soso

"You're insane," you mouthed, but you were already getting up, padding across your room in bare feet.

You cracked the window open just enough to whisper or yell at him. "Sean, you're going to fall and break your neck one of these days."

"Nah." he shifted his weight effortlessly, the branch barely swaying beneath him as he reached for your windowsill with those fingers. "I'm too pretty to fall."

"You're too stupid to fall, you mean."

"Rude." He pulled himself through with that athletic grace that came so naturally to him, the same grace that made him captain of three sports teams and the golden boy of the neighborhood. Your parents loved him. His parents loved you. Everyone thought you two were just childhood friends who grew up in houses side by side.

Nobody knew about the midnight visits. "I have a perfectly good front door," you reminded him as he landed softly on your carpet, all of him suddenly taking up so much space in your small room.

"Where's the fun in that?" he was already close, too close, he backed you up until your legs hit your bed. You could feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Besides, your dad would make me sit through another lecture about job applications instead." The boy mumbled.

“Something so triggering for you right? It's almost winter, boy. That tree is going to be too icy to climb soon."

You tilted your head back to look at him properly, noting the way his pupils dilated slightly in the darkness, how his breathing had picked up just from being close to you.

"I guess I'll have to come more often before then." his voice dropped lower, softer, as his hand came up to cup your face. His thumb traced your cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "Couldn't sleep without seeing you anyway."

Your breath caught. It always did, no matter how many nights he showed up. "You saw me literally eight hours ago, for dinner at your house."

"Exactly. eight hours too long." his other hand found your hip, fingers slipping just under the hem of your sleep shirt to touch bare skin, and you felt goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

And then he was kissing you, soft and sweet and entirely unfair. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as you fisted your hands in his hoodie, the one you'd stolen last week and he'd stolen back yesterday. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, even though you both knew he didn't.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, your lips tingling. His forehead rested against yours, and you could see the satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You can't keep doing this."

“Mhmh you say that every time." he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, then your nose, making it scrunch up, then the corner of your mouth where you could feel his smile. "And yet, you always open the window."

"Because I'm an idiot." your fingers were still twisted in his hoodie, holding him close even as you protested.

"Because you like me." The smugness in his voice made you want to shove him, but he caught your hands before you could, lacing his fingers through yours. His hands were so much warmer, completely enveloping yours. "Say it."

"You already know." You tried to look away, but he ducked his head to catch your gaze again.

"Come on, to me, pretty please." Those brown eyes were unfairly soft now, vulnerable in a way he only ever was here, in the safety of your dark room where no one expected him to be perfect. His thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand, a nervous gesture that betrayed his confident tone.

"I like you, Seonghyeon, happy?"

"Extremely." he kissed you again, deeper this time, walking you backward until you both tumbled onto your bed in a tangle of limbs. He propped himself up on his elbows, hovering over you, and just looked at you like you were something precious.

"What?" you whispered, your fingers trailing down to trace the line of his jaw.

"Just thinking about how lucky I am." His voice was rough, honest in a way that made your chest tight.

"The girl next door turned out to be the girl of my dreams, pretty good odds."

"Weirdo." but you were smiling, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone.

"You’re the weirdo." he nuzzled into your neck, and you ran your fingers through his soft hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way he loved. Within minutes, you could feel him relaxing, his breathing evening out.

"You can't fall asleep here," you warned, but your voice was already fond, your fingers still carding through his hair in a steady rhythm.

"Just five more minutes, please." he mumbled against your skin, his lips barely moving, his body going heavy and pliant on top of you. It was never just five minutes. But you always let him stay as long as possible, until the sky started turning gray and he had to slip back through your window before the world woke up.

Eventually, reluctantly, you'd have to shake him awake, watch his eyes flutter open confused and sleepy before reality sets in. He kissed you one more time before he left, slower, sweeter, his hand cupping your face like he was trying to memorize the shape of you, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

"Text me when you get home safe," you said, like his house wasn't literally fifty feet away. "Always do." He was halfway out the window when he paused, looking back with that boyish grin that made your heart skip. "Same time tomorrow?"

"You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?"

You tried to fight your smile and failed, wrapping your arms around yourself against the cold air streaming through the open window. "It's always a yes."

His grin widened, bright enough to rival the sun that wasn't even up yet. "That's my girl." He swung one leg over the windowsill with practiced ease, his hand gripping the frame as he prepared to make his usual graceful exit. But then, because Seonghyeon could never just leave like a normal person, he paused and looked back at you.

Like you'd hung every star in the sky that stretched out behind him. That devastating softness in his eyes, the one that made your chest ache, the private smile playing at his lips that was so different from his usual cocky smirk.

"Sean, the tree-" you started, because you could see him getting distracted, see the way he was starting to lean back without watching where he was going.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, still staring at you with those ridiculous brownish eyes that seemed to glow in the pre-dawn darkness. His hand reached back for the branch without looking. "How did I get so luc-”

A crack sound was sickeningly loud in the quiet morning. You watched his eyes go wide, watched his hand grasp at empty air where the branch should have been, watched his whole body pitch

backward in slow motion that was somehow still too fast.

His arms windmilled, trying to catch something, anything. For a split second he looked completely baffled, Eom Seonghyeon, who'd never been clumsy a day in his life, who could probably do a backflip off your roof if he wanted to. That surprised "oh" expression on his face would have been comical if you weren't absolutely terrified.

He went down hard, back first into the grass below with a thud that you felt in your bones.

The impact seemed to echo in the stillness, way too loud, and your heart stopped completely. "oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" you were already moving, climbing out your window in your pajama shorts and tank top, not even thinking about the cold or the fact that you were barefoot.

"Sean! Please-" you dropped the last few feet, stumbling as you landed, and scrambled over to where he lay sprawled on his back. The grass was wet with dew, soaking into your knees as you dropped down beside him.

He was just staring up at the sky, blinking slowly, his chest was moving, thank God, his chest was moving. But he looked completely dazed.

"Are you okay?!" your hands were shaking as they hovered over him, afraid to touch him, afraid he'd broken something. "Can you move? Does anything hurt? Oh my god, should I call an ambulance? Or should I get your parents? Sean, please say something."

"I fell," he said, his voice distant and wondering, like he'd just discovered something profound about the universe. "Duh, you fell, you dumbass!" relief and anger crashed through you in equal measure. "I told you that branch was getting weak, I told you-"

"I was looking at you." he turned his head slowly to face you, and despite the fall, despite everything, that grin was starting to creep back onto his face. wonder and amusement mixing in his expression.

"I was looking at you and I fell."

"This isn't funny! you could be seriously hurt!" your hands were still shaking as they moved over him, checking for obvious injuries, blood, broken bones. "What if you'd landed on your head? what if-”

"I think my pride is hurt," he interrupted, sitting up with a groan that made you flinch. He rolled his shoulders experimentally, wincing. "and maybe my ass. Yeah definitely my ass. That's gonna bruise."

"Sean.”

"No, seriously." he shifted, trying to look at his own backside like he could assess the damage. "I think | landed right on my tailbone. Do you think it'll bruise in the shape of that rock? That would be sooo lame." "You're actually insane." but you were still checking him over anyway, running your hands down his arms, feeling for breaks or swelling, checking his pupils to make sure they were the same size. "Nothing's broken? you can move everything?"

"Everything works." he caught your hands, stilling their frantic movement, and brought them to his lips, pressing kisses to your scraped palms. His eyes were sparkling with barely suppressed laughter. "You made me fall out of a tree."

"I didn't make you.."

"You did though." he said it like it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to him, reaching up with one hand to cup your face while the other kept hold of your fingers. "I was so busy looking at you, being all gone for you, that I literally fell out of a tree. Do you know how unusual this is? I have perfect coordination. I'm captain of three sports teams."

"You're an idiot is what you are." but your voice cracked slightly because you'd been so scared, and now he was sitting here making jokes and looking at you like falling fifteen feet was just another fun adventure.

"Just my dignity that's broken then." His thumb traced your cheekbone, and his expression softened. "Hey. I'm okay. look.." he moved his arms, rotated his shoulders, turned his head side to side. "All in working order, it takes more than a little fall to damage this perfect specimen.”

"A little fall? Sean, you fell out of a damn tree."

"Yeah, because of you." The grin was fully back now, smug and adoring and infuriating all at once.

"You're so pretty you're literally dangerous. I'm a hazard around you. Did you see how worried you looked just now? So cute, all panicked and sweet."

