honey

That includes knowing who to follow on Instagram, who not to approach in the hallway, who to invite in group projects, and who to sit with in lunch. He goes by what makes sense and knows who the hell doesn’t belong in his circle, who rightfully has his phone number, and who can comment on his Instagram posts. 

Except when it comes to substances. He’s not a drug addict but he does enjoy good weed. 

He did listen during chemistry lectures, which basically means he knows a thing or two about pharmaceutics — at least the important parts like which produce larger surges of dopamine and intense euphoria. So while they get drug orientations every start of the school year and the addition of the entrepreneurial mindset of a businessman his father has passed down to him; Riki’s a fucking a jackpot. He simply believed every structure had blind spots, and if someone was smart enough to notice them, then maybe they deserved to profit a little. 

Maybe that made him a hypocrite. He knew that. Sometimes, in the middle of his own judgment, the thought would occur to him that he was not exactly living inside the moral boundaries he pretended to respect.

So with all of these in mind — weed-seller and social scale follower — imagine his surprise seeing a text from you.

You, an A-tier cheer captain with perfect grades and perfect friends and a perfect boyfriend and someone he doubts even has ever touched weed within a 10 feet radius because of how goody-two-shoes and slightly more socially-conformed you are, texted him: 

you: hi you sell right

The kind of surprise a priest might feel if the Virgin Mary asked to borrow a dildo.

Riki stared at his phone for a full thirty seconds. Not because he was shocked by the question itself — he’d gotten worse, far more incriminating messages from people with nothing to lose – but because of who it was from. Your name sat there, attached to a profile picture he never thought would sit on his chat log. Someone who followed the rules so well she barely seemed to touch the ground and practically flew up the school field with the school banner.

This was not how the structure worked. Nope.

He knew you didn’t look at people like him unless it was to borrow a pen or unwillingly get assigned to a lab partner. You definitely weren’t supposed to be asking him this. 

Riki leaned back in his chair and rethought the logistics. He wasn’t paranoid – paranoia implied irrationality. This was risk assessment, you’re high visibility, you’re a liability, you’re a cop in disguise, you’re a prig who’ll ruin his cloak and dagger, you’re holier-than-thou. You’re interesting.

riki: ???? is this a test loll

you: ? its a question

riki: u fr????

you: js tell me if its a no i have money

riki: 3pm behind the science building

you: ok thanks

But more than whatever you are, he knows this was stupid. This was the kind of deviation that got people caught and into the most flouting position he’ll ever be, therefore ruining his very wish to stay within a lawful system. It was, unequivocally, a very bad idea.

And yet he finds himself at the back of the building while he reevaluates the measures of bad-ness in the idea. If math really has been on his side along with his really athletic stature, he can run when you pull out as witness to his little dissenter mood. It halts when he sees you rounding the corner in your cheer uniform — ponytail perfect, knee tape slightly crooked, eyes darting like you weren’t sure you belonged back here — he realizes something his knees will give out before he can even try to walk away.

You stop a few feet away from him, awkward, out of place, glowing like a wrong answer circled in red. You stare at him with your arms crossed, hyperaware when his eyes follow the silhouette of your frame like he’s finding a covert surveillance device underneath your pleated skirt.

Riki talks calmly, like this wasn’t insane at all, like he hasn’t been in his head for the past hours: “So,” he starts, hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie. “What do you need?”

The question should’ve been easy. You’d rehearsed it in your head on the walk here, timed it with your steps, told yourself not to sound like an idiot. But standing this near — near enough to notice the faint, clean smell of cologne and something green and earthy — you blank.

You shift your weight, arms tightening across your chest. “Um. Weed.”

Riki blinks once, and immediately he knows what this is. He studies you the way he did with lab results that didn’t line up with the predictions — or maybe it did exactly, and he can’t believe it was that easy.

“…Okay,” he said. “What kind?”

Your mouth opens. Then closes.

“What kind.” he repeats.

You felt heat crawl up your neck. “Just… normal?” you say, immediately hating yourself. “Like. The kind people use?”

A corner of his mouth twitches before he can stop it. Then he licks the inside of his cheek, shaking his head when he realizes that yeah, his guess is right. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” he says. 

You bristle. “So?”

“You don’t even know dosage. Or strain. Or why you want it.” His eyes flick up to yours. “Do you?”

Your confidence wobbles, the polished composure you wore so easily in hallways cracking just a little now. He pulls out a small, neatly labeled bag and holds it between his fingers instead of handing it to you. “This is low THC,” he explains. “Won’t make you freak out. But I need to know what you specifically need so you don’t… panic.”

This was supposed to be transactional, quick, something you could tuck away and forget about. Yet every risky glance you take, he doesn’t look like someone who’d hold anything against you.

Riki sighs, about to put the bag away. “Look, let’s just forget —“

“I just,” you start, then sigh because there’s no cool way to say it. “I don’t know. I had a bad week. I wanted to try something.”

When you finally look up, he’s watching you differently. Not like you’re stupid or embarrassing, though you feel plenty of that on your own. His brows have lifted slightly, the faint amusement in his mouth fading into something quieter as he takes you in properly: your tight grip on your own arms, the way your eyes keep darting away.

And it makes it worse.

You meet his eyes for half a second before looking away with a small huff, embarrassed by the sudden attention. 

He puckers his lips slightly, staring at the thing in his hand like he’s thinking. At first, you think he might be deciding if you’re worth the trouble, but then he nods once. “Okay,” he says. “So you’re not becoming a stoner. You’re just trying a new cuisine.”

You blink at him, then laugh under your breath before you can stop yourself.

His mouth twitches, but hides it. He steps closer, just enough that you can see the smoothness of his skin, like he owns expensive skincare. He’s very tall, in a way that surprises you maybe because you’d just never stood this close before.

Really, you never spent time looking at Riki Nishimura. You’ve known the name, because who can ever look past the opulent sound of it, but to know the man behind it didn’t matter. After texting him, you don’t know what you expected either, maybe someone grubbier and smelled like smoke, someone with dry lips from all the ash. You thought he’d smell like one of those hippie guys who sold sketchy shit while wearing the same beanie for three years. 

But no, he smells like a familiar perfume your father owns in his fragrance wardrobe.

And his clothes are annoyingly nice, like the hoodie is probably more expensive than it looks and the loose pants are intentional, not lazy. 

Also, he’s 6’1.

“This,” he taps the bag lightly, “will help you relax. Body high, mostly. You’ll still be functional. But since it’s your first time, better not fuck around too much.” 

He’s still standing in front of you, close enough for you to notice the way his lashes lower when he looks at the bag in his hand, and you feel deeply, horribly stupid for only realizing now that he looks like that. 

Your gaze lingers, and he catches it. Riki clears his throat, spine straightening a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say too fast.

He only hums. You tighten your arms across your chest. “Just give me the thing.”

He finally hands you the bag, and you eye it once you feel its weight in your palm; leafy and green and brown and not you — but it doesn’t look so bad right now. It looks enticing, even, which you won’t try to admit out loud.

“Twenty,” he says, not planning to converse himself with the sudden discount. 

You dig into your bag, finding for the vintage pink wallet that screams the contrast of cannabis in your palm right now. “You know,” you say, hesitant but honest, “I don’t know. It’s weird how we’ve never talked before.”

That gets him. He chuckles even if there’s nothing funny about what you said, but there is something humorous about the fact he remembers shit you obviously forgot. He’s quick to question the lack of indifference, because he remembers it well that this is definitely not the first time you two talked.

“We were partners in freshman year,” Riki says.

He watches your face blank in real time, and something about it makes his mouth lift again, but not kindly enough to be mean. More like he expected it and still finds it a little funny that you are proving him right.

“English lit,” he adds. “The mythology presentation.”

For a second, he looks at you like someone who’s always known you, and you look at him like you’re seeing him for the first time. He sees it flash in your eyes, that maybe you remember him more than just some guy who sells weed to irresponsible decision-makers.

“Oh,” you say.

Riki nods once, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Oh.”

Until your phone buzzes to drag you back from this little bubble you’re in – your boyfriend’s name lights up the screen and Riki notices it too.

“Oh,” you say again, clearly out of your own head. “I — sorry.”

Something shifts, like the structure rebuilds and reasserts itself back into proper footing. You pull the bills from your wallet and press them into his hand. “Thanks,” you say. “For, um. The stuff.”

He closes his fist around the money, nods once. “Yeah.”

You hesitate like you might say something else, so you just tuck the bag away and step back. “I’ll go,” you say.

You turn the corner first. Riki exhales only when you’re out of sight, and chews on his bottom lip before hitting the side of his fist against the wall without real effort. He turns the other corner, parting from the rendezvous kept between eng lit and discounts.

The thing is, Riki knows you before whatever you are now. Miss Perfect who buys weed from Mister Lowkey Weed Seller — it’s a whole tangle in his brain in which he can’t exactly comprehend, but while he smokes a joint and music blasts through the speakers from the house party he’s dragged into, your picture’s pinned with red strings. 

He’s known you since third grade. You’ve been part of the cheer team before puberty, and since then you’ve accumulated likable girls your age into your circle, then the guys from the football team after. It becomes a whole coupling session when the age came right, which Riki is convinced is just some orgy labeled friendship goals in curated Instagram. He thought you were mean mostly because that’s what someone like you would be — but he does know a thing or two about you, other than the assumption of character. You’ve been in the same group projects against your will, sometimes you’d stand next to each other by the queue lines in the cafeteria, sometimes you’d bump against him in the hallway when you’re chasing time.

Is it weird he kept tabs? Maybe.

He always noticed, obviously, why wouldn’t he? You are not exactly unnoticeable. You’re nicer than your friends, you say sorry when you accidentally bump into someone, you say thanks to the staff, you say good morning to strangers, you’re pretty, you’re talented, you’re smart, you laugh at his jokes, you bought weed from him, you’re pretty, you’re perfect, you’re funny, you’re ridiculously pretty —

Riki takes another puff, too fast and too harsh, earning a rough cough from his throat. Heeseung chuckles, giving him an aggressive pat on the back when he leans his elbows against his knees. “Geez, first time?”

Riki shoves his arm away with a laugh, unsure where this is coming from. Because on top of every other noticeable trait you have, you have a boyfriend. So. Yeah. He knows better than to think about you.

He sinks deeper into someone else’s couch — leather, cracked at the seams — while the bass rattles the walls and bodies blur together in the dim lights. Smoke hangs thick in the air, clinging to his clothes, his hair, his thoughts. He takes another drag, slower this time, lets it sit in his lungs until the noise dulls around the edges.

Across from him, someone’s laughing too loud, then a couple is making out like it’s an Olympic sport. Heeseung steals the joint from his fingers and flicks the ash into an empty cup.

“You look fucked,” Heeseung says.

“I’m not,” Riki replies automatically.

“Mhm.”

Riki pushes himself up from the couch, suddenly restless. He just wants a drink — something cold, something that doesn’t make his head spiral because even the thought of weed pulls him back to this cheerleader. So he goes to the kitchen, instinctively saying half-assed sorry’s to strangers without meaning them. 

Until he bumps into someone.

For half a second, he genuinely wonders if the side effects are finally catching up to him, because his head feels several feet away from his eyes and the kitchen lights look more hazy than they should.

But it’s you, he knows that because your kind voice apologizes; the way you always do, the way your friends don’t. Your shoulder knocks into his chest and you’re already stepping back, eyes wide a fraction of a second when you look up. Riki freezes too, unsure what to do with his hands or his feet or where to look without threading too close to the sternum your lowcut top exposes. Up close, under dim kitchen lights instead of school hallways, you look unreal — hair loose, lips parted like you’ve been laughing. 

“Riki,” you say, breathless, like his name slipped out before your brain could catch it.

His name on your mouth does something stupid to him. 

“Hey,” he says, too softly. He’s just thankful you don’t notice the slight roughness of it.

You smile, small and polite — but there’s something else underneath it now. Recognition that shouldn’t exist, not in the structure where you’re meant to forget that you know; one where he looks up at you from beneath your echelon, now he’s standing close enough that you have to tilt your chin to look up at him.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I didn’t either.”

You glance past him, toward the other room, toward where your friends probably are — or your boyfriend. Then back at him, polite in a way he’s sure is because you’re you and not because he’s him.

“I don’t usually see you in… parties,” you say. 

He puts both hands in his pant pockets, shoulders loose, eyes on yours like the noise around you doesn’t have enough authority to interrupt.

“You don’t usually look,” he says.

It’s not said rudely, just calm, like he’s stating something obvious enough that both of you should stop pretending around it.

Your fingers tighten around your cup. “That’s not true.”

Riki tilts his head, eyes moving over your face. “Yeah?”

You hate how it sounds coming from him, low and slow and almost amused, like he knows you’re lying before you do. You scoff a quiet laugh, eyes looking away because you can’t keep looking at him. 

“I mean, I know you exist.” You look back up at him when you say it, bottom lip catching between your teeth before you can stop yourself.

His eyes drop for half a second, then he smirks and looks away, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying not to say something.

When he looks back, his face is calmer. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

The question is casual enough that it almost sounds harmless. You glance elsewhere instinctively, like you’re going to find him close. “Somewhere.”

“Specific.”

“He’s with his friends.”

Riki just nods, doesn’t wanna push, even though he’s pretty sure you don’t actually know where he is. Leaving is the smarter and normal thing to do. The thing a girl with a boyfriend and a reputation and a phone full of unread messages from her friends would do.

Instead, you stay there. And Riki’s got that tabbed already.

You hesitate, fingers worrying at the rim of your cup. “I, um. I haven’t — used it yet.”

Riki blinks. “The stuff?”

You nod, cheeks warming. “I just… don’t really know how.” It’s weird being this honest with someone you barely know, yet your bones don’t buzz with the prompt demand to pause. It must be the slight slosh, it’s the only real thing to excuse why you’re not pulling away.

For a second, he just looks at you. Then his mouth curves, slow and amused. “You bought weed without knowing how to use it?”

Your face warms, but you try not to look embarrassed. “Okay, well.” You lift your cup a little, like that somehow helps your argument. “You can teach me.”

Riki grimaces immediately, playful but clear. “Sounds like a bad idea.”

You blink. “Wow. Rude." You huff, looking away, but you’re smiling a little because he doesn’t sound scared of you. Or impressed by you. Or desperate to keep you there. He just sounds like he already knows better and hates that he has to be the one saying it.

He sighs, looking away for a second. “Fuck, fine.” his jaw clenches. “But not here.”

You try not to smile and fail almost immediately. You take one step back, still looking at him. “I’ll text you. Maybe later?”

Someone calls your name from the other room and you exhale, dragging back through the fracture. The music spikes and someone bumps into you again, closer this time, and Riki’s hand lifts instinctively, hovering over your waist without touching. 

Your eyes flick down, then back up to his. “Nice seeing you,” you say finally, voice softer now. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You too.”

You step around him, brushing past just close enough that he catches your scent — which is bad, because now he’ll have to remember that too. When you disappear back into the crowd, Riki stays rooted in place for a beat too long.

He exhales, rubs a hand over his face, and laughs quietly to himself.

He really, really knows better.

Which somehow makes it worse.

Riki glances back to see you’re sitting on the couch now, legs tucked in, your boyfriend’s arm slung easily around your shoulders. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, which makes you smile and ease back into him. Riki turns away to open the fridge and grabs the coldest beer he can find. He lifts it and downs it in one go, throat burning at the coldness and bitter taste.

He shouldn’t do this. He really shouldn’t.

Later, in that strange lull when the party has gotten worse and louder — you text him.

You: bathroom upstairs

The bathroom is cramped and clean but gross in concept: flickering light, foggy mirror, the smell of cheap air freshener. You’re perched on the edge of the sink when he slips inside and locks the door behind him, eyes bright, a little nervous, because being in a bathroom with you feels worse than any sketchy deal he’s made.

“Okay,” you whisper, like you’re conspiring. “So. Teach me.”

He winces, glancing around. “This is… not ideal.”

You just grin. He laughs despite himself and sets the weed down on the closed toilet lid, grimacing when he starts rolling paper against it. Once he’s done, he holds the roll up to your mouth and he tells you to lick it. You follow through, leaning down and sticking your tongue out to lick the side. He clears his throat, trying not to think about the way you looked doing that, trying not to imagine anything else.

He’s careful, not clinical or a lecture when he instructs, just calm and reassuring like he’s trying to keep you comfortable more than correct. When he hands the final roll to you, your fingers shake a little as you take it.

“Like this?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Slow.”

You cough immediately after trying, sharp and sudden, bending forward with a surprised laugh. “Oh my god — why does it — ”

“Hey,” he says, too fast, stepping closer, hand hovering at your back. “You okay?”

You wave him off, still laughing, eyes watering. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

He watches you like you might disappear if he looks away. You’re laughing, which isn’t comforting Riki even in the slightest because the last thing he needs is to not be a conformist and end up in jail for accidentally supporting your homicide.

You try again, better this time. You still cough, laugh, cough again, but way more manageable as time goes by.

“Sorry,” you say, breathless.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “You’re doing fine.”

You keep at it, stubborn in that way of yours, until the coughing eases and something in your shoulders loosens. You lean back against the wall, head tipping gently, eyes half-lidded.

“Oh,” you murmur. “That’s… actually really nice.”

Riki lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a nervous laugh slipping out. He leans back against the wall, hand through his bangs, exposing the skin of his forehead. “Jesus fucking Christ,”

You nod slowly, smiling to yourself. “My brain’s quiet.”

He watches you for a moment: relaxed, unguarded, glowing in this tiny bathroom because you don’t belong here at all, holding a joint Riki himself rolled for you. Really, you never belonged anywhere that tried to put you in a box, and he wasn’t going to make himself an exception to that opening.

He tries thinking about who you really are, beyond what most people would take you as. Though he knows not to fantasize a tale where he saves the damsel from her golden label. He takes you with memory and not assumption: cheer girl, disciplined afternoon drills, academically smart, socially competent, good. But tonight, while you lean against the cracked sink and stand diagonally across him, he sees a side he never thought he’d secretly behold.

Your eyes flick to him. “You’re a good teacher.”

He swallows. “You’re an easy student.”

Riki rolls another one for himself, hands steadier now that you’re settled, and lights it with a quiet flick. The bathroom fills with a softer haze this time, the kind that wraps instead of hits like a downer high school series. He takes a drag, exhales toward the ceiling, letting the room reek with shouldn’ts and endorphine boosters.

You smoke more confidently now, less harsh and rough when you let the smoke run down your throat. Your eyes are a little red, lashes heavier, the sharp edges of you blurred into something warmer and looser, less polished and picture perfect the way your boyfriend would like. Riki thinks — stupidly — that he’s never seen you look better.

You lean your head back against the wall again, staring at the ceiling like it’s just told you a secret. He doesn’t stare, actually. He keeps his eyes narrowed to the broken tile in front of him like he’ll discern the reason it’s cracked (maybe someone opened the door too hard, maybe someone once stood there trying to look normal while his heart acted stupid over a girl, which was especially humiliating when the whole point of being high was to feel less insane). Sometimes he’ll permit himself to glance, but even the very glimpse of your smudged lipstick makes him look away and inhale the fuck outta that weed.

Then, suddenly, with eyes still trained to the dim bathroom light — “I thought you were,” you start, then laugh, a little too loud before clapping a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I thought you were, like… this weirdo.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Wow. Honesty hour already?”

“No — ” you groan, waving the joint like you’re conducting an orchestra. “I mean it nicely. You always stayed away from everyone. I figured you were judging us.”

“Us?” he repeats, amused, cocking a brow when he glances at you.

“You know. People like me.” You squint at him, trying to focus. You gesture at yourself ineptly, clearly out of the ordinary intellectual capacity you clench tight, not when rickety makes up for your feet.

He quickly looks away, trying not to smile. 

“Loud. Annoying.” you clarify, hand gesturing around.

He tilts his head, considering. “Was I supposed to be friends with people like you?”

You blink, like you’re thinking about what he said and calculating the rationale behind his causes. It was a hit, one that steadies a thought in your brain.

“Is that so bad?”

The question knocks the breath out of him, especially when you look up at him like that, eyes bright and wide. He blinks, and then he laughs, coming out quieter this time, looking away because he can’t keep eye contact with you. “I didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Why not?”

Because there’s a system. Because there’s levels to this shit. Because you have a boyfriend. Because you’re untouchable. Because you’re perfect and he’s whatever this was. Because people like him didn’t get pulled into your orbit unless it was transactional. Like weed exchanges and favors on the toilet. 

For now, he shrugs. “Seemed like you already had your people.” 

You hum, nodding slowly, then smile. You tap the joint, watching some ash fall to the tiles. “They’re loud.”

He smiles back despite himself. “Yeah. They are.”

The bathroom feels like it’s floating away from the music that pumps loud through the pipes, a constant reminder that there’s more than the stinky bathroom you two share as a secret. It’s risky because it’s merely wood that separates the crypticity of Mary Jane from the Average Joe you two function in individually.

You glance at the joint, then at him. “You’re not weird, by the way.”

“Oh?” he says, eyebrow lifting. He even scoffs, because he (un-admittedly) finds you adorable. 

“You’re just… quiet. You keep to yourself, but that doesn’t make you… eccentric.” You grin lopsided, cheeks warm but you ignore that. “You’re nice.”

That one gets him, more than he’d ever admit to anyone. Riki looks over, and for half a second, his gaze slips lower before he forces it back to your face. You’re already looking at him, all soft eyes and honest mouth, like you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

He looks away first, rubbing the side of his jaw like that might help. “You’re high,” he says.

“Maybe,” you confess. “But I mean it.”

He’s been called quiet and nice all his life, but that was never the full truth. He just knew who deserved access to the rest of him, and most people didn’t. It wasn’t personal. He could talk when he wanted to, laugh when something was actually funny, keep a conversation going if he cared enough. He just didn’t feel the need to prove he had thoughts by saying all of them out loud.

Riki takes a drag, exhales slowly, looking over the tiles of the bathroom while he rethinks the decision he’s about to drop. He clears his throat before speaking, “You’re not mean either.”

Your eyes widen a little, gaze recklessly steady at his side profile. “You thought I was?”

“Everyone did,” he says honestly, smiling a little.

You make a face, frowning at him even though he refuses to look at you. “That’s rude.”

He laughs, really laughs this time, head tipping back. When he looks at you again, you’re smiling up at him like you’ve discovered something new and decided to keep it. For a moment, it feels like maybe there was always a version of this where you talked in bathrooms and shared smoke and didn’t belong where people expected you to.

You take another small drag, then suddenly straighten when you decide to take him in. He’s wearing a jacket over his hoodie, simple sweats loose around his hips. Only a few strands of his dark blonde hair graze over his forehead, leading down to the sharp features you only really notice now.

You never thought Riki Nishimura was ugly. Now, you can’t help but think that he’s… kinda hot.

You’re high, you’re just gone. That’s why. It also explains why you nudge closer than you have been before, letting your skirt brush slightly against his pants, thighs grazing slightly against his.

You’re both still smoking — slow now, like the room itself has decided to breathe with you. The bathroom feels even smaller than before, shrinking with every second the music downstairs gets louder but muffled through the wooden door keeping you a secret. Your head feels light, buoyant, like you’re floating a few inches above your body. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the half-drinks you’d taken before this. Maybe it’s neither.

He stares at the tile beneath his boot like it holds the secrets of the universe, or like it had the equations for him to understand gravity’s intentions and how it led to him feeling your softness against him.

“Is there something on the floor?” you laugh.

He just huffs, shaking his head because that’s all he can do right now. You’re still leaning back and he’s still standing just a little too close. Your knee brushes his again, accidental but not corrected.

He looks down at you then. The red in your eyes, the crooked smile, the way you’re leaning just a little toward him like gravity’s doing something new. You lean closer because you’re completely zooted and smart-Riki who knows better, leans away and only lets his chest tighten. His eyes drop traitorously down to your lips, and he’s not fast enough to look back up. You notice, of course, which makes you both look away and straighten back on your feet instead of the wall. 

Riki clears his throat, smoking the last of his before he rids of it against the sink. “You gotta go?” he asks out of the blue, which makes you frown a little. It wasn’t exactly a statement, but you know when things are implied and telling, so you shove back the nerves and remember that he’s different from you.

You’re not his type of person. He probably likes more chill people who actually know how to roll this shit — not the sheltered ones who’s clueless with THC or terms alike it.

“Yeah. I guess.” you smooth out your clothes even though nothing’s wrong with them.

He realizes what he just did, especially now that you’re not even looking back at him. He tries correcting himself, to backtrack, but the moment you glance back up, he’s silenced. You put your unfinished joint in his hand. “See you.” You say just before unlocking the door, slipping through it, and accidentally slamming it too hard.

Riki reels in from the solitude of the silence, like he’s now just realizing the ruins he broke himself. He sighs in resignation, head falling forward in defeat. “Shit.”

He stares at the thing in his hand, unfinished and yours, half-burnt and still warm.

“Idiot,” he mutters to himself, dragging a hand down his face. He can still feel the ghost of your skirt brushing his leg, the way you didn’t look back because he gave you a reason not to.

But the bathroom still smells like you — sweet perfume tangled with smoke — and the joint is there, remaining as an accusation wrapped in paper. He turns it between his fingers, thumb brushing the spot where your lipstick smudged faintly against the edge.

Riki exhales, then lifts it.

He wraps his lips around it carefully, stupidly aware of the fact that yours were there first. The thought alone makes his chest tighten, heat creeping up his neck and pelvis as he takes a slow drag.

He closes his eyes as he exhales, leaning his head back against the wall, heart thudding too loud for a room this small. For a split second, he imagines you still there — tilted smile, red-rimmed eyes, saying his name like it belongs to you, all while your boyfriend waits in the living room.

He laughs shakily under his breath. It’s so wrong.

After that, you two haven’t really talked for weeks. 

That part isn’t weird. You both have lived the majority of your lives settling with the insouciance despite recognition, and one night in a bathroom, smoke and secrets and red eyes, isn’t enough to reroute that kind of muscle memory. Riki tells himself that over and over, like it’s a theorem he’s already proven.

He hasn’t been worried. He still goes to class, still shows up on time, still hands in assignments with some effort. The only difference — although barely worth mentioning — is that he’s been dipping into his stash more often than usual. A little before bed. A little after. 

Riki exhales slowly, staring at the ceiling, telling himself — again — that this doesn’t mean anything and it doesn’t have anything to do with the cheer girl he kinda had a moment with in the bathroom.

It’s so fucked, even if you don’t think being his friend is bad, because you’re not meant to be a part of this. He was simply curious that Miss Cheerleader bought weed from him and kinda trusted him way too fast and that wasn’t just some everyday occurrence — that’s the only best psychological explanation why you’re here even when you’re not.

You have a boyfriend. He’s not about to be a homewrecker. Yet it’s not helping.

No talking for weeks, reaching a month even. That says enough. He has to stop.

“Probably about Little Miss Perfect.”

Riki flinches like someone just snapped a rubber band against the back of his neck. He sits up, glaring at Heeseung. “What the fuck,” he blurts. “How do you know that?”

Jake slowly looks up from his laptop, eyes lighting up like he just unlocked a bonus level.

“Oh my god.” Sunghoon’s grin spreads and Heeseung laughs, clapping like he’s won because technically he did, at the mental betting at what keeps Riki Nishimura downing his marijuana greenhouse.

“Ohhh,” Heeseung says, taunting and annoying. “So it is about her.”

Riki blinks. “No.”

“That was the weakest no I’ve ever heard,” Jake says immediately, pointing a finger at Riki. “You’re a guilty man, aren’t you?”

Riki scoffs, scrambling, fingers rubbing against his temple in attempts to cool. “You’re literally insane. Why would it be about her?”

Heeseung shrugs, casual. “I saw you two talking at that party.”

Riki’s stomach drops. “You — what?”

“Relax,” Heeseung says, laughing. “I wasn’t spying. You two just kinda had a freeze frame by the kitchen. Wasn’t so hard to notice.”

Riki opens his mouth, just to close it. Then he runs a hand through his hair with the irritated slant of said illegality stamped in your name. “We were just talking. Nothing happened.” Riki snaps, defensive again, hands up like he’s caught. 

Jake squints at him. “Then why are you acting like that?”

Riki looks away. Usually, it’s enough answer to more teasing and mocking, but maybe not this time. Because now, it raises actual questions that regard his very bearing at this monumental association with you — a damn unicorn of a scene snatched out a comedy fantasy movie.

Heeseung asks carefully, “Are you, like, her boy toy or something?”

Riki whips around with the flush of unpredictability and utter shock. “What? No!”

Heeseung grins again, gentler this time. “Okay, not her boy toy. What now?”

Riki exhales, long and slow, falling back supine against the floor with the decency of a man with boundaries and the understanding of someone brilliant to keep himself away. “Nothing. She has a boyfriend. She lives in a different world.”

It’s realistic. He thinks he’ll drag the shit out of his stash to get his mind off this, because Riki Nishimura was a conformist by all means.

You’re where you’re supposed to be.

You laugh at the jokes while dawdling down the hallway with girls you actually consider your friends, your boyfriend’s arm heavy around your shoulders like it belongs there. You learned how to roll your own joints now, practiced with irritated little shrieks until it stopped being embarrassing, until they came out neat and perfect between your fingers. You don’t need him. You don’t need anyone, actually. Independence always looked good and natural on you.

Then Riki walks past with Heeseung and Jay.

Backpacks slung low, shoes dragging lazily against the floor, laughing about something stupid like someone’s terrible quiz score. Riki’s eyes stay forward like always, keeping his business private from everyone. Especially from you.

You don’t acknowledge each other beyond the bare minimum of peripheral awareness of two classmates that happen to be in the same class and two planets in the same orbit. Your boyfriend tightens his arm around you, leaning down to murmur something about lunch plans. You nod, glossed lips wrapped around a lollipop, sugar sweet and cherry-flavored on your tongue. You should be listening, you’re sure you are, until he passes.

Your eyes follow Riki — not openly, just enough to catch the back of his neck, the familiar slope of his shoulders, the same boy who leaned against a bathroom wall while you were high and laughing too much, knees brushing his because the room was small and neither of you moved away.

The lollipop slides down your tongue: all artificial sugar because the substance stays at home in the back of your secret drawer, while some of it just passed you down the hallway.

“I’ll catch up,” you say lightly, lifting your boyfriend’s arm off your shoulders. “I forgot something.”

You slip away before anyone can think too hard about it, weaving through the hallway with your lollipop still between your lips. You keep enough distance to make it look accidental, watching as Heeseung and Jay split off with quick fist bumps and loud voices. Riki keeps walking and pushes open the door to an empty lecture hall before disappearing inside.

You stop outside, remembering that this is probably the part where you’re supposed to turn around. Where the perfect, reasonable version of you remembers her boyfriend, her friends, her place in the hallway. Where the status quo reaches for your wrist and pulls you back into line.

Well, you push the door open.

Riki is near the front row, one hand still on the strap of his bag when he looks up from his seat, legs spread wide, thumbs midway to scroll through his phone. His eyes widen slightly, posture going still like he did not think you’d actually follow him.

