the dates in Paradise was.

Not that you knew anything about Seungkwan’s love life, considering the two of you hadn’t reached that topic of conversation yet, even if you had already spilled your heart out to him during one drunken night.

Honestly, the less you knew, the better.

“I am a scholar of the heart!” he defends, a hand over his heart, even if you’re the only one who can see him. “Anyway, before we get to our first caller of the night, it’s time for my favorite part of the show. Let’s open our Time Capsule of Love.”

You hit the transition, a nostalgic, grainy vinyl crackle. “Tonight’s request comes from a listener in Aewol who wants to remember their first summer love,” you announce. “Here’s Perhaps Love by HowL & J.ae.”

As the classic track starts playing, you slide the faders down.

“We’re clear for, like, three minutes,” you mutter, stretching your arms as you stand to refill your water bottle and grab a cookie from the box Chan had left earlier, sometime before the show started.

Seungkwan also stretches back in his creaky old chair. You can feel his eyes following you around the room, tracking your movements, and it doesn’t take much to realize he has something sitting right on the tip of his tongue to comment on or ask you.

It was funny how inseparable the two of you had become since reuniting, how effortlessly you’d slipped back into your old rhythm. How well you still knew him and all his mannerisms, like the back of your hand. But there was still one massive elephant in the room: neither of you had said a word about those twelve years of silence.

You wouldn’t say you were exactly okay with it, but at the same time, you were terrified of bringing it up and ruining everything the two of you had rebuilt over the past six months. You could only hope it wouldn’t all come crashing down around you somewhere in the future.

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms, the water sloshing softly inside the bottle as the music continues to play. “What?”

“Are you going to Youngjae’s place after this?” Seungkwan asks, trying to sound nonchalant as he pretended to examine his fingernails.

“Don’t know yet. Why?”

Seungkwan spins his squeaky chair a half-inch to the left, leaning his elbows on his knees. The playful, broadcast-ready smile he wore just a minute ago completely dissolves, replaced by a tight, familiar, almost sulky frown.

“Just wondering if you’re parking in his driveway tonight,” Seungkwan says, his tone dangerously passive, “or if you’re still relegated to the visitor’s spot three blocks down so his neighbors don’t start asking questions about the mystery woman sneaking in after dark.”

You almost choke on your piece of cookie. You swallow hard, shooting a panicked glare through the glass to make sure Hansol isn’t paying attention to the booth or your conversation, only to find him lost in his own world as always.

“Keep your voice down, tattletale,” you hiss, tossing the rest of the cookie onto a napkin and sitting back down in your chair. “And for your information, he has a very strict building policy. It’s not about me or our relationship. It’s about his privacy.”

That’s a lie, but you won’t give Seungkwan the satisfaction of being right. And he seems to know it, a scoff slipping past his lips.

“Right.” He drags the word out. “The notorious anti-girlfriend bylaws of Jeju real estate,”

“Kwan, don’t start—”

Seungkwan reaches out, tapping the edge of your console. “Are you listening to yourself, Y/N?Privacy is keeping your relationship off Instagram. What he’s doing is hiding you.”

You were past that stage. Past thinking too much about it. Past pretending you didn’t know that Youngjae was hiding your relationship from his friends, family, and even his neighbors. You knew he was. And it was complicated. Or at least, that’s what he’d been telling you ever since you rekindled your relationship a year ago.

Seungkwan, unlike you, had called it what it was the moment you told him you were back with Youngjae, but that only a small number of people knew. At the time, you thought it was just because Seungkwan hadn’t liked him back in your school days. Now, you were starting to have doubts about… well, everything.

But you wouldn’t discuss that here, much less in the middle of a broadcast with Perhaps Love playing as the soundtrack to this conversation.

“We have an arrangement that works for us. He’s a private person, Seungkwan. Not everyone wants their life broadcasted to the masses like you do.”

It’s a low blow, and you know it the second the words leave your mouth. Seungkwan flinches, just barely, but his dark eyes stay locked onto yours. The air in the tiny studio suddenly feels impossibly thick.

You close your eyes, dragging a hand down your face.

It comes and goes. The resentment you feel toward him for never calling or reaching out, for never answering your letters or your calls. It comes and goes.

“I didn’t meant to.”

You see Seungkwan swallow, his lips pouting slightly like he’s choosing his next words.

“I spent ten years hiding every single aspect of my life to survive in the industry, tokki.” His voice drops into a quiet, raw register that makes your chest ache. It’s worse because he calls you that. “So I know exactly what it looks like when someone treats you like a liability instead of a partner.”

“Why do you even care?” you snap, crossing your arms defensively to hide the way your hands are shaking. You really, really want to know why. “You’re my friend, Boo. Not my life coach.”

“I care because it’s pathetic watching you settle for him!” he fires back, leaning closer until his face is just inches from the mic stand. “You sit here every night, teasing me about my expertise on romance, but at least I know how to treat a girl.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die in your throat. He’s looking at you with that same fierce, frustrated intensity he had behind the school, in your spot, all those years ago, when Youngjae invited you out for banana milk. And it makes something strange shift inside your chest.

It has been happening a lot ever since Seungkwan came back into your life.

When you look away to avoid meeting his eyes, the digital clock on the monitor catches your attention. 0:15 seconds until the song ends.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you reach for the faders.