"I hate you," you say, but you were checking his head now, fingers carefully feeling through his soft hair for bumps or cuts. Pieces of leaves and small twigs fell out as you went, and you picked them out gently.

"Liar." He tried to stand and immediately winced, face scrunching up in actual pain. "Okay, yeah. definitely bruised something. Maybe several somethings."

"Serves you damn right." you stood too, getting under his arm to help him up, letting him lean his weight on you. He was warm and solid and alive, and you were still shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Come on, Romeo. Let's get you home before someone sees and we have to explain why you're in my yard at four in the morning." "Will you kiss it better?" he was hobbling slightly, and you could tell he was trying not to show how much it actually hurt.

"Absolutely not."

"Not even a little..ow, ow, okay, okay!" he laughed even as he winced when you jabbed his ribs. "So mean to me. I risk my life climbing to your window every night, I fall out of a tree because you're too beautiful for my brain to function, and this is the thanks I get."

"That’s the only thing you'll get from me," you muttered, but you were careful with him as you walked him across the yard, your arm tight around his waist, supporting his weight, making sure he didn't stumble.

His window was thankfully on the ground floor of his house unlike yours, which made his nightly visits a bit more complicated. Before he climbed in, he turned to pull you close one more time, both arms wrapping around your waist despite the obvious discomfort it caused him.

"Hey." His voice was soft, his breath warm against your forehead. "What?" you looked up at him, and in the growing pre-dawn light, you could see a smudge of dirt on his cheek, grass stains on his hoodie, the slightly dazed look still lingering in his eyes.

"I'd fall a hundred more times if it meant you'd look at me like that." His voice dropped, going sincere in that way that always caught you off guard. "All worried and panicked, like I matter, like you'd actually miss me if something happened."

Your heart did something complicated in your chest. "Of course you matter, you absolute idiot. Why do you think I was freaking out?" "Really yeah?" The vulnerability in his voice was subtle but there.

"Yeah." you reached up to brush the dirt off his cheek, gentle. "Just...use the front door from now on, please? My heart can't take watching you fall again."

"Where's the fun in that?" he kisses you again, soft and lingering and gentle. His lips moved against yours slowly, like he was savoring it, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. As if he hadn't just fallen out of a tree because he was too busy staring at you. As if you had all the time in the world instead of mere minutes before the sun came up.

When you finally pulled apart, your lips tingling, you shook your head at him. "You lucky you didn't break anything."

"I'm lucky I have you." he climbed through his window with a theatrical wince, moving gingerly, one hand pressed to his lower back. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Front door, Sean."

"Window?"

"Front door."

His grin was unrepentant even as he was clearly favoring one side, leaning against his window frame for support. "We’ll see, ma’am, we'll see."

Everything Jeongguk does has some sort of musicality to it. Even the way he kisses feels melodic. He’s the only person who can play you like a fiddle, or the only one you allow to. 

“It’s open,” you holler from the kitchen. 

It isn’t the norm for you to keep your door unlocked, but you already knew he was coming. Not because you two talked about it beforehand or because he texted you on his way over. This is just what you two do, and have done, for two years shy of a decade now. 

Light shines in from the street lamps outside when Jeongguk enters your house, drops his bag, and kicks off his shoes. The sounds are understandably familiar given how many times this exact scenario’s played out. And just like clockwork, a couple seconds after the door clicks shut, you feel two warm, strong arms wrapping around your middle. 

“This all for little ole me, huh?” Jeongguk whispers where his lips are grazing your neck. 

You hear him inhale your scent and contentedly hum between his soft kisses along your throat, leaving you to fight off the urge to totally melt into him. 

“Why would it be? Is today a special occasion or something?” 

He chuckles into your skin. It’s low and deep, making it obvious how tired he is, but still as bright as ever. 

“Oh, not really. Just Bangtan’s golden anniversary.” 

“Ah, I see.” While he continues to paint your neck in affection, you add the finishing touches to the seaweed soup you made. “Well, I’ll have you know you guys don’t own the date June thirteenth.” 

“No?” 

His cheerful giggles tickle your ear and cause your head to tilt, unintentionally giving his mouth more space to work. 

“Nuh uh. It also happens to be my, um, my grandma’s cat’s birthday,” you retort.

It’s such a stupid joke, but hearing Jeongguk’s loud laugh is enough to tell it again and again. 

“My apologies,” he drawls with a final peck. “To the cat.” 

By the time he turns you around in his arms, you’re giggling, too. It’s par for the course whenever you’re together, just like his hands caressing the bare skin of your waist below your top. 

He looks so unbelievably handsome, even with evidence of fatigue written all over his face. His black hair’s gotten longer since you last saw him, but it’s parted on one side to show off his forehead and pretty, doe eyes. 

On instinct, you reach up to comb through the front pieces and Jeongguk instantly wilts. His eyes close, shoulders drop, and muscles relax, bringing his body an inch closer to you.

“You didn’t have to come, you know.” As if to directly counter your statement, one of his arms loops around your back. “It’s been a long two days, no?” 

“Missed you.” 

His response is so quick it’s almost like muscle memory and you have to fend off the butterflies in your stomach as a result. 

“I’m not going anywhere. You could’ve stopped by tomorrow or something.” When Jeongguk shakes his head with a slight pout, it triggers your memories of him doing the exact same thing as a kid. He hasn’t changed at all since you two grew up together here in Busan, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. “Ggukie.”

“I…” His eyes open again and a smile slowly breaks out across his face as he surveys you. “I didn’t wanna wait. I needed to be with you tonight.” You can’t resist mirroring his expression. “Is that alright?” 

After a long inhale, you nod. 

“It’s always alright.” 

That’s apparently all he needs to hear because he kisses you without missing a beat. It’s mundane and regular to feel his lips against your own. Of course, it is. He was your first kiss as a teenager and you’ve lost count of how many you’ve shared since then. 

Jeongguk’s lips are consistently soft, pleasant, and gentle. He kisses you like it’s the first time even in the middle of your raunchiest affairs. Sometimes he’s so delicate you forget the type of relationship this really is. 

To be fair, Jeongguk doesn't treat you like just some friend with benefits or a random situationship. The years of familiarity between you garner a much deeper respect than that. But that also allows your heart to occasionally get the wrong idea. 

He isn’t yours, and you’re not sure if he ever will be. Which is okay. All you ever want is to have him in your life and whether that’s platonically or romantically, you don’t care. The only thing you could never withstand is losing him altogether. 

Although, it’s a lie to say you won’t miss the feeling of his hands on your spine and your chests pressed together if your relationship suddenly becomes friendly. His long fingers occupy the majority of your back whenever he holds you like this, encompassing you in his presence until it’s all you can think about. Not to mention how his mouth guides your own open so he can slip his tongue inside. 

This is how he gets you every time without fail. You can be completely focused on something, but as soon as his lips are on you, it’s game over. 

For instance, the meticulously planned meal on the counter behind you.

“Jeo — Jeongguk,” you murmur between kisses. “The food’s getting cold.” 

He just laughs at your feeble attempt to stop him. 

“You have a microwave for a reason, no?”

His head tilts to the opposite side so he can kiss you with more fervor, but you push on his chest to force him back. He looks cartoonishly offended by your actions and you have to lace your fingers together just wipe the frown off his face. 

“You’re really choosing pussy over food? That’s a little out of character.” 

“Nah, not when it’s you,” he argues. “You gotta know by now you’re my favorite meal.” 

An embarrassingly bright blush creeps in which you try to hide by glancing to your left, but Jeongguk knows you too well. He uses your chin to turn your head before smiling like a devil because of how pink your cheeks are. Leading you to swat his hand away and pivot in the opposite direction. 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” 

You barely make it two feet before he catches you with a single arm, tugging you into his chest while you squeal and pretend to fight back. Jeongguk triumphantly cackles in return as he carries you to the couch and flops onto his back, bringing you down with him. 

The position leaves all your most sensitive areas wide open and he takes full advantage by tickling you wherever he can reach. It’s no different from when you were kids on the playground, although back then the behavior wasn’t inundated with sexual tension. Because despite him making you screech and flail, a tender heat follows his fingers where they dance across your skin. His lips are also right beside your ear and the puffs of air from his laughter spreads goosebumps all down your arms.

“Ggukie,” you whine, but he ignores the protest.