For some reason, it thrills you. Because now he’s looking at you.

You pull the lollipop from your mouth, twirling the stick between your fingers as the door clicks shut behind you. “Hey.”

His eyes flick briefly to the door behind you. “You lost?”

This isn’t a bathroom of some random houseparty. There’s no smoke, no music, no excuse, just you, Riki, and an empty lecture hall in the middle of the school day — which means you came here on purpose.

“You should roll a joint for me again,” you say, like it’s so simple. “One of these nights.”

Riki blinks once. Then he huffs out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “What, you haven’t learned since last time?”

You step closer anyway, slow and unhurried, allowed to exist wherever you want. He leans back against his seat, still careful and invisibly (but truly) restless. “I did.” you answer, then you smile small and lazy. “You’re just better at it.”

That gets him (because you’ve been knowing what to say to get him). His eyes lift to you, amused now, something low and unreadable settling there which sets you on fire because you have no idea what he’s thinking, not even a little hint. 

“Flattery,” he says, then scoffs.

You hum and step closer, close enough that his knee is almost in front of your thigh. Riki leans back in his seat, one arm loose over the desk beside him, phone forgotten in his lap. 

“There’s another party this weekend,” you say. “At McKay’s. You and your friends should go.”

He tilts his head. “Should we?”

“I think so.” You shrug. “Good music, large pad, beer games.” 

He chuckles, eyes dropping briefly to the floor before meeting yours again. “And you’ll be there.”

“Probably.”

“And you’ll want me to roll one for you.”

You pull the lollipop from your mouth, tapping it lightly against your lower lip as you think. “If you’re offering.”

“I’m not,” he says, but his mouth twitches.

You lean back against the edge of the desk beside him, copying his ease like you have any right to be comfortable around him. From far away, it would look casual, just two classmates talking before class. Except there’s only you standing between him and the empty rows, him sitting back in his seat, looking up at you with that unreadable expression while you try not to smile too much.

He should probably feel insulted that you only do this when nobody can see — maybe he does, if he still believes in self-respect. It’s just hard to stay offended when you’re looking at him like that.

Riki nods once. “I’ll think about it.”

Satisfied, you push off the table and head for the door. “Cool.”

When the door shuts behind you, he thinks about red eyes and smoke, about how your usual crowd will be there, your boyfriend’s arm around you just before you sneak away to Riki’s. 

You’re trouble, which makes Riki smile. ‘Cause he knows damn well he’s going to that party.

-

McKay’s house is already vibrating when Riki gets there with Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon — bass rattling the windows, someone yelling about cups, someone else yelling back about something incomprehensible. Riki isn’t a frat boy at all, and he doesn’t really go to parties, but the perfume layered on top of alcohol is basically familiar territory.

“This place is a fire hazard,” Jake mutters, stepping over a discarded heel.

Riki scans the room pretending he doesn’t mean to, observing layouts and people, when really he’s actually looking for one specific designer wardrobe of a person.

He doesn’t see you, but he sees your usual crowd scattered around the room, posing with red cups they barely drink from and laughing a little too loud whenever someone points a camera at them. You’re not there, nor is your boyfriend, and that usually speaks for itself already.

Heeseung nudges him, already mischievous with the smile Riki can’t see. “Little Miss Perfect?”

“Fuck off,” Riki replies, flat.

Jake’s halfway to disbelief when he narrows his eyes at Riki. “You’re already staring.”

“She’s not even here,” the former hisses.

“Looking for her, though.” Sunghoon teases, practically grinning widely.

Riki pushes past them. “I’m getting a drink.”

He doesn’t get a drink. He goes through hallways and in between bodies that nudge abruptly into him, half-assed apologies going through one ear and out the other while he properly finds footing again and again. When he gets to the bathroom and finds it locked, he groans and leans back against the wall. For now, he flicks the light on his own joint and smokes away while he waits — for you, for the bathroom, for anything to make him think going here was worth it at all. 

Too many girls brush against him, too many of them apologizing with tilted heads and lashes batting. He has no interest in rewarding the performance, not tonight, not when the party is already crawling under his skin, all bass-heavy music, sticky floors, smoke in the air, perfume clinging to his throat, and people packed so tightly he can’t move without touching someone. It’s too much at once; too loud, too hot, too bright, too dark. Then he sees it, and everything in him goes still.

Your boyfriend has another girl pushed against the bedroom wall. 

Riki sees this through the crack of the door, just slightly opened enough for him to see how he moves his hand underneath her skirt really fucking aggressively. They’re kissing too, and it’s not at all sweet or even arousing; it’s just straight out gross. He chokes, coughing so rough and loud and forward he has to lunge himself off the wall and straight through the crowd because his first instinct is you.

Your boyfriend is cheating on you.

What the fuck is happening? Why’s your boyfriend fucking a girl like someone who knows nothing about clits? Now, Riki isn’t an expert about pleasing women but he’s watched porn enough to know that Exhibit A over there was straight-up persecution. 

He finally spots you near the kitchen, talking to one of your friends with a cup in your hand. He starts toward you, but someone shoves past from behind, and he bumps lightly into your shoulder. You turn, already halfway to apologizing until you see him, your face already changing before you can stop it.

“You came,” you say, eyes flicking around before coming back to him.

He’s kinda out of breath, from the smoke and from hurrying, but he smiles too. “Yeah.”

While you’re still smiling, Riki clears his throat. It’s casual like he’s asking for a lighter, not like he’s abput to derail your night, ‘cause truth be told, he’s not sure he knows how you’ll react to the information. To be honest, he thinks about how it’s only fair — maybe — because he doubts your boyfriend knows you sneak into bathrooms with another guy. And sure, his hand isn’t performing DJ on your pussy, but the shared secrecy of eye contact with loaded tension is much more intimate than whatever the hell that was.

“Uh,” he says, hand rubbing on his jeans. “Can we talk? Like. Somewhere quieter.”

You blink. Then you nod, already stepping closer so he has to lean down to hear you.

“Bathroom or outside?” you ask, half-teasing.

“Outside,” he says easily.

The night is cold enough to make everything feel quieter, like it’s only the two of you standing under someone’s porch light while music leaks through the walls behind you. It’s strange, because you’re not even friends, not really, but the little space between you feels private in a way Riki doesn’t know what to do with. He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath since the second he walked into the house, then leans back against the railing and looks at you standing across from him.

He tries finding the words first, but the way you’re looking at him tightens his chest faster than his brain can work out. Is this karma for your cheating boyfriend? Is he the instrument God has given you to slam notes back to the guy you’re practically cheating on too? 

Then Riki clears his throat, casual as hell. “I saw something inside,” he continues, tone still chill but eyes a little sharper now. “Your boyfriend.”

Your smile falters. “What about him?”

“He’s, uh.” Riki taps ash off the joint. “He was fucking a girl. On a wall.”

You stare at him for a while, and he’s half-expecting you to lash out, on him, on the crowd, on your boyfriend, on something. 

Instead, you laugh this small, amused breath that slips out of you before you shrug, like he told you your boyfriend spilled punch on his shirt and not that he had just seen him with another girl.

What the fuck is happening?

It feels a lot like you don’t care and that surprises Riki leading him down a rabbit hole of introspection. He was already expecting you to cry and sob or scream in the party about how much of a dick he is, how you trusted him and gave him everything — all things they do when they find out their boyfriends are cheaters.

No, you just, “Wow.” then huff a laugh. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He blinks once, watching you carefully while you regather your thoughts as a woman who’s been said something paltry rather than an admission of an affair. To be honest, Riki doesn’t understand, so now he just stands there and looks stunned. And confused. Very confused, actually.

Riki squints at you like he’s trying to solve a trick question. “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s your reaction?”

You shrug, lifting your cup to your lips for a sip. “I mean. It’s been happening. “We’re just sorta together for our parents. They’re friends so… but that’s a story for another night.”

Oh. He never thought fake relationships were a thing.

That makes sense. How come Riki didn’t know? Was he so out of touch from school gossips hat he genuinely didn’t know that you’re actually not the perfect couple he thought you two were? Is that why Heeseung and Jake and Sunghoon didn’t react so badly? Has this been a thing? Oh my God, Riki’s ecstatic and he hasn’t even finished a joint yet.

He lets out a quick, unguarded sound. “Jesus.”

You lean back against the railing across from him, far too relaxed for a revelation that should have ruined someone’s eyeliner. Riki watches you for a second, waiting for the anger, the hurt, the sharp inhale before you turn and storm back inside. But you just stand there, cup in hand, looking more inconvenienced than heartbroken.

That’s when it hits him, slow and weirdly humiliating, that you might not care about the relationship at all.

“But,” you say lightly, “thanks for telling me.”

He blinks, then shakes his head a little. “Yeah.” His voice comes out slower than usual. “No worries.”

You glance at the joint between his fingers, your eyes lingering a second too long on the veins along his hand. “You always this heroic when you’re high?”

“No,” he says, deadpan. “It’s just who I am.”

You laugh, and despite everything, his mouth twitches. He looks back toward the door, half-expecting your boyfriend to come out and make the night complicated. When no one does, he relaxes, shoulders easing, but not completely.

Because this is new information.

Someone inside screams the chorus to a song, and the night’s way too cold for the silence that buzzes. Riki offers the joint without looking at you, just holds it out between two fingers like it’s nothing.

You hesitate for half a second. But you take it.

“You have a car?” you suddenly ask while you take a puff.

Riki blinks once, then lets out a quiet laugh, dragging his thumb along the bridge of his nose. Right, so this is his life now. He sells you weed one time, and somehow he’s standing outside a party while your boyfriend (?)  cheats inside and you look mildly bored about it.

It’s stupid. It’s also the most interesting thing that’s happened to him in months.

So he just sighs and slumps back a little. “Yeah. I do.”

“Let’s go,” you say, completely not a question, flicking the finished joint on the pavement and trampling it beneath your heel. “I wanna smoke.”

He lets you trail after him through the side yard like this is already something you do, like he isn’t silently praying no one sees you following him away from the party. Gravel crunches under your shoes, the bass growing duller behind you as you cross the street toward his Supra, parked sleek and dark under the streetlamp. Riki unlocks it without looking back, rounds the hood, and opens the passenger door for you like it’s nothing.

You notice. You just don’t say anything.

Inside, the car actually smells clean and like coffee, for someone you’ve assumed is mad about marijuana and sorts alike (well, again, he’s proven how neat he is just for smelling so fucking good). He slides into the driver’s seat and just sits there for a second before turning the engine on, heater clicking low. 

The silence settles, but it doesn’t feel awkward, which Riki finds suspicious. Maybe it’s because you’re not acting like the version of you he’s used to, all neat edges and perfect timing. Now your heels are on the floor of his car, your hair is loose around your face, and you’re curled into the passenger seat of a Supra you’ve never sat in before like your body decided to trust him before your brain could argue. He clears his throat, trying to get rid of the warmth at the back of his neck, but you only glance at him like you don’t notice. The hem of your skirt rides up consequently, and he tries his hardest not to look.

“Thanks. For caring.”

He shrugs, one hand resting loose on the steering wheel. “Didn’t feel right not to tell you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

The radio flicks on — some pop song bleeding through the speakers. He then pulls out pre-rolled joints from his pockets, which he sheepishly apologizes for hygiene and, well, it’s a bit delated, although you just smile and take one. He lights yours up and you two stay there, settled in his warm seats, dissolving the chill with cannabis down your system like two people who doesn’t give a shit about the system and fucking power dynamics and popularity status.

Again, weird. Hanging out in his car like you’re old buddies who smoke in free time on the usual. 

If he told himself a month ago that he would be smoking weed with the team cheer captain, he would have laughed his ass off about inhaling too much narcotics that totally screwed mental frameworks. Yet now, he’s stealing a few glances at you beside him, getting high off his greens, and he doesn’t feel completely off-center about it. It’s the weed obviously, but he feels steady. It’s charged because you’re not talking but your thoughts are everywhere, and even if you protrude the profile of indifference — he knows you care. Then again, what does he know about you, right? You are the odd in the equation, the alternative hypothesis that proves the difference in variables, and talks about the impact on the situation.

Now, conformist Riki Nishimura, who has spent his whole life respecting the ladder, is starting to wonder what happens if he climbs high enough to stand beside someone like you.

He stares through the windshield the second before he speaks. “You’re not what people think you are.”

You blink, caught off guard as you turn to him. “Is that good or bad?”

He huffs. “Depends who’s thinking it.”

You smile a little, your eyes moving over him before you can pretend they didn’t. Riki isn’t brawny in that loud, gym-mirror way, but he’s taller than he should be, broader than he looks from a distance, and unfairly very put together. His throat moves when he breathes in, and you catch yourself watching it for one embarrassing second too long.

You chew on your bottom lip. “And what do you think?”

Riki shifts in his seat, hand fidgeting against the wheel like he’s weighing how honest he’s allowed to be. “I think you’re quieter than your reputation.” 

You study him now — the calm posture, the way he never overdoes anything, the way his voice stays even like he’s learned not to tip his hand. 

He glances at you, then back ahead. “Makes it easier.”

You look at him for a second too long. “Easier for who?”

“You tell me.”

The car feels smaller and the windows are fogged enough that the streetlamp outside is just a blur of light now, like you’ve been sealed off from everything else. Away from the reality that boxes you two into something that makes sense rather than accepts. 

You laugh once, but it comes out softer than planned. “You always psychoanalyze girls in your car?”

“No.”

“Just me?”

His mouth twitches. “You asked.”

You turn your head toward the window, trying to keep your face normal. “You don’t know me that well.”

“I know.”

Riki finally turns to you, one hand still resting loose on the steering wheel. His eyes are a little low, a little unreadable, but not careless — that might be the problem.

“I’m not saying I do,” he says. “I’m saying people don’t either.”

Your fingers fidget with the joint, rolling it carefully between them even though you’re barely paying attention to it anymore. The tip glows faintly, forgotten for a second, and Riki reaches over without thinking to tap the ash into the tray before it can fall on your skirt.

You look down at his hand, then back at him when he hands it to you.

“Don’t you think that’s weird?” you ask. “Like, what kind of girl is cheer captain and smokes weed? Who gets into a fake relationship because of her parents? Doesn’t that sound kind of fucked?”

He looks at you for a moment.

Then he leans back, eyes returning to the windshield. “I sell weed.”

He says it from the driver’s seat of a spotless car that smells like coffee and cologne. It’s stupidly funny, actually, the whole contrast of him that kinda looks like you.

You laugh before you can stop yourself. “That’s different.”

“How?” he snickers.

You open your mouth, then close it again because you don’t actually have a good answer. “I don’t know,” you admit, laughing a little. “It just is.”

He hums like he expected that. Then he glances at you before back through the windshield. “I don’t think you’re weird,” His eyes flick over your face. “I think you’re bored.”

Obviously, that makes you furrow your brows. Obviously, you let him continue speaking.

“Of your boyfriend. Your friends. Your parents already knowing what you’re going to do.” His mouth twitches faintly. “Probably bored at being good at the same shit every day.”

You should probably deny it. It surprises you that you don’t, even though you’ve sworn hatred towards men that think they can assume your personality because of one little circumstance.

“That’s why you’re here, right?” Riki’s eyes drop to your hand, then back to your face. 

Your throat tightens.

“With me,” he adds.

He doesn’t smile like he won, he just sits there with one hand loose on the wheel, like he already knows the answer and is kind enough not to make you say it.

The air between you feels worse, like the moment before a storm cracks open into his car, and electrocutes you with a spark you’ve never experienced in your life. Which is eccentric considering you’re not the type of girl who’d be in Riki’s car instead of a party dominated by your friends, getting high off shit that would make your parents pass out. 

You scoff and look away, shaking your head like the whole thing is ridiculous. “You talk like you know everything.”

“I just guessed one fucking thing.”

You roll the joint between your fingers again, slower now. “Maybe I just wanted to try something.”

“With me?”

Your eyes cut to him, and you see there’s a slight curve to his mouth, like he heard the shape of your answer before you even made it. 

You huff. “You’re so annoying.”

Neither of you moves. Just suspended there, breathing the same warm air, the song on the radio dissolving into background noise, the world narrowed down to inches and intent and maybe weak will and strong urges. The tension’s palpable, solid enough that you could feel it grow between your thighs.

You’re probably one more joint away from being zooted, and Riki knows this of course, which is why he keeps his eyes narrowed across him and not the woman who’s audibly shifting in her seat. 

He’s high too — faster than usual — and it makes the moment stretch in this you know kind because he’s thinking bad. He keeps his gaze trained somewhere between the fogged windshield and the blur of your reflection in it, like it’s the only thing keeping him at bay.

For the record — you’re both twenty, obviously adults, even if the world still insists on calling you kids. Which is also the very age people let you experience the paradox of being too grown and too immature for anything consistent, so the underestimation you endure as an adult, smart woman, cheerleader, and a kinda-child — wow you’re in deep detestation for that system.

So you take control of things you can handle.

You’re a conformist, no doubt. Except in areas you loathe men’s freedom in yet expect restraint for women. So… in diminutive ways, you indulge. Like weed. Like running council. Like wearing short skirts. Like Riki Nishimura.

You glance at him sideways, voice light, almost bored. Almost. “So,” you say, like you’re asking about his major or what song’s playing on the radio. “I will ask you something kind of personal.”

Riki exhales a quiet laugh. “You’re already in my car smoking my weed. I think the line’s gone.”

You smile, satisfied, then tilt your head back against the seat. 

“Are you a virgin?”

The question hangs there. Unembellished and very dangerous in its simplicity. Also, of course, bold, which makes Riki actually freeze — a half-second pause where even his breathing stutters. Then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe you just dropped that between the heater hum and the low bass leaking from the house.

He blames the weed, though part of him wishes it isn’t from that.

“You always ask things like that?”

“I’m curious,” you say easily. “And a little high.” you gesture with your thumb and forefinger.

He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking to you now despite himself. “Why?” he asks. “Does it change your opinion of me?”

You meet his gaze, unblinking. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I asked.”

He huffs a soft laugh. He admits to embarrassment, even if it doesn’t cover his entire skin with flush and heat, he’s never found himself in this position. But honestly, nothing from the past few weeks has ever been something he prepared for — which he has you to blame, of course.

“Yeah.” he licks the corner of his lips, refusing to meet your eyes while he taps the steering wheel. “I am.”

Your eyebrows lift, impressed but not shocked. “Huh.”

Riki looks over. “Huh?” he mocks.

You bite back a smile and turn toward the window, but the reflection gives you away. “I just didn’t expect that.”

He scoffs, looking back at the windshield. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, still smiling a little. “You sell weed. And you drive this car.”

“And?”

“And you look like that.”

For one second, Riki’s fingers still on the steering wheel, and he learns to shut up. He lets out a quiet laugh after, but it sounds different this time, lower and almost embarrassed. “You’re so fucking high,”

That makes him quiet, makes him adjust on his seat. He’s touched a woman before, but no one’s ever sat on his dick, nor has he ever been in anyone. So maybe he’s half a virgin, maybe he’s just a sore loser. He watches you as you move, as you turn in the seat, knees pressing into the leather, facing him fully now. The space changes instantly, the air recalibrating around your movement and maybe even pushing you further toward him.

Riki stiffens — just suddenly very aware, and perhaps a little scared. “Uh,” he says, brows knitting. “What are you doing?”

You tilt your head, resting your hands casually on the seat, perfectly balanced. “Bored, like you said,” you say. “And my boyfriend’s cheating on me. Again.”

He swallows. His gaze drops, then snaps back up to your face, like he’s trying very hard to stay respectful and failing in slow motion because you’re especially gorgeous tonight. “That’s… not a great combo,” he says.

“Not really,” you agree.

You lean in just enough for him to feel it — not touch, not yet. Just close enough that he can smell your gloss, the faint sweetness still clinging to you, and the cannabis that if he warrants himself the scary concept, is his mark on you.

“At least you don’t think I’m boring.”

Riki exhales, a real one this time, like he’s surrendering to the moment instead of fighting it because what can a simple guy like him do, right? His eyes flick to your mouth again — longer now — and when he looks back up, there’s a decision there, from someone who’s tired of conforming.

You close the distance then, slow enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. When he doesn’t, your lips meet in a kiss that’s brief and soft at first. Riki’s hand lifts instinctively, stopping just short of your waist, hovering there like he’s giving you the choice.

When you kiss again, you’re pressing harder, with the very intent to steal the air from his lungs. So that is what happens, you inhale and climb over the console and close your knees around his waist and he’s breathing shakily against your mouth, fighting for the oxygen he’s willingly giving away. 

Your cunt presses against the zipper of his jeans, and when you roll, he pulls away like he’s burnt. 

“W-wait — this isn’t — we can’t do this.” He shakes his head insistently, looking down your joined thighs while he regains composure.

You frown. “Why not?”

He looks back up at you, eyes wide and glossy from the taste of your cherry gloss and his greens in your mouth. He looks like he can’t handle this. You’re high, he’s high, this isn’t a good idea. You’re perfect, he’s not, this isn’t a good idea. You’re pretty and he sells weed, this isn’t a good idea.

“Because you have a boyfriend.” he says weakly.

You smile, fingers brushing into the hair at his nape. “Not really.”

He stares at you before he laughs, quiet and disbelieving, like the whole situation is so stupid he has no choice but to let it be funny for half a second. You’re in his lap, his car is fogged, your party is across the street, and apparently your boyfriend is more of a family arrangement than an actual person you care about. 

“This is so fucked,” he mutters.

Still, he kisses you anyway. His hand finally settles at your waist, firm enough to make your breath catch. His fingers press into your flesh just before he pulls you closer and his hips thrusts up underneath you.

His bulge presses hard against your clothed cunt, and a small whimper slips out his mouth. Your thighs practically clench around him, your core tightening as you rub yourself on him. Beneath the jeans secured around his hips, the start of his v-line peeks, in which you softly graze with your thumb.

“F-fuck,” he whispers, resigned while he lets his head fall back against the headrest.

When you kiss him again this time, it’s slow and languid and licking into his mouth, and your hips start rolling against his while he unconsciously bucks into you. You gasp at the feeling of his growing erection despite the jeans, and you can’t help but feel rushed because it’s been way too long. 

His body’s hot and he doesn’t understand why he can’t even talk properly. “Are you okay?” you ask, kissing his cheek. He just nods.

“This is so wrong,” Riki says softly and raspy.

You just smile and kiss him again, feeling how sloppy he’s starting to become when your tongues meet. You set the pace, careful with how you bite and suck, more of a learning curve with what you like best rather than devouring. Riki realizes this and slows down too, relaxing underneath your thighs while his cock remains bulging against you. Your soft fingers slither at the back of his hair, tugging and caressing, while he finds the courage to sneak his tongue into your mouth.

When you pull to breathe, he’s practically panting. “You can touch me.” you whisper.

His gaze practically flicks up to look up at you, silently asking for clarification. You don’t use words, you instead take his wrists and start dragging his hands from your waist to underneath your shirt. His breath hitches at the feeling of your soft skin against his, watching intently as you guide his hands further beneath your cotton top, until his fingers slightly grazes the soft swell of the underside of your breasts.

“Shit.” Riki mutters, his breath unstable when you let go. He looks for your eyes, asking for instructions, except you just smile and lean in to kiss him again with your hands on his jaw. 

So he takes it upon himself to move by his own. His fingers grazes the soft skin, careful and learning, testing the underside swell by gently squeezing. After that, he gains confidence, hands going further up until they touch your nipples. 

You gasp, pulling away to breathe when he starts gently pinching them, rolling them against the pads of his fingertips. He plays with them for a little while, watching your reactions when you sigh heavy, when your eyes close, when you lean further against his touch. It’s so good, he doesn’t even notice how painfully hard he is when he can feel just how sensitive your nipples are, when he can feel the weight of your breast as he cups them.

After a while, he finally stops, hands gliding down your ribs instead, thumbs still grazing slightly at the curve. Your kissing eases, reduced to pecks and softness. At rest and caress, you giggle and he chuckles, finally reeling in from the moment at how high he feels.

From your taste, your softness, your clothed pussy still pressing against his hard-on.

“You’re good for a virgin.” you say.

At that, Riki huffs and leans his head back against the rest, caressing your waist while he watches your face. You’re very pretty, even when your lipsticks smudged and you’re clearly teasing him, not touching him at all. 

He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t think he’ll mind for a long time. “I’m trying to make decent decisions.”

You tilt your head. “And kissing me is one?”

His jaw tightens a little, but he smiles. “It’s a very bad decision.”

“Mm.” You lean closer, but you don’t kiss him this time. “You stopped.”

“Because I don’t want to be your rebound,” 

The teasing fades just a little. Your fingers, which had been lazily tracing the back of his neck, slow, and now you look at him too, at the way he’s looking at you like something cliche is about to happen now that he’s tasted something better than marijuana.

“You think I’d use you?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

You study him for a moment. His nose and ears are still pink, which admittedly does something to you. It makes him look shyer somehow, less untouchable, like all that quiet control has slipped just enough for you to see he’s not as unaffected as he wants to seem.

He looks back at you, thumb moving once at your waist. “Let me take you out.”

You stare at him. “You’re asking me on a date right now? While I’m sitting on you?”

His mouth twitches despite himself. “Not my best timing.”

You laugh, soft and surprised, but he doesn’t laugh with you right away. You lean in again, slower and softer, just lips meeting and staying there, but his breath still hitches. You lets it last for a few seconds before you pull back, still close enough that your noses nearly brush.

“Ask me when we’re not high.”

Then he laughs once, quiet and disbelieving, his hand flexing at your waist. “Fine.”

Riki drives you home that night and you arrive at around 3 am, friends completely unaware of where you are or who you’re with — but you don’t care, even when your phone’s blown out of weird proportion. You laugh when he insists on walking you to your front porch, just to make sure you don’t slip and fall and he wouldn’t lose his favorite weed customer. 

“You’re ridiculous, Riki Nishimura.” you shove at his arm weakly.

“And you,” he leans down enough that his nose nudges yours. “are so pretty.”

You laugh harder, admittedly a little flustered the way you never have been before. He tells you to eat something real when you head in, and you mock him for it but he just smiles and nods,  agrees with the idea he is so, very stupid and funny for you.

Riki thinks the universe is testing him. Because ever since last night, every single thing reminds him of you. 

The cherry gloss taste still ghosting his mouth when he wakes up, the faint perfume lingering on his hoodie, even the stupid heater smell in the car feels different now, like the seats remember the way you climbed over the console and kissed him until his dick ached for you.

“Dude,” Jake says, throwing his duffel bag. “You look like shit.”

Riki drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks.”

Jake doesn’t push it, which Riki appreciates for about three seconds before he sees where the cheer team is practicing. On the other side of the gym court, you’re standing with your friends, ponytail tied high, hands on your hips while you go over counts as the captain. You’re not doing anything special, occasionally laughing at something one of the girls beside you says, but Riki still feels his attention pull toward you like it has no discipline left.

He looks away first.

PE is already starting by the time he reaches their side of the court. He pulls his sleeveless shirt down properly and rolls his shoulders once, mostly because he needs something to do with his body. His hair keeps falling near his eyes, and he can feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck before class has even properly started.

He tells himself not to look. But then he looks.

You’re already looking too.

It only lasts a second. Your eyes meet his, then drop briefly to his arms before you turn back to your friends like nothing happened. Riki presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looks at the ball in his hands, suddenly way too aware of himself.

Jake notices, but all he does is glance between the two of you. “Since when do you know her like that?”

Riki bounces the ball once. “I don’t.”

Jake gives him a look. Riki doesn’t look back. “Not like that.”

“Okay.”

The drill starts, and for a while, it’s just run, catch, dribble, pass, move. Riki focuses on the court, on the PE teacher’s whistle, on the ball against his palms. It works for half the time, until your voice cuts across the space, counting with the rest of the cheer team, and he misses a pass by half a second.

“Pay attention,” Jake says, not even laughing.

“I am.”

“You’re really not.”

Later, when the class breaks for water, Riki walks toward the drinking fountain and finds you there already, refilling your bottle. Your friends are a few steps away, talking among themselves, close enough to notice if either of you makes it obvious, far enough that neither of you has to pretend not to see each other.

He stands behind you to wait for his turn, and from afar, it doesn't look scandalous. You take your time refilling your bottle, eyes forward, one hand steadying the plastic under the stream. He keeps his gaze on the wall in front of you, jaw working once, because he knows exactly what you're doing when you lean a little farther than necessary and let the silence stretch.

Your skirt shifts when you bend, showing the backside of your thighs and the slight swell of your ass, and he sighs through his nose like he's deeply disappointed in both of you. Then he looks away completely.

You bite back a smile.

When the bottle finally fills, you straighten and cap it slowly, still not moving right away. He doesn't meet your eyes when you step aside, he just moves in, bends toward the fountain, and presses one hand against the edge for balance.

Then it's your turn to look away. But you don't, not even shamelessly. Because you’re the girl who got things her way and never got scared of the repercussions.

His sleeveless shirt pulls against his shoulders when he leans down, arm tense from holding himself there, the veins along his bicep showing under the gym lights. Water hits his mouth, and you watch the way his hair falls near his eyes, the way his throat moves when he swallows. It's stupid, actually, how normal he's being and how much worse that makes it.

Riki finishes drinking, straightens, and wipes the water from his chin with the back of his hand. Only then does he look at you.

You're still staring. And for a second, neither of you says anything.

His expression barely changes, but something in his eyes does, like he caught you and decided not to make it easy. "What?"

You blink, then lift your bottle a little. "You took forever."

He looks at you, calm, unreadable, except for the faint color rising at the tips of his ears and the slight lift on the corner of his mouth. "You're one to talk."

Your friends laugh at something behind you, and the sound snaps the moment thinner, not enough to break it, but enough to remind you both where you are. You glance over your shoulder, then back at him, only to find he's still watching you. Not obviously, just enough to show that he knows exactly what that night did to you, and worse, exactly what this day is doing too.

And that he’s enjoying the view.

You tuck your bottle against your chest and step back. "Try not to miss another pass."

His mouth curves. "Then don't distract me."

The second he says it, your smile gets bigger, like a shared inside joke between you two now. Then you turn back to your team, and he stays by the fountain for one extra second, pretending the afternoon heat is the reason he can't stop feeling warm. In the locker room, he pretends it’s celibacy that’s making his cock hard again, and not the picture of you bending in front of him, the fat of your ass presenting itself to him so adorably.

In the cafeteria, while pages turn and keyboards clack for an upcoming test for biology, you try your best to stay focused the way you can on the usual. Riki was right about you — you were smarter than what people thought, and the merit beside your name is shocking to a whole lot when it’s pasted on the board. 

You think you’re no longer smart. Not when you’re staring at the open reviewer in front of you, color coded with little sticky tabs but you’re still distracted.

You grab your coffee and drink, just to try if that could help with your lost concentration. Something about protein synthesis and cell division. Something about how Riki’s hands looked wrapped around the steering wheel that one night while he called you weird and interesting in the same breath.

This is so inconvenient.

“Babe.”