Well, partially. He stops tickling you, but only so his hands can slide beneath your shirt to feel your bare skin. One arm fully wraps around your stomach to keep you close while the other sneaks upwards until he finds your bra. His fingers push the material up so he can grope you unimpeached, eliciting a quiet moan when he begins massaging your breast.

In the meantime, he starts kissing your neck again. And like a true musician, he marries the tempo of his hand and mouth so every peck coincides with a firm squeeze. It turns your brain to putty and all you can do is let him keep touching you like his own personal piano. 

“God, you’re so warm.” His lips are dangerously close to your weak spot, the skin right before your shoulder that always makes you squirm. “This is always what I miss the most.”

“Oh, so you don’t miss my company? Just my body?” 

Jeongguk giggles and it’s so damn cute you almost forget your tit’s engulfed in his palm. 

“Of course, I do,” he assures you. “I miss everything about you. All the time.”

You hate when he says shit that makes your heart race. It isn’t fair because you can’t respond in kind or else you risk scaring him away. 

He’s the one who asked for this arrangement; to be able to stroll through your door whenever he’s in town and have you all to himself until he has to leave again. It’s not like you mind. You’ll give yourself to him any day of the week if he asks, but it means there are boundaries he’s allowed to push and you aren’t.

Still, you find ways to skirt around your limitations.

“I missed you, too. It’s been so long.”

“Mm. When was the last time I was here? March?”

“Yeah.” Before you can finish your sentence, he switches to your neglected breast and repeats his ministrations. “Right before the album dropped.” 

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I didn’t mean to neglect you.” 

His lips move to your earlobe and it sends a familiar chill down your spine. 

“S’okay. I’ll forgive you as long as you actually touch me,” you tease. 

When he laughs again, you swear it’s like everything in the world just feels right. 

Rather than responding, Jeongguk trails his other hand down your torso until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. He doesn’t dip his fingers beneath the fabric, though, instead choosing to fiddle with the buttons while you grow increasingly more impatient.

“Gguk.” 

“Hmm?”

Along with a dry chuckle, you twist your upper body so you can see him.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” 

You could drown in his responding smile. 

“No.” His hands move to your hips as he sits you both upright. “But I do know you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Even though you’re in a less compromising position, you’re still between his legs with your back half against his chest.

“For starters, you made me seaweed soup to celebrate the special occasion,” he answers. “And you know I just got done with back-to-back concerts. So I’ll be two seconds into fingering you when you hit me with, ‘no, Ggukie, you deserve to come before I do.’”

Unfortunately, his impression of you is spot on, but you can’t let him have a complete win.

“Eh, five seconds.” 

Perhaps you deserve the reprise of his tickle attack, but you still try evading it by standing to create more distance between you. The only problem is Jeongguk’s arms are long enough to catch you, allowing him to force you onto his lap so his hands can torture you for however long he pleases. 

Which is thankfully not long at all, because once you’re straddling his thighs, his fingers creep underneath your shirt to yank it over your head. Your bra’s his next victim, joining your top on the floor before he leans in to suck your nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh,” you gasp as one hand sinks into his hair. “Fuck.”

He hums around your nub while pinching the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

You would let him play with your tits all night if only you had the time. He’s an expert at bringing you pleasure with his fingers, teeth, and tongue. Alas, he’s right about you wanting him to come first. It’s only fair after how hard he’s been working lately. 

As much as you’d love to let him keep going, you use your grip on his scalp to pull his head away from your chest so you can kiss him. His mouth’s warm and swollen from his efforts, making it all too easy to nibble on his bottom lip until you hear a low groan. 

Jeongguk’s hands are already on a different quest now, too, moving up and down your bare back and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Eventually, one of them glides up into your hair where he turns your soft strands into a mess of knots. 

It’s not like you mind, by the time you two are done your hair’s usually unrecognizable. 

“You should be proud, Ggukie.” You leave his mouth alone to pepper his sharp jaw with kisses. “Thirteen years is a long time.” 

He breathes out a laugh.

“Are you proud of me?” 

The question halts you. Not because of the words themselves, but their sincerity. You lift your head so you can see his eyes and just like you expected, there’s a glimmer of expectation in them.

“I’m always proud of you.” Your fingers in his hair begin to brush some locks away from his face before trailing down his cheek. “And I always have been. Since the day you left for Seoul.” 

A nostalgic smile graces his lips.

“You mean when I kissed you goodbye at the train station?” 

It was your first kiss, his as well, and although it was nothing more than a millisecond-long peck, it stopped your heart. 

“Oh, I’ve never been prouder of you than in that moment.”

His grin grows before he cranes his neck for another kiss, albeit much more chaste than its predecessors. 

“I can’t thank you enough for always being here,” he remarks. “And I’m not just talking about the sex. I know you know that, but I wanna make sure you understand how much you mean to me.” 

It’s so hard getting sentimental without your shirt on because then he can see your whole chest and neck flushing with affection. 

“I know,” you tell him.

Jeongguk sighs and lets his head fall forward into your sternum where he places a couple gentle kisses. 

“You smell nice.” 

The unexpected compliment causes you to snicker. 

“Yeah?” He nods. “Well, surprisingly, you do, too.”

“Because I showered, you brat!”

He’s forced to glance up again when your laughter makes his resting place shake too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a wistful smile on his lips as his eyes flit around your face. 

“It’s because you’re expecting to get your dick sucked, isn’t it?” As much as he tries to hide it, the lopsided smirk that forms immediately gives him away. “You greedy bastard.” 

“Oh, please, like I’ve ever stepped through your doors and not gotten my dick sucked.” 

Alright, you suppose that’s fair. 

“Whatever. It still shouldn’t be expected.” 

His tongue hits the roof of his mouth. 

“So it’s not happening?” 

“I never said tha —” 

“Then why aren’t you on your knees yet?” You gawk at him before smacking his chest, leaving him melodramatically clutching his left pec. “I was kidding!” 

“No, you weren’t,” you challenge. 

After another moment, he drops the act and lets his hands roam your hips. 

“I mean, don’t you think I deserve it? Thirteen years of working day in and day out. The least my best friend can do is let me fuck her pretty little mouth.”

It’s genuinely diabolical how wet you become from his words alone. 

“You have a sick interpretation of what best friends are for.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, just tilts his head to one side while waiting for you to give in, because he knows you will. You always do because you want him just as badly as he wants you. That’s why this arrangement works so well and has lasted this long. 

Like clockwork, you roll your eyes and drop to your knees in front of him. It produces an overconfident grin as Jeongguk sinks into the couch and spreads his legs apart to make room for you. 

“And yet, here we are,” he comments. 

You gaze up at him with a fiery glare, but it’s contrary to how your hands are already undoing his belt buckle. He pitches his hips up to help you pull his jeans and boxers down, revealing just how hard he is after everything you two have gotten up to so far. 

His dick’s so pretty; long and thick with big veins running down his shaft. You haven’t even touched him yet, but he’s twitching and leaking precum all over his cockhead. 

“No wonder you’re so demanding tonight, you look like you’re about to bust.” 

He groans when you place your hands on his thighs instead of touching him where he clearly needs you. 

“Please, sunshine, I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day.” 

“Oh?” Your fingers inch higher, but not nearly close enough. “How so?”

“Y/N.”

“If you tell me, I’ll give you what you want,” you sing-song.

Jeongguk’s head falls back onto the cushions as another sound of protest passes through his lips. He must realize you won’t give in, though, because he eventually looks down to hold your eye contact. 

“Since the moment I woke up this morning I’ve been picturing all the different positions I wanna put you in. Could barely focus during soundcheck because of how badly I need you.” 

Well, that was a bad idea because now you’re freaking drenched. But you still gotta maintain a little dignity.

“Is this one of them?”

Before replying, he slowly nods.

“Of many.” 

You sure like the sound of that. It also seems particularly mean to continue torturing him. Not to mention how terribly you want him after months apart. It isn’t the longest you’ve gone without seeing each other, but any amount of time is tough when he’s the only person who knows how to make you feel good. 

So, you move your hands up to give yourself enough leverage before leaning in to kiss his tip. His whole body lurches from your touch, but once your tongue darts out to collect his precum, he relaxes against the couch cushions.

At the same time you moan over his familiar taste, he groans and tosses his head back again. His fingers find your scalp and latch onto your hair, simultaneously pulling it away from your face and giving him an anchor. 