Your boyfriend slides into the empty chair beside you like he owns the furniture, sunglasses pushed up on his head even though the cafeteria lighting could barely offend a bitch. His hand settles automatically on your thigh beneath the table, casual and familiar, and you almost flinch.

“You disappeared last night,” he says casually.

You lean back in your chair. “I told you I left.”

“Yeah, but where?”

You think briefly about Riki’s car parked under the streetlamp — fogged windows, heated air, cherry gloss smeared on his mouth, plump lips smirking in restraint, hands squeezing you in the right place, keeping you in place.

“I just went home,” you reply smoothly.

Your boyfriend hums, clearly unconvinced, but also has about three seconds of emotional stamina left for the topic, so he lets it go and steals one of your fries instead. “My parents want dinner with you this weekend.” he says instead.

He continues talking about it but you’re staring at the flashcards and reviewers in front of you, imagining what your parents would say if Riki would’ve showed up to a family dinner instead. Maybe he’d appear in different clothes, a white button-up just to sit there and attempt to look polite in ways he isn’t with you — which makes your heart jump a little. 

Dinner drags on for three excruciating hours.

Three whole hours of crystal glasses and polished silverware and your boyfriend’s parents discussing investment portfolios. The restaurant is one of those stupidly expensive places where portions are microscopic and every waiter looks vaguely judgmental — you don’t complain, you’re rather very grateful for his parents (sometimes).

You sat there in a pretty dress your mother picked out. Your boyfriend talks over you twice when you try contributing to the conversation, his mother asks about your grades before asking how cheerleading is going, like academics and aesthetics are the only two things remotely interesting about you. At some point, your boyfriend likes another girl’s Instagram story right beside you at the table and everything about the night is just bad.

You just feel tired, especially on the way home. 

Tired in the way performances always leave you feeling like you’ve spent hours acting inside a role you got stuck with years ago — because it mostly worked in your favor, until that one time you decided to jump out of your comfort zone and try weed. It’s the worst thing you have done, but it’s the only thing that made you feel good.

Your heels click quietly against the marble floors when you enter your house and you make it halfway upstairs before the pressure behind your eyes finally cracks. Obviously, you don’t sob out of sadness, just frustrated tears slipping down your cheeks while you struggle with the zipper of your dress. “Fuck,” you mutter.

Your makeup’s ruined now; mascara faintly smudged beneath your eyes, lipstick mostly gone except for traces still staining your mouth. 

Before you can think too hard about it — which is kind of bad — you open Riki’s contact, and your fingers move faster than your dignity can intervene.

you: he actually sucks so bad like genuinely i think talking to drywall has more nuance

You exhale through your nose and laugh weakly at yourself because obviously Riki probably has better things to do than babysit you after 9PM, not when you’re just another weed customer and smoking buddy he had. You toss your phone onto the bed and sit in silence for a second, still in your dress, earrings discarded somewhere.

You try not to think about anything for the minutes you’ve spent staring at the ceiling: not about Riki, or your dumb boyfriend, or your (im)perfect life, or the way Riki kissed you, or the way he looked at you, or the way he thought about you. 

Because that's the part that bothers you most. Not the kiss itself, not even the fact that you wanted it, but the way he seemed to actually think about you before touching you. Like you weren't just pretty or convenient or someone people liked because you made sense beside them. Riki looked at you like he was trying to understand you, and somehow that felt more intimate than anything you've ever had.

And maybe that makes you painfully average.

Maybe you’re not special at all, maybe you’re just another girl in the long, embarrassing history of girls who developed feelings for the first boy who looked at them like they were a person. Congratulations, really. Very original and groundbreaking, for being part of the emotionally confused teenage girls.

You turn onto your side and press your face into your pillow, immediately hating yourself for how dramatic that feels.

Until something taps three times against your window.

Your brows furrow immediately because your bedroom is on the second floor and nobody normally knocks on windows like some suburban horror movie, you don’t even try to look because of what could be there. For a second, you genuinely think you’re hallucinating from emotional exhaustion and expensive restaurant food and maybe (you did not do prior research) the possibility of the long term hallucinations of marijuana.

Then it happens again. Three deliberate taps.

You sit up slowly from the edge of your bed, the strap of your dress slipping off one shoulder while your heels remain abandoned somewhere near the door. When you turn to the window, your heart practically falls from your chest when you see Riki standing outside like a fucking delinquent moron. He’s standing on the roof of the first floor near your window, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, while one hand steadies himself against the frame. 

You burst out laughing while fumbling with the lock of your window. Riki’s entire expression softens the second he hears you laugh and that does something unhealthy to him.

Because he drove for twenty minutes thinking about you crying over some guy who doesn’t even look at you properly, wondering if climbing a house at this hour officially qualifies as insanity (he’s never done that before, and it doesn’t sound so conformist right now either). Riki’s usually good at self-restraint, at risk assessment, at understanding what makes sense and what doesn’t.

For the record, this doesn’t make sense. Yet here he is anyway.

 “Hi.”

You stare at him in disbelief once you finally open your window. “What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper-yell.

“You sounded sad.”

“Is that supposed to be an answer?”

“What?” he says defensively while climbing inside carefully. “You said your boyfriend sucks. That sounded shitty.”

The second he lands properly inside your room, he looks at you before anything else. He’s used to seeing you fixed with perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect posture, like you just stepped out of a university brochure about good conduct and that the school cheer spirit is something one definitely needs for personal development.

This version of you feels familiar, and traitorously and selfishly, he thinks it’s for him.

Your dress is wrinkled now, your jewelry sits slightly crooked against your skin, your makeup’s smudged enough to expose the eyebags underneath, and your hair’s started falling from whatever expensive style you wore to dinner.

Riki swallows once before he can stop himself. “You were crying?”

Immediately, you look away, a bit embarrassed when you realize what you look like. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” he says quickly, hands lifting instinctively. “I just.”

He cuts himself off because he suddenly realizes he has no idea how to navigate this. Girls usually don’t text him while being miserable and summon him to their bedroom windows like some modern romance movie directed by a bad romcom enthusiast. Nothing is romcom-y about this.

So instead, awkwardly, he holds the backyard vegetation toward you.

“I got you these.”

Flowers. They aren’t roses and lilies, especially not the peonies your boyfriend orders because it looks better in pictures. They’re not anything arranged like the bouquets your boyfriend’s family sends during competitions and birthdays and events where impression matters. They usually screamed ‘I have money’ so I had my manager fix these for you.

Riki brought you wildflowers, which are tiny white, yellow, and purple ones bundled unevenly together like he picked them himself on the side of the road and decided, yeah, these ones are perfect. They’re crooked and asymmetrical and a little pathetic, and it weirdly looks a lot like you.

You take them carefully, looking down at the tiny flowers bundled together with what suspiciously resembles a broccoli rubber band.

“Oh my God,” you laugh quietly. “These are so ugly.”

He looks offended immediately. “Okay, first of all, fuck you.”

You laugh, open and loud. “They’re literally weeds.”

“I mean. Matches us, no?” he argues.

You’re still smiling when you bring them closer to inspect, and he notices your eyes when you admire them because he notices everything when it comes to you now, apparently.

“He made you cry?” he asks quieter this time.

You look up at him, flowers resting against your chest while you slump a little. “Not exactly.”

He raises his brows. “That means yes.”

You sigh, gaze dropping to the petals between your fingers. “He’s just…” You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I’m really sick of it.”

Riki stays quiet — not because he doesn’t have thoughts, but because he has too many.

The thing is, he understands that social hierarchy is basically one giant theater production and he’s spent his entire life studying how to survive inside it correctly — he’s admitted to live in it quite comfortably. Which people to talk to, which ones to avoid, what behavior keeps life stable and uncomplicated, who not to sell weed to.

You were supposed to be part of that stable world, the part that he shouldn’t have had any associations with. Instead, you’re now standing barefoot in front of him holding ugly flowers with watery eyes while confiding in him like he’s become something safe. Now he’s giving a girl weeds for flowers, while his own cannabis has become untouched for quite a while now.

You narrow your eyes up at him suddenly, a teasing smile on your lips. “You could’ve used the front door.”

“And say what?” he snorts. “‘Good evening, your daughter texted me so I’m here to comfort her?”

You laugh again and Jesus Christ, he thinks he’d probably climb ten more roofs if it meant hearing that sound a second time.

Which is not good at all.

He looks around your room now, and he finds that is not in the dramatic movie sense where he’s overwhelmed by femininity and candles or whatever bullshit directors think teenage girls do in bedrooms. It’s just your space and that feels undeniably you in a way he’s never gotten access to before — never thought he would, actually. There’s a stack of annotated reviewers on your desk beside skincare products, then a half-folded cheer uniform hangs over your chair. Your bookshelf is organized by color at first glance, but he notices that some books are stuffed sideways and doubled-up like gave up halfway through organizing.

You’re contradiction after contradiction. Which feels fitting considering Riki’s currently inside the bedroom of a girl he once categorized under absolutely not my problem.

This is exactly why social structures exist. To prevent situations like this where a guy who sells weed ends up standing in the bedroom of a girl who looks expensive enough to kill him.

You set the flowers carefully on your vanity like they’re not random plants held together by produce rubber. Riki watches how gentle your hands are, watches the way your dress slips slightly higher on your thigh when you move.

You step closer to him after, eyes peeking through your lashes, and he starts to feel drunk from your perfume.  “You really came all the way here because I was sad?” you ask softly.

Riki opens his mouth automatically with something sarcastic prepared because that’s safer, because joking is easier than admitting the truth. But then he looks at you looking at him like he’s become something important frighteningly fast.

Honesty slips out before he can stop it. “Yeah.”

Your eyes soften in a way that completely wrecks him, because nobody’s ever looked at him like this before — like he did something meaningful instead of useful.

You step even closer now until there’s barely space between you. “You’re really bad at being casual,” you murmur.

He huffs a laugh. “You climbed into my lap the first time we kissed.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“I was high.”

“And what’s your excuse now?”

Your lips twitch and his gaze drops there instinctively.

Big mistake, because now he’s thinking about kissing you again and suddenly being in your bedroom at midnight feels significantly more dangerous than it did when he drove here. Riki clears his throat and looks away first. Usually he’s good at eye contact, good at keeping composure, good at staying levelheaded even when situations become complicated, because he knows emotional regulation keeps things orderly, predictable, and safe.

You are none of those things anymore.

Standing this close to you feels like someone slowly dismantling every sensible thought process he’s ever had and replacing it with bad decisions and pretty girls in wrinkled dresses. 

Riki swallows, eyes still not fully on yours. “Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

You sigh, shoulders dropping a little as you look away. “I don’t know.”

Riki nods, though he doesn’t look surprised. “Well,” he says quietly, “you aren’t happy.”

The honesty in his voice catches you off guard, because it isn’t dramatic or possessive or demanding — it’s actually the complete opposite. He says things carefully. Your boyfriend never talks to you carefully. 

You study Riki for a second — the slight flush across his cheeks, the hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, the fact he literally climbed your house because you sounded sad over text. 

Clearly, he’s lost the plot somewhere. He might find it in your room, but why would it be there?

You look at the boy who notices everything about you, who reads you better than anyone ever did. And maybe that’s pathetic, but after a long time of performance and image, you can’t quite find irrationality when something finally sees you so clearly. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying again until his expression changes. The tears just spill over quietly, slipping down your cheeks before you can catch them, and for a second, you don’t understand why his eyes drop there with so much concern because you aren’t sad, nor overwhelmingly happy.

His hand lifts and his fingers touch your cheek lightly and carefully. His thumb brushes beneath your eye, catching the tear before it reaches your jaw. Then the other hand comes up too, steadying your face with a gentleness that makes your throat tighten worse than the crying did. You stare up at him while he wipes your face like it’s something important, his hands warm, his touch steady even though his breathing isn’t. He just keeps his palms against your cheeks, thumbs soft under your eyes, focused on you.

Riki’s thumb slows beneath your eye, his gaze moving over your face with something almost pained. “You’re too pretty to cry over him,” he says quietly.

Your hand lifts before you can think better of it, fingers wrapping gently around his wrist to keep him there. His skin is warm beneath your palm, and for a second, his whole body seems to still when you touch him. You look up at him because he’s so tall this close, broad enough to block out half your room, and he’s holding your face like you might bruise if he moves wrong.

“I’m not crying over him,” you say, and your voice comes out quieter, “I think I’m crying because I want someone else.”

His hand stays against your cheek, but his thumb stops moving entirely. He has no immediate answer right now, no dry comment waiting in the back of his throat, no clever way to make the moment smaller than it feels. He just looks at you, like he heard you perfectly and still needs another second for it to reach the rest of him.

He shifts closer, but only slightly, careful enough that you notice the restraint. “Are you sure?”

You let out a tiny, breathless laugh. “Yes.” 

Then your gaze drops from his eyes, not because you’re embarrassed exactly, but because looking at him straight on feels like standing too close to something bright. Your eyes settle on his chest instead, on the front of his hoodie rising and falling with a breath he’s clearly trying to control. His hands move from your cheeks, careful and slow, until his palms settle just beneath your jaw while his fingers slip behind your ears, curling gently at the back of your neck. 

For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you.

Actually, you know he is. You can feel it in the way his breathing changes, in the way his eyes drop to your mouth and stay there this time, no pretending it was an accident. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne and whatever terrible decision-making brought him to your window.

Then something in you panics — not because you don’t want him to.

That’s the problem. You want him so much it feels insulting to every sensible part of your life (even though you’ve made many irrational choices that have shamed them anyway). You want him in your room, in your space, in the middle of all the pretty, curated pieces of yourself nobody else gets to see messy. You want him, and it would be so easy to lean up and let that be the answer. But there is still one stupid, technical, irritating thing standing between you and that, so you pull back a little.

He freezes immediately, hands dropping like he thinks he did something wrong. “What?”

“I need to do something.”

His brows pull together. “Right now?”

You turn away before you can lose your nerve, moving toward your bed where your phone is half-buried in the sheets. Your hands are unsteady when you pick it up, which is annoying because you are not the kind of girl who fumbles — you are the kind of girl who answers essay questions with proper structure, corrects formations instinctively, and pretends she’s fine so convincingly that people believe it until it becomes inconvenient not to.

Calling your boyfriend while Riki Nishimura stands in your bedroom after midnight is, admittedly, not your most elegant moment, but there’s a kind of clarity to it too.

He stays behind you, quiet, watching as you scroll to the contact you have ignored for most of the night. His name on your screen looks strange now.

The call rings twice.

Riki moves closer, though not touching you yet, just behind your shoulder, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. It makes focusing much harder, which is extremely inconsiderate for someone who climbed into your room to be supportive.

Your boyfriend answers with your name, voice already irritated. “It’s late. I’m busy.”

You close your eyes for half a second. “I’m just letting you know. We’re done.”

There is a pause. “What?”

You swallow, your grip tightening around the phone. “I’m breaking up with you.”

Behind you, Riki goes very still. Your boyfriend lets out a humorless laugh. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes.”

“After everything? After tonight, you’re just gonna call me and say that?”

You stare at the wall in front of you. It’s absurd, actually, how little the anger reaches you. Maybe you should be shaking or crying harder or preparing a speech that starts with all the ways he hurt you — instead, you feel strangely calm.

He starts talking again, louder this time, something about your parents, his parents, how you’re overreacting, how you both agreed, how you don’t get to act innocent either. Until Riki’s hand appears beside you, and he takes the phone from your hand.

Your eyes widen. “Riki.”

He looks at the screen, hears your boyfriend still talking, then tosses the phone onto the bed, where it lands face-up against the sheets, the call still running, your boyfriend’s voice now small and furious through the speaker.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

His eyes stay on yours. “You already broke up with him.”

On the bed, your ex says your name again, sharp and confused, but neither of you are looking at the phone. 

Riki lifts one hand, not touching your face yet, just brushing his knuckles lightly near your jaw like he’s giving you one last chance to move away.

That is all he needs before he kisses you. It is not rushed, not messy from panic, just a little harsh from jealousy. But it’s slow enough to make your knees feel unreliable, steady enough that your whole body seems to understand before your brain does. You grab the front of his hoodie and he exhales against your mouth, the sound going straight through you. His hand settles at the side of your neck, thumb brushing under your jaw while his other hand finds your waist, careful but sure. 

The phone is still there, your boyfriend is still talking. It should ruin the moment, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the whole thing feel worse in the way your heart is pounding too hard, in the way Riki keeps kissing you like he’s trying not to prove a point and failing anyway, in the way you know this is a terrible way to end a relationship and still cannot bring yourself to care.

Riki pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead almost touching yours. “He talks a lot,” he says quietly.

You laugh before you can stop yourself, and he kisses you before you can even finish a thought he physically cannot hear another word about your boyfriend tonight, earning a gasp from your mouth. It’s soft at first, his mouth catching yours that makes you go still for half a second, surprised, and then your hand tightens around his wrist as you kiss him back. He exhales through his nose, quiet and shaky, and his fingers press a little more firmly into your nape, not pulling you in too hard, just holding you.

You make this soft startled sound against his lips and he swears it nearly kills him on impact. When he pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead bumps lightly against yours. 

“I don’t wanna talk about him anymore,” he says quietly.

His voice comes out rougher than before. You stare at him for a second, and your lips twitch.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He kisses you again almost immediately, and this time you kiss him back just as fast, your chests pressing against one another until you can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his hoodie. His hands find your waist, the weight of them warm and steady through the thin fabric of your dress, like he’s grounding you and keeping himself grounded too.

You tilt your head up to meet him properly, rising slightly onto your toes without meaning to, and he bends down into you like the movement pulls something out of him. His fingers press carefully at your sides, thumbs shifting once against your waist. The kiss deepens then, your hand sliding up the front of his hoodie until you’re holding onto him too.

Riki exhales against your mouth, almost shaky, and his grip tightens for one second before he loosens it again, like he’s reminding himself to be careful.

Without so much as a few words, your gaze meets his. But that’s not enough for him, not when he needs to hear that you want this too. The zipper you struggled with earlier starts undoing when his hand finds the back, before he leans in just enough for his voice to drop between you. 

"Words, baby," he whispers.

He isn't teasing now. His voice is low, but careful, like he needs to hear you say it before he lets himself want anything more.

You swallow, fingers tightening lightly in his hoodie. "I want you."

Riki watches your face for a second, and when he sees the true genuineness and want in your eyes, he lets himself have it. He dips down to your height, capturing your lips in a kiss again, before fully pulling the zipper down to the small of your back. With barely any effort, the dress slides off your body and pools around your feet on the floor. 

Too busy getting drunk on his plump lips, you don’t even notice his hands roaming over your skin, his fingertips memorizing the arch of your spine, before gliding up to the curve of your ribcage. You don’t notice how close he really is until his fingers find the underside part of your breasts. You pull away with a gasp, seeing him smile coyly when you finally realize you’re naked in front of him, and how he’s massaging your mounds in his hands.

He lets his thumbs brush your hardened nipples, watching your face scrunch and melt with fluster. He holds you so well, heat rushing all over your skin with the way he studies your body, eyes carefully taking in every detail about you. He continues stroking your nipples and massaging your breasts when he bends down again, kissing the corner of your lips before trailing over to your jaw. He presses open mouthed kisses on your pulse next, sucking and biting to leave love bites there.

You moan, all breathy and heavy, and his cock twitches in his sweats. For a man that’s been so cautious with you, he can’t help but fight the urge to pound into you recklessly right now.

“On the bed,” he prompts softly, taking a step forward. 

You obey with no fight, pathetically stepping backward until you sit back on the soft mattress. You adjust a little to get on your knees, eyes finding his through your lashes again. He’s looking at you with half-open lids, hand already reaching up to the back of your head, fingers tangling with your hair. He likes you like this, on your knees and your face so fucking close to his bulge, he can practically see it.

And because he has been so kind to you, you want to recompense for all of it. Your fingers hook at the hem of his sweatpants, keeping your gaze steady on his face to watch the way he reacts when he realizes what you’re about to do. You drag his pants down, enough for it to slip down his legs. 

His cock bulges in his briefs, begging to be set free. You cup it gently and he lets out a low moan, deeper than his usual, and when you look up, he’s just watching you. You lean in, only to lick a stripe from the bottom to top — his grip on your hair tightens, and you feel him pull you closer. Since you both don’t hold any godly kind of willpower, you waste no time lowering the fabric.

Riki’s stupidly long cock springs forward once you remove his briefs, and everything about it just makes sense. It isn’t excessively thick in girth, but it’s length makes you wonder if it can even fit at all. It’s pale at the base and turns pink towards the tip, the slit lathered with pre all over the head, all for you.

You bite your lip, not being able to help the thrilled grin on your face, eyes bright at the sight of it. He clears his throat, caressing the back of your head gently. “You good?”

You snicker, reaching up to wrap your hand around the base. He chokes out a gasp, stilling completely yet his hips buck forward. He watches you handle him so delicately, even the way you start pumping his dick, watching the way pre-cum leaks out the tip. You lean forward, tongue flat against the head, tasting him. 

“O-oh, s-shit —” his breathing becomes heavy, arm flexing involuntarily as he keeps rubbing the back of your head.

You giggle, tilting your head a little to press soft pecks all over his length. “Watch me, sweet boy. Okay?” 

You’re a fucking tease. That’s all he manages to come up with before his brain completely blanks out when you tilt forward and let your mouth close around the head of his dick. You start to suckle on it, tongue playing with the slit a little. Then you push forward, enough the tip touches the back of your throat and your cheeks hollow around his length.

And he’s still too fucking long. 

You start choking a little, tears touching your waterline. You stroke the part you can’t reach, and he can’t help but smirk arrogantly.

Heavy breaths turns into deep groans, trying to keep his sounds to himself but the way you look as your head bobs on his dick, practically choking as you suck on it, and his hand flexing a tight grip on your hair — this has got to be better than any fucking narcotic ever. He bets morphine won’t ever feel this good. “Y-you’re fucking sublime, baby,”

You retract your mouth, going back to suckle on the tip, before taking him all back down your throat. His hips jerk forward, you can tell just how gentle he’s trying to be even when he’s losing all control. 

And it’s too good, because twenty years of chastity has started to reach him faster than the way you rub him. He feels his abdomen tighten, and fuck does his balls feel tense. So as any illogical, preposterous, unsound idiot ever, he pulls you away from his cock. He holds you by your hair, slowing you down as you stare up at him, eyes wide and confused, lips wet from your saliva and his fluids.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, catching your breaths. 

Riki licks his bottom lip, and you can see every restraint holding him back from breaking you. The tips of his ears are red, and his eyes, once so tender and meticulous, looks down at you like he just can’t wait to fuck you senseless. They’re sharper than they ever have been, and once since this night began, you’re scared.

“Easy,” he drawls, hand withdrawing from you completely. He takes a step back, just enough to admire the way you look, panting and on your knees, breasts exposed and perky. Then with a small smirk, he pinches the edge of his hoodie. “You always this impatient?”

He slides the hoodie over his arms, the cloth revealing flesh that practically glow from your vanity lights. His chest and shoulder width is broad and wide, flat in that boyish way you love, expanding to the chiseled arms. You can feel yourself salivating at the muscles, at his taut abs, delicate grooves that trace down to a sharp v-line. Even his obliques and traps are so defined.

“Get on your back.” he rasps, and you don’t let yourself react before lying down, head against your soft pillows. He kneels in between your legs, eyes trailing over your body. He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your panties, just before he slowly pulls them off you, slow enough to make you embarrassed.

“Riki,” you murmur sheepishly, but he ignores you, keeping his eyes narrowed to the way your cunt glistens, your own fluids leaking out of you. She’s perfect, and his already frustrated cock twitches. 

Blonde hair sticks to his forehead, and his eyes are dark when your gaze meets again. He hovers over you, caging you against the bed before he leans in, kissing you again. Your lips part for him, breaths mingling, getting hot and heavy as his hand finds your ass. He squeezes the fat there, fingers digging into your skin. “You’re making it hard to think, pretty girl.”

You manage a giggle, though it quickly turns to soft moans when he kisses your jaw and presses his cock against your cunt. 

“Riki, please,” you can see how swollen his cock has gotten.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he breathes, his arms tensing as he keeps himself up. He strokes himself a bit, just before he aligns the tip with your aching hole.

Your brain has gone hazy, not being able to process anything other than the way he kisses your neck when the head of his cock pushes through your folds, and immediately your arms come to his back, nails digging into his muscles. He tenses too, giving a sharp exhale when his length slides past the tight muscle and rubs against your gummy walls.

“Fuck,” he groans, burying his face against your neck while your teeth bite down your bottom lip. “G-god, that’s so good,” 

His hips closes against your pelvis, while his tip brushes against your cervix so good he’s pretty sure you’re sucking him in. And you feel stuffed, more than you ever have been, by Riki’s long cock. “Good fucking pussy, shit —”

Your legs are open wide for him, pressing flat against the mattress. And that’s enough for him, just to see you so spread beneath him, cunt squeezing him so tight; enough for him to pull back and watch the way your fluids wrap slick around his cock. Your hips wiggle for him, and that’s all he takes before slamming his hips back into you.

Riki’s jaw hangs open, a low moan gushing out him, strained and heavy into your ears. 

“R-Riki — f-f-fuck —”

The sounds of squelching pussy and skin slapping echoes throughout your entire room, walls so tight around his cock as you gasp. The pace is set already, quick and fucking drilling into you even though you’ve known him for his care and caution — yet he pounds into you like he doesn’t give a fuck about anything but his pleasure.

“S-s-so good — ugh, Riki — fuck,” you scratch his back muscles, tensing underneath your nails. His pelvis and abs are tight, slamming himself so hard against your cunt like he can’t keep himself apart from you.

He continues groaning, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes half-lidded watching you, completely fucked out while he admires the way your tits bounce every time he rocks his dick deep into your cunt. His lips part to moan your name, and you love how he almost whimpers when you squeeze around him. 

Then he stills, though only fast enough before he slides an arm beneath your waist and gathers you closer, like he’s scooping you into him without fully lifting you. 

“W-what are you —” 

“On your stomach.” 

You can only blink and nod, before turning around, suddenly feeling empty when his dick slips from inside you. You settle on your hands and knees, then lie on your chest, face pressed to the soft pillow. “Fuck, my good girl.”

You can’t see him anymore, and you’re not sure with how you feel about it — not until you feel his warm body press against your back, his chest hovering slightly over you. He presses a hand on the back of your thigh, gently adjusting your knee higher, the position immediately spreading your folds more than you would have thought. 

“Lift your hips for me, baby,” he breathes, voice low and strained.

You obey, pussy clenching around nothing when he whispers quiet praises as your ass perks up and your folds glisten for him again, slick oozing out from you. You get on your hands a little, just enough to lift yourself and look over your shoulder. Without much of a warning, he pushes his cock back deep inside you again, walls welcoming him with a dirty squelch, your breath catches, then escapes in a quiet gasp.

“There, just like that —” Riki moans, his v-line pressed tight against your ass.

Then he continues, retracting his hips only to slap back inside you. The new positions doing fucking wonders to you, stretching you a whole lot more, his dick fucking you so raw that you can’t help the screams you let out. He presses his hands against your waist, fingers ingrained to lift your ass up and pound into you right after, grip so tight it’s already bruising.

You fuck yourself against him too, slapping back against his hips, cock choking in your tight walls. His eyes are almost rolling back, if not for how obsessed he is watching your ass shake and tits bounce every sloppy stroke, his hand sliding under you to grope your mound. He fondles with it, pinching your nipple and loving the weight of it against his palm. 

Sweat’s getting hot and the air’s smells too much of sex, he can feel it when his balls clench and how desperate he’s starting to get.

You look over your shoulder and he meets you halfway, leaning over to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. It’s full of saliva and it’s warm, messy in a way that tells how close you both are.

Then with so little strength (can’t compare to Riki Nishimura, really), your weight falls back to the pillow, face and chest pressed against the softness while your ass stays up. If not for his large hands keeping you up and still, you would’ve fallen over completely. 

Your abdomen clenches and pressure builds in there, and he continues rutting into you while you become a puddle of sweat and moans. “R-right there — fuck, Riki — !”

“I-I’m gonna fucking cum, s-shit – I’ll blow a fucking load in you —” his hips drive into your pussy with a new kind of intensity, faster and deeper somehow, his tip hitting your cervix that has you throbbing around him.

“Cum all over me, baby, please —” he whines, face pressed against your shoulder. 

You feel hot spurts of him fill you the same time your cunt clenches around him one final time, legs twitching while his hips come to a stutter. Cum settles in your hole, warm and full and sticky and practically seeping out of you. He collapses on top of you, unconsciously maybe, his heavier weight pressing over your body.

Your vision goes white for a bit, then it comes back, only for you to see hair all over your face, stuck with sweat and saliva. He’s still on top of you, but you can feel him carry himself a little, making sure not to crush you right after cumming in you.

Quiet beats stretch out the moment, and you don’t even notice his arm tucking underneath you to massage your tit, a tired laugh leaving your mouth when you do. When you both muster enough strength, he straightens just enough to lift himself off of you, while you manage to get on your hands. By the time you look over your shoulder, he’s already leaning in, his mouth finding yours again, a hand still fondling with your breast.

“Riki,” a small sheepish smile curves on your lips, all while he presses soft pecks against your mouth and jaw. 

“Hm?” he hums, tired and spent, clearly having nothing else to do but to kiss you. His breaths are still shallow, eyelids heavy before shutting completely.

You giggle, putting your hand over his on your breast. “Get off me,” you say with a playful grin. “You’re so heavy!”

WIth a quiet groan, he listens. He slides out of you, unplugging you to let your fluids out. Then he lies down, and he hasn’t realized how strained his muscles are until he sinks into the softness of your bed. He relaxes inevitably, while you stay up just to admire him for a bit.

Riki Nishimura is never going to be insecure about his looks, but the way you stare at him with dilated pupils that match his, especially post-sex, he can’t help but grow a bit bashful. 

He huffs out a laugh, one hand reaching out to squeeze your waist because you feel so far. "So do you have a no-cuddle policy, or," he murmurs.

You laugh before you can stop yourself because he's so stupidly funny for someone trying to sound serious. Instead of answering, you shake your head and lean more of your weight against one hand, the other resting against his chest as your fingers trace lazy, thoughtless shapes.

He watches you do it for a second, his expression going quiet in that way that makes your stomach turn. Then you glance up at him. "Can you roll one for me?"

He sighs so heavily it almost sounds personal. Before you can even react, his arm hooks around your waist and pulls you down against his chest, firm and immediate, like the idea alone offended him. Your hand lands against his abs to catch yourself, your cheek nearly brushing his shoulder as he keeps you there.

“Throw that shit away,” he says, voice low near your ear. “I swear to God.”

You blink, caught against him. “What?” His arm stays around you, warm and unmoving. “Why?”

Riki looks at you with half-lidded eyes, sleepy and a little strained, like even answering takes effort. “Because,” he murmurs, his grip softening at your waist, “after tonight, I think I found something better.”

Your jaw actually falls open. For one second, all you can do is stare at him, because there’s no way Riki Nishimura just said that to you while looking half-asleep and impossibly calm, like he didn’t just say something that made your entire stomach turn over and tighten all over again.

Then you smack his chest lightly. “Riki.”

He chuckles, low and tired, the sound vibrating against your palm. His arm stays around your waist, keeping you close even when you try to lean back enough to glare at him properly.

“What?” he murmurs, eyes barely opening more. “Use my dick instead, I won’t get mad.”

You smack his chest harder, earning a yelp from him. “Riki!”

He laughs under his breath, but before you can pull your hand back, his fingers wrap around your wrist. His eyes open a little more as he looks at you, still tired, still amused, and then he tugs you. 

You land over him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips as his arm settles around your waist to steady you. For a second, neither of you moves. Your hand stays pressed to his chest, his heartbeat is faster than he's pretending. "Careful," he murmurs, like he wasn't the one who pulled you.

"You're so annoying," you whisper again, but it comes out softer this time, a quiet breath as you lean down to him. You're close enough now that your noses brush, close enough to feel his smile fade against your mouth.

Riki's gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes. Your fingers stay flat against the broad hardness of his chest while his hand stays warm at your waist, slowly smoothing over the curve of your ass.

“Ride me?” he whispers against your lips.

You sigh, rolling your eyes while your mouth curves to a grin, back straightening. You act like you think about it, only for your exposed cunt to start grinding against his cock — which, obviously, because he is a very simple man, erects again.

A simple man such as he, all he knows is that he is yours.

it’s been a while since you visited karina. usually, it’s just quick coffee dates at crowded cafés or chaotic group hangouts, but today felt like the perfect time to seek out some genuine, “womanly” advice from your older cousin. you needed a safe space, away from the noise, to voice the thoughts that had been keeping you awake for weeks.

the moment jongseong’s laughter faded down the hallway as he went to grab a board game from the bedroom, you seized the chance. you practically cornered karina against the kitchen counter, your fingers gripping your glass of water a little too tightly.

"karina, can i ask you something? in secret," you whispered, glancing over your shoulder to make sure the hallway was still empty.

karina blinked, pausing with the snack bowl in her hands, her expression shifting from cheerful to curious. "yeah, of course. what’s up?"

you swallowed hard, the question burning a hole in your throat before you could stop it. "have you and jongseong... you know. have you and jongseong, you know…done it?"

karina blinked, her cheeks instantly flushing a soft pink. she let out a small, startled giggle, nearly dropping the bowl of snacks back onto the counter before she hurriedly set it down.

"oh my god, y/n," she whispered-yelled, her eyes widening as she glanced toward the hallway to make sure jongseong wasn't walking back yet. she hid her face in her hands for a brief second, trying to shake off the sudden warmth in her face. "straight to the point, huh?"

but as she looked back at you, her playful expression softened, noticing the slight tension in your shoulders and how tightly you were holding your glass. the teasing look in her eyes faded into something much gentler.

she leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice to a quiet, comforting murmur. "but yeah... we have. honestly, it is normal for relationships to go to that next level as you and your partner grow closer together."

karina placed a warm hand over your trembling fingers, grounding you. "it is completely natural to feel curious about taking this next step, provided you both feel ready, safe, and entirely comfortable with the decision." she paused, looking into your eyes with pure honesty. "so... have you and jungwon talked about it or...?" 

“well… no, but there have been signs. sometimes he’d kiss me longer and when we're just resting on the couch, he'll slide his hand under my shirt to trace the bare skin of my waist. the air between us gets so heavy and you can tell he wants more, but then he'll suddenly catch himself, pull his hand back out, and just pull me into a tight hug instead.”

thinking about those scenarios brought a burning sensation to your cheeks and a sudden, heavy ache in your core. you looked down at your hands, your voice barely a whisper. "it's like... i can tell he’s holding back for me. but i want to take that step with him, but i'm just so terrified of messing up the best thing that's ever happened to me. i mean what if he thinks i’m not good enough?”

​“y/n, that’s not true.” karina let out a soft, sympathetic sigh, shifting closer to cup your face so you’d look up from your hands. “jungwon loves you for exactly who you are, not for how experienced you are. he’s holding back because he respects you, not because he’s judging you.”

​you swallowed down the lump in your throat, looking at her with a quiet, hesitant curiosity. "rina... how does it... how does it actually feel? like, the first time?"

​karina opened her mouth to answer, a thoughtful, tender look crossing her face, but the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway cut her off.

​"hey, found the board game!" jongseong announced, walking back into the kitchen with a box tucked under his arm. he paused, looking between the two of you and noticing the slightly heavy atmosphere. "wait, what are you guys talking about in here?"

​karina didn't miss a beat. she immediately dropped her hands from your face and leaned back against the counter, flashing him a totally innocent smile. "just girl stuff, jay. go set up the board, we'll be there in a second."

​jongseong raised an eyebrow, clearly knowing there was more to it, but he just chuckled and headed back toward the living room. "alright, alright. don't take too long."

​the moment his back was entirely turned, karina's serious demeanor completely vanished. she gave you a playful, knowing look, zipped open her handbag sitting on the counter, and fished something out of the side pocket.

​“in case things escalate,” she whispered, slipping two small, square foil packets into your palm.

​“karina!” you whispered-yelled, your face bursting into an absolute feverish crimson as you hurriedly shoved them into your own pocket.

​“and if you need lingerie, i have some in my closet.”

​“ew and you used that to… with jongseong… no way!”

after your time with karina, you passed by jungwon’s condo. and he greeted you with a short kiss then he cooked both of you some pasta. yes, jungwon already knows how to cook. he figured if his girlfriend would always visit him, it would be better to keep her well-fed.

​you had a few conversations like how his latest photography portfolio was coming along and how he still needed a makeup artist for his next studio shoot, eyeing you while raising his eyebrow. you casually mentioned that your parents might be visiting you next week and that they really want to see jungwon again.

hearing him immediately smile and agree to the dinner plan made a wave of warmth wash over you. you couldn't help but think about how genuinely happy you were in this relationship. jungwon was everything you had ever hoped for, completely erasing the old, bitter fear of always being the lesson.

​since you were planning to stay the night, you didn't need to worry about the late hour. you already had a small drawer of your own clothes in his closet, including underwear, since sleeping over at his condo had become a regular, comforting routine for the two of you over the past year. but as you watched him stand up to gather the empty plates, a sudden wave of nerves hit you.

​you often slept at his place, tangled up in his oversized shirts and sharing quiet, groggy mornings, but nothing had actually happened yet. jungwon had never pushed.

​your heart skipped a dangerous beat as you suddenly remembered what was currently sitting at the very bottom of your tote bag. despite your playful disgust with karina earlier, you had actually stopped by a boutique on your way over to buy a set of lace lingerie, and it was now tucked away right next to the two packs of condoms she had slipped you.

​"i'll wash the dishes, you can go ahead and shower first," jungwon said, turning back to you with that soft, innocent smile that suddenly made your stomach do an absolute flip.

​"okay, thank you," you murmured, forcing your voice to stay steady as you slipped away from the dining table.

​you grabbed your tote bag, holding it tightly against your side like it contained a ticking bomb, and walked into his bathroom. the moment the door clicked shut and you turned the lock, you let out a long, trembling breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

​your hands shook slightly as you reached into the bag, pulling out the delicate, unfamiliar lace of the lingerie and setting it on the counter right next to the two small foil squares. looking at them laid out under the bright bathroom lights made your cheeks burn all over again. this was it. tonight could be the night everything changed, and the thought made your pulse jump frantically against your ribs.

​you turned on the shower, letting the steam slowly fill the room as you stepped out of your clothes, your mind racing with a mix of terrifying nerves and an intense, burning anticipation for what would happen once you walked back out.

​you stood under the hot water for a long time, the steam swirling around you as your racing thoughts slowly began to overwhelm you. the lingerie was beautiful, but looking at it resting on the counter, a wave of cold nerves washed over you. it’s too fast, you thought, your chest tightening. what if i ruin this?

​chickening out, you left the lace set hidden at the bottom of your bag along with the two foil packets. instead, you pulled on one of his familiar, oversized college t-shirts and a pair of soft shorts, letting out a small sigh of relief as you unlocked the door. you decided you would just wait. tonight would just be another normal, cozy sleepover.

​but the moment you stepped into the bedroom, your heart completely dropped into your stomach.

​your tote bag was sitting wide open on his desk. jungwon was standing right in front of it, holding a roll of black-and-white film tape he had clearly been looking for, but his eyes weren't on the film. he was looking down into the open bag, his entire body frozen.

​from where you stood, you could see that the delicate black lace of the lingerie had spilled out of its tissue paper wrapper, and sitting right on top of it were the two unmistakable square packets karina had given you.

​the bedroom was entirely silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. jungwon slowly turned around to face you, his cheeks flushed a dark, prominent crimson that matched the sudden, intense heat burning in your own face. his gaze dropped down to your bare legs beneath his shirt, then traveled back up to your wide, terrified eyes.

​he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and for the first time in a year, the gentle, innocent look in his eyes completely vanished, replaced by something deep, heavy, and entirely breathless.

​"y/n," he murmured, his voice noticeably deeper and rougher than usual as he took a slow step toward you. "were you... planning on telling me about this?”

“o-oh that? i bought that for karina. s-she said she needed a new set, yeah that!”

​jungwon stopped right in his tracks, blinking at you for a couple of seconds as your terrible excuse hung awkwardly in the silent room. a slow, incredibly amused smile began to tug at the corner of his lips, his initial shock melting into pure, teasing disbelief.

​"for karina?" he repeated, his voice still low but carrying a quiet chuckle. he leaned back against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest as his dark eyes locked onto your burning face. "so you bought lace lingerie for your cousin. and... the other things? did karina need those, too?"

​your face burned so hot you felt like you were going to self-combust right then and there. you bit your lower lip, looking absolutely anywhere else but at him, your hands gripping the hem of his oversized shirt.

​seeing how completely flustered you were, jungwon's smile softened, the playful teasing shifting back into that deep, magnetic intensity. he stood up straight and walked the remaining distance between you, closing the gap until he was standing right in front of you. the familiar scent of his fabric softener and woodsy cologne wrapped around you, making your knees feel weak.

​he didn't touch you yet, but he leaned down slightly so his eyes were level with yours. "y/n," he murmured softly, his tone completely dropping the joke. "look at me.”

jungwon placed his thumb on your chin and gently lifted your face.

“i-i…”

you couldn't find the right words. “i want to take things to the next level, won. i know that you do too but you keep restraining yourself. but i know that you want it as much as i do. are you…are you mad? weirded out?”

jungwon placed both of his hands on your face, looking at you with a soft, breathless sort of adoration as he brushed his thumbs against your cheeks before gently placing his lips on yours.

his kiss erased some parts of your fears, proving with every slow, deliberate press of his mouth that he wasn't just taking something from you. he wanted to give you everything he had.

​when he finally pulled back, his lips were red and his breath hitched against your skin. he leaned his forehead gently against yours, his hands still cupping your warm cheeks.

​“wear that lingerie for me, would you?” he murmured, his voice a low, heavy plea that left your knees completely weak.

​a few minutes later, you walked out of the bathroom again, your hands trembling as the cool air hit the exposed skin of the delicate black lace. jungwon was waiting on the edge of the bed, and the moment his eyes landed on you, his breath completely caught in his throat. he stood up, his gaze dark and incredibly focused, and gently led you toward the mattress.

​but as he climbed over you, the reality of the moment hit you all at once. your hands came up to rest against his chest, gently halting his movement.

​"wait," you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs. "t-this is a first for me."

​jungwon stopped instantly, shifting his weight onto his forearms so he wouldn't press down on you. he looked down into your wide, nervous eyes, and instead of pulling away or acting surprised, a soft, incredibly tender smile touched his lips. he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

​"me too," he confessed softly, his voice grounding you completely. "but we figure things out together, right?"

you hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding your head. the small gesture was all he needed. 

jungwon captured your lips again, his kiss full of a sudden, desperate relief. he paused only for a breath, his hands moving quickly to strip off his shirt before bringing his focus right back down to your mouth.

then he started trailing down your neck. the feeling gave you an involuntary shudder, a sudden rush of electricity that shot straight down your spine and made your toes curl under the sheets. it was entirely different from anything you’d ever imagined, leaving you completely breathless.

you let out a breathy moan, the sound making jungwon pause for a brief second before he leaned back in. “is this okay?” he whispered against your skin.

​“yes,” you breathed out, your fingers wrapping around his neck. “it's okay.”

​jungwon continued giving your neck kisses before trailing down to kiss every single part of your shoulders and arms. the action made your heart flutter wildly, your eyes wide as you watched the intense, focused look on his face with every single press of his lips.

then he went and kissed your breasts, his warm breath fanning across the exposed skin just above the neckline. a helpless gasp caught in your throat the moment his mouth made contact, your body arching into him completely on instinct.

​after a long, intoxicating moment, jungwon crawled back up your body, his chest pressing warmly against yours as he captured your lips once again. this kiss was different—slower, deeper, and filled with a quiet, heavy promise that left your mind completely spinning.

​when he parted from your mouth, he didn't pull away far. his hands slid down to the edge of the delicate black lace covering your skin. he looked down into your eyes, his gaze intensely focused but incredibly soft.

​"can i take this off?" he whispered, his voice rough and breathless.

​you swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs, but looking into his earnest face left no room for doubt. you nodded softly.

​jungwon was gentle, his fingers brushing against your skin as he carefully slid the lingerie off your body and tossed it to the floor. the sudden coolness of the room hit you for only a fraction of a second before jungwon moved, quickly stripping out the rest of his own clothes.

​when he settled back over you, the feeling of his bare skin pressed completely flush against yours was so intensely warm and overwhelming it made your breath catch entirely.

​jungwon looked at your bare body, his dark eyes wide and completely blown out as he took you in. he mapped every curve under the dim bedroom light with a reverence that made you feel like the most beautiful thing he had ever captured.

​he leaned down to capture your lips once more. the kiss immediately turning deep, heavy, and desperate as his hands slid down to firmly grip your hips. you let out a muffled, breathless moan against his mouth the moment he shifted his weight, the heat of his bare core pressing heavily right against yours.

​jungwon rocked his hips against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm, letting you get used to the intense sensation of his bare weight. the deep, electric pull in your stomach was so overwhelming that your fingers dug into his back, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

then, jungwon goes lower, kissing your stomach before going down to your core. you knew what he was going to do, but the nervous thrill of it being your first time made your breath catch completely. yet a deeper, burning desperation made you tilt your hips up toward him anyway, completely ready.

when your core came into contact with jungwon's lips, a sharp, blinding jolt of pure electricity shot straight through your lower stomach, and your entire body arched off the mattress on pure instinct.

​he was painfully gentle at first, his hands anchoring firmly beneath your thighs to keep you steady as his tongue swiped against your sensitive core. but as a helpless, high-pitched gasp escaped your throat, a low, ragged groan rumbled deep in jungwon's chest. the small sound of your undoing completely broke his restraint.

jungwon's pace turned hungry, his breaths fanning hot and desperate against your skin as his mouth moved over you with a sudden, driving intensity that made your mind go completely blank. your fingers instantly tangled deep into his hair, gripping him tight as you sobbed out his name, entirely at the mercy of his worship.

​he didn't stop until your body shuddered completely against his mouth, your breath catching in a beautiful, trembling release that left you entirely weak.

​only then did jungwon slowly crawl back up your body. his skin was flushed and slick with sweat, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead as he settled his weight between your thighs. he looked down at you, his chest heaving as he took in your dazed, tear-stained face.

​"y/n," he breathed out, his voice incredibly deep and rough as he leaned down to kiss the tears from your cheeks. his hands slid down to lock his fingers securely with yours, pinning your hands gently into the mattress. "you okay? look at me, baby.”

​you could barely nod, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. you just looked up into his dark, entirely consumed eyes.

​he swallowed hard, the heavy length of him pressing directly against your core again, ready to finally take the last step. "i want to be inside you," he whispered against your lips, his hot breath fanning across your mouth with a low, pleading honesty. "tell me you're ready."

​“yes. yes, i'm ready,” you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly from the sheer anticipation, but your eyes remained locked onto his, completely unblinking.

​jungwon hesitated for a fraction of a second, his dark gaze searching every inch of your face, looking for any trace of doubt as his thumbs gently traced your hip bones. “you sure? you don't need a minute?”

​“no, i want to feel you too,” you whispered, the raw confession slipping out effortlessly as the heavy ache between your thighs grew entirely too intense to ignore.

​letting go of all your remaining fears, you pulled jungwon down by his nape, burying your fingers deep in his hair as you tilted your head back and kissed him hard.

the hunger in your kiss was all the permission he needed. ​a desperate groan escaped jungwon's throat as he kissed you back, his sudden intensity completely spinning your mind.

his hands slid down from your hips to cup the backs of your thighs, gently lifting and widening your stance. without breaking the kiss, jungwon used the heavy press of his lips to distract you as he slowly, painstakingly began to push his way inside.

​the sudden stretching of him made your entire body tense up completely on instinct. a sharp gasp caught right in the back of your throat, and your fingernails dug deep into the muscles of his bare shoulders.

​jungwon stopped moving, barely a fraction of the way inside you. he tore his mouth away from yours, his head resting heavily against your neck as his chest heaved frantically against your breasts.

​"breathe, baby," he choked out, his voice incredibly strained and rough as he fought hard against his own hunger to keep himself perfectly still. "slow breaths.”

a shaky exhale escaped your lips as the tension gradually left your body. the aching desire to be completely close to him grew. you tilted your head up, kissing his jawline softly. “please... go all the way.”

taking your word, jungwon closed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly as he slowly pushed his hips forward. you caught your breath as the stretching fullness returned, deeper and heavier than before. he stayed completely still for a moment, pressing his forehead against yours, waiting for you to adjust to his entire length.

​“you feel so nice.” jungwon says and both of you giggle. the lighthearted sound mixing with a thick, heavy desire that only tightens the pull in your stomach. the soft vibration of his chuckle against your bare skin sends a new rush of heat straight to your core, making his dark eyes darken even more as he looks down at you.

“move now, please.”

​jungwon pushes his hips forward, his dark gaze never breaking from yours. the sudden, overwhelming fullness makes your hips tilt up into him on instinct, your fingers digging right back into his shoulders as he establishes a steady, burning pace.

​“oh my god,” you sob out softly, completely undone by the slow, perfect friction of his bare weight. your hips instinctively lift to meet his next push, your whole body wound tight and shivering under the heavy, intoxicating rhythm he’s setting.

​jungwon keeps the pace deliberate at first. each thrust slow but incredibly hard, burying himself so deeply inside you that it feels like he’s touching your very soul. he groans against your neck with every single push, the raw, heavy thud of his hips against yours sending waves of white-hot pleasure straight to your core.

​but as your whimpers turn louder and more desperate, his control finally snaps entirely.

​the rhythm shifts, turning fast and frantic as his hunger takes over completely. he drives into you with a sudden, relentless speed that makes the bedroom blur around you. your mind spins out of control as you try to catch up with the sudden high, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps while you ride the overwhelming wave of arousal he’s forcing through your body.

the overwhelming intensity of it all becomes too much to hold in. a few tears slip from the corners of your eyes as a soft, broken sob escaping your lips. jungwon freezes instantly. the sudden frantic speed of his hips stops completely, his entire body going rigid above you. his eyes go wide with a sudden, sharp panic, his breathing ragged as he looks down at your tear-stained face.

"baby? hey, look at me," he chokes out, his voice trembling as he carefully cradles your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping your tears away. he looks absolutely terrified that he messed up. "did i hurt you? i'm sorry, i'm so sorry—"

"no, no, i'm not hurt," you interrupt breathlessly, your hands coming up to rest over his chest so he can feel your racing heart. you gave him a weak, reassuring smile through your tears, your hips giving a tiny, instinctive tilt against his. 

"i'm not hurt, jungwon. it just... it feels like too much. it feels too good."

a visible wave of relief washes over his face, though his dark eyes are still thick with concern as he presses his forehead against yours.

"do you want to stop?" he whispers against your lips, his voice raw and completely ready to pull away if you need him to. "we can stop right now, baby. just tell me."

"no," you gasp out softly, your fingers tightening on his shoulders as you pull him back down to you. "don't stop. Please."

his resolve crumbles at your plea, and he captures your mouth in a deep, searing kiss that tastes like pure relief. he holds the kiss for a long, slow moment to ground you, letting the warmth of his lips melt away any lingering tension.

then, he begins to move again. this time, it's with a steady, worshipful rhythm that starts slow before building right back into something hungrier, pulling you both under all over again.

the tension builds rapidly, sending a shivering wave of arousal straight down your spine. instinctively, you tighten your legs around his hips, pulling him as close as physically possible to keep yourself from floating away from the intense high. he gasps against your lips at the sudden restriction, his hands gripping your thighs securely as he drives even deeper. 

as the rhythm quickens, your mind completely unravels under the heat of his touch. seeking to get closer, you lift your legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist to lock him against you. the sudden, deeper friction draws a low, jagged groan from jungwon’s throat as he responds to the tight hold, his thrusts turning heavier and more deliberate.

he completely loses his breath at the sudden, crushing tightness of you, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles twitch. his hands fly down from your shoulders to grip the undersides of your thighs, holding your legs securely in place as he rides the waves of your pleasure.

"god, y/n," he pants out. his eyes completely blown out and dark with an unfiltered hunger as he looks down at you. 

jungwon can't hold back anymore. the friction is too intense, the fit too perfect. his pace turns frantic and heavy once more. his chest heaving against yours as he buries himself into you over and over, completely undone by the way you are holding him.

the bedroom completely blurs around you as the overwhelming high reaches a breaking point. you grip his bare shoulders for dear life, your head rolling back into the mattress as a long, breathless whine escapes your lips, your body trembling violently as your climax ripples through you.

the tight, rhythmic squeezing of your release instantly snaps the very last of jungwon's control.

his jaw tightens. a low, guttural growl ripping from his throat as he drives into you one last time, burying himself as deeply as physically possible. jungwon freezes completely, his muscles locking up as he spends himself inside you, his chest heaving frantically against yours as he rides out his own undone release.

for a long minute, the only sound in the room is the synchronized sound of your ragged breathing.

jungwon slowly collapses his weight onto his elbows, careful not to crush you, though he stays buried deeply inside your warmth. he rests his forehead against your neck, his skin slick with sweat and his heart hammering like a trapped bird against your ribs.

"i've got you," he pants out softly, his voice incredibly thick and sweet as he shifts to press a lingering, grateful kiss to your pulse point. his hands gently slide down to soothe the aching muscles of your thighs. "i've got you, baby. you did so good for me."

you gave jungwon a tired smile and he gave you a deep, breathless kiss that sent you into a soft spin. 

“that was…amazing,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper against the quiet room. your fingers lazily traced the line of his shoulder blade, still slightly dazed by the lingering warmth inside you. 

“yeah? did it live up to your expectations?” 

you let out another breathless giggle, “even more.” 

jungwon let out a low, breathless chuckle of his own, the vibration of it warm against your chest. the last bit of tension completely melted from his shoulders as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your lips.

"good," he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with affection. "because you completely ruined me tonight."

“me? you’re the one who railed me until my eyes turned white,” 

jungwon let out a sudden, choked laugh at your bluntness, burying his face in your hair to hide his wide grin. "you're terrible," he muttered affectionately, though he didn't deny it.

slowly and carefully, he shifted his weight to roll onto his side, pulling you right along with him so you were tucked securely against his chest. his long fingers immediately began to trace gentle, soothing circles up and down your bare back, keeping you warm as the cool air of the room settled over your skin.

after a while, jungwon quietly slipped out of bed to prepare a warm bath for the two of you. he returned to wrap you securely in a plush bathroom robe, gently lifting your exhausted body to carry you into the bathroom so you could completely relax against his chest in the steaming tub. 

as the warm water swirled around your tired limbs and jungwon’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist from behind, a profound sense of peace washed over you. listening to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against your back, you couldn't help but smile into the quiet room.

​you stared at the photo, my thumb hovering over the screen. he was with you for two years and he couldn’t say those words to you, even in your anniversary. the whole time in your relationship, he was reckless, emotionally distant, and entirely unpolished. you spent a year settling for what you had because you thought it was love.

but the day he sent you a text saying it was over, he told you he just wasn't ready for commitment. now you realize he was ready, he just needed two years of your patience to learn how to be the man a girl deserved.

then there was jaemin, a senior from high school, your first…you wouldn’t say boyfriend but a fling. it was simple, you liked him and he liked you back. but only because you liked him that he liked you back.

then when he met a girl from his club where he really, really liked, your fling was over.

and even before all of them, there was the ultimate what if: park jongseong.

he was your childhood friend, the boy who lived just doors down, whose laughter was the soundtrack to your earliest memories. you had loved him since you were six years old, a silly, innocent crush that somehow managed to grow up right alongside you. as the years bled into high school, that fondness turned into something heavy and terrifying. you spent months practicing confessions in front of your bedroom mirror, your heart hammering against your ribs, only to swallow the words every time you saw him smile at you. he was your safe haven. the risk of speaking up and ruining the one steady friendship you had was a price you couldn't bear to pay.

until, he took an interest in your cousin, karina. you watched frozen as he confessed to her in the school field during lunch. he told you that day that he would confess, breaking your illusion of anything happening between the both of you. what you didn’t expect was he fell for someone you also knew for years, let alone a family member.

then months later, he admitted that he liked you back. but you were still just children then. his definition of love was too small, too cautious to risk breaking the fragile, beautiful friendship you had built. he didn’t know how to hold a girl’s hand while holding her history at the same time. but thanks to you, he knew what real love was. you gave him a lesson he’d forever treasure.

just not with you.

the worst part, you never got to tell him how you felt. you just quietly stepped aside, becoming the supportive best friend who helped him figure out what to say to her.

​"y/n? hey, are you even listening to me?"

wonhee, ​your roommate snapped the thread of my thoughts. she was sitting across you, a half-eaten plate of pasta between us, looking at me with a mixture of concern and mild annoyance.

​you locked my phone, the screen going mercifully black, and forced a practiced smile onto my face. "yeah. sorry. just... an internship notification. what were you saying?”

"i was saying about the drama I just overheard by the counter while getting our drinks."

she leaned in closer across the small table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "you know jisu from the department next to ours? apparently, she and sunghoon just made it official on their feeds. like, matching profile pictures, public couple status, the whole nine yards."

wonhee shook her head, taking a slow sip of her drink. "everyone is losing their minds because sunghoon used to be notorious for being completely uncatchable. he’d date a girl for a month, get bored, and leave them with enough character development to write a novel. but look at him now—completely whipped. i guess some girls are just born to be the final destination, while the rest of us are just the rest stops along the highway."

you gave wonhee a weak smile, “tell me about it.”

just when you were about to mope on your feelings, your boss from your internship messaged that you interns are needed tomorrow for an urgent shoot. luckily, you had no classes tomorrow so you have time while still catching up with some tasks for school.

tomorrow has finally arrived and you came to the building of the prestige building of véra, a magazine known for its sleek minimalism and its legendary ability to turn underground creators into overnight icons. it was a place where trends didn't just get covered—they were born.

"no, absolutely not. the lighting is completely flat, and the silk looks like cardboard under these gels. look at the monitor!"

"i’m tracking the ambient light, okay? but if you want that raw, overcast mood you specifically asked for in the mood board, we need to shift the reflectors. now."

the sharp, overlapping voices echoed across the massive concrete studio space the moment you pushed past the heavy double doors. the atmosphere inside was thick with tension, a frantic ballet of production assistants rushing past with garment bags, makeup artists adjusting their kits under blinding vanity lights, and the distant, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of a high-end camera shutter.

in the center of the chaos stood the creative director, kang jiah, pinching the bridge of her nose in sheer frustration, while the lead photographer, oh minseok adjusted a massive lens on his tripod.

as a makeup artist student, your brain automatically began calculating the fix before anyone even asked you to. you could see the problem from ten feet away: the model had a gorgeous, warm skin tone, but the current lighting was clashing with the undertone of her foundation, making the high-shine finish look chaotic instead of seamless.

you gripped the handles of your professional makeup train case a little tighter, swallowing down your nervousness. you were just a standby intern here to clean brushes, prep skin, or rush to the makeup artist’s bag for products they need, but the thick tension in the room made your heart hammer against your ribs.

“excuse me,” a calm, clear voice suddenly broke the thick tension in the room. "if i may offer a small suggestion? what if we change the polarization instead?"

from the shadows behind the main monitor setup, a boy who seemed to be around your age stepped forward. he was dressed simply in a loose black sweater and clean trousers, a professional light meter slung casually around his neck.

"if we drop a linear polarizer onto the lens and tilt the key light down by just five degrees, the camera should cut the greasy reflection from the strobe while keeping the model's natural skin texture completely intact. director kang gets her soft, glass-skin look on the monitor, and you won't lose your highlights, sir. It should take less than two minutes to adjust."

the studio went quiet for a beat. photographer oh peered over his shoulder, checking the math on the monitor, before a slow, appreciative nod broke across his face. he stepped up to his own rig, quickly adjusting the polarization filter to test the student's theory.

"he's right. the polarization math checks out," photographer oh announced to the room, looking thoroughly impressed. "good eye…what’s your name?”

“jungwon, sir. yang jungwon.”

“good eye, jungwon.” director kang told jungwon with her stern voice but the look of amusement on her face did not leave.

yang jungwon.

everyone at the university knew who he was. he wasn't just talented; he was the golden boy and a prodigy. he was the type of student who's friends with everyone, the student whose photography portfolios were already being archived by professors as future curriculum benchmarks.

he possessed a rare, effortless blend of sharp academic intelligence and raw artistic intuition. he was brilliant, celebrated, and completely out of reach.

a boy existing in a flawless, sunlit orbit that a guarded, cynical standby intern like you had no business crossing.

jungwon wiped a stray lock of hair from his forehead, offering a small, dimpled smile to a stressed-out production assistant who had just dropped a roll of gaffer tape near his feet. he bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to her with a gentle, "here you go. don't worry, we have plenty of time."

you swallowed hard, averting your eyes.

he was brilliant, he was elite, and he was universally kind. the ultimate hazard sign.

it would be a lie if you said you didn't find him cute the first time you saw him in the building.

​"y/n, go in and touch up the nose and jawline," the head makeup artist, hyeji called out, waving a hand toward the vanity. "matte it down just a bit so the polarization works properly."

​you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, and quickly grabbed your powder puff and a translucent setting powder.

​walking onto a live set always felt like stepping into a spotlight. your heart did a nervous little flutter as you approached the model, consciously keeping your eyes glued to her face and away from the monitor station where jungwon was standing.

​"excuse me," you whispered politely to the model, stepping into her personal space.

​you raised your hand, your fingers stabilizing against her jaw as you gently tapped the powder puff onto her skin. this was your comfort zone. the familiar scent of cosmetics and the meticulous, rhythmic tapping usually calmed your nerves.

​until you felt a presence shift right behind you.