You don’t waste time, not like how you normally do by dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. Tonight you immediately take his head into your mouth while letting spit drip out to lubricate him. 

Jeongguk’s clearly happy with the decision because you feel a harsh tug on your hair as well as his thighs clenching beneath your hands. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he mindlessly encourages you. 

Except it actually almost stops you in your tracks. He’s never called you baby before, or any pet name, at least not during a sexual encounter. Maybe while trying to tease you or in a general manner, but never like this. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, though, so you chalk it up to him being deep in the throes of pleasure. 

After pushing the comment from your mind, you inhale through your nose and sink lower, swallowing another inch of length as Jeongguk loudly moans above you.

“God.” While you focus on not gagging, his free hand combs more of your hair back so he can see your lips stretched around his thick cock. “You have no idea how good this feels, sunshine. No one does it like you.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, eliciting another deep moan. 

Before his praises can distract you any longer, you take in one last gulp of air and force your head all the way down to his pelvis. Both you and Jeongguk choke, but surprisingly, his own lasts longer than yours. You’re used to having his dick deep inside your throat, so although it’s been a while, you only need a moment to adjust. 

On the contrary, Jeongguk’s practically losing his mind. Both of his hands land on your head as he endlessly groans and pants your name. 

“Oh, fuck. Jesus… fuck.” It’s hard not to laugh at how seemingly mesmerized he is. “Y/N, baby, please move. Need you so bad.” 

Another one? How does he expect you to give him the blowjob of his dreams when he keeps calling you that? 

Luckily for him, you’ve been doing this long enough to overcome his abnormal behavior. 

You already know exactly how he likes it; slow, sloppy, and wet. Jeongguk’s an attention whore and loves knowing all of your focus is solely on pleasuring him. Hence why you begin leisurely bobbing up and down while using the tip of your tongue to trace the underside of his cock. 

He sighs in relief and you can feel all his muscles unwinding, giving you quite the confidence boost. Jeongguk’s always responsive in these situations, but he seems particularly drunk on you tonight. 

Besides the actions of your tongue and lips, you alternate between moaning and humming whenever his tip sinks deeper into your mouth. You also repeatedly let more spit roll down his shaft, which creates a sinful cacophony of sound when mixed with Jeongguk’s whines and groans. 

“Shit. Oh… my god.” 

When you glance up, all you see is a sharp jawline and pretty neck. But it isn’t long before a pair of shiny, doe eyes meet your gaze. 

Jeongguk’s pupils blow wide when he realizes you're watching him and you even feel his dick twitch inside your esophagus. Soon enough a proud smirk appears and one of his hands traces your profile until he’s caressing your cheek.

“You look so beautiful, sunshine.” He pulls on your hair to bring your mouth back up around his head and you instantly understand the silent memo. Rather than swallowing his length again, you circle and tease the sensitive ridge of his tip with your tongue. “That’s it. Always s’good for me, aren’t you?”

After humming and batting your eyelashes at him, you feel another sharp jolt from his cock. You take it as your cue to keep going and even start massaging his balls that are covered in your drool. In response, Jeongguk shouts a string of curses and his fingers scratch your scalp as he struggles to stay sane. 

You’ve done this enough to know he’s close, but you need a break before you can finish him off. Following one last lap of your mouth, you let your hand take over so you can replenish your oxygen.

“Goddamn,” he huffs as his eyes follow your finger’s movements along his shaft.

“Where do you wanna come?”

His focus shifts to your face again, so you send him a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, sunshine, you already know where.”

“You never know,” you counter. “My tits look pretty good tonight.”

Jeongguk snickers. 

“They always look good.” The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and using his grip on your face to guide you closer. “But I wanna fill you up right here.” 

There’s no need for clarification because he kisses you to explain himself. It’s messy and amorous, not only because of how swollen your lips are, but because Jeongguk shoves his tongue inside your mouth. 

You both moan and more precum leaks from his tip as your wet muscles tangle together. If you aren’t careful, he might come before you even wrap your lips around him again. 

When you finally pull back, a string of saliva stretches between your mouths that Jeongguk swipes away. He leaves his thumb there for a moment, pressing down on your bottom lip before slipping his finger between your teeth. 

Even though you know what he wants, you playfully bite down on his knuckle instead. Following his shocked yelp, you both burst into laughter.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he scolds you. 

“Well, this brat’s still got her hand around your cock.” 

You squeeze his head to make a point, causing Jeongguk to hiss and yank on your hair in retaliation. 

“Can we change that?” As if you two weren’t just teasing each other a second ago, he gently cradles your face again. “Will you let me paint your pretty throat white?” 

If only you could muster a witty response, but all you can manage is an aimless nod that leaves him smirking as he sits back against the couch once more. 

There isn’t any reason to wait, so you let your hand drop back down to his balls before encasing his head between your lips. You immediately bring his entire length inside your mouth again, picking up where you left off without any hesitation. 

Similarly, it doesn’t take long for Jeongguk to teeter on the brink of ecstasy. After only a few strokes, you feel his balls tighten and then his hot cum floods your mouth. His release makes him groan so loud you actually worry your neighbors will hear, but you also don’t care when you’re busy swallowing his seed. 

Jeongguk always tastes good and you can’t resist moaning while moving up and down his shaft to collect all his cum. 

“Holy shit, baby,” he gasps as you continue lick and suck throughout his climax. “Fuck, don’t stop.” 

Not like you need to be told twice. You love breaking him off just as much as he does. 

Once he’s practically devoid of semen and you’re out of oxygen, you release his cock and sit back on your heels. Jeongguk melts into the couch afterwards, including his eyes rolling back as his whole body relaxes. 

“Good?” 

He humorlessly laughs.

“The best fucking head of my life.” 

In the middle of you pridefully giggling, Jeongguk hooks his arms under your shoulders to hoist you back up. But you have other plans, and before he can manhandle you into his lap, you grab the bottom hem of his shirt to pull it off. 

He’s so fucking sexy it makes your head spin, especially after how much he’s been working out on tour. You could spend hours just running your tongue along his abs if he’d only let you. 

“Oh, is this what you want?” 

Instead of waiting for a response, Jeongguk tugs your jeans and panties to the floor in one smooth motion before guiding you to straddle him again. 

As if he wasn’t wet enough from your blowjob, your cunt lands right on his dick and all the essence you’ve been leaking since the moment he stepped inside your house lubricates him even more. 

“Oh, my god,” you whine, causing him to smile over his effect on you.

“You get this wet just from sucking me off, sunshine?” Despite how embarrassing it is, you nod. “Good. Want you to be nice and soaked when I fuck you.” 

“Ggukie, please.”

“Yeah, is that what you want? For me to fuck you just right? Like I always do?”

“Mmhm.”

Based on past patterns, you expect him to drive his cock into you without another word, but his hands just trace your curves while his eyes map your features. 

You’re about to question his hesitation when he delicately cups your jaw, causing your eyebrows to pinch together.

“What if I want more?” He asks sincerely, in complete contrast to a moment ago.

“What?”

Jeongguk inhales and licks his lips.

“What if I don’t want to just see you whenever I’m in Busan? What if I want to see you in my bedroom and my kitchen and lying on my couch?”

“In… in Seoul?” 

He smiles.

“Itaewon.”

If your heart wasn’t about to beat out of your body, your eyes would roll back so far they’d get stuck. 

“Jeongguk, my whole life’s here. My job, my family —”

“I know, sunshine. I do.” His fingertips brush against your cheek and it takes all your willpower not to rest your head in his palm. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy or can happen right away, but eventually…” He looks uncharacteristically nervous and it makes you hold your breath in anticipation. “Eventually, I want your face to be the first thing I see when I come home at the end of the day.” 

The air you were keeping captive disappears in an instant as you digest his words. You desperately want them to mean exactly what they sound like, but you’re terrified of misinterpreting the situation. 

Except when you focus on how Jeongguk’s looking at you, with starry eyes full of wonder and hope, you don’t believe you are. Which elicits quite possibly the biggest smile you’ve ever worn before you lean in to kiss him. 

Jeongguk catches on quickly, his fingers on your face sliding into your hair so he can keep you close. Your own hands move from his shoulders to his neck while his opposite arm circles your waist. It doesn’t even matter that you’re naked, all your attention’s on the fluid movement of your mouths and how undeniably happy you are. 

“I’m crazy about you, Y/N,” he whispers to your lips. 

Although you delightfully giggle at first, you soon pull away to smack his chest. 

“What took you so damn long, huh?” 

He momentarily gawks before parroting your laughter.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just didn’t think I’d be able to handle it all.” 

“I wouldn’t have cared,” you protest. 

“But I would’ve. I needed to make sure I could be an idol and the boyfriend you deserve before asking you to be anything more than this.” 

As much as you want to fight him on it, there’s no going back now, and all you truly care about is having a future with him. 

“And you feel like you can do that?” 

You trust him to be everything you deserve and more, but you want to ensure he won’t be spreading himself too thin for your sake. 

“I do. More importantly, I want to,” he clarifies. “I want you so fucking bad, and I don’t mean sexually. I wanna cook you dinner, take you out for ice cream, and go on walks near the Han river.” 

“Oh, I’ve never been there.”

“I know! I’ve been dying to take you for years.” 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Jeongguk this excited about something, and your possible life together being the reason is more than you could ever wish for. 

“I want that, too,” you declare. “I’ve always wanted you, Ggukie.”

When he smiles in response to your confession, it feels like the entire world around you falls away. In fact, you barely register him closing in for another kiss. And you certainly don’t realize he’s flipping you over until you feel the cushions on your back. 

Nothing else really matters after that, anyway. You two have had sex so many times over the years it’s the last thing on your mind in comparison to the future. 

Not to say you don’t thoroughly enjoy yourself when he puts you in all those positions he mentioned earlier, but all you can think about is what sex will be like in a shared bed. One you’ll wake up and fall asleep in together, for many years to come. 

He stopped, blinking slowly before he let out an eventual sigh.

"Juhoon!" The girl declared, voice trembling but brave. "I've liked you since the winter recital. Will you go out with me?"

The crowd that materialised from thin air was a testament to his particular brand of fame: part football star, part unreasonably good-looking, all mysterious smiles and sharp jawlines that granted him endless unwanted attention.

"Sorry," he said, not unkindly, but with zero hesitation. "I'm not interested."

Her face crumpled slightly, he spotted the slight tremble of her lips but chose to ignore it, he had been asked out by far too many girls he didn’t even know the names of. To make things worse the crowd erupted and ooooh'd, Juhoon wanting the ground to swallow him whole just so he could escape.

And then—because this was always the follow-up, there was always a follow-up—she pressed further. "Is it because of that rumour? About you and that girl?"

Juhoon's expression didn't change an inch, he remained entirely neutral. He'd been asked this before, dozens of times actually. In classrooms, in hallways, in DMs he never opened.

"There's no rumour," he said carefully, calculated. "There's just me, and I'm not interested."

It wasn't a denial, but it wasn't a confirmation either. It was a door left slightly ajar, and he knew it. He'd learned, over the past few months, that saying too much would only make things worse. Confirming would bring a different kind of attention: the curious, invasive kind that might scare you away, and Juhoon was doing anything in his power to protect you from that.

So he stayed quiet and let people wonder and spin the rumour mill, but his gaze was already drifting, snagged by a flash of recognisable hair and chunky sneakers thudding against the floor near the iron gates.

He spotted you walking onto the school ground, plugged into the earphones you carried around like they were your own child. Your head was down and you were moving through the morning like water through rocks, oblivious and unhurried, having absolutely no idea that a crowd of forty people was watching a girl get rejected over glitter glue by your very own secret boyfriend.

His eyes tracked you as you passed behind the building, feeling something in his chest tighten once you disappeared from his view.

He should stay and let the crowd dissipate naturally, let the dance girl save face, let the rumours simmer without him adding fuel.

Instead, he decided to push through the people encircling him. An elbow here, a muttered apology there. By the time he broke free, he was almost jogging, passing the last few remaining students entering school grounds.

"Y/N!" He called out once he was sure the crowd was outside of sight, though you didn't hear him and kept walking forward.

Of course you didn't. Your world existed behind those headphones, tucked away somewhere he'd somehow wrangled himself into a few months ago. He quickened his pace, closing the distance between you just as you entered the doors to the humanities wing.

He reached out and tugged gently on the cord of your left earbud.

You startled,  a tiny jump that made him want to apologise and laugh at the same time. Your eyes went wide for a split second before they registered who it was, softening immediately.

"Oh." You pulled the other earbud out, placing them into the same pocket as your phone. "Hi, Jju."

"Hey, yourself." He fell into step beside you, matching your pace like it was second nature. His shoulder brushed yours, sending sparks down your arm. "You planning on doing anything after school today?"

You looked up at him, seeing the slight smile resting against his lips that always seemed present when he was watching you.

"Why…?" You dragged out, but you knew all too well what he was about to ask. You'd had the same exchange many times before.

He tilted his head, that smile widening just a fraction. "My game’s at four. Home field. Against Busan."

"You play Busan every month."

"And every month I ask you to come." He shrugged, like it was obvious, though the slighting reddening of his cheeks gave far too much away than he would’ve liked. "And every month you say you'll think about it."

"Maybe this month I will."

He stopped walking and you kept going for two more steps before you realised he wasn't beside you anymore. You turned around, finding him standing frozen in the middle of the hallway, expression caught somewhere between hopeful and terrified.

"Wait," he said. "Really?"

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. The morning light was filtering through the hallway windows, catching the edges of his hair, and he looked so genuinely thrown off that you almost felt bad.

Almost.

"I said maybe," you reminded him, turning back around and continuing toward your classroom. You heard his footsteps rush to catch up and you attempted to suppress the smile crawling onto your lips.

"That's not nothing," he said, falling back into step beside you. "That's closer to a yes than you've ever given me."

"Don't read into it."

"I'm going to read into it so hard."

You laughed despite yourself, a quiet, breathy thing that you tried to hide by looking straight ahead though how could he not notice it? However, in your attempt at indifference you failed to spot the softening of his gaze as he watched you, the smile on his lips mirroring your own. His shoulder brushed yours again, and this time you didn't move away.

"Four o'clock," he said again, like he was making sure you remembered.

"I know you play at four o'clock, Jju."

"Just making sure."

You stopped outside your classroom. The door was still propped open, students filing in, the familiar chaos of first period settling into place. You should have gone in by now, you were already late by hallway standards, but he was still standing there, looking at you like you'd just offered him something precious and something in your chest twisted.

"I'll think about it," you said softly.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "That's all I'm asking for."

Someone suddenly bumped into him from behind—a freshman who immediately turned purple and stammered an apology. Juhoon waved it off without even sparing the boy a glance, his attention not once wandering from your face.

"You should get to class," you finally said, maintaining eye contact despite the flood of heat rushing up your neck.

"I should," he agreed, though neither of you moved.

The bell rang, shrill and insistent. You watched his expression shift from soft to reluctant to something that looked almost like resignation. He wanted to say something—you could see it in the way his jaw worked, the way his lips parted slightly before pressing shut again.

"Go," you said gently, insistently.

He exhaled. "See you at the game?"

"Maybe."

"Y/N."

"I said maybe."

He shook his head, but he was smiling again. "Fine," he said, already backing away. "Maybe. I'll take maybe."

You watched him walk backward down the hallway for a few steps before he finally turned around, running a hand through his hair as he disappeared around the corner.

You stood there for a moment longer than necessary, your hand resting on the doorframe, feeling the ghost of his shoulder against yours. That boy had you completely wrapped around his fingers and you don’t think he even realised it.

The thought was quickly pushed aside as you entered the class, already wishing the day would just pass by faster.

By the time four o'clock rolled around you had already made up your mind.

You stood at the edge of the field, hands tucked into the pocket of your hoodie, watching the crowd filter into the bleachers. The sun was starting its slow descent, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. The air smelled like grass and sweat and the faint sweetness of someone's overpriced coffee from the concession stand.

You entered the bleachers, your eyes trained on the field watching the players warm up.

You didn’t know if he had seen you yet, it was hard to tell from this distance, he was focused, sharp, his dark hair already sticking to his forehead despite the cool evening air. He moved across the field like he owned it, like the grass was an extension of his own body.

Someone bumped into your shoulder.

"Oh, sorry!" A girl with braces and a phone case covered in stickers smiled at you. "Are you here for the game?"

You hesitated for a brief moment. "I know someone on the team."

"Me too!" She grinned, gesturing toward the field. "I'm here for Juhoon. He's so cute, right? Do you think the rumour is true? About him having a girlfriend?"