​"ah, wait a second please," a quiet voice murmured.

​you froze, your hand hovering inches from the model’s cheek. jungwon had stepped up right next to you, leaning in slightly to look at the model's face through the small space between you two. he was close enough that you could catch the subtle, clean scent of his fabric softener—like fresh laundry and cold winter air.

​he wasn't looking at you. his sharp, focused eyes were entirely on how the studio lights hit the model's skin finish. he raised a hand, using his thumb to gently mimic the angle of the key light.

​"if she tilts her chin up just a fraction when y/n finishes dusting the powder," jungwon said softly, addressing the photographer while subconsciously using your name, "the shadow under the jaw will clean up perfectly."

​your breath hitched in your throat. y/n. he didn't even know you, yet hearing your name leave his lips in that calm, casual tone felt like a sudden spike of electricity.

this feeling was familiar, you said.

​as soon as the thought crossed your mind, a cold wave of reality washed over you, dousing the spark before it could even catch fire. you quickly finished the last few taps of powder, stepped back, and offered a hurried, polite bow to the model and jungwon before retreating to the dark edges of the studio.

​your chest felt tight. you're doing it again, you scolded yourself, your fingers gripping the plastic handle of your powder compact so hard your knuckles turned white.

​you felt pathetic. you felt completely, utterly cursed.

​it was always like this. one soft glance, one polite gesture, a boy simply using your name and your heart was already trying to sprint ahead. you fell fast, hopelessly fast, like a script that had already been written for you a hundred times before. you were the girl who romanticized the bare minimum, the girl who mistook a photographer's technical focus for something personal.

​you closed your eyes for a brief second, forcing your breathing to steady.

​if you let yourself look at yang jungwon, you knew exactly how this story would end. he would smile, he would be kind, he would inadvertently teach you how to love a little deeper—and then he would hand his heart to someone else, leaving you behind with nothing but a notebook full of character development.

​you weren't going to be the rest stop on his highway. not this time.

​"y/n? can you clean the brushes from the morning prep?" the senior makeup artist's voice called out from the vanity room.

​"coming," you replied, your voice dropping back into its practiced, neutral tone. you pulled your shoulders back and walked away from the lit set, determined to keep yourself distracted from whatever feelings that are rising.

***

dear, y/n,

sometimes, old habits die hard. you recognized the electricity today, didn't you? it’s the exact same current that left you in the dark three times before. he is a walking hazard sign with a dimpled smile, and you are already stepping over the yellow tape. the truth is, you missed the way a single voice could make the room tilt, and for the first time in a very long time, it felt kind of beautiful to feel everything all at once again.

the train ride home was the worst part of the day. it gave you too much time to think, the rhythmic, metallic hum of the carriage matching the uneasy beat of your heart as the train rattled through the city.

​sitting crushed between tired commuters, you pulled out your phone. your thumbs moved on pure instinct, opening the app and typing his name into the search bar before your logical brain could even try to stop you.

​@jw_209

​you swallowed hard as his profile loaded. no private account lock. no gatekeeping. just a blue checkmark, a massive follower count, and a grid that looked exactly like a highly curated digital museum.

your eyes scanned his feed, and that familiar flutter settled deep in your chest.

he liked taking photos of landscapes with ethereal vibes. misty horizons, soft pastel sunrises over quiet shorelines, and ancient trees swallowed by a dreamlike haze. he captured the world in a way that made ordinary things look completely breathtaking.

​he was incredibly talented, yet his captions were entirely humble. just a single camera emoji or a word or phrases about the fleeting nature of everyday moments, or how softly a quiet afternoon can pass you by.

​then, you scrolled down a bit further and hit the real hazard zone: his tagged photos.

​there were countless pictures of him posted by other people. jungwon sitting at a university cafe surrounded by a huge group of friends, all of them leaning into him. jungwon smiling broadly, showing off those deep, clear dimples as he held up a peace sign next to girls from the dance club, the cheer squad, the student council. every single person in his tagged photos looked happy just to be standing near him.

​he was tagged in sweet birthday posts, late-night study group sessions, and celebratory dinner collages. he wasn't just liked. he was cherished by everyone who crossed his path.

though he doesn't post photos of people in his social media. you guessed he likes to keep the people in his life private or he just likes taking photos of landscapes than people.

on the way back home, you were pulled right out of your thoughts by the familiar chimes of the convenience store down the street from your dorm.

​the door swung open, and a boy stepped out into the humid night air, a small plastic bag dangling from his fingers. your footsteps completely faltered on the pavement.

​it was yang jungwon.

​he was dressed down even more than he had been at the studio, his hair slightly damp and a pair of simple slippers on his feet. he stopped under the warm, buzzing glow of the storefront sign, completely breaking the distant, untouchable image you had just been staring at on your phone. he was right here. in your neighborhood.

​before you could even think about hiding or turning around, he raised his head. his sharp eyes blinked in surprise, and then, those deep, familiar dimples cut into his cheeks as he caught sight of you.

​"oh? y/n, right?"

“j-jungwon!”

damn it, you really had to stutter and raise your voice.

“you just got home?”

​"yeah, the head artist wanted the foundation brushes sanitized tonight because the morning crew needs them fresh, and then i had to sort the sponge bins and double-check the inventory list for the next shoot since we won't even be there on friday, so it just took way longer than expected."

it felt like you couldn’t breathe after that. why did you have to overexplain? he had asked a simple four-word question, and you had handed him a full logistical breakdown of your internship duties like a nervous suspect under interrogation.

​jungwon blinked softly, taking in your breathless ramble. for a horrifying second, you thought he might find you completely weird—but then, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and that deep, gentle dimple appeared on his cheek.

​"ah, so that's why you're so late," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft in the quiet night air. "you worked really hard today.”

“t-thank you. it was just part of the job, really. i’m still just a standby intern, so i have to do my best not to get in anyone's way."

​jungwon tilted his head slightly, his gaze warm. "you didn't get in anyone's way. your skin prep made the polarization adjustment work perfectly."

the fact that he remembered that brought your heart into a sudden, breathless flutter, the erratic rhythm pounding so loud against your ribs you were terrified he could hear it in the midnight quiet. it was that exact same jolt of electricity from the studio, only this time, it felt twice as loud under the quiet streetlights. your heart was doing dangerous, hopeful flips, completely ignoring every single warning you had just given yourself.

​jungwon shifted his weight, his plastic bag rustling softly against his sweatpants. he looked down at the street for a second, a small, polite smile lingering on his lips before he looked back up at you.

​"well, it's getting pretty late," he said softly, gesturing slightly with his head toward the direction of the apartment blocks. "i should probably head back home before the ice cream i bought completely melts."

​you blinked, forcing your brain to kick back into gear. "oh! right, yeah. of course. go ahead."

​"get home safely, y/ni," he murmured, stepping past you with a gentle nod. "see you at the studio on friday."

​"goodnight," you whispered to his retreating back.

​you stood frozen on the pavement, watching his tall, relaxed figure disappear into the shadows of the street. the subtle scent of his fabric softener still lingered faintly in the humid night air, a cruel reminder that he had actually been standing right there.

​you let out a long, shaky exhale, finally allowing your shoulders to drop. you were supposed to be building walls. you were supposed to be guarding your heart against the ultimate hazard sign.

​but as you turned the key to your dorm room, your heart was still stubbornly replaying the exact way his dimples looked under the convenience store light.

the quiet hum of your desk lamp was the only sound in the room. you had been staring at your color theory assignment for the past hour, but the lines of text were starting to blur together. your brain was entirely fried.

​just a five-minute break, you promised yourself.

​it was a lie, and you knew it. your fingers moved on pure autopilot, unlocking your phone and opening the app before your conscience could stage an intervention. you had explicitly told yourself to stop looking. you had promised yourself on the train, and again at the door of your dorm, that you wouldn't feed the curse.

​but as you clicked on his profile, a little red circle illuminated his profile picture.

​new post • 2 min. ago

​your breath caught. you tapped it.

​it wasn't an ethereal landscape or a misty sunrise. it was a shot taken from a low angle, capturing the wet asphalt of the pavement reflecting the warm, buzzing neon glow of the convenience store sign down your street. in the distance, the blurry silhouette of the quiet neighborhood stretched into the dark, looking incredibly nostalgic and soft through his lens.

​it was the exact spot where you had been standing together just an hour ago.

​he had captured the ordinary street and turned it into something poetic. your heart did that dangerous, breathless stumble all over again as your eyes drifted down to the caption.

​he wrote: daylight.

***

dear y/n,

how are you supposed to know which signs are real and which ones are just the universe playing a cruel joke? when you spend your whole life guarding your heart against a curse, you start to see warnings everywhere. you read caution tape in a polite smile. you read danger in a dimple. but when a boy posts a picture of a midnight street and labels it daylight, what are you supposed to believe? is it a green light, or just another beautiful hazard sign?

​you and jungwon have the same elective of visual media color theory. though you never noticed him fully until yesterday’s studio shoot, you now vividly remember seeing his name printed right above yours on the attendance sheet every single week.

​today, you sat right in the middle of the classroom just to get a better view, since you could barely see the slides when you were seated at the sides of the room.

​what you didn't expect was looking up to see the dimpled boy sliding into the empty seat right next to you, greeting you with a soft smile.

​“hey, y/n.”

​“h-hi! jungwon.”

the syllable felt heavy on your tongue, entirely too loud for the quiet buzz of the classroom before the professor walked in. you quickly looked down at your desk, blindly organizing your highlighters just to keep your hands from shaking.

he set his laptop down on the wooden desk, the plastic convenience store bag from last night nowhere to be seen, replaced now by the clean, sharp scent of his usual cologne. out of the corner of your eye, you watched him lean back in his chair, his long legs stretching out comfortably under the desk.

"you usually sit by the windows, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and conversational as he adjusted his screen.

your hands froze on your pencil case. you turned your head to look at him, your chest tightening. "y-yes. how did you know?"

jungwon paused, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. he turned his head to meet your gaze, those deep dimples faintly tracing his cheeks as a soft, easy smile broke across his face. "i sit a few rows back. it's kind of hard not to notice when you're always dropping your pens under the chairs."

a mortified heat rushed straight to your face. you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. all this time, you thought you were completely invisible, a nameless face in a hundred-person lecture hall. but he hadn't just seen you yesterday—he had been watching your clumsy morning routines for weeks.

"i don't drop them that often," you muttered defensively, though your voice lacked any real bite because your heart was currently trying to escape your ribs.

"hm, if you say so," he amusedly replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he leaned in just a fraction closer, his shoulder almost brushing against yours. "but since you moved to the middle today, i figured i'd move too. the view is better here anyway."

the professor finally walked into the room, clapping his hands to start the lecture, but your brain had already completely short-circuited.

the view is better here anyway.

you didn't say it out loud, but you completely, wholeheartedly agreed.

the view from the middle of the room really was so much better, especially when it included the sharp line of his jawline and the soft way his hair fell over his forehead as he looked back down at his laptop screen. you couldn't help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at your lips. you had originally just wanted to see the lesson clearly, but sitting right next to yang jungwon was an undeniable upgrade.

as the professor finally walked in and the slides changed to color wheel harmonies, you leaned back in your chair, feeling a warm, victorious rush of giddiness settling deep in your chest.

throughout the whole lecture, jungwon noticed how you were having a hard time catching up with the professor’s fast pacing. without a word, he simply slid his notebook toward the center of the desk, his clean, neat handwriting perfectly capturing everything you had missed.

you blinked, giving him a questioning look that clearly said, what about you?

he just leaned in slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes as he murmured, “it’s okay. i have photographic memory anyway.”

a quiet laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, though you quickly clamped a hand over your mouth so the rest of the lecture hall wouldn't hear.

and when class ended, one of your elective mates came to jungwon and thanked him for lending him his notes from last week’s session.

you froze, your fingers tightening around your pen. a cold splash of reality hit you right in the face. you had almost fallen for it. you had almost convinced yourself jungwon only did that gesture for you.

but he was just like that with everyone else.

***

dear y/n,

sometimes, it would be easier to just pull back completely and build your walls so high that no dimpled smile can reach you. it is easy to tell yourself to keep your distance when you think you are just another face in his crowded room. you can convince your mind that his kindness is a warning sign, a trap designed to make you stumble.

but what are you supposed to do when the universe refuses to cooperate with your defenses? how do you run away when every detour somehow leads you straight back into his path? it feels like the world is intentionally shrinking, forcing your orbits to cross whether you are ready for it or not.

if every sudden encounter keeps pushing you closer, maybe the real danger isn't his casual charm. maybe the real hazard is how badly you want to stop running. you are standing on the edge of the hazard zone, and you are starting to realize you don't want to step back.

but the universe, it seemed, hadn't gotten the memo.

"y/n, thank goodness you're here early," the head stylist breathed, rushing past you with an armful of garment bags the moment you stepped into the studio. "the model for the second layout just called in sick, and the concept director is losing her mind. since you have the closest features to our model, could you maybe stand in for her today? don’t worry, i won’t make you add extra work. just be a model for today.”

your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around the strap of your makeup kit. "me? a model?"

"yes, please! the lighting is already set up for your skin profile anyway," she pleaded, gently nudging you toward the center of the dark studio before rushing off to coordinate with the wardrobe team.

even though you were nervous, you felt flattered by the sudden shift from being the one holding the brushes to being the one everyone was rushing to get ready.

seconds later, you were pressed into the leather chair, staring at your own reflection framed by bright, blinding vanity bulbs. as the senior makeup artist began sweeping a fluffy brush across your cheekbones, your eyes instinctively drifted to the mirror's reflection, scanning the dark background of the studio.

there he was.

jungwon was standing by the equipment table, a light meter slung around his neck as he manually adjusted a camera lens. but as you watched him through the glass, his hands suddenly slowed down. without turning his head, his gaze quietly shifted upward, his dark eyes locking onto your reflection in the mirror.

your heart did a violent, dangerous skip. for a split second, you were entirely breathless, caught in a silent, cross-room stare through a sheet of glass.

but then, jungwon blinked, casually turning away to say something to a lighting crew member as if nothing had happened.

you quickly looked down at your lap, your cheeks burning under the heavy layer of setting powder. you're tripping, you firmly told yourself, your fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt. you are completely hallucinating. he was a photographer; he was probably just looking at the vanity lights or checking the ambient glare in the room. he wasn't looking at you. he couldn't be.

"all done, sweetheart! step onto the backdrop for me," the artist said, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat.

your feet felt heavy, practically glued to the floorboards as you finally stepped onto the seamless backdrop. the harsh studio lights cut through the shadows, illuminating the space and making you feel incredibly exposed.

at the center of the set, jungwon was now waiting by the tripod. when you took your place, he slowly lowered the camera body from his face. the casual, easygoing expression he always wore vanished. he didn't smile, and he didn't drop a playful comment like he did in the classroom. he just stared, his dark eyes tracking you with that exact same quiet, unreadable intensity you thought you had imagined in the mirror.

you fixed your posture, forcing your face into a neutral, professional mask. you had to remember the lesson from yesterday. you weren't special.

“whenever you're ready, jungwon,” director kang said, her voice sharp but steady as she reviewed the digital monitor from the sidelines.

jungwon blinked, the director's voice hitting him like a sudden splash of cold water, snapping him out of his trance. his jaw tightened slightly as he quickly looked away from you, slowly raising the camera back to his eye to hide his face behind the lens.

"right," his voice came out a little rougher than usual, echoing slightly in the quiet studio. "let's... let's start with the profile shots. look slightly to the left, please."

you did as he asked, turning your chin toward the shadows and focusing your eyes on a random spot on the studio wall. at first, your limbs felt stiff, every muscle in your neck tight with the lingering anxiety of being just a temporary replacement. you were acutely aware of the lens pointed at you, and even more aware of the boy behind it.

click.

the flash illuminated the dark studio for a microsecond.

"good," jungwon’s voice drifted over from the tripod, lower now, carrying a calm, steady rhythm that instantly cut through your panic. "just like that. now drop your shoulders a bit, y/n. take a deep breath in... and let it out."

you followed his voice, exhaling slowly. as your shoulders relaxed, something shifted inside you. you looked down at the structured, high-fashion wardrobe they had styled you in, felt the perfect weight of the makeup on your skin, and realized something liberating: you weren't a mistake or a technical hitch. you were a cosmetology student who understood exactly how angles, textures, and lighting worked. you knew your face. you knew your undertones.

and suddenly, you didn't feel like a hiding substitute anymore. you felt powerful.

"perfect. keep that exact expression," jungwon murmured. click. "tilt your head up just a fraction. let the key light hit the high points of your cheekbones."

his guidance was effortless. he wasn't treating you like a standard, disposable model, nor was he acting like the casual classmate who shared notes. behind the camera, yang jungwon was a complete professional. he gave commands with a quiet, grounding confidence that made you feel completely safe to move, to experiment, to own the space under the lights.

click. click.

"bring your hands up toward your collarbone," he instructed softly, the lens tracking your movements. "soft fingers. look right into the lens this time."

you didn't hesitate. you turned your head back toward the center, lifting your chin, and looked directly down the barrel of his camera lens. you locked eyes with him through the glass, no longer trying to hide behind a neutral mask. you let your confidence show—letting him see that you were completely present, commanding the set just as much as he was.

from behind the camera, you heard the faint, sharp intake of jungwon's breath. but the camera didn't stutter.

"beautiful," he whispered, the word carrying a raw, genuine weight that sent a different kind of thrill straight down your spine. click. "stay right there. don't move."

beautiful.

he just said it so casually, so effortlessly, but the word felt entirely too heavy as it hung in the space between you. he didn't lower the lens, keeping his gaze locked onto yours through the camera glass as if he were trying to capture something far deeper than just a standard lighting test.

"and... cut!" director kang's voice suddenly cut through the air, breaking the spell. "excellent work, everyone. let's check the monitor."

the blinding studio lights dimmed slightly as the crew immediately swarmed around the main digital display. you stepped off the seamless backdrop, your knees feeling a little weak now that the adrenaline was fading. you tentatively walked over to the edge of the crowd, peeking over a stylist's shoulder to look at the screen.

a small gasp escaped your lips. the images looking back at you didn't look like a nervous, last-minute substitute at all. the lighting caught the crisp edges of your jawline, the makeup looked flawless under the exposure, and your eyes held a sharp, captivating confidence.

"wow, y/n, look at your facial symmetry," one of the senior stylists praised, clapping her hands together. "the textures are so clean. you look incredible!"

"honestly, you saved us today," director kang agreed, nodding dynamic approval as she scrolled through the burst shots. "the mood is exactly what we needed for the editorial pitch. you're a natural."

your chest swelled with a warm, triumphant rush of pride. all your hours studying skin prep and facial angles had paid off, and hearing the professional crew validate your work made you feel completely on top of the world.

"i'm completely satisfied with how these turned out," a quiet, familiar voice spoke up from behind you.

you turned around to find jungwon standing there, his camera now resting against his hip. he wasn't looking at the monitor anymore; his dark eyes were fixed directly on you, a soft, genuine smile touching his lips.

"the lighting and the textures hit perfectly," he added, his voice low and private amidst the loud chatter of the crew. "i'm really glad y/n stepped in today."

your heart gave a violent, unruly thud against your ribs.

the crew was still talking loudly around you, debating layout designs and background colors, but your selective hearing had already locked the world out. i'm really glad y/n stepped in today. his words replayed in a dizzying loop, sweet and terrifyingly sincere.

he might have sounded like a good coworker but as you looked at the faint trace of his dimples, you knew your defenses were in serious trouble.

after changing your outfit from the shoot, you stopped in your tracks when you saw jungwon clearing up the equipment by himself. the heavy studio lights were mostly shut off, leaving only the dim, warm overheads casting long shadows across the empty room. he looked completely different now. his jacket discarded, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows as he reached up to untighten a massive softbox modifier from its stand.

you hesitated for a fraction of a second before setting your tote bag down on a nearby stool. you walked over, your sneakers squeaking quietly against the concrete floor.

"need a hand?" you asked, reaching out to stabilize the heavy metal base of the C-stand before it could tilt forward.

jungwon blinked, looking down at you from his height. a look of surprise crossed his face, followed quickly by that familiar, easy smile. "oh, y/n. you're still here? it's okay, i've got it. you should head home, it's getting late."

"i want to help," you replied, your voice steady despite the quiet thumping in your chest. you didn't let go of the metal stand. "besides, you're the one who did all the heavy lifting during the shoot. consider it payback for the notes."

jungwon let out a soft, breathy chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "alright. if you insist."

for the next twenty minutes, the studio was quiet except for the rustle of velcro, the clinking of metal stands, and the low, easy hum of casual conversation. you helped him coil the heavy black extension cords while he carefully packed his camera body and lenses into his padded backpack. without the pressure of the crew or the blinding lights, the stiff walls you had painstakingly built after yesterday's lecture began to feel entirely useless.

"all set," jungwon finally said, zipping his bag closed and swinging it over one shoulder. he turned off the remaining studio switch, plunging the room into darkness except for the green exit light by the door. "let's go?"

you nodded, walking out into the cool evening air together.

the walk to the transit station was surprisingly peaceful. the streets of the city were buzzing with the usual nighttime traffic, but between the two of you, there was a comfortable, easy rhythm. you talked about the concept director’s hectic energy, your favorite color theories, and how relieving it was to finally finish a long week of classes.

when you finally reached your stop, you turned to wave goodbye, but jungwon didn't stay on the platform. instead, he quietly stepped off the train right behind you.

"wait, jungwon," you blinked, looking around the familiar street corner near your neighborhood. "your place isn't around here, is it?"

jungwon adjusted the strap of his heavy camera bag, looking down at you under the warm, amber glow of the streetlamp. his dimples showed faintly as he smiled, his hands slipping into his pockets.

"it's not," he admitted casually, his voice low and incredibly grounding in the quiet night. "but it's dark out, and you worked hard today. i wanted to make sure you got home safe."

your breath hitched, your fingers tightly gripping the straps of your tote bag.

there it was again. that dangerous, dizzying rush of kilig slammed right into your chest, loud enough to drown out the distant hum of the evening traffic. i wanted to make sure you got home safe. the words hung in the space between you, illuminated by the warm, amber glow of the streetlamp.

for a terrifying second, you wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that this detour, this long train ride out of his way, was for you.

but then the memory of the classroom flashed behind your eyes—the classmate thanking him for the notes, the realization that yang jungwon was just effortlessly, universally good. of course he was walking you home. you had stayed late to help him lift heavy equipment; he probably just felt standard, polite responsibility as a coworker to make sure you didn't walk the dark streets alone. he would have done the exact same thing for director kang, or the senior stylist, or anyone else.

he was just being a good guy. that was all.

"you really didn't have to, jungwon," you said, forcing a small, polite smile to your face as you stepped backward toward your gate, desperately trying to keep the distance between you. "but... thank you. for the walk. and for today."

jungwon didn't move, his hands still tucked into his pockets as he watched you step away. the easy smile on his lips faded into something quiet and slightly intense, his eyes tracking your defensive posture with an unreadable look.

"anytime, y/n," he murmured softly. "get some rest."

your breath hitched, your fingers tightly gripping the straps of your tote bag.

there it was again. that dangerous, dizzying rush of warmth slammed right into your chest, a sudden flutter so loud it threatened to drown out the distant hum of the evening traffic. i wanted to make sure you got home safe. the words hung in the space between you, illuminated by the warm, amber glow of the streetlamp.

for a terrifying second, you wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that this detour, this long train ride out of his way, was for you.

but then the memory of the classroom flashed behind your eyes. the classmate thanking him for the notes, the realization that yang jungwon was just effortlessly, universally good. of course he was walking you home. you had stayed late to help him lift heavy equipment; he probably just felt standard, polite responsibility as a coworker to make sure you didn't walk the dark streets alone. he would have done the exact same thing for director kang, or the senior stylist, or anyone else.

he was just being a good guy. that was all.

"you really didn't have to, jungwon," you said, forcing a small, polite smile to your face as you stepped backward toward your gate, desperately trying to keep the distance between you. "but... thank you. for the walk. and for today."

jungwon didn't move, his hands still tucked into his pockets as he watched you step away. the easy smile on his lips faded into something quiet and slightly intense, his eyes tracking your defensive posture with an unreadable look.

"anytime, y/n," he murmured softly. "get some rest."

“thank you, jungwon.” you gave him one last polite nod, turning around to finally press the unlock button on your gate. your hands were shaking slightly, and you were desperate to get inside the safety of your house before your face completely gave you away.

“y/n?”

his voice called out, stopping you right in your tracks. your fingers froze against the cold iron of the latch. you took a quiet, steadying breath before slowly looking back over your shoulder.

“yes?”

jungwon was still standing under the amber streetlamp, his hands deeply embedded in his jacket pockets. he tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that completely bypassed your professional walls. the softest, most genuine trace of a smile appeared on his lips, causing his dimples to faintly show in the shadows.

“you looked pretty today.”

***

dear y/n,

sometimes, the universe doesn’t just nudge you; it completely corners you. you try to write off his kindness as a collective luxury, a universal trait he hands out to anyone who asks, because believing you are special is a luxury you simply cannot afford. but how do you categorize a quiet detour under an amber streetlamp? how do you rationalize a parting line that wasn't meant for a coworker, a classmate, or a crowd, but uniquely, devastatingly, for you?

you couldn’t reply.

the moment the word left his lips, your brain completely short-circuited, leaving you entirely breathless under the dim streetlamp. you practically threw yourself through the gate, shutting the iron latch behind you with a loud, metallic clang that echoed through the quiet neighborhood. your heart was hammering violently against your ribs as you sprinted up the steps, not daring to look back to see if he was still standing there watching you run.

it was only when you were locked safely inside the dark sanctuary of your bedroom that you finally collapsed against the mattress, pulling a pillow over your face to smother a helpless, frustrated groan.

you looked pretty today.

the phrase replayed in a dizzying, echoing loop, vibrating straight down to your fingertips. you tightly closed your eyes, desperately trying to summon the cold reality check from the lecture hall. he is just nice. he is just a naturally attentive guy who knows how to make people feel comfortable on a set.

but as you turned over and stared at the dark ceiling, your fingers tracing the edges of your blanket, a quiet, terrifying truth settled in your chest. no matter how high you built your walls, yang jungwon didn't even have to try and scale them.

he was effortlessly dismantling them, brick by single brick, and you were completely running out of places to hide.

the next morning brought a blinding, unapologetic sunlight that did absolutely nothing to clear the fog in your head. you woke up with your limbs tangled in your sheets, your phone still clutched tightly in your palm as if you had been guarding it in your sleep.

when you dragged yourself out of bed and walked over to the bathroom sink, you actively avoided looking at your reflection for the first five minutes. you splashed ice-cold water onto your face, hoping the shock of it would finally scrub the lingering warmth out of your cheeks and snap you back into reality.

it was just studio adrenaline, you reasoned with yourself, aggressively rubbing a fluffy towel against your skin. people say fleeting things when they’re tired after a long shoot. he was probably just riding the high of a successful layout.

but the moment you sat down at your vanity to start your morning skincare routine, your hands froze.

you picked up your daily moisturizer, but your eyes involuntarily drifted to your own reflection in the glass. suddenly, you weren't looking at your bedroom walls anymore. you were seeing the dark studio mirror. you were seeing the way his dark eyes had pierced right through the reflection, tracking your every move while the makeup brush swept across your skin.

you looked down at your hands, your chest tightening. your fingertips automatically brushed against your collarbone, tracing the exact spot where he had told you to place your hands.

"beautiful," his whispered voice echoed in your ears, so clear it made you flinch.

you let out a shaky breath, forcing your hands down into your lap. it was terrifying how a single night could completely alter the space around you. your bedroom, your vanity, your own face—everything felt entirely compromised by him. you couldn't even apply your makeup without wondering if your features really did look the way he implied.

unable to handle the loud silence of your thoughts, you decided to escape your room. you spent the rest of the morning trying to drown out his voice with mundane tasks—cleaning your desk, organizing your elective binders, and making a mental checklist of your upcoming assignments.

by saturday afternoon, your eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, your mind completely exhausted from the non-stop mental gymnastics. you had finally managed to calm your heart rate down, sitting at your desk and staring blankly at a textbook.

ding.

the sharp vibration of your phone against the wooden desk made you flinch.

your hands shook slightly as you picked it up, your breath instantly catching when you saw his name illuminated on the lock screen.

jungwon: [1 file attached]

jungwon: finished compiling the raw layouts for director kang. thought i’d send you your edit first.

you swallowed hard, your thumb hovering over the glass. you tapped the file, waiting a few agonizing seconds for the high-resolution image to clear.

when the details finally rendered, the air left your lungs completely.

it wasn’t just a well-shot photo. he hadn't used the sharp, cool commercial lighting the director usually preferred for editorial pitches. instead, the coloring was incredibly soft, almost romantic, warming up your skin profile in a way that made you look like you were glowing from the inside out.

but it was the lighting on your eyes that made your chest completely constrict. he had meticulously adjusted the shadows so that the tiny, glittering reflection of the studio lights caught the exact center of your pupils. your gaze looked impossibly deep, intense, and vulnerable.

he had spent hours looking at your face in high-definition. he had zoomed in on your features, balanced your undertones, cleaned up the lines, and perfected the exposure.

you stared at the screen, your heart racing. a normal photographer would have just dropped the files into the shared studio google drive or handed them over on monday. but yang jungwon had edited yours personally, isolated it from the rest of the layout, and sent it directly to your private inbox on a saturday afternoon.

you slowly leaned back against your chair, the cold wood pressing into your spine as you stared at the beautiful, terrifying image of yourself.

you could try to convince yourself that he was just a gentleman under the streetlamp. you could pretend he was just being polite when he called you pretty. but looking at this photo, you realized something that terrified you to your core: through the lens of his camera, yang jungwon looked at you like you were the only thing on the set that mattered.

your phone buzzed again in your palm, making you jump.

jungwon: do you like them? y/n: i love them, jungwon! you did an amazing job with the lighting and the textures. it doesn't even look like me. jungwon: it looks exactly like you. i just captured what was already there.

your phone slipped an inch in your hand. you squeezed your eyes shut, a soft, helpless groan escaping your lips as you buried your face in your arms on the desk.

he was doing it again. he was effortlessly throwing lines that completely bypassed your defenses, speaking with a terrifying sincerity that left you absolutely no room to hide.

a week later, director kang officially approved the editorial pitch, and the official shoot layouts were finally uploaded to the department's public portfolio. you felt a quiet sense of relief, thinking the excitement from that chaotic friday had finally settled down.

until later that evening, when your phone notification panel lit up with a tag.

yang_jw tagged you in a post.

your thumb practically smashed against the screen to open the app.

it was a carousel post titled simply: bts 📸

the first slide was a moody shot of an overhead key light piercing through the dark studio. the second was a close-up of a heavy black camera cable coiled neatly over a metal stand. the third was the empty grey seamless backdrop.

and then, you swiped to the fourth slide.

the breath caught in your throat.

it was you.

it wasn’t one of the polished, perfectly posed files he had sent to director kang. it was a candid, behind-the-scenes frame captured right in the middle of the shoot. you were sitting in the leather vanity chair, the bright, blinding bulbs framing your silhouette, your chin turned slightly over your shoulder. your expression wasn't a professional mask; it was soft, slightly dazed, caught in the exact microsecond you had instinctively looked into the mirror to search for his reflection in the dark background.

he had captured the exact moment you were looking for him.

you swiped to the fifth and sixth slides: more inanimate props, a discarded lens cap, the digital monitor from a distance.

you swiped back to the fourth slide, your heart hammering against your ribs so violently it felt loud in the quiet of your room.