Your stomach tightened. "I don't know."

"I hope it's not," she said, already turning toward the bleachers. "He never confirms anything, so there's still a chance, right?"

Right, you thought. There's still a chance.

You watched her bounce down the metal steps and settle into the front row—the fanclub row, you realised—spotting the familiar cluster of matching headbands and handmade signs. There were at least fifteen of them today, maybe more. They had a choreographed cheer that they practiced during warm-ups, their voices carrying across the field in a high-pitched chorus.

You found a spot midway up the bleachers that was off to the side: far enough from the fanclub that you wouldn't be lumped in with them, close enough that you could still see your boyfriend’s every movement.

The whistle blew and the game began

Juhoon was everywhere in the first half. He was in the midfield, then on the wing, then tracking back to defend, then sprinting forward again. His jersey was already dark with sweat, but he didn't slow down

The fanclub screamed every time he touched the ball, and you remained completely, and utterly silent.

He had a chance in the fifteenth minute: a loose ball that bounced his way just outside the box. He didn't hesitate, striking it first time, and the crowd held its breath as the ball curved toward the top corner.

The goalkeeper just barely got a hand to it and it deflected wide.

Juhoon swore, loud enough that you could just catch the sound of it from the bleachers. Then he turned and jogged back into position, shaking his head.

But in that moment—just before he turned—his eyes swept the stands.

And found you.

His whole body stilled for half a second and his expression flickered from frustration to something softer. He didn't smile nor wave but his hand came up, just briefly, and touched his chest, right over his heart.

Then he turned and disappeared back into the play.

Beside you, someone gasped. "Did he just—did you see that? Who was he looking at?"

You pulled your hoodie strings tighter and said nothing.

The score reached 1-0 by the second half when Juhoon stole the ball from a Busan midfielder.

It was a beautiful tackle: perfectly timed, perfectly clean. He won possession and burst forward, two defenders closing in on either side. The crowd was on its feet, the fanclub shrieking, the air electric.

He feinted left, went right, and suddenly he was through.

There was only one defender left, and the goalkeeper was rushing out toward him.

Juhoon didn't panic. He waited momentarily, and then he slotted the ball into the bottom corner, so casual it looked effortless.

The net rippled and the stands exploded.

Juhoon was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face in droplets before he looked up at the bleachers, directly to where you were, as though he had memorised exactly where you were positioned in the short second he had noticed your presence.

You had risen up the moment he scored, though your reaction was far less exaggerated than the fanclub that stood before you. Instead, when your eyes locked onto his, you beamed at him, a sight that was so rare to come by in public that Juhoon’s legs almost gave out.

His teammates mobbed him, pulling him into a group hug, ruffling his hair. but over their shoulders, you saw him grinning, that private grin that was just for you. 

Quickly the team recollected themselves and continued the game, Juhoon’s eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer before he ran after them

The final whistle eventually blew indicating the end of the game, and Juhoon’s team ended up winning 3-1. He had scored twice, assisting on the third, and it was, by any measure, a phenomenal performance.

The crowd filtered out of the bleachers in waves. You waited at the bottom of the stands, pretending to check your phone, pretending you weren't watching the players pack up near the bench.

The fanclub was already there.

You saw them from across the field: a cluster of maybe fifteen girls, all wearing those matching headbands, all pressing forward like moths to a flame. They surrounded the bench area, calling Juhoon's name alongside the names of his many other teammates, waving their phones, jostling for position.

You watched one of them grab his arm before hgently extract himself. Another quickly pushed forward with a water bottle, and a third with a handmade card.

He was smiling  that polite, practiced smile he used for people he didn't know, but his eyes kept drifting, scanning and searching, looking for you.

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, suddenly aware of how far away you were standing. How separate. How invisible.

You wondered what to do. The possibility of going over there and having to push through a stampede of teenage girls just to talk to your boyfriend made you feel sick. But you had also sat through the entire game and wanted to congratulate him on his plays, so leaving was out of the question.

A girl with pigtails grabbed his sleeve. "Juhoon! Is it true you're single? My friend wants to know!"

The other girls giggled, leaning in and waiting to hear his answer. Juhoon's expression didn't change. "I don't talk about that stuff."

"That's not a no!"

"It's not a yes either."

The girls laughed like he'd said something funny. You bit your lip, your hands curling into fists inside your hoodie pocket. You wanted to tell them that he’s yours, that they needed to back off, but the words got stuck in your throat.

Because you'd never said it out loud. Because you'd never claimed him publicly. Because for all these girls knew, the rumour was exactly that: a rumour, a ghost story, a maybe that didn't mean anything.

You couldn't blame them for trying.

Whilst lost in the maze of your thoughts, Juhoon's gaze finally found you.

You saw the exact moment it happened. His polite, practiced smile had flickered like a mask slipping, just for a second. His eyes locked onto yours across the field, and something in his expression shifted. 

The girl with pigtails was still talking. Something about a photo, about waiting all season, about how her friend really liked him. But Juhoon wasn't listening anymore.

He was looking at you, and you were looking right back at him. Neither of you moved for a long, suspended moment. The fanclub chattered around him, entirely oblivious. The rest of the team packed up their bags whilst the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the grass.

Then Juhoon moved, just a shift of weight initially, a turning of shoulders. He gently extracted his arm from the girl's grip, murmured something you couldn't hear, and then he was walking straight toward you.

The fanclub turned, confused, following his gaze. One by one, they spotted you standing by the corner flag in your hoodie and sneakers, hands still buried in your pocket, heart pounding so loud you were sure everyone could hear it.

Whispers rippled through the group, likely questioning who you were and if you were the rumour girl, but you paid attention to none of it, your focus remained entirely on the boy appraoching you.

Juhoon didn't look back. His cleats squelched softly on the grass; his hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead; his cheeks were flushed from the game.

And his eyes—those dark, steady eyes you adored so deeply—were locked on yours, paying no mind to anything else around.

You should say something, you should smile, wave, do something normal. But your voice had abandoned you, and your feet felt nailed to the ground, and all you could do was watch him get closer.

He was ten meters away. Then five. Then—

"You scored," you blurted out, because the silence was too loud and your heart was too fast and you needed to fill the space between you with something. "Jju, you played so good today—"

His hands were on your cheeks before you could finish.

Warm palms with calloused fingers from years of gripping football balls, from hours of practice, from the way he'd been clenching and unclenching his fists all game, waiting. He cupped your face like you were something precious, something breakable, like you might shatter if he didn't hold you carefully enough.

And then he was pulling you toward him.

There was desperation in the way he closed the distance, months of restraint finally snapping. His fingers curled around the curve of your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his, and suddenly his lips were on yours.

The world stopped.

The field. The sunset. The fanclub. The whispers. The entire universe condensed into a single point of contact: his mouth against yours, soft and certain and hungry, like he'd been waiting all day for this. 

He kissed you as though he was afraid you'd disappear. Like every time he'd watched you walk away to your classroom, every time he'd bitten his tongue when someone asked about the rumour, every time he'd wanted to reach for your hand in the hallway and stopped himself—it had all been building to this.

His lips slanted over yours, and you felt the sigh he let out, felt the way his shoulders dropped like he'd been holding his breath for weeks and could finally exhale.

Your hands came up automatically, fisting in the fabric of his jersey. The material was damp with sweat beneath your fingers, but you didn't care. 

His nose pressed against your cheek, his breath was warm on your skin, he tasted like the mint gum he always chewed before games, mixed with something saltier, something that was just him, a taste you couldn't name but would recognise anywhere, in any lifetime.

One of his hands slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading into the hair at your nape. The other stayed where it was, thumb still stroking gentle, absent arcs against your cheekbone. He wasn't rushing anymore, the desperation had softened into something else: something deeper, something that felt like finally.

Behind you, someone gasped. A phone clattered to the ground. Someone else whispered, oh my god.

You didn't care.

You couldn't care. Not with the way he was kissing you, slow and deliberate now, like he was trying to memorise the shape of your lips and tell you everything he'd never been able to say.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard.

Your eyes fluttered open to find his were still closed, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with your breath. His hands were still on you—one in your hair, one on your cheek—and neither of you moved to break the contact.

"Jju," you whispered.

"Took me long enough," he murmured, voice rough.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Took you long enough to what?"

He finally opened his eyes. They were dark, intense, holding yours like he was afraid you'd disappear if he blinked. "To do that," he said. "To stop lying and pretending you're just a rumour."

Behind him, the fanclub stood frozen. Some had their phones out: filming, probably, or taking photos. Others just stood there, mouths open, processing the fact that the boy they had been daydreaming about just kissed a girl in a hoodie by the corner flag.

You should have felt embarrassed, even self-conscious.

But Juhoon was still holding your face, still looking at you like you'd hung the moon, and somehow that made everything else fade away.

"The rumour," you said quietly. "It's not a rumour anymore."

"No," he agreed. "It never was."

You looked at him, seeing how the tension that had previously been in his shoulders now dissipated and left a calmness that only appeared when you were within his reach.

"Juhoon," you whispered.

"Y/N."

"You should probably let go of my face now."

He smiled gently, his thumb tracing your cheek once more as his eyes tracked your features. "Probably."

Instead he pulled you towards him again, this time his lips lingered on your forehead, a soft comfort against the lingering stares of everyone watching the two of you.

…

The neon sign of the twenty-four-hour university library made a low, steady buzzing sound. It matched the deep tiredness that was settling into your bones. It was almost midnight on a Tuesday. Your wooden desk was completely covered. You had highlighted textbooks, empty paper cups from cheap coffee, and stacks of flashcards that you had carefully sorted by color.

For you, university was not a place to pass the time or try to find yourself. It was a lifeline. Your family was dealing with major financial struggles back home, and that thought was a heavy, constant weight on your shoulders. You carried their hopes and their worries in every high grade you earned. You had a very strict plan for your life. You had to graduate at the top of your class, secure a stable, high-paying corporate job, and finally give your parents the comfortable life they deserved. There was absolutely no room for mistakes. And there was definitely no room for Jeon Jungkook.

Naturally, that was the exact moment he decided to pull out the plastic chair directly across from you and sit down.

He did not look like he belonged in a quiet library. He looked like an interruption in human form. He wore a heavy black leather jacket even though the night air was mild. He had a small silver hoop piercing his bottom lip, and his face carried a look of complete, unbothered confidence. Jungkook came from a world where money was never an issue. He grew up with a thick safety net, where making a mistake did not cost you your future. He did not think about tomorrow because he never had to. He was the classic definition of a bad boy. He lived his life looking for the next rush of adrenaline, always doing risky things and never taking life seriously.

"You are going to burn a hole right through that paper if you stare at it any harder," Jungkook whispered. His voice was a low, teasing rumble that broke the heavy silence of the study room.

You kept your eyes fixed on your notes, refusing to look up. "Some of us actually have to study to stay in school, Jungkook. Please go mess around somewhere else."

"I am studying," he said. He leaned his upper body forward, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. His dark eyes locked onto your face, completely focused. "I am studying you. You have been stuck on page forty-four for twenty minutes. Your coffee is completely cold, and you are biting your bottom lip again. See? I pay very close attention."

You finally raised your head and let out a sharp, frustrated breath. "We are too different, Jungkook. I don't have time for whatever game you are trying to play. I need a real future. You don't even care about what happens tomorrow."

"Then let me care about what happens to you today," he answered smoothly. A small, reckless smile showed on his lips.

It had taken him months to get you to this point. He spent months showing up at your favorite coffee shops, walking a few steps behind you as you walked home from late-night study sessions, and doing ridiculous things just to make you laugh when you looked like you were about to collapse from stress. He was persistent, he did not give up, and he was incredibly charming. Even though every single voice in your head told you that he was a dangerous distraction you could not afford, your walls eventually broke down. You fell for him. You agreed to date him, truly hoping that his chaotic world could find a calm center inside your quiet one.

But you were wrong.

Dating Jungkook was like trying to hold a thunderstorm in your bare hands. For the first few months, it was exciting. He loved you with a fierce, deep intensity that made your heart race. But his lifestyle never actually changed. He still raced his fast motorcycle down wet highways in the middle of the night. He still got into senseless, angry fights with rival groups just for the thrill of winning. He lived entirely in the present moment, completely blind to the worry he caused.

The final breaking point happened on a dark, rainy Friday night. You were supposed to meet him for dinner after a massive, high-stakes internship interview. It was the kind of interview that could decide your entire career. Instead of a happy celebratory dinner, you spent the night sitting in a cold, sterile hospital waiting room. Your hands shook as you waited for the doctor to finish stitching up his bruised and bleeding knuckles after a street race turned into a massive fight.

When he finally walked out of the treatment room, he had a white bandage stuck across his cheekbone. He had a small, guilty smile on his face, and something inside you just snapped.

"It was just a misunderstanding, honey," he muttered, reaching his hand out toward you. "I'm fine. Look at me, I'm okay."

"No, Jungkook, you are not okay," you whispered. Tears blurred your vision as you took a step back, moving completely out of his reach. "And I cannot do this anymore. I am trying to build a stable life, and you are treating your life like a game. I cannot carry the weight of my family’s entire future and the constant terror that you are going to get yourself killed. It is too much for me. We are done."

The smile completely vanished from his face. It was replaced by a sudden, sharp look of fear. He begged you, he pleaded, and he tried to grab your hands, but you turned around and walked out into the cold rain alone. You left him standing there, completely heartbroken, in the middle of the long hospital hallway.

Monday: let me hold you under the rain

It turned out that breaking up with Jungkook did not mean he was out of your life. In fact, it only made him more stubborn. He was not going to let you go without a fight. He was completely determined to prove to you that he could change, that he could be the dependable partner you needed. He decided he was going to spend every single day of the week showing you exactly that.

On Monday morning, a heavy downpour of rain flooded the university campus pathways. You stood under the concrete roof of the main campus building, holding your laptop bag tightly against your chest. You were trying to build up the courage to run through the thick sheet of rain so you wouldn't be late for your morning lecture.

Suddenly, the heavy rain stopped hitting the ground directly in front of you. You looked up and saw a massive, bright yellow umbrella shielding you from the storm. Holding the handle was Jungkook.

He looked incredibly tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze was completely steady. He was soaked from the shoulders down. He had clearly been standing out in the open storm just waiting for you to walk out.

"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" you asked. Your voice sounded tight as you tried to ignore the fast beating of your heart.

"Making sure you don't get wet," he said softly. He held the umbrella completely over your head, completely ignoring the rain that was soaking his own leather jacket. "I know you have your major economic presentation today. If you get soaked, you will be uncomfortable, and you won't do your best. I cannot let anything mess up your future. Not even the weather."

"Jungkook, you really don't have to do this. We broke up."

"You broke up with me," he corrected you gently. He started walking at the exact same pace as you as you reluctantly began moving toward your classroom. "I never agreed to stop loving you. I am going to show you that I can be someone you can rely on. Just let me walk you to class."

Tuesday: The Lunch Box

On Tuesday, you hid yourself in the deepest, quietest corner of the top floor of the library. You were determined to block out the rest of the world. You had not slept well at all. The image of Jungkook’s sad, wet face from the day before kept keeping you awake.

When you reached deep into your backpack to look for a pink highlighter, your fingers brushed against something cold and unfamiliar. You pulled out a neat, beautifully wrapped package. Taped to the top of it was a small piece of paper with his sharp handwriting:

I know you always skip lunch when you are stressed out about exams. Please eat this. I promise I did not cook it myself, so it is actually safe to eat. Don't forget to take a deep breath. — JK

Inside the package was a beautiful, high-quality lunch box filled with your favorite healthy foods. Right next to it was a perfectly cold bottle of sweet iced coffee. You quickly looked around the quiet library room, your eyes searching between the long rows of books. Far away, right near the exit door, you caught a quick glimpse of a familiar dark jacket. He wasn't interrupting your study time. He wasn't being loud, and he wasn't causing a scene. He was just looking out for you from a distance, making sure you were taking care of your body while you chased your big dreams.

Wednesday: The Megaphone

By Wednesday, Jungkook’s non-stop efforts were the main thing people were talking about on campus. He was using an energy that was loud, romantic, and completely devoted. He was acting like a man who would fight for you seven days a week without taking a single break.

You walked out of your afternoon seminar into the bright, open central courtyard. You immediately noticed a huge crowd of students gathered near the stone fountain. In the absolute center of the crowd stood Jungkook, and he was holding a loud plastic megaphone.

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, absolutely not," you muttered to yourself, quickly turning around to walk the other way.