​you stared at the screen, your eyes tracing the soft edge of your own silhouette under the bright vanity bulbs. anyone else scrolling through his feed would just see a cool, atmospheric behind-the-scenes shot of a makeup student on set. they wouldn't notice the way the light caught the exact, vulnerable curve of your shoulder. they wouldn't know that the slight daze in your eyes was because you had been looking for him in the dark studio mirrors.

​but you knew. and more terrifyingly, jungwon knew too.

​your thumb hovered over the screen, paralyzed by the sheer weight of what this meant. you could rationalize notes. you could rationalize a long walk home in the dark as standard gentlemanly politeness. you could even convince yourself that a personal photo edit was just him being a meticulous, dedicated photographer.

​but this? breaking his own years-long aesthetic grid just to drop a candid frame of your face into the world?

​there were no olympic-level mental gymnastics left to save you. you couldn't hide behind the "good classmate" excuse anymore.

​with a trembling thumb, you tapped the little heart icon below the post, watching it turn red.

​almost instantly, a new notification slid down from the top of your screen, making you gasp softly in the quiet room.

​yang_jw: you're awake?

shit, shit, shit!

you scrambled backward against your headboard, nearly dropping the device straight onto your face. you had liked the post less than thirty seconds after he uploaded it. there was absolutely no playing the "i just happened to see it on my feed" card—you were actively lurking, and your lightning-fast double-tap had completely exposed you.

​your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting three different responses while your chest squeezed with a frantic, dizzying heat.

​y/n: yeah, just finishing up some reading.

​you pressed send, holding your breath as the single gray checkmark turned blue. almost immediately, the three typing dots appeared.

​yang_jw: reading? at 1 AM?

yang_jw: or were you just waiting for my post?

​you let out a helpless, strangled sound into the empty space of your bedroom, burying your burning face straight into your pillows. he was shameless. he was entirely, utterly shameless, and the worst part was that he was exactly right.

​before you could even think of a defensive lie to protect your dignity, your phone buzzed again in your palm.

​yang_jw: do you like the fourth slide?

​your breath hitched. he wasn't dancing around it. he knew exactly what he did when he put that candid photo of you in the middle of his grid, and he was deliberately forcing you to acknowledge it.

​you sat up, biting your lower lip until it turned white. you couldn't keep running. if he was going to be this bold, you had to find a way to stabilize your own footing before you completely dissolved under his pace.

​y/n: the lighting was nice. but i thought your feed was strictly landscapes.

​you stared at the screen, your heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against your ribs as you waited. seconds ticked by like hours until the screen lit up with his reply.

yang_jw: you keep tabs on my feed?

shit.

but ​before you could even think of a lie to salvage yourself, the next bubble popped up.

​yang_jw: but yes, it is. yang_jw: but you looked too pretty in that mirror to leave you in a hidden folder.

you completely froze in your spot.

the air left your lungs, leaving you staring blankly at the glowing screen as the world around you fell entirely silent. you couldn't move. you couldn't blink. your fingers remained locked stiffly around the edges of your phone, your eyes glued to the word pretty.

when you finally found the strength to move, it was only to let out a shaky, breathless exhale. then you rolled onto your bed, your stomach flat on the mattress, and let out a muffled scream into your pillow.

***

dear, y/n,

it is a completely strange but nice feeling to realize you aren't trying to pull away anymore. you are slowly getting used to the feeling again, realizing it's okay to just let someone in without making everything so complicated.

you find yourself looking forward to see and hear from him again, no longer finding the shield to protect your composure.

the next morning arrived. you walked onto campus with a lighter step, the lingering echo of jungwon’s late-night words crawling in your mind like he planned to occupy every single corner of your head.

you spotted him almost immediately near the entrance of the lecture hall, leaning against the hallway wall with his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he chatted with a few classmates. the exact moment you stepped into view, his eyes instinctively separated from the crowd, tracking your approach with that same soft, unwavering focus that had defined the studio mirrors.

as you drew closer, the conversation around him seemed to fade into a quiet blur, leaving just the steady ground between the two of you.

"morning, y/n," jungwon murmured, his voice dropping into a softer, private register meant only for you as a genuine, dimpled smile broke across his face.

here is how the scene can continue smoothly right after his morning greeting, transitioning them into the classroom and setting up their plans for the casual dinner later that evening, keeping it all in lowercase:

"morning, y/n," jungwon murmured, his voice dropping into a softer, private register meant only for you as a genuine, dimpled smile broke across his face.

your heart gave a familiar, dangerous thump, but instead of panicking, you found yourself returning his smile. "morning, jungwon."

he stepped away from the wall, naturally falling into step right beside you as you walked through the threshold of the lecture hall. the sudden shift from the chaotic, noisy hallway to the relative quiet of the classroom felt seamless with him next to you. without even asking, he guided you toward the middle row, pulling out the chair right next to the one where his laptop and notebook were already neatly set up.

he had saved you a seat.

"you look awake for someone who was reading at 1 AM," he teased quietly, sliding into his chair and leaning his chin in his hand as he looked over at you, his eyes glinting with a familiar, playful mischief.

you felt a sudden rush of warmth in your cheeks, but you managed to look right back at him. "i told you, i had things to finish."

"right," he hummed, the corners of his lips twitching as the professor walked up to the podium and the lecture hall began to quiet down. jungwon opened his notebook, but before he focused on the board, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice a low, comforting murmur against the background noise of opening laptops. "we're getting dinner after this, by the way. i found a really good place nearby."

it wasn't even a question. it was an inivitation that you would spend your evening with him, and the terrifying part was that you didn't even want to object.

by the time the late-afternoon elective finally wrapped up, the sun was already dipping below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the campus pathways. you followed jungwon through the bustling streets just outside the university gates, the humid evening air a stark contrast to the air-conditioned lecture hall.

he led you down a quieter alley, stopping in front of a small, cozy restaurant with warm, low-hanging yellow lights glowing behind a tinted glass pane. inside, the space was small and intimate, filled with the soft chatter of other students and the rich, savory aroma of hot food.

"two?" the server asked, and jungwon nodded, naturally guiding you toward a booth tucked away in the back corner, away from the main walkway.

as you slipped into the leather seat, the soft ambient lighting washed over his features, throwing the sharp angles of his jawline and the deep set of his eyes into beautiful, soft relief. it felt completely different from the high-stakes pressure of the studio or the crowded campus. here, stripped of cameras and portfolios, it was just the two of you.

"order whatever you want," jungwon said, sliding the menu across the dark wooden table toward you, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting second that left a trail of static on your skin. "my treat today. to celebrate your successful photoshoot."

you looked up from the menu, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "you give me too much credit. you did good too, you know."

jungwon let out a low, amused huff, leaning back against the leather booth as he looked at you through the warm, dim lighting of the restaurant. "is that so? i guess we make a pretty good team then."

your cheeks burned, “i guess we do.”

and as the weeks bled into a comfortable rhythm, you realized you really did.

that quiet dinner quickly transformed from a one-time celebration into a regular part of your routine. it happened so gradually that you didn't even notice the shift at first. one day you were just elective mates, then interns working on a shoot, and the next, he was naturally weaving you into every single part of his day, making it easy for you to navigate the lively, chaotic orbit of his massive social circle.

because jungwon was the type of guy who belonged to everyone, hanging out with him meant automatically being pulled into his circle. you became a familiar face at the crowded university cafeteria tables, sharing loud, overlapping conversations with his friends who welcomed you without a single second of hesitation. you watched him handle the campus attention with an easy, effortless charm, throwing bright smiles to passing students and keeping everyone laughing.

but the real magic always happened when the noise of the crowd finally thinned out. no matter how many people were vying for his attention during the day, the late evenings always distilled down to just the two of you, sitting across from each other at that same dark wooden table under the warm, low-hanging yellow lights.

"you're staring," jungwon murmured one rainy tuesday evening, a soft, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he set his chopsticks down.

you blinked, tearing your gaze away from the sharp line of his jaw to look down at your half-empty bowl. "i am not. i was just thinking."

"about what?" he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, closing the physical distance between you just enough to make the ambient chatter of the restaurant fade into the background.

"just... how you manage to keep up with everyone," you admitted honestly, gesturing vaguely toward the window where a group of students from his department had just waved at him through the glass. "you're always surrounded by people."

jungwon looked out the window for a brief second, then turned his focus back to you, his dark eyes softening into that intense, private expression he only ever used when the two of you were alone. "it's easy to talk to everyone, y/n. but that doesn't mean i want to spend my quiet hours with just anyone."

before you could even process the sudden, breathless skip of your heart, a confident, unfamiliar voice interrupted the space between you.

"hey, jungwon, right? i thought that was you."

you blinked, turning your head toward the edge of the booth. yoonchae from your class was standing there, looking effortlessly chic in a cropped leather jacket, a bright, confident smile fixed entirely on jungwon. she didn't even glance your way, completely erasing your presence from the table.

"i saw your latest photography feature on the department page," she continued smoothly, leaning slightly against the wooden partition of your booth. "it was amazing. i was actually wondering if you had time to collaborate on a editorial project next month? can i get your instagram or phone number?"

your chest tightened instantly. your mind, always looking for a reason to retreat, immediately clouded over with that familiar, suffocating insecurity. here it is, a bitter voice whispered in your head. this is his actual world. this girl was confident, stylish, and fit perfectly into the creative orbit he ran in. you were just the girl he casually helped out, the lesson he learned along the way to becoming a better photographer. you were a placeholder in his quiet hours until someone who actually belonged in his grid stepped up.

you lowered your eyes to your lap, your fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt as you prepared for him to give his usual, friendly campus smile and type his number into her phone.

"sorry, i can't," jungwon said.

his voice wasn't just polite; it was incredibly flat, completely stripped of the warm, universal charm he usually gave out so freely.

the girl blinked, caught off guard. "oh? are you too busy with the elective portfolio?"

jungwon didn't hesitate for a single second. he casually shifted in his seat, his hand moving across the table until his knuckles lightly brushed against your arm, drawing a firm, undeniable boundary in front of the stranger.

"no," jungwon said softly, his eyes dropping to you for a brief, reassuring second before he looked back up at the girl. "my girlfriend is right here. i don't take private project numbers."

your lungs completely locked up.

for a single, terrifying second, your heart fluttered so violently against your ribs it felt deafening. girlfriend. hearing the word leave his lips, spoken with such heavy, calm authority in his low voice, sent a sudden, dizzying rush of heat straight to your face.

but almost as fast as the thrill arrived, the cold weight of reality crashed right back down, pulling the warmth straight out of your chest.

yoonchae mumbled a quick, embarrassed apology and quickly retreated, but your mind had already clouded over, spiraling back into that familiar, suffocating insecurity.

you were just a prop.

the thought settled heavy and bitter in your stomach. because a guy like yang jungwon: a universally loved, constantly surrounded by people, and utterly effortless doesn't do serious relationships. he didn't need to. he was just a naturally attentive, overly nice guy who treated everyone with a baseline level of casual intimacy. he was smooth because it was his default setting, not because he was trying to win you over.

he didn't mean the word girlfriend. he had just used you as a convenient, safe shield to get out of an awkward conversation because he knew you wouldn't make a scene.

"sorry about that," jungwon murmured, turning his full attention back to you, his expression softening as if he hadn't just completely shattered your internal world. "she can be a bit persistent."

you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a small, tight smile to your lips as your walls slammed shut with a heavy, definitive thud.

"t-tell me about it," you said, forcing a small, hollow laugh as you poked at your food. "good strategy though. i make a pretty believable prop, don't i?"

you tried to look up and give him a funny, conspiratorial wink—anything to bury the suffocating weight crashing down on your chest. but your smile didn't reach your eyes, and your voice cracked just a fraction too much on the last word.

and jungwon, being the observant person he was, didn't laugh.

the easy, playful expression completely melted off his face, replaced by a quiet, piercing focus that made you want to look away. he slowly set his glass down on the table, his dark eyes tracking the slight tremor in your fingers before locking onto yours.

“you okay, y/n?” he asked softly, bending down to look at your eyes. but you quickly avoided him.

“y-yeah. just got something in my eye is all. listen, i still have some projects to finish so i need to go.”

“let me take you home–”

"no!" you quickly interrupted, scrambling to grab your bag. "i mean, wouldn't want to overstep." and just like that, you ran out of the restaurant before he could even reach for the bill.

what you didn’t know was jungwon felt his own chest tighten.

***

dear, y/n,

this is exactly why you should’ve kept your walls up.

it is a painful, heavy thing to realize how quickly you can fall back into the habit of building walls. you are slowly getting used to the feeling again, realizing that the only way to keep your heart safe from someone who belongs to the world is to completely remove yourself from the equation.

you tell yourself it’s safer to just be distant again. it’s way easier to pretend you don't care than to risk believing you actually matter to someone like him.

a week has passed since that day.

today, the morning arrived with a gray, overcast sky that seemed to match the cold numbness settling back into your chest. you walked onto campus with a heavy, deliberate step, your eyes strictly fixed on the concrete pathways to avoid scanning the crowds for a familiar shock of dark hair. you had your oversized jacket pulled tightly around you like armor, determined to slip back into the quiet anonymity of being just another student in the department.

you managed to avoid the main lecture hall entrance entirely, slipping through the side doors and taking a seat in the very last row, tucked far away from the middle rows where you had spent the last few weeks.

"y/n."

your fingers froze on the zipper of your bag at the sound of his voice.

jungwon was standing at the end of the row, looking completely exhausted. the usual easy, universal charm was entirely missing from his face, his dark eyes shadowed with a quiet, desperate intensity as he looked down at you. he didn't care that a few passing classmates were glancing over at his unusually tense posture; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

"you didn't answer my texts," he said softly, his voice dropping into that private register, though this time it sounded raw, carrying a heavy weight that made your chest ache. "i kept calling you."

you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your expression to remain perfectly flat as you looked up at him, refusing to let him see how much you were hurting. "i told you, jungwon. i had projects to finish. you don't need to check up on me."

jungwon took a step closer into the row, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of the empty chair in front of you. "you’re not a prop. at the restaurant. i’m sorry i hurt you."

you looked down at your hands, refusing to meet his eyes because you knew your expression would crumble.

"it's fine, jungwon," you whispered, trying to force your voice to sound completely detached. "it was just a joke. you don't have to apologize for something petty."

"it wasn't a joke to me," he cut in, his voice dropping even lower, thick with a frustration you had never heard from him before. he slid into the empty seat right next to you, his presence suddenly overwhelming the small space in the back row. "i didn't say it just to make her leave, y/n. i said it because... because it didn't feel entirely like a lie to me."

your breath hitched, your eyes snapping up to look at him.

jungwon was leaning in close, his usual calm demeanor completely shattered. he looked vulnerable, almost fragile, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign of the warmth you used to give him so easily.

"there's actually someone i really like right now," he murmured, the confession slipping into the quiet space between you like a heavy secret. "and seeing her stand there, asking for my number...it just made me realize how much i only want to focus on one person."

he was looking at you with so much quiet intensity, his lips slightly parted as if he was waiting for you to understand, waiting for you to realize exactly who he was talking about.

but your brain, completely clouded by a week of suffocating insecurity, didn't see the love in his eyes. it only saw a devastating confirmation of your worst fear.

he likes someone else.

the words echoed like a physical blow inside your head. you were the practice run. the lesson.

"oh," you forced out, the word tasting like lead on your tongue. you managed to pull a tight, completely empty smile onto your face, even as your chest felt like it was physically breaking. "i... i didn't know. she's really lucky, jungwon. i hope it works out for you."

before he could even react to the sudden, freezing distance in your voice, you stood up, grabbing your bag and stepping past his frozen frame into the aisle, running away before the tears blinding your vision could finally fall.

“you.”

you didn't move. you couldn't breathe. for a second, you thought you were hallucinating.

slowly, you turned around.

jungwon was already standing up. his shoulders tense as he stared straight at you.

"it's you, y/n," he said, his voice cracking slightly on your name as he closed the small distance between you in two long steps, stopping just close enough that you could feel the sudden warmth radiating off him. "the girl i like. the only person i want to focus on. it's been you this entire time."

she would feel an absolute, dizzying rush of cognitive dissonance—like the ground had suddenly been pulled out from under her boots. after a whole week of meticulously convincing herself that she was completely invisible and just a temporary "lesson" in his life, his sudden confession completely short-circuits her brain.

her walls are still up, but they are cracking violently. she is caught between a desperate, fluttering spark of hope and the terrifying urge to protect herself from a cruel joke.

here is how the scene can continue with her exact dialogue, keeping it all in lowercase:

"it's you, y/n," he said, his voice cracking slightly on your name as he closed the small distance between you in two long steps, stopping just close enough that you could feel the sudden warmth radiating off him. "the girl i like. the only person i want to focus on. it's been you this entire time."

your brain completely short-circuited.

you stared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to find a catch, a punchline, anything to make reality align with your insecurities again. but jungwon’s face was completely raw, his lower lip slightly trembling as he waited for you to say something.

“w-what?” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as you took a small, panicked step back. “when? why?”

the questions tumbled out of you in a frantic, unpolished rush, stripping away all the cold, distant armor you had tried so hard to build.

"what do you mean why?" jungwon asked, a breathless, incredulous laugh escaping his lips as he took a step forward to close the gap you had just made. he reached out, his fingers gently captured your wrist, his thumb resting right over your racing pulse.

he let out a low, shaky exhale, his thumb moving in a slow, comforting circle against your skin, trying to ground you through your panic.

"i fell for you on our very first day as interns," he murmured, his dark eyes softening completely as he brought you back to the beginning. "remember that chaotic first shoot? everyone was running around, but i couldn't take my eyes off you. you were so shy, yet you were completely locked in. i loved how focused you were, how much heart you put into every single task. you were radiant, y/n. in a room full of people trying to stand out, you stood out to me just by being you."

he took a small step closer, his voice dropping into that intense, private register that belonged only to you.

"i did everything because i wanted an excuse to be near you," he whispered. "it's been you since that exact day. how could you think it was anyone else?"

“i was…i was never the one,” you whispered. “i was never the one that people think i’m worth staying for.”

jungwon let out a sharp, ragged breath, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to keep you anchored as your words physically pained him. the easy, polite campus favorite completely disappeared, replaced by a boy who looked entirely devastated that the girl he loved felt so invisible.

he didn't hesitate. he took that final step, closing the remaining distance between you until he was gently framing your face with his hands, his thumbs carefully wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

"i'm not going anywhere, y/n. i'm staying right here. with you."

***

dear, y/n,

it turns out that rewriting the script in your head is a slow, terrifying process.

for a long time, you were completely sure you were just the type of girl guys date before finding the one they actually want to settle down with. you really believed you were just a temporary phase. but now, jungwon is completely focused on you, and he isn't looking for anyone else.

you're still really anxious, though. every time your phone lights up, a part of you still expects him to text you saying he changed his mind or made a mistake. but he doesn't. instead, he just keeps showing up and proving you wrong.

nothing is official yet. you didn't suddenly become his girlfriend overnight. but even without a label, everything between you two feels completely different now.

on a tuesday morning, you didn't sit in the back row.

you had tried to, out of habit. your fingers pulling the strap of your oversized bag tight against your shoulder as you entered the side door. but jungwon was already there, sitting in the middle row right where you two used to be. the moment the door clicked, his head snapped up, his dark eyes instantly finding yours in the crowd.

he didn't wave or make a scene, but a small, private smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he casually lifted his laptop sleeve off the empty plastic chair beside him, claiming the space before anyone else could even think to take it.

your heart did that familiar, breathless flutter as you walked down the steps.

"hey," he murmured softly as you slid into the seat, his voice dropping into that private register that still made your face flush. he didn't slide his hand over yours or push your boundaries, but he reached into his jacket pocket and slid a small, familiar plastic bottle across the desk.

it was a fresh bottle of the exact soothing eye drops you always used when your eyes got tired from staring at editing screens.

"since you had something in your eye last week," jungwon said, his eyes crinkling slightly with a gentle, teasing warmth that completely lacked any judgment. "just in case."

you stared at the bottle, the lump in your throat returning, but this time it wasn't from sadness. "jungwon, you didn't have to—"

"i wanted to," he interrupted softly, leaning his elbow on the desk so he could look at you properly.

and then he did the one thing that always sent your heart into an absolute frenzy.

he leaned his elbow on the desk, tilting his head as he intentionally closed the distance between you. jungwon brought his face so close you could trace the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scent of his laundry detergent instantly filling your senses. his dark eyes locked onto yours, completely invading your personal space in that quiet, effortless way only he could pull off.

“j-jungwon?” you stammered, your voice coming out as a tiny, embarrassed squeak as you tried to press your back against the hard plastic of your chair to gain an inch of safety.

“mhm?” he murmured, not moving back even a fraction of a millimeter. instead, a tiny, knowing smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips, clearly enjoying how easily he could throw you off balance.

“y-you’re too close,” you whispered frantically, your hands gripping your desk as you looked around to see if anyone was watching. “mr. lee just entered the room.”

jungwon didn't panic. instead, his smirk widened just a fraction, his dark eyes brimming with amusement at your flustered reaction.

slowly, casually, he leaned back into his own space just as the professor set his briefcase on the podium. but right before he completely pulled away, jungwon leaned in one last inch, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper right against your ear.

"mr. lee can wait," he murmured, his tone dripping with a quiet, playful confidence. "but fine. i'll let you focus on the lecture. for now."

he straightened up in his seat, opening his notebook with perfect poise as if he hadn't just completely set your nerve endings on fire. but as he picked up his pen, he deliberately shifted his notebook just an inch closer to yours, his shoulder lightly brushing against your arm—a constant, warm reminder that he wasn't going anywhere.

now that you and jungwon are now aware of feelings towards each other, he has become flirtier each day. but with boundaries. he still asks if it’s okay to hold your hand, place his arm around your shoulder when walking, always checking in with a quiet, questioning look before stepping an inch closer into your space.

and every time he notices you second guessing if you want something, he takes the initiative of doing it. so in days that you do want to hold his hand but too shy to ask, he gently places his hand under yours and locks your fingers. and of course, it sent your heart into overdrive.

on friday afternoon, as the campus was emptying out, jungwon slung his backpack over one shoulder and leaned against the edge of your desk.

"a few of my seniors are holding a small wrap-up gallery in the department studio tonight," he said, tilting his head to catch your eyes. "then we’ll have an after party. just some music, drinks, and looking over the final print layouts. i want you to come with me."

your fingers paused on your notebook. the familiar, anxious tightening returned to your chest, your mind instantly telling you that you didn't belong in a room full of talented, confident upperclassmen who already knew him so well.

“is it alright?” you whispered, looking up at him uncertainty. “i don't want to intrude.”

jungwon’s expression softened instantly. he didn't laugh or dismiss your worry. instead, he stepped closer, blocking out the rest of the noisy hallway so it was just the two of you.

"you're not intruding, y/n," he said softly, his voice steady and completely serious as he reached down to gently tap the back of your hand. "i'm the one asking you. i want you to be there. with me."

here is the complete, integrated scene with the new details seamlessly woven in, addressing the permission concern while keeping his character completely respectful of your boundaries. everything is kept in lowercase:

then the night of the gallery came.

the studio was packed, filled with the low hum of indie music, the clinking of plastic cups, and the bright, warm glow of track lighting illuminating the rows of framed photographs along the walls. jungwon had been caught by a group of design seniors the moment you walked through the door. you had gently nudged his shoulder, giving him a small smile to let him know you didn't mind, before slipping away into the crowd to look around on your own.

the talent in the room was undeniable, but as you wandered down the final row of the exhibition, your steps slowed to a complete halt in front of a small, dedicated corner panel.

your breath caught in your throat.

the first frame was a candid shot from your very first day as interns. it was the chaotic studio set, cluttered with stray wires and half-assembled lighting rigs, but the camera hadn’t focused on the set. it was focused entirely on you. you sat on a crate with your face angled away, completely locked into adjusting a camera lens.

the second frame was the campus lecture hall taken from a low angle. it captured the stark, geometric lines of the plastic desks, but the focus was trained on the middle rows where you two always used to sit. a soft, natural light filtered through the gray windows, hitting the exact spot where his notebook usually brushed against yours.

and the final photograph made your heart do a sudden, breathless flip.

it was the outside of the restaurant from a week ago, taken through the glass window under a heavy, overcast sky. the frame captured the exact table where everything had boiled over, the blurry reflection of the street lights casting a quiet, moody atmosphere over the empty chairs.

the photos were the places you had been with him.

beneath the triptych of photos was a small, white card printed with a simple title:

paying attention.

"i didn't put your face on blast, i promise," a soft voice murmured right behind your ear.

​you turned around to find jungwon right behind you, his hands in his pockets as he smiled down at you.

"i asked the professor if i could keep the subject anonymous on the final prints," he explained softly, stepping a little closer into your space. "i wanted to show you how i see you, but... is this okay? if it makes you uncomfortable, i can take them down right now. seriously."

"no," you whispered, a genuine smile finally breaking through the remnants of your anxiety. "don't take them down. they're... really beautiful."

without second guessing, you threw your arms around jungwon.

you felt a deep, grounding warmth expand in your chest—the realization that you were someone worth paying attention to.

after five hours, the after-party finally started. the room was alive with everyone cheering, laughing, and clinking their beer glasses together in celebration.

​“congrats to us!” jungwon's senior, lee chan, toasted, raising his glass high into the air.

after taking a sip, chan’s eyes flicked over to you, a warm smile breaking across his face. "and thanks for coming, y/n! jungwon was practically talking about it for days.”

​your face flushed a sudden crimson, your eyes darting over to jungwon.

​jungwon just let out a soft laugh, completely unbothered by his senior exposing him. he casually slung an arm around your shoulder, bringing you securely into the circle. "ignore him," he murmured down to you, his thumb lightly rubbing against your arm. "but he's not entirely wrong."

“jungwon, hey!”

yoonchae was there again. you remembered that she was probably only around because her brother was in the same department as jungwon, a detail he had mentioned to you weeks ago.

​“yoonchae, hi.”

​“so, i heard from my brother that you and y/n aren't actually dating," she started, pulling her phone out of her bag and extending it toward him with a hopeful smile. "so… i was thinking if i can maybe, you know? come on, it's not like you're taken, right?”

​“yoonchae, i've already told you before that i am interested in someone.” jungwon didn't hesitate for a single second. he reached down, deliberately capturing your hand and locking his fingers tightly with yours. “she's right here. dating or not, y/n is the only girl i like.”

yoonchae’s jaw dropped slightly. she stared at jungwon, entirely speechless at how effortlessly and publicly he had rejected her.

​she looked at you, then back at jungwon. without uttering another syllable, she gave a stiff, embarrassed nod and quickly slipped away into the crowd.

the night continued with you and jungwon completely melting into the crowd. almost everyone couldn't help but tease him, laughing at how he looked like a total lovesick puppy and constantly joking about how he had finally found his muse.

​eventually, the party wound down, and the two of you walked home together through the quiet streets. your hand was wrapped in his, his fingers locked firmly in yours.

​“wasn't that too harsh?” you asked softly, breaking the silence as you looked down at your joined hands.

​“not if she completely ignored your presence,” jungwon replied without a shred of regret, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction.

​you bit your inner lip, your heart doing a small flutter as you built up the courage to ask the question that had been looping in your head. “but... were you serious? about what you said?”

​jungwon looked down at you with a slow, knowing smirk. he knew exactly what you meant, but he wanted to hear you say it. “which part?”

​your eyes grew wide, but you tried your absolute best to maintain your composure. “you know... the part where you said... you like me.” the last few words came out as a quiet mumble, your face burning.

​“what's that?” he teased, tilting his head closer to yours. “didn't quite catch that.”

​“jungwon,” you whined, pulling slightly on his hand.

​“what? come on, say it clearly,” he laughed.

​“jungwon!” you whined again, hiding your face slightly behind your free hand.

​but then, the teasing look in his eyes began to shift. his laughter quieted down, replaced by a soft, intense focus that made the breath hitch in your throat. the ambient hum of the streetlights overhead suddenly felt incredibly loud as he stopped walking, causing you to pause right along with him.

​“you are,” jungwon murmured, his voice dropping into a gentle, low register. he lifted your hand, his thumb softly tracing the knuckles before he let go of the tight grip to hold just your fingertips, his skin warm against yours. “i really like you, y/n.”

​the sheer sincerity in his dark eyes stripped away all of your remaining defense mechanisms. the anxiety that usually kept you trapped in your own head completely evaporated, leaving only the honest, racing beat of your heart.

​“i-i really like you too,” you whispered back, your voice small but steady.

​jungwon took a slow step closer, completely closing the distance between you. his free hand came up, his fingers brushing light as a feather against your jawline before his thumb settled right at the corner of your cheekbone, tilting your face up just a fraction. he didn't rush. he just stood there for a breathless second, his gaze flicking down to your lips before locking back onto your wide eyes, waiting patiently for you to adjust to how close he was.

​“can i kiss you?” he asked softly, his thumb giving your cheek a reassuring, tender stroke.

​“please,” you whispered, the word leaving your lips like a breathless plea.

​a soft smile broke across jungwon’s face at your response. he didn't wait another second. his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips to yours, sweet and slow.

​it made your heart do a dizzying, breathless flip. his lips were incredibly soft, parting slightly as he pulled you just a fraction closer against his chest. your fingers instinctively gripped the fabric of his jacket, your whole body melting into the touch as a warm, electric flutter rushed from your chest straight down to your toes.

as both of you pulled away from the kiss, jungwon let his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you back in for a quick, tight hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck for a second, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction that made your heart do another dizzying flip.

​“does this mean we're… boyfriend and girlfriend?” you asked shyly, your fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his jacket.

​jungwon let out a soft giggle against your skin, the vibration tickling your neck before he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes full of warmth. “yes. yes, i'd love that.”

***

​dear y/n,

​it is a beautiful thing indeed to be able to find someone. you are incredibly, genuinely happy, and your heart doesn't feel like it's constantly bracing for impact anymore.

​but being with jungwon has also taught you that a real relationship isn't all cupcakes and rainbows. there are still days when your old insecurities and tendencies to overthink flare up out of nowhere, making you quiet and distant.

​loving someone isn't a magical cure for anxiety. it doesn't fix the pieces of you that feel broken.

you and jungwon had a date today. it's been weeks since you have been girlfriend and boyfriend. and it was the happiest you've felt in a while.

a knock startled you out of your thoughts as you checked your outfit one more time. you had opted for a classic combination: a warm cream cardigan layered over a simple tee, paired with structured wide-leg trousers that made you feel completely put-together yet comfortable.

wonhee was grinning brightly at you, stepping right into the entryway the moment the door swung open. without a word, she reached forward to gently adjust the collar of your tee and smooth down the shoulder of your cream cardigan. "there. perfect. you look so effortlessly pretty today! are you ready for your date?”