"Attention everyone!" Jungkook’s loud voice boomed through the megaphone, echoing off the brick walls. He sounded like he was laughing, but he was completely serious. "Especially the incredibly smart, beautiful student in the blue cardigan who is currently trying to run away from me right now!"

The entire crowd turned around. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked right onto you. You froze in place, your cheeks turning a bright, burning red.

"I just wanted to stand here and publicly state that I have been a complete fool!" Jungkook shouted. He stepped right up onto the wet edge of the stone fountain, completely ignoring the fact that everyone was staring at him. "I spent a long time thinking that life was just about the next thrill. But I found the only thing that actually matters, and she is currently studying herself to death for her finals! I messed up bad, I did dangerous things, and I scared her. But I am changing! I am taking my life seriously now! I signed up for night business classes! I am tracking my own money! I am going to prove to her that I can be the man who stands right by her side when she makes it to the top!"

The crowd of students started cheering and clapping. You covered your face with both of your hands, laughing even though you tried hard not to. He was being ridiculous, loud, and completely dramatic—but for the first time in your life, his energy wasn't dangerous. It was directed entirely at making you smile.

Thursday: The Sacrifice

Thursday was the day you realized just how deep his changes were actually going. You were walking past the university security office on your way to drop off a form at the main administrative building. Through the open window, you saw Jungkook standing inside, speaking directly with one of the main university directors.

You stopped behind a large brick pillar, staying out of sight, and listened to what they were saying.

"Are you completely sure about this decision, Mr. Jeon?" the director asked. He was looking down at a stack of legal documents on his desk. "Your family’s private foundation usually gives these specific funds for student parties and recreational activities. Moving them over to the academic scholarship fund means you won't be able to host the big annual spring festival car show this year."

Jungkook did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. "I am completely sure. The car show is just a bunch of guys racing fast cars and wasting a lot of money. The scholarship fund helps students who actually need financial support just to finish their college degrees. It helps people who work incredibly hard every single day to make their families proud. That is a much better use of my family's money."

The director nodded his head, looking very impressed, and reached out to shake Jungkook's hand.

As the director walked out of the room, you stepped out from behind the brick pillar. Your throat felt tight with sudden emotion. Jungkook turned around and noticed you standing there. His eyes went wide with surprise. He immediately reached his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, looking very nervous.

"You gave up the spring car show?" you asked softly, walking closer to him. "I know how much you loved that track. You talked about it all the time."

Jungkook gave you a soft, completely genuine smile. He took a step toward you, but he kept a respectful amount of space between your bodies. "I used to love it because I didn't have anything real to care about in my life. But I have been listening to you. I have been paying attention to how hard you work. I cannot fix all the financial problems in the world, but if I can use my family's money to make sure people like you don't have to suffer so much just to get an education... then giving it up is easy. I want to care about the things that matter to you."

Friday: The Shadow

On Friday night, the world decided to test how strong your boundaries really were. You were walking back to your small, off-campus apartment very late. You had just finished a grueling, three-hour group project session. The old streetlights on your usual walking route were flickering, casting long, creepy shadows across the dark pavement.

You heard the heavy, rhythmic sound of footsteps behind you before you actually saw anyone. A group of three rowdy, drunk men from the nearby bar district were walking close behind you. They started calling out crude comments, directing them at your back. Your heart started hammering wildly against your ribs. Your walking pace got much faster as you reached deep into your pocket for your phone, your fingers shaking badly.

Before you could even unlock the screen to call for help, a familiar, sleek black motorcycle came roaring around the dark corner. Its bright front headlight cut right through the darkness. The heavy bike skidded to a sharp, loud halt right between your body and the three men.

Jungkook swung his long leg off the seat, pulling his black helmet off his head in one smooth motion. His face looked incredibly serious and protective. There was a cold, hard look in his dark eyes that made the three drunk men stop dead in their tracks. He did not yell at them. He did not raise his fists, and he did not start a reckless fight like he used to do.

Instead, he stood firmly like a solid wall in front of you. His voice was low, steady, and dangerously calm. "I strongly suggest you turn around and walk the other way right now."

Seeing the complete, unwavering strength in the way he stood, the three men mumbled something angry under their breaths. They quickly turned around and walked down a side street, disappearing into the dark.

Jungkook immediately turned around to face you. His entire face and body softened in a split second. His hands came up, hovering just a couple of inches away from your shoulders, wanting to touch you but making sure it was okay first. "Are you alright? Did they touch you at all? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," you whispered. Your voice was shaking, and the fear was finally starting to leave your body. "You... you didn't hit them."

Jungkook shook his head, a gentle smile breaking through his worried expression. "I promised you that I was completely done with senseless danger. I am not that guy anymore. I am here to protect your life, not to make you worry about mine. Please let me give you a ride home. I brought an extra helmet with me. I will drive as slow as you want me to."

Saturday: The Rooftop

By Saturday evening, the incredible weight of his devotion had completely melted the icy wall you had built around your heart. He had shown up for you every single day of the week. He was changing his entire life, completely shifting his goals just to prove to you that he was listening, that he cared, and that he loved you enough to grow up.

He asked you to meet him on the flat rooftop of his apartment building in the evening. When you pushed the heavy metal door open and walked out, there were no fast sports cars, no loud music, and no dangerous stunts. There was just a simple checkered blanket spread out on the concrete under the stars, a small telescope on a tripod, and a single acoustic guitar resting on the ground.

Jungkook was sitting on the middle of the blanket, looking up at the clear night sky. When he saw you walk out, his entire face lit up with that bright, boyish smile that had always made your chest feel warm.

"You actually came," he said, quickly standing up to his feet.

"I did," you replied, walking across the roof and sitting down on the soft edge of the blanket. "What is all of this, Jungkook?"

He sat down right beside you, his knee lightly brushing against yours. He plucked a single loose string on the guitar, making a clear sound. "No big crowds of students, no loud megaphones, no heavy rain. Just me. I wanted to show you the real future that I am planning for myself. I applied for an entry-level job at my father's corporate firm this afternoon. It is a boring office job, forty hours a week. I am going to learn how to manage a real business from the bottom up. I want to build something stable."

He turned his body to look directly at you. His dark eyes were full of absolute honesty and vulnerability. "I used to live for the thrill of the moment because I thought the future was just an empty, boring space. But now I know that the future is only worth something if you are standing in it with me. I don't want an easy, empty life anymore if it means a life without you. I want to work hard. I want to make you proud of me."

You felt a warm tear slip down your cheek. The realization finally hit you completely. He wasn't just playing a game to get you back for a week. He had fundamentally changed his entire path. He was rewriting his own identity because he loved you that deeply.

Sunday: The Promise

On Sunday evening, you stood on the small balcony of your apartment, looking out over the thousands of twinkling lights of the city. The seven days of the week had come and gone. With every passing hour, Jungkook had proven to you that his love was not a temporary phase—it was a solid anchor.

A soft, hesitant knock sounded at your front door.

When you pulled the door open, Jungkook was standing there on the welcome mat. He wasn't wearing his old leather jacket anymore. He was wearing a simple, clean, structured jacket. He looked incredibly handsome, calm, and grounded. He did not say a single word. He just looked into your eyes, waiting for your final decision, leaving his entire heart completely exposed to you.

You did not make him wait a single second longer. You took a big step forward, closing the small distance between your bodies, and threw your arms tightly around his neck.

Jungkook let out a shaky, ragged breath. His strong arms instantly wrapped around your waist, lifting you slightly off your feet. He pulled you so close against his chest that you could feel the fast, joyful thumping of his heart against your own. He buried his face deep into the crook of your neck, holding onto your body as if you were the only real, solid thing left in the entire universe.

"Does this mean I am finally allowed to be your boyfriend again?" he whispered. His voice sounded thick with emotion as he pulled his head back just enough to look into your eyes.

"It means you are a complete idiot," you laughed softly. Tears of happiness were in your eyes as you cupped his warm jaw with your hands, your thumb gently tracing the line of his cheekbone. "A loud, dramatic, stubborn, incredible idiot who somehow managed to completely change my mind."

"I told you I would," Jungkook said. His signature, confident grin finally returned to his face, bright and beautiful. "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Seven days a week. Every hour, every single minute, every second. I love you, and I am never going to stop showing you that for the rest of our lives."

You smiled against his lips, leaning up on your tiptoes as his mouth met yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a real promise of a long future that you would build together—a future that was safe, financially stable, and beautifully alive.