​“a bit nervous,” you admitted, feeling a sudden jolt of nervous electricity running through your system.

“hey,” wonhee placed her hand kn your shoulder, “you got this. and if jungwon doesn't see how incredibly lucky he is to have you, just let me know. i will personally make sure every single senior in his department knows he’s an absolute fool, and his pristine reputation will be completely ruined by tomorrow morning.”

“wonhee,” you taunt.

“i'm just saying.” wonhee giggled, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you toward the door. she gave you a playful nudge forward. "now stop stalling and go. he’s probably already waiting outside, and you shouldn't keep your boyfriend waiting."

boyfriend.

on cue, a knock came again, and this time, you answered it.

​when the door swung open, jungwon was standing there, looking effortlessly handsome in a simple jacket. the moment his eyes landed on you, his breath hitched slightly, his gaze sweeping over your cream cardigan and wide-leg trousers with a look of pure, unadulterated admiration.

​“hi,” you murmured, your heart doing a familiar flutter.

​“hi,” he replied softly, a warm smile breaking across his face as if he couldn't help himself. “you look beautiful.”

​“you ready?” he asked, his voice low and comforting.

​you nodded your head, the last of your nervous jitters completely melting away. jungwon offered his arm, and you gladly looped yours through it, stepping out into the hallway as he gently pressed your arm closer to his side, making you feel completely secure before you even left the building.

jungwon takes you out to a beautiful, open-air city square where the evening breeze carries the distant chatter of people and the soft glow of fairy lights tangled in the trees. walking arm-in-arm, he effortlessly shields you from the busier walkways, pointing out little shops or laughing at the synchronized fountains, making the wide, bright world feel incredibly small and private just for the two of you.

​you smiled, the warmth in your chest blooming beautifully. but as you stepped past a brightly lit clothing storefront, the air in your lungs suddenly turned to ice.

​“jungwon, is that actually you?”

​the soft, bright voice called out from the restaurant entrance. jungwon paused, turning his head, and you felt his entire posture straighten up in surprise. walking toward your table was a girl with an effortless, radiant smile and a polished grace that made the entire room feel a little brighter.

​“minji!” jungwon’s face lit up with immediate, genuine recognition as he stood up to greet her. “wow, it’s been so long. what are you doing back here?”

​“my family just moved back to the area,” she laughed, her voice carrying a familiar, easy warmth. jungwon immediately turned to you, his hand reaching for yours to introduce you.

“minji, this is y/n. my girlfriend.”

“omg, hi! finally, jungwon has gotten himself a girlfriend.”

​she was completely lovely. she didn't do a single thing wrong. but as she chatted with jungwon for a few minutes about their old neighborhood before waving goodbye, a suffocating wave of anxiety washed over you.

​she was stunning. her hair sat perfectly, her laugh was effortless, and she possessed a kind of glowing, unbothered confidence that you felt miles away from. sitting across from jungwon again, your cream cardigan suddenly felt suffocating, and your wide-leg trousers felt like a clumsy attempt at looking put-together. the food on your plate suddenly looked unappetizing as the old, familiar voice whispered that you were completely out of your league.

​“y/n? hey, you’re getting quiet on me,” jungwon murmured softly, leaning across the table, his dark eyes full of immediate concern. “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

​you stared down at your fingers, tracing the edge of the napkin to keep your voice steady. “she’s… really pretty, jungwon.”

​“she’s an old friend,” he replied instantly, a gentle, reassuring smile breaking across his face. “i promise that's all.”

​you swallowed past the lump in your throat, the overthinking brain refusing to let go of the bone. “did anything… ever happen between you two? back then?”

​“no, never,” jungwon said easily, shaking his head. “we were just kids who grew up on the same block. we played video games and rode bikes. that was literally it.”

​you looked up, your eyes searching his face, silent and unconvinced. jungwon sighed softly, a tiny, amused but fond smile tugging at his lips as he realized he couldn't hide anything from you. he reached across the table, covering your cold hand with his warm one.

​“okay, fine,” he gave in gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. “the only thing that ever happened was that our parents used to tease us. when we were around ten, our moms joked around a lot about how we’d probably end up getting married because we were inseparable. but it was just a silly parents' joke.”

​he meant it as a reassuring confession to show how ridiculous the history was, but inside your chest, the words landed with a heavy, deafening thud.

​married.

​“baby,” jungwon murmured, his hands coming up to gently hold your fingers. he looked down at you, his eyes completely honest. “i'm sorry. i shouldn't have brought that up so carelessly. when we were kids, maybe there was a silly, innocent part of me that had a crush on her back then. but i swear to you, those feelings are completely gone. they've been gone for years.”

​when you wouldn't look at him, your eyes still trained on the ground as you tried to process the heavy spiral in your chest, jungwon didn't get frustrated or tell you that you were overreacting.

​instead, he patiently guided your cold hands up, cupping them securely against his warm cheeks and leaning his face into your soft touch. he tilted his head just enough so that you were forced to see the absolute sincerity in his gaze.

​“our parents made jokes about the past, but i'm looking at my future right now,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your wrist, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath your palms. “it's only you, y/n. it's always just been you.”

“how sure are you about that?”

​“how sure are you about that?” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your own mind. you hated how small you sounded, hated that even with his face leaning so trustingly into your hands, the ugly, loud voice of your anxiety was still trying to convince you that you were a second choice.

​jungwon didn't blink. he didn't sigh in frustration, and he didn't let go of your hands. instead, he just closed his eyes for a brief second, absorbing the raw vulnerability of your question, before looking right back at you with a gaze so steady it felt like an anchor.

​“because when i was ten, i didn't know what loving someone actually meant,” he said softly, his voice incredibly quiet but unshakeable. “i thought it was just sharing toys and living on the same block. but with you? i know exactly what it is.”

​he kissed the palm of your right hand, his lips warm against your cold skin.

​“i'm sure because when something good happens, you're the first person i want to call. i'm sure because even when you get quiet and distant like this, i don't want to be anywhere else in the world except right here, waiting it out with you. minji is a part of a childhood scrapbook, y/n. but you are my real life. you are my today, and you're the only one i want for tomorrow.”

you let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding, the heavy knot in your chest finally loosening under the steady, unshakeable warmth of his words. the ugly, loud whispers of your overthinking brain slowly faded into silence, replaced entirely by the sound of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

​he was right. she was the past, but you were his right now.

​“okay,” you whispered, a small, watery but genuine smile finally breaking across your lips. “i believe you.”

​jungwon smiled back, a look of pure relief crossing his handsome face. he kissed the palm of your hand one more time before lowering your hands, locking his fingers tightly with yours as the two of you began walking down the glowing, tree-lined street once again. the anxiety hadn't completely vanished from your system—it rarely ever did—but with his side pressed warmly against yours, the world felt safe again.

​but your worries did not disappear overnight.

months have passed since that evening of your first date, filled with shared laughter and a love that grew steadier with each passing day. jungwon had proven his words true over and over again, never letting you drift when the overthinking got too loud.

​yet, the mind is a stubborn thing.

jungwon was and is serious about you. every small gesture, every patient reassurance when you got quiet, and every look he gave you proved that you weren't just a passing chapter in his life. so, he decided that it was finally time for his parents to meet you. he wanted you to meet the people who mattered most to him, completely missing the way your stomach instantly dropped in panic.

“my son!”

as soon as the door opened to jungwon’s condo, his mom gave him a tight hug, immediately stepping past him to look at you with a wide, welcoming smile. jungwon laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his mom's shoulders before gently pulling you into the space alongside them.

“mom, let me breathe first,” he teased gently, though his eyes were bright with happiness as he looked between the two of you.

“but i miss my baby!”

this was the first time you can genuinely see jungwon embarrassed, but it was adorable. his cheeks flushed a faint, endearing pink as he cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual cool composure while his dad just chuckled behind them, carrying a small box of side dishes into the kitchen.

all was going well. the conversation flowed effortlessly over the sound of clinking chopsticks and quiet laughter.

“you know, y/n, jungwon has been smiling so much more lately,” his mom mentioned softly, reaching over to squeeze your wrist. “whenever we call him on the weekends, he’s always in a good mood because he’s either on his way to see you or just got back from a date. you’ve been such a wonderful influence on him.”

“thank you, mrs. yang,” you murmured softly, using the title she had warmly insisted on earlier. you felt a genuine sense of relief wash over you.

but that relief was cut short when his father set down his glass, looking between the two of you with a reflective nod. “it’s just so interesting seeing jungwon with someone so quiet and gentle,” his father noted with a thoughtful, friendly smile. “you know, his mother and i always assumed he’d end up with someone loud and full of energy, like minji. they grew up together, so we were just so used to that specific dynamic. but it’s good that he’s learning to appreciate a different kind of presence now.”

learning to appreciate.

your stomach completely dropped. they weren't trying to be mean at all. it was just a casual comment. but hearing his dad say that made your worst fear feel real. to them, minji was the standard: the girl who naturally fit into his life.

suddenly, that creeping feeling was crawling back into your system and into your head.

this option focuses on him noticing y/n's discomfort right away and stepping in to protect her peace.

jungwon, who had been watching you the entire time, saw the exact moment your face went rigid. without a second thought, his hand reached under the table, finding your ice-cold fingers and squeezing them tightly.

“that was a completely different time, dad,” jungwon cut in smoothly, his voice calm but incredibly firm as he looked directly at his father. “who i was when i was ten years old doesn't matter. y/n is my present, and she’s exactly who i like.”

his mother’s eyes widened slightly at jungwon's serious tone, her expression shifting into immediate regret. she looked at you, her face full of genuine worry.

“oh, dear, i’m so sorry,” his mom said softly, reaching across the table to gently touch your arm. “your father didn't mean it that way at all. we are so happy you’re here with him.”

“yes, please forgive an old man's clumsy words, y/n,” his dad added quickly, looking incredibly apologetic. “i only meant that we are glad to see how happy and grounded jungwon is with you. we really didn't mean to compare you.”

you managed to nod politely, offering his parents a tight, small smile. “it’s okay, mrs. yang. mr. yang, really. don’t worry about it.”

you forced yourself to get through the rest of the dinner. you chewed your food without tasting it, laughed at the right moments, and politely helped clear the plates. you didn't storm out, but your anxiety made you want to disappear.

the second the front door clicked shut and his parents finally left, the fake smile dropped from your face. your breath hitched, and the hot tears you had been holding back for the last hour finally slipped down your cheeks.

jungwon turned around immediately, his face full of pain as he stepped toward you. “y/n, baby, hey—”

“jungwon, please,” you whispered, stepping back, your hands trembling as you wrapped them around yourself. you couldn't take his comfort right now. the ugly thoughts were too loud. “i just… i think i need to go home.”

“y/n, look at me. you heard what i told them. she’s not like that to me. why are you pushing me away?”

“because they look at me and they see a lesson!” your voice finally broke, a sharp, painful sob escaping your throat. “they look at me and see someone who is helping you grow up, jungwon. what if that’s all i am to you? what if i’m just the person you’re with until you’re ready to go back to someone like her?”

jungwon flinched as if you had physically struck him. a heavy, painful silence fell over the apartment. he took a slow breath, his dark eyes brimming with a mix of deep hurt and sheer frustration that he couldn't seem to break through the walls of your anxiety.

“is that really all you think of me?” he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, raw whisper. “after all these months, you still think i’m just using you as a placeholder?”

he stepped forward, refusing to let you shrink away this time, his hands gently but firmly capturing your trembling wrists.

“i am not your ex, i’m not your fling, and i’m not jongseong, y/n,” he said, his voice shaking slightly with emotion as he looked directly into your tear-filled eyes. “i don't need a lesson, and i don't need to practice how to love someone. i love you. i chose you, and i am pouring everything i have into us. it hurts so bad that you’re letting a careless comment throw away everything we’ve built.”

you stared at him through a blur of hot tears, his grip on your wrists feeling less like an anchor and more like a trap you desperately needed to escape. you heard his words. he loves youand he isn't your ex. but the chaotic noise inside your head was just too loud. you were completely emotionally exhausted.

“jungwon, please,” you choked out, pulling your wrists back out of his hold. you couldn't look him in the eye, unable to bear the heavy hurt radiating from him. “i can’t… i can’t do this right now. i just really need to go home.”

jungwon stood perfectly still, his hands hanging empty in the space between you. he looked at your trembling shoulders, realizing that no matter what he said right now, your mind was miles away, trapped in a past he hadn't created.

he let out a long, heavy breath, his head dropping for a second before he looked back up at you with soft, tired eyes.

“okay,” he whispered quietly, his voice thick with unvoiced exhaustion. he didn't fight you, and he didn't force you to stay. instead, he reached for his car keys on the counter. “i’ll drive you.”

“no,” you said quickly, stepping back toward the door before he could even take a step toward you. “no, jungwon, please don't.”

jungwon froze, his fingers tightening around his car keys. “y/n, it’s late. i’m not letting you go out there alone like this.”

“i’ll book a ride. i just… if i get in the car with you right now, i feel like i won't be able to breathe,” you confessed, your voice dropping to a desperate, raw whisper. you hated hurting him, but the walls of the apartment already felt like they were crashing down on you. “i need to be completely alone. please.”

the word please seemed to deflate whatever fight jungwon had left in him. he looked at you, seeing the genuine panic in your eyes, and realized that forcing himself to accompany you would only make your spiral worse. it broke his heart, but he put his car keys back down on the counter.

“okay,” he whispered softly, his voice heavy with defeat. “i won't force you. but let me book your ride. let me at least do that so i know you're in a safe car.”

you didn't have the energy to argue. you just stood by the door, hugging yourself tightly as jungwon quietly pulled out his phone, his hands trembling slightly as he booked a ride to your apartment.

when the app showed the driver was outside, he walked over and opened the door for you. he didn't try to hug you or touch you, completely respecting the distance you asked for.

“text me when you get inside your room,” jungwon said, his dark eyes brimming with so much quiet love and unspoken hurt as he watched you step out into the hallway. “even if you don't want to talk to me, just send a dot. please. just let me know you're safe.”

you nodded your head and closed the door. as you walked down the hallway and headed toward the car, you finally let your tears fall, not caring if the receptionist in the lobby or the driver saw you.

***

dear y/n,

you thought you were completely past this after all these months of quiet, steady happiness.

he is good to you, and he has done absolutely nothing wrong. your heart knows he isn't the one who hurt you, but the fear of history repeating itself is paralyzing. you ran away tonight because the walls were closing in, and you are so terrified of ruining something beautiful.

you are standing at a crossroads now, completely exhausted from fighting your own mind. you want to believe you deserve this love, but the urge to protect yourself is pulling you backward. the storm inside you is loud, but will you still find the strength to trust and give it a try?

you texted jungwon that you needed space. you told him you just needed to make sure history wasn't repeating itself.

it took a few long, agonizing minutes before your phone buzzed in your hand.

jungwon: i understand. take all the time you need, y/n. i’m not going anywhere, and i’m not letting go of us. please just rest well tonight.

staring at the glowing screen, a fresh wave of tears blurred your vision. he was giving you the exact reassurance you desperately needed, yet the heavy, unresolved space between you felt wider than ever.

days turned into weeks and the space between you only grew heavier. neither of you reached out, the silence lingering like an unspoken question that you were both too afraid to answer.

you had thought that having this time to yourself would help clear your head and make you feel safe again. instead, the endless quiet only proved that the ghost of your past wasn’t something he was creating—it was something you were still carrying all on your own. missing him had become a constant, dull ache in your chest, making you realize that the walls you built to protect yourself were only keeping you trapped in your own loneliness.

the realization hit you fully when you found yourself staring at an old photo of the two of you, his bright, genuine smile a stark contrast to the hollow ache currently sitting in your chest. you had spent so much time trying to make sure history wasn't repeating itself that you hadn't noticed you were the one sabotaging your own present. it was finally time to stop letting your fear dictate your future, even if your hands were still shaking at the thought of making things right.

but you were too scared. maybe you didn’t deserve that second chance when all he did was be so nice and gentle, giving you the love you had been searching for all along.

on cue, your phone lit up with an unexpected video call notification. you slid the button to answer, clearing your throat before speaking. “jongseong, hey!”

“hey, y/n,” jongseong replied, his face appearing on the screen. he gave you a small wave, looking totally relaxed but a bit curious. “i’m only calling because a few really sad heartbreak tweets popped up on my timeline today, and i noticed you liked one of them. it just felt a little out of character for you. are you doing okay? any problems between you and jungwon?”

you froze, the heavy silence of your room suddenly feeling magnified through the speaker. your throat felt completely tight, and your mind scrambled for a safe lie, a polite excuse, or any regular answer to cover up the mess inside your head. but looking at jongseong’s kind, expectant face on the screen, the wall you had built over the past few weeks finally crumbled.

you let out a shaky breath, looking down at your lap because you couldn't bear to hold his gaze anymore.

“do you know that there are two types of people in the world?” you murmured, your voice cracking slightly as the tears threatened to spill over again. “the lesson and the one. sadly, i’m the lesson.”

“okay…” he said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned closer to the camera. “i’m not following. what do you mean by that, y/n?”

“i mean… some people only enter a person’s life to teach them how to love, how to grow, or how to be better for the next person,” you whispered, a single tear finally slipping down your cheek. “they’re just a temporary chapter. they're the lesson. and then there are the people who get to stay forever. they’re the one.”

you finally looked up at the screen, your eyes completely raw and vulnerable as you stared at him.

“his parents think i'm just a phase, jongseong. they think i'm just someone he's with until he's ready to go back to a blueprint that naturally fits his world. and the worst part is… i’m starting to think they’re right.”

you let out a tired, shaky sigh, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“you know my history, jongseong. you’ve seen firsthand how many times i’ve been left behind, and how much it took for me to piece myself back together,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a soft, exhausted whisper. “i already know exactly how it feels to be the lesson that helps a man grow up for someone else. i’ve been that girl my entire life, and i just… i don’t think i have the strength to go through that all over again with him.”

jongseong went completely quiet on the other end of the line, his expression softening as your words settled over him. he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down for a brief second as if carrying a quiet weight of his own before fixing his steady, grounded gaze back on you.

“y/n, look at me,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that deep, comforting tone. “i know your history. i know exactly how much you've been through, and i'm not going to sit here and tell you that your fears aren’t valid. but you are completely wrong about one thing.”

he leaned a little closer to the camera. “i don't know the guy personally, but i know you. and from everything you’ve ever told me about him, from the way your face lights up when you mention his name, he isn't the type to treat you like a phase. his parents don't get to decide who his 'one' is, y/n. he already chose you, so don't let their words choose his ending for him.”

you looked away from the screen, your bottom lip trembling as his words cut right through your defenses. you wanted so desperately to believe he was right, but the heavy weight in your chest made it so hard to breathe.

“but what if they’re right, jongseong?” you whispered, a fresh tear spilling over as you brought your knees closer to your chest. “it’s so easy to say he chose me now, but choosing someone gets a lot harder when the whole world is pulling you in the opposite direction. i'm just so tired of being the only one who ends up broken when the choice gets too heavy.”

“you told me once, he’s different. you said he was the first person who made you feel safe enough to lower your guard. don't take away his chance to be the one who stays just because everyone else before him left.”

you let out a shaky breath, wiping the dampness from your cheeks with the back of your hand. his words hit a little too close to home, reminding you of the girl who used to be so certain about the boy she loved.

“i did say that, didn't i?” you whispered, a small, incredibly tired smile touching your lips for a split second. you looked back up at the screen, trying to clear the thick emotion from your throat. “i'm sorry for dumping all of this on you out of nowhere. let's not talk about my mess anymore. how are things with you and karina?”

jongseong chuckled softly, the heavy atmosphere completely lifting as he leaned back in his desk chair. “speaking of the devil,” he murmured, just as the sound of a fridge door closing echoed through the speaker, followed by the soft padding of footsteps.

a second later, karina leaned into the frame, damp hair wrapped in a towel and a plate of sliced fruit in her hand. “tell her i say hi! and tell her you haven't washed the dishes from breakfast yet,” she teased, popping a piece of apple into her mouth before pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head and walking back to the living room.

jongseong rolled his eyes fondly, watching her leave before fixing his gaze back on you. “see? we’re surviving, even if we’re constantly stressed about finals and rent. our parents definitely had their doubts about us moving in together so early, but we just decided to figure it out as we go. it’s not perfect, but it’s real. you and jungwon can figure it out too, if you just give him the chance to try.”

“thanks, jongseong,” you murmured, the tight knot of anxiety in your chest finally unravelling into a sudden, desperate wave of clarity.

“anytime, buddy,” he replied with a warm, final nod.

and with that, you both ended the call.

before the fear could creep back in, you immediately grabbed a coat from the chair and shoved your feet into your crocs. you unlocked the deadbolt with trembling fingers and swung the door open, but what you didn’t expect was jungwon standing right there, catching his breath with his hair sweaty, probably from running all the way to you.

“h-hi.”

“hi.”

a breathless, fragile silence settled over the hallway. jungwon looked down, his gaze lingering on your feet tucked into your crocs, and then you looked at his messy, sweat-dampened hair. despite the heavy heartbreak that had been hovering over you both for weeks, a tiny, incredibly watery laugh slipped past your lips.

jungwon’s lips twitched into a faint, exhausted smile, though his eyes stayed completely soft and intense.

“where were you going in such a hurry?” he asked softly, his voice still a little breathless.

“i was… i was going to you,” you confessed, your voice cracking as the tears finally spilled over, blurring your vision.

jungwon’s eyes softened completely, his hand moving from your wrist to gently cup your cheek, his thumb catching the tear before it could fall. “to me? why?”

“because i’m so tired of being the girl who only exists to teach good men how to love someone else,” you choked out, your hands anchoring onto the fabric of his jacket because your knees felt weak. “i don’t want you to be my temporary chapter, jungwon. i don’t want this to be another heartbreaking lesson. i know you’re the one. i know it. and it terrifies me, but i was running to tell you that i don’t want to let you go.”

jungwon stared at you, completely frozen as his usual composure totally shattered. a glassy sheen quickly took over his sharp eyes, his bottom lip trembling just a fraction as the heavy unshed tears made him look incredibly vulnerable in the dim hallway light. he looked so profoundly undone by your confession that he couldn't even find his voice to speak.

seeing him look at you like that suddenly made a wave of intense self-consciousness rush over you.

you let out a wet, breathless laugh, instantly dropping your gaze to his chest as your cheeks flushed deep red. “oh god,” you muttered, your voice cracking as you weakly hid your face against his jacket. “i can’t believe i sound so silly saying that. it sounded so cringe, i'm sorry—”

jungwon wasted no time in closing the gap between the two of you and crashed his lips onto yours. compared to your first kiss, this one was full of pure yearning and a desperate, breathless relief that made your knees give out completely.

he kissed you until the lingering taste of your tears melted away, his hands moving up to cup your face so tightly, as if he were physically anchoring you to him. when he finally pulled back just a fraction, his forehead remained rested against yours, both of your breaths coming out in hot, uneven puffs in the quiet hallway.

“it’s not silly,” jungwon whispered fiercely, his voice raspy and thick with the tears he was trying not to spill. he blinked, a stray drop finally escaping and trailing down his flushed cheek as he looked deep into your eyes. “i ran all the way here because i felt like i was suffocating without you. i ran to tell you that i don't want to lose you. i'm not letting you go.”

you could only nod as a fresh wave of tears blurred your vision. your fingers gripping his shoulders so hard your knuckles turned white.

jungwon smiled weakly, his thumbs gently wiping away the new tears on your cheeks before leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, right at your hairline. he kept his arms securely locked around you, anchoring you against his warm chest until your breathing finally synced up with his.

“i mean it, y/n,” he murmured into your hair, his voice steadier now but still filled with that fierce determination. “no more lessons. we're figuring this out together.”

***

dear, y/n,

in this world, there are two types of people: the one and the lesson. you were the latter. but right now, you’re the first.

you spent so much time convincing yourself that you were only built to be a temporary chapter, a stepping stone for someone else's perfect blueprint. but you don't have to stay broken just to teach a good man how to love. you can be the one who gets to stay, too. and you finally found your 'the one'—the boy who ran all the way to your door in the middle of the night just to prove he was never going to let you go.

three months later.

“jungwon, if you don't turn that stove down right now, we are going to set the fire alarm off for the third time this month,” you laughed, leaning against the counter of your apartment as you watched him frantically wave a kitchen towel in front of a smoking pan.

“i have it completely under control!” he insisted, though his cheeks were flushed a soft pink and his sharp eyes were wide with adorable panic. he quickly slid the pan off the burner, letting out a dramatic sigh of relief before turning around to face you. his hair was slightly messy, a soft contrast to the structured, neat look he usually wore around his family, and he was wearing an super oversized hoodie that you were pretty sure actually belonged to you.

you walked over, entirely unable to hide the fond smile on your face as you reached up to fix a stray strand of hair falling over his forehead. “you’re supposed to be the responsible college student, remember? what happened to the planner jungwon?”

“the plan got complicated,” jungwon murmured, his tone instantly softening the second your fingers brushed against his skin. without missing a beat, his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him with that effortless, natural familiarity that had become your favorite part of every single day. “besides, i was distracted looking at you.”

“so cringe,” you teased, echoing the exact words from the night he ran to you, but your heart still did that familiar, happy flip against your ribs.

jungwon chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated against your chest as he leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. “i told you three months ago,” he whispered against your lips, his thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “it’s not cringe if it’s real. now kiss me before the smoke alarm actually goes off.”

the uber drops you off at the curb and you nearly forget to close the door behind you, giggling at your own clumsiness as you wave goodbye to the driver who definitely thinks you're a mess.

you are a mess. a happy, warm, spinning mess.

your heels click unevenly against the pavement as you make your way to the front door, fumbling with your keys for a solid three minutes before realizing you never actually locked it this morning.

jungwon is going to lecture you about that tomorrow, you think, but right now you can't bring yourself to care because the door swings open and there he is.

he's on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, glasses sliding down his nose, hair sticking up in seven different directions from where he's been running his hands through it.

he looks up when you enter, and his face does that thing it always does when you come home, this soft rearranging of features into something like relief, like love.

"hey," he says, closing the laptop. "i was getting worried. it's almost two."

"sorry," you sing song, kicking off your shoes and almost falling over in the process. "lost track of time. soojin kept buying shots."

he stands, approaching you with the kind of caution usually reserved for wild animals, and you realize you must look as disheveled as you feel. your hair is probably escaping its clips and your lipstick is definitely smeared.

"how many shots?" he asks, taking your purse from your shoulder and setting it on the entry table.

"enough," you say, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in his collarbone. he smells like fabric softener and the vanilla candle you keep in the bedroom and something uniquely him, something warm and grounding.

"enough to miss you a lot."

his hands settle on your waist, steadying you. "you saw me this morning."

"still missed you," you mumble against his skin. "missed you every second. kept thinking about your face. your stupid pretty face."

he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest against yours. "come on, let's get you to bed."

"no," you protest, tightening your grip. "want to stay here. want to hold you."

"you can hold me in bed," he reasons, but he's already giving in, wrapping his arms around your back and swaying slightly with you in the entryway "you're going to have a headache tomorrow."

"worth it," you declare, pulling back to look at him. the room tilts a little, so you grip his shoulders harder. "you're so pretty. did i tell you you're pretty?"

"you mentioned my stupid pretty face, yes."

"no but like," you cup his cheeks in your hands, squishing his face until his lips pucker. "you're the prettiest. the prettiest boy. i'm so lucky. how did i get so lucky?"

he tries to speak but your thumbs are pressing against his mouth, so he just makes a muffled sound that you interpret as agreement.

"exactly," you say, nodding solemnly. "exactly. i'm lucky. you're lucky. we're lucky together."

"okay, lightweight," he says, gently extracting your hands from his face and bringing them to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

"let's get you some water and medicine before you declare your undying love to the coat rack."

"the coat rack wishes," you sniff, but you let him guide you toward the kitchen, leaning heavily against his side.

he settles you at the kitchen island and you watch him move around the space, filling a glass with water, finding the ibuprofen in the cabinet, wetting a paper towel. he moves with such intention, such care, and you feel your chest ache with the sheer volume of your affection for him.

"here," he says, pressing the glass into your hands. "drink all of it."

"yes sir," you salute, spilling a little on your shirt.

he sighs, but he's smiling, that gummy smile that makes your heart stutter.

you drink the water because he asked you to, because you would probably drink poison if he looked at you like that, all soft and fond and patient.

"medicine," he says, holding out two pills.

"don't need it," you argue. "feel fine. feel great. feel like i could run a marathon."

"you could barely walk to the kitchen," he points out. "take the medicine. future you will thank me."

you take the pills, chasing them with the rest of your water, and then he's there with the paper towel, wiping at your mouth with the kind of tenderness that makes you want to cry.

"love you," you say, catching his wrist. "love you so much. like, so much. like if love was a thing you could measure, i would have the most. i would win. gold medal in loving jungwon."

"that's very impressive," he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "you're definitely winning."

"really?"

"really. no contest."

you beam at him, all loose and happy and full of feelings that the alcohol has made impossible to filter. "good. because you're my favorite. my favorite person. my favorite everything."

he takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and starts walking toward the bedroom. you follow, unsteady but unwilling to let go of him, your anchor in the spinning room.

"you're going to regret this in the morning," he warns, pulling back the covers and helping you sit on the edge of the bed.

"never," you say, watching him unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs. "could never regret you."

he pauses, hands on your calves, and looks up at you. his eyes are dark in the dim light of the bedroom, serious in a way that sobers you slightly.

"you say the nicest things when you're drunk," he murmurs.

"mean them," you insist. "mean them all the time. just say them more when i'm tipsy."

he finishes helping you out of your clothes, replacing them with one of his oversized tshirts that smells like him, and then he's guiding you under the covers, tucking you in like you're something precious.

"stay," you say, catching his hand as he moves to stand. "please. want to sleep with you holding me."

he doesn't hesitate, just kicks off his sweatpants and climbs in beside you, pulling you against his chest. you curl into him immediately, leg thrown over his hip, arm draped across his waist, face buried in the hollow of his throat.

"this okay?" he asks, stroking your hair.

"perfect," you sigh. "you're perfect. did i say that? you're perfect."

"you might have mentioned it."

"good. because you are. take such good care of me. always taking care of me."

"want to," he says quietly, lips brushing your hairline. "love taking care of you."

"even when i'm messy?"

"especially when you're messy," he admits, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "you're cute when you're messy. all soft and honest. tell me everything you're thinking."

"embarrassing," you groan.

"never," he promises. "never embarrassing. i like knowing what you're feeling. even if it's just that you think i'm pretty."

"stupid pretty," you correct, yawning.

"stupid pretty," he agrees.

the room is still spinning but it's slower now, gentler, like you're floating on a lazy river instead of being tossed in waves. his hand is tracing patterns on your back, up and down, circles and figure eights, and you feel yourself drifting, anchored by his heartbeat against your palm.

"jungwon?" you whisper.

"yeah?"

"thank you for waiting up."

"nowhere else i'd be," he says simply.

"love you," you say again, because it bears repeating, because you want him to know it in every cell of his body, because you're tipsy and sentimental and he deserves to hear it a thousand times.

"love you too," he says, and you feel the words vibrate through his chest. "go to sleep, baby. i'll be right here."

"promise?"

"promise."

you believe him. you always believe him. he's never given you a reason not to.

⋆˚✿˖°

You were lost in it.

The stretch, the heat, the way he filled you so perfectly. Your fingers dug into his back, breathy moans slipping out as pleasure built higher and higher.

And then it hit.

Without warning, your neck jerked sharply to the side, once, twice.

Then harder.

Your arm flailed out suddenly, knocking into his shoulder.

Your leg twitched violently, kicking against the mattress.

Another harsh tic rippled through your shoulder and head, making your whole upper body spasm.

Jay froze instantly.

“Baby?” His voice was breathless but concerned.

He stopped moving, holding himself still inside you as he lifted his head to look at you. His eyes widened when he saw your face.

The way your head kept jerking, your arm flapping uncontrollably, your expression a mix of pleasure and sudden frustration.

Another strong tic hit, making your torso twist sharply underneath him. You let out a strained sound, half-moan, half-grunt of annoyance.

“Fuck— Jay, I’m sorry—” you managed to gasp out between tics, your voice tight. Your free hand grabbed at the sheets as your body continued to move on its own.

He didn’t pull out. Instead, he carefully shifted his weight, one hand gently but firmly pressing on your hip to help ground you.

His other hand came up to cup the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek even as your head jerked again.

“Hey, hey… breathe,” he murmured, voice steady even though you could see the surprise in his eyes.

This was new to him.

You’d never told him about your tourette’s. Not like this, not in such an vulnerable, exposed moment.

Another big tic made your arm fly up. Jay caught it gently, intertwining your fingers with his and pressing your hand into the pillow above your head.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your twitching cheek. “I’ve got you. Just let it happen, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stayed buried inside you, warm and full, but completely still waiting, patient, his body a solid weight keeping you anchored while the tics rolled through you in waves.

His eyes never left your face, full of concern… and something softer.

Something that looked a lot like love.

The tics kept coming in waves. They were strong, unpredictable, and frustrating.

Your head jerked hard to the left again, then your shoulder twitched violently, causing your whole upper body to twist underneath Jay. A sharp, involuntary sound escaped your throat.

Jay stayed completely still inside you, breathing steady. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t look disgusted or weirded out.

Instead, he gently lowered more of his weight onto you. Not crushing, just grounding and wrapped both arms around you, holding you through it.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “You’re safe. Just let it out, baby. Don’t fight it.”

One of your arms flailed again, smacking lightly against his back.

Jay caught it without hesitation, threading his fingers through yours and pinning it gently to the mattress beside your head. His thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles on the back of your hand.

“I didn’t… I didn’t tell you,” you gasped between tics, voice shaky with embarrassment and lingering pleasure. “I have Tourette’s… it gets worse when I’m… overwhelmed. Or excited. Or—”

Another strong tic made your neck snap and your leg kick out. J

ay absorbed the movement easily, hips still pressed flush against yours, keeping himself deep inside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting your chin so you’d look at him. His eyes were warm, a little glassy with arousal but full of tenderness. “You don’t have to explain right now. We can talk about it later, okay? Right now I just want you to feel good.”

He waited until the biggest wave passed, then started moving again, slower this time, deeper, more intentional. Every thrust was careful, like he was learning how to love you through this.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth as your head jerked again. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s… good,” you managed, voice breaking into a moan as he hit that perfect spot. Even with the tics still flickering through your body, the pleasure was building again, hotter and more intense because of how safe he made you feel.

Jay groaned quietly when you clenched around him, his forehead dropping to yours. “Fuck, you’re still so tight… so perfect.”

He kept one hand holding yours, the other sliding between your bodies to rub gentle circles on your clit, helping you chase the edge even as your free arm twitched and your shoulder rolled.

Every time a tic hit, he adjusted, shifting his weight, kissing wherever your body moved, whispering soft praises against your skin.

“You’re doing so good, baby… so fucking good for me.”

The combination of his steady thrusts, his voice, and the way he held you through every unpredictable movement finally pushed you over.

You came hard, body shaking with both pleasure and tics, crying out his name as your muscles clenched around him.

Jay followed right after, burying himself deep with a low, broken moan, hips stuttering as he filled you up.

He stayed inside you afterwards, arms wrapped tight around your trembling frame, pressing soft kisses all over your face even when your head jerked and your shoulder twitched against him.

After a few long minutes, when your breathing finally evened out and the tics calmed into smaller, occasional movements, he pulled back just enough to look at you.

His thumb gently wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. You hadn’t even realized you were crying from the intensity.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice full of care. “Was that… too much?”

You shook your head, still a little shy. “No… it was perfect. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. It’s embarrassing sometimes.”

Jay leaned down and kissed you slow and sweet, like he was pouring every ounce of affection into it.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered against your lips. “I want all of you. The tics, the flailing, the sounds… everything. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

He stayed buried inside you, holding you close as your body finally relaxed completely against him.

“It's okay, baby. I love you.”

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who gently pulls you into his lap or chest whenever you're resting on the couch, using his hands to rub your back or your stomach with a warm, steady pressure to help soothe the cramps.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who takes over any small chores or tasks you're too tired to handle, telling you to just lie down and rest while he handles everything with a soft "Don't worry about it, baby, I've got it."

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who drops slow, reassuring kisses on your forehead or the crown of your head whenever you're feeling especially sensitive or irritable, letting you ramble or just stay silent without any pressure.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who sets up the perfect cozy environment for you to rest, bringing you your heaviest blankets, heating up a water bottle, and putting on a movie or a playlist you love so you can just fade out and relax.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who never, ever makes you feel like your pain or your mood is an inconvenience, listening to you complain about the cramps with absolute patience and a soft, understanding look because he knows it's something entirely out of your control.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who can't help but let out a soft, amused chuckle when you start venting about how unfair it is to be a woman and wishing you were a man instead, gently pressing a kiss to your temple to quiet your adorable rants.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who becomes fiercely attentive to the smallest details, making sure you have absolutely everything you need within arm's reach, so you don't have to lift a single finger.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who takes your nutrition very seriously during these days, gently teasing you if you try to skip a meal because of the discomfort and personally making sure you eat something warm, delicious, and comforting.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who loves to completely spoil you when you're feeling low, running his fingers through your hair and murmuring sweet nonsense until he manages to distract you from the pain.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who will softly hum or sing your favorite melody in that beautiful, comforting voice of his if the cramps are keeping you awake, holding you close against his chest until he feels your breathing finally slow down into a peaceful sleep.

𔓕 · 𝗯𝗳!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 who is, at his very core, the epitome of a gentle, empathetic, and deeply considerate partner; he takes immense pride in fulfilling his role, ensuring you always feel protected, supported, respected and loved during your most vulnerable days ♡.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 :

⎯⎯ @taty-02z : @evanheestarz : @baekgufx : @rawwerewolfthunder : @rayofsunshineeee : @nmoonzs : @saccharinezennie : @ikonkkomi : @jakeycakeys : @hazeheart12 : @enzsstuff01 : @en-muse : @oopshee : @heeszesty :

The dressing room had always been the liveliest place in the building before a performance. It was an organized sort of chaos, one that every member had grown accustomed to over the years.

Music leaked from someone's speaker, blending with the muffled cheers of fans filtering through the concrete walls outside. Stylists hurried from one chair to another with curling irons, makeup brushes, and armfuls of freshly steamed stage outfits. Managers called out reminders that no one was listening to. Laughter erupted every few seconds over conversations that constantly overlapped one another.

It was noisy, comfortably so. The familiar disorder had always settled your nerves before stepping onto a stage. Today, however, the sounds surrounding you felt strangely distant, as though you were hearing everything through layers of water.

James occupied the center of the room, unable to remain still for longer than a few seconds. Even while waiting for final touch-ups, his feet instinctively traced fragments of the choreography across the floor, lips silently counting each beat beneath his breath.

"Five, six, seven..." He pivoted too sharply, his elbow narrowly colliding with Martin's shoulder for what had to be the third time in less than five minutes.

"Bro," Martin sighed, taking a step back before another collision could happen. "Watch where you're going."

"I am watching."

"No," Martin deadpanned, adjusting the rings decorating nearly every finger. "You're literally walking into me."

James blinked. "...Was I?"

"Yes bro."

"Oh." Two seconds passed, then he absentmindedly drifted forward again.

Martin caught himself before impact and simply stared. "...Okay I’m taking a break."

Meanwhile, Juhoon remained secluded in the quietest corner of the room, entirely detached from the surrounding commotion. His earbuds muted the world's constant chatter as he methodically stretched his shoulders, neck, and wrists with practiced precision. His movements were slow, measured, deliberate, almost meditative.

Across from him, Keonho had somehow managed to sprawl himself across three separate chairs as though they had been specifically designed for his personal comfort. “I just finished my obby in Roblox!" he announced dramatically to absolutely no one.

"Are you done with your break yet?" Seonghyeon replied without looking up.

"Nah, I’m tired."

"You’re just being lazy bro."

"No I’m not, my legs have been hurting since this morning."

Seonghyeon sighed before casually tossing the makeup sponge in his hand. It struck Keonho directly in the forehead. "...Ow."

Another toss directly at Keonho. "Stop."

"No."

"Seriously."

"No."

"Seonghyeon."

"No."

"Martin," Keonho whined, sitting halfway upright. "Tell him to stop."

Martin didn't bother lifting his gaze. Instead, he continued straightening the silver rings adorning his fingers with meticulous concentration.

"You’re grown, just throw something back at him."

A brief silence settled over them. "...You’re right," Keonho admitted.

The room dissolved into another wave of laughter. Ordinarily, you would have been laughing alongside them, you would have thrown another makeup sponge at Keonho yourself, you would have teased James for rehearsing choreography every waking second or stolen one of Juhoon's earbuds just to see him finally react.

This room had never simply been a dressing room, it had become home. A sanctuary hidden behind backstage hallways where exhaustion transformed into excitement, where nervous anticipation dissolved into jokes, and where every performance began long before anyone stepped beneath the blinding stage lights.

Yet today, everything felt oddly disconnected, like you were standing several feet away from your own body, merely observing the scene instead of existing within it. Quietly, you tugged the oversized hoodie closer around yourself, your fingers instinctively gripping the sleeves until the fabric concealed most of your hands.

It wasn't because you were cold. Although, maybe you were. It was difficult to tell anymore, your body couldn't seem to decide whether it was freezing or burning alive. A dull ache settled behind your eyes, pulsing relentlessly with every beat of your heart. Each throb radiated deeper into your skull until even the fluorescent lights overhead felt painfully bright.

Swallowing became an ordeal. Your throat felt scraped raw, every movement accompanied by a sharp sting that refused to disappear no matter how often you reached for your water bottle. Your muscles protested even the smallest motions, simply sitting upright required far more effort than it should have. Every joint felt unbearably heavy, as though invisible weights had been fastened to your limbs overnight.

Sleep hadn't helped, medicine hadn't helped. Nothing had, you knew exactly why. The moment you'd opened your eyes that morning, you knew. Your forehead had been burning. Your entire body had shivered beneath blankets despite the overwhelming heat radiating from your skin.

A fever, and not a mild one.

Your manager had suggested resting, the company doctor had advised you not to overexert yourself. Even looking in the mirror had been enough to tell you something was wrong. Your complexion lacked its usual color, faint shadows settled beneath your eyes, and the exhaustion clinging to your expression couldn't be disguised with even the most skilled makeup artist.

Under any other circumstances, you would've stayed in bed without hesitation. But today wasn't an ordinary schedule, today was one of the largest university festivals of the year. Thousands upon thousands of fans had gathered hours before the gates even opened. Multiple cameras would broadcast the performances live. Special collaboration stages, months of relentless rehearsals, countless sleepless nights, endless practice until every movement became instinct.

Too many people had worked too hard for you to disappear because of a fever. There wasn't a universe where you would willingly miss it. So you smiled. You laughed at the appropriate moments, you nodded through conversations, you answered questions with just enough enthusiasm to avoid suspicion, you performed normalcy almost as carefully as you performed on stage. No one needed another problem to worry about.

"...You okay?" The voice interrupted your thoughts.

You slowly lifted your head, and Juhoon removed one earbud. His usually serene expression hadn't changed much, but his gaze remained fixed on you with quiet attentiveness.

"Hm?"

"You've been awfully quiet."

"Oh." You forced a small smile. "I'm just... sleepy."

He studied you carefully, as though attempting to piece together something you hadn't said aloud. "...Did you actually sleep last night?"

The question lingered between you. You hesitated for the smallest fraction of a second before answering. "I slept fine…."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't entirely a lie either. You had slept, just not well. Not peacefully, not in any way that resembled actual rest.

Juhoon's eyes remained on yours for another lingering moment. Long enough that your heartbeat subtly quickened, long enough for you to wonder whether he had noticed the faint flush spreading across your face... or the slight tremor hidden within your hands.

Then, he simply gave a quiet nod. "...Okay." Without another word, he placed the earbud back in his ear and resumed stretching.

The conversation ended there, you released a breath so quietly that no one noticed.

You were safe. At least, for now.

Except...

Your performance wasn't nearly as convincing as you believed it to be. You had spent the entire morning carefully constructing an illusion, masking every symptom behind practiced smiles and casual responses, convincing yourself that if you acted naturally enough, no one would question it.

Unfortunately, the people surrounding you knew you far too well.

Especially when something felt even slightly off. By the time rehearsal began, the enormous stage was already buzzing with activity.

Towering LED screens illuminated the venue in shifting colors while technicians hurried across the platform adjusting cameras, checking microphones, and shouting cues through their headsets. Dancers occupied every corner, running through formations one final time before the audience would eventually flood the festival grounds.

Music thundered through the stadium speakers, powerful enough that it vibrated beneath your shoes. Usually, that familiar bass settles your nerves. Today, it only made the pounding inside your skull significantly worse. You inhaled quietly. Just one rehearsal, then the real performance. You could manage that, you had to.

The opening track began. Your body moved almost entirely on instinct, years of relentless practice carrying you through each sequence despite the overwhelming fatigue weighing down every muscle. Every step, every turn, every transition had long since become engraved into your memory. Yet your concentration continued slipping through your grasp.

The choreography blurred together, the lights overhead seemed unusually brilliant, forcing your eyes to squint against their intensity, the relentless heat radiating from your skin contrasted strangely with the persistent chill creeping through your fingertips.

You blinked for only a fraction of a second, and that was enough. Instead of moving forward on the second count, your foot landed a beat too late.

Most people probably wouldn't have even noticed. The formation remained intact, the audience certainly never would have realized. But someone did, Martin. His awareness during rehearsals bordered on frightening. The music hadn't even finished before he turned toward you, eyebrows subtly knitting together.

"You normally step two counts earlier."

You glanced toward the mark on the floor before offering an apologetic smile. "...I know."

Silence lingered for a brief moment, Martin studied your expression. "You okay?"

The question arrived so naturally it almost caught you off guard. You answered just as quickly. "Yeah."

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted over you once more, taking in details you desperately wished would remain unnoticed. The slight sluggishness in your movements, the faint flush coloring your cheeks despite the cool air inside the venue, the way your breathing seemed just a little heavier than usual.

"...You sure?"

"Mhm." You smiled, the exact smile you'd been giving everyone since waking up that morning.

Martin simply stared. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He had known you for years, long enough to distinguish every genuine smile from every fabricated one. This was definitely the latter. Still, he chose not to press the issue. "...Okay."

Nearly ten minutes later, rehearsal paused for a short break. The music abruptly faded, replaced by scattered conversations as dancers wandered toward the sides of the stage to catch their breath. Staff members quickly distributed towels while stylists rushed in for last-minute touch-ups.

James, unsurprisingly, had volunteered to pass around bottled water before anyone else could. "You get one."

He tossed a bottle toward Seonghyeon. "You too."

Another landed neatly in Juhoon's lap.

"Keonho."

"What?"

"Drink water."

"I'm not thirsty."

"I wasn't asking."

"So bossy…."

James ignored the complaint altogether before continuing down the line until he eventually stopped in front of you. "Here."

You accepted the bottle with a quiet smile. "Thanks."

Your fingers brushed against his hand for barely a second and James froze. "...Whoa."

You blinked. "What?"

He instinctively reached forward again, lightly catching your wrist before you could pull away. His eyebrows lifted almost immediately. "...Your hands."

You looked down. "My hands?"

"They're freezing."

You let out a small laugh, attempting to sound unconcerned. "They're fine."

James shook his head almost instantly. "No."

His grip wasn't tight, just enough to keep your hand from slipping away. He rubbed his thumb lightly across the back of your knuckles, his expression gradually shifting from confusion to unmistakable concern. "They're literally ice cold."

You gently withdrew your hand before anyone else noticed. "It's probably just the air conditioning."

James instinctively glanced toward the massive ventilation units mounted high above the stage. "...The air conditioning doesn't make someone's hands that cold."

You shrugged as casually as you could manage. "I guess I just get cold easily."

His lips pressed into a thin line. That explanation didn't satisfy him in the slightest. James wasn't usually the most observant person in the room. In fact, he often overlooked things everyone else noticed immediately.

But whenever it came to the members, especially you. His instincts rarely failed him. Something wasn't right, he could feel it. "...If you say so," he murmured at last.

Backstage descended into complete pandemonium as the final countdown approached. The corridors that had seemed relatively calm only moments ago were suddenly overflowing with movement.

Production staff hurried from one end of the venue to the other, clipboards clutched tightly against their chests as they called out last-minute instructions over the deafening noise. Stylists darted between artists with remarkable efficiency, adjusting collars, smoothing wrinkles, reapplying makeup that had begun to fade beneath the relentless stage lights, and carefully securing in-ear monitors so they wouldn't shift during the performance.

Managers moved with equal urgency, repeatedly checking schedules and communicating through crackling headsets. "Three minutes."

"Camera three is ready."

"Pyrotechnics are confirmed."

"Stand by."

Every announcement blended into another until individual voices became impossible to distinguish. Beyond the heavy backstage curtains, the audience was already roaring. Thousands upon thousands of excited fans filled the stadium, their collective cheers reverberating through the walls with enough force to make the floor tremble beneath your feet.

Ordinarily, hearing them would have filled you with anticipation. It was the sound every performer longed for. Today,  It felt overwhelming. Your heartbeat echoed relentlessly inside your ears, drowning out nearly everything else.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It almost seemed louder than the crowd itself.

The fluorescent lighting hanging overhead appeared unusually brilliant, forcing you to squint against its harsh intensity.  Heat spread uncomfortably beneath your skin until it seemed impossible to breathe. Then, without warning a violent chill coursed through your body.

The abrupt contrast made your teeth threaten to chatter, your vision wavered only for the briefest moment. The hallway tilted ever so slightly before righting itself again. Instinctively, your hand shot forward, fingers curling tightly around the edge of a nearby equipment table.

Cold metal pressed against your palm. You inhaled slowly, steady. Just steady.

Don't panic now, not when you had made it this far. One performance, just one. After that, you could collapse into bed and sleep for an entire day if necessary. You only had to hold yourself together for another hour.

"...You look pale." 

The voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned your head, Keonho had somehow materialized beside you without making a sound. He wasn't joking. Instead, his usual playful grin had been replaced by something considerably more concerned.

You forced an easy smile. "I always look pale."

"No."

His answer came almost immediately. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face with surprising concentration. "You look..." His sentence trailed off as though he couldn't quite find the right comparison. His eyebrows gradually pulled together. "...Like you’re about to die."

Despite everything, a quiet laugh escaped you. almost involuntary. "I promise I'm okay."

Keonho didn't return your smile. "You don't sound okay."

"I'm fine."

"You've been saying that all day."

"Because I am."

His eyes narrowed. "You've coughed six times in the last ten minutes."

You blinked. "...I did not."

"I’ve counted."

"I—" A tickle blossomed deep inside your throat. You barely had enough time to turn your head before another cough escaped. then another. You pressed your fist against your mouth, attempting to muffle the sound. It didn't help much.

Silence followed.

Keonho slowly folded his arms across his chest. His expression became almost unbearably smug. "...Seven."

You stared at him.

He lifted a single eyebrow. "Busted."

"...You're actually counting?"

"I started after the third one."

"You seriously have nothing better to do?"

"Apparently not."

You rolled your eyes, grateful that he had shifted the conversation back toward something familiar, even if only briefly.

Before either of you could say another word— "CORTIS!" The stage manager's voice rang throughout the hallway. "Two minutes!"

Instantly, the atmosphere transformed. Casual conversations vanished, the joking stopped, every member instinctively gravitated toward one another until all six of you stood together in a tight circle just beyond the stage entrance.

Martin extended his hand first, without hesitation, everyone stacked theirs on top. James, Juhoon, Keonho, Seonghyeon, then yours.

Martin glanced around the circle, making eye contact with each member before speaking. “Our usual.”

"Don’t forget our lyrics." Seonghyeon added without missing a beat.

"Don’t forget our formation." Keonho dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

"And absolutely no embarrassing fancams" James immediately grinned.

"No injuries." Martin nodded.

James snorted. "That’s hard to get through."

"It isn't."

"It really is."

Seonghyeon pointed directly at Keonho. "He’d probably break a finger.”

A chorus of laughter erupted almost instantly. You laughed too, only for a moment. The sound disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. Your smile faded before anyone else seemed to notice almost. But Martin did. His gaze lingered on you for just a fraction longer than usual.

Long enough to notice how quickly your expression had fallen, long enough to recognize the exhaustion hiding beneath your carefully maintained composure. Concern flickered across his features before he quietly asked, "...Ready?"

You swallowed against the persistent ache in your throat, then nodded. "...Ready."

The stage doors opened, an explosion of brilliant light flooded your vision, the deafening roar of the audience crashed over you like an ocean wave. Thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands. An endless sea of illuminated light sticks stretched across, shimmering beneath the night sky like constellations brought down to earth.

For one breathtaking moment, everything else disappeared. The fever, the dizziness, the aching muscles, the relentless pounding inside your head. Adrenaline surged through your bloodstream with overwhelming intensity, silencing every protest your body had been making throughout the day.

The opening notes echoed through the stadium, your body moved before your mind had the chance to think. Months of repetition took over. Every count, every transition, every formation, every lyric, every expression practiced endlessly inside mirrored rehearsal rooms. Muscle memory carried you effortlessly across the stage.

You danced, each movement appeared just as sharp as it had during rehearsal. You sang, your voice remained remarkably steady despite the burning sensation lingering in your throat. You smiled, bright enough that cameras captured nothing but confidence.

You waved toward every section of the audience, fans screamed your name until their voices became indistinguishable from one another. To everyone watching, you looked perfectly fine. The audience noticed nothing unusual, the broadcast cameras captured flawless angles, the MCs enthusiastically praised the performance from the sidelines.

Not a single person outside the group would have guessed you had woken up with a high fever. Your performance was nearly immaculate, because the people who had spent years standing beside you didn't need obvious signs. They recognized the smallest deviations. 

Halfway through the second song, Seonghyeon caught it first. Your breathing. Usually, your inhalations remained controlled regardless of how demanding the choreography became. His eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary before returning to the choreography.

By the beginning of the third chorus, Keonho noticed something different. Normally, during formation changes, you'd instinctively glance toward whichever member happened to be beside you. A quick smile, a playful expression, some tiny interaction reserved for fans paying close attention.

This time, your eyes never left the floor markings. You weren't looking at anyone, you were concentrating entirely on maintaining your balance. On staying upright, mn making sure your legs continued carrying you through each step.

During the final chorus, James happened to catch your hand while the choreography briefly brought you shoulder-to-shoulder, only for a split second.

Martin saw your eyelids flutter noticeably slower than usual, like keeping them open had suddenly become difficult. Then, the cameras shifted toward another member.

Barely noticeable to anyone else, Juhoon saw your hand briefly press against your stomach as you lowered your head, your fingers tightening against the fabric of your outfit for the shortest moment before smoothly returning to your side.

The movement lasted less than two seconds, the cameras missed it, the audience missed it, everyone else missed it. Your members didn't. One by one, the same realization settled over each of them. 

Something was very wrong.

The final note echoed across the stadium. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though time itself had paused. Then, an explosion of silver and sapphire confetti erupted from above, cascading through the air in shimmering waves that reflected the stadium lights like falling stars.

The audience's cheers swelled into an almost deafening roar. Thousands of voices merged into one overwhelming chorus, chanting the group's name with unwavering enthusiasm. It was impossible to distinguish individual faces anymore. All you could see was a sea of glowing light sticks stretching endlessly into the darkness.

Everything you had worked toward for years stood before you. You forced another brilliant smile, the kind fans expected, the kind cameras loved.

You raised your arm, waving toward every section of the audience despite the growing ache radiating through your shoulders. "Thank you!" Your voice carried through the microphone with practiced warmth. "We had so much fun tonight!"

The members stood shoulder-to-shoulder, bowing deeply toward the crowd one final time. "Thank you for coming!"

More cheers, more applause. Another wave, another smile, another carefully maintained illusion. Every movement demanded far more energy than you had left. Your vision blurred briefly as you straightened from the bow, you blinked until the world sharpened again.

Just a little longer, only a few more steps.

The cameras followed the group as everyone began making their way toward the backstage entrance, continuing to wave until the very last possible second. Your smile never faltered, not once.

The instant you disappeared behind the towering stage curtains, everything collapsed. The overwhelming rush of adrenaline that had carried you through the performance vanished with astonishing speed, abandoning your body all at once.

The exhaustion returned tenfold, your hearing dulled, the voices surrounding you became muffled, as though someone had wrapped thick fabric around your ears, the hallway tilted.

No… It wasn't the hallway, it was you. Your legs suddenly refused to cooperate. Strength drained from your muscles so abruptly that your knees buckled beneath your weight. The floor rushed toward you.

"Whoa!"

Before you could hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught you securely around the waist. James. His reflexes had acted before his mind even processed what was happening. "What the—"

His voice broke off in alarm as he steadied your unbalanced weight against him. The sudden movement instantly drew everyone's attention.

Martin spun around almost immediately. "What happened?"

Juhoon reacted just as quickly, reaching behind you to unclip your microphone pack before it could crash onto the floor. The expensive equipment barely cleared your body before he set it aside.

Seonghyeon was already kneeling beside you, his usual easygoing expression had vanished entirely.

Keonho hurried over next. For perhaps the first time all day, there wasn't even the slightest trace of humor lingering on his face. His playful demeanor disappeared so completely that it almost startled you. "...Hey." His voice came out quieter than expected.

Your breathing had become irregular, every inhale felt painfully shallow, every exhale trembled despite your efforts to steady it. "I..." You instinctively tried to push yourself upright. "I can..."

The moment you attempted to stand, the entire world lurched violently. Your vision darkened around the edges, the hallway spun in dizzying circles. You instinctively reached for something to stabilize yourself but found only empty air. "...I can't..." Your voice barely rose above a whisper.

James immediately tightened his grip around your shoulders, supporting nearly all of your weight without hesitation. "You don't have to."

"I..." You swallowed against the burning pain in your throat. "I'm okay."

"No." Martin's response arrived instantly. For perhaps the first time that day, there wasn't even a hint of gentleness in his voice. "For once..." He took another step closer. "Stop saying that." Silence settled over the group. "You are not okay."

You lowered your gaze. "I just need..."

The sentence never reached completion. A violent coughing fit seized your chest without warning. You doubled forward instinctively, one hand flying to your mouth as each cough became harsher than the last.

Your lungs burned, your throat felt raw, breathing itself became unexpectedly difficult. The hallway fell silent, completely silent. Even the bustling activity surrounding other artists seemed to fade into the background. 

Juhoon's eyes widened ever so slightly. For anyone else, the change might have gone unnoticed, but the members knew him well enough to recognize that expression. It meant he was genuinely worried.

Seonghyeon slowly reached forward. "...Can I?"

You gave the faintest nod. The back of his hand brushed gently against your forehead. His expression changed immediately. He pulled his hand away as though the heat had startled him. His eyes lifted toward Martin. "...Hyung." His voice came out unusually subdued. "She..." A brief pause. "She’s burning up."

James stared at him. "...What?"

Without waiting for confirmation, he placed his own hand against your forehead. The moment his skin made contact, his eyes widened dramatically. "...Oh my gosh." His voice was barely audible. "You're..." He shook his head in disbelief. "You're absolutely burning."

Martin looked at you, horror gradually settling across his face as realization finally clicked into place. "You have a fever."

You immediately attempted another weak smile. "It isn't that—"

"It is." The interruption came quietly.

Everyone turned toward Juhoon, he rarely interrupted people. When he did, it usually mattered. His calm voice remained remarkably even. Yet beneath that familiar composure lingered unmistakable certainty. "You've had one all day."

Your eyes slowly found his. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, almost hesitantly. "...You knew?"

Juhoon nodded once. "I wasn't completely certain." His gaze remained steady. "But..." He exhaled softly. "I suspected."

Pieces of the day suddenly replayed inside your mind. The lingering glance in the dressing room. The questions. The way he had continued watching you during rehearsal. He hadn't been imagining things, he had noticed.

"You still performed." His voice softened further. "...Why?"

The question pierced far deeper than you expected. Your gaze drifted toward the floor. You searched for an answer that sounded reasonable, one that justified everything. "I..." Your fingers tightened weakly around the sleeve of your hoodie. "I didn't want to disappoint anyone."

Nobody answered. The silence that followed felt infinitely heavier than any response could have been. Then–

Flick.

"...Ow." Your forehead stung.

You instinctively looked up. Keonho stood directly in front of you, his hand still half-raised from flicking your forehead. Normally, his expression after doing something like that would've been mischievous, teasing, accompanied by an insufferably proud grin.

Instead, he looked devastated. His eyes shimmered with frustration. He looked hurt. "...You idiot." The words were quiet, almost fragile.

You blinked. "I..."

"You seriously thought..." He stopped himself, taking a slow breath before speaking again. "You thought we'd rather watch you collapse after the performance than know you were sick?"

Your lips parted. "I just didn't want—"

"You should've told us."

For the first time since any of you had met him, his voice cracked. 

"We're a team." He swallowed. "If one person's hurting… We will deal with it together." He gestured toward the rest of the members. "You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

Your chest tightened, the exhaustion, the fever, the overwhelming relief of finally no longer pretending… Everything crashed into you simultaneously, your vision blurred, not from dizziness this time, your eyes burned. "...I didn't want everyone worrying."

A small, bittersweet smile appeared on Seonghyeon's face. He crouched beside you again, his voice impossibly gentle. "...Too late."

James gave a tiny nod. Martin folded his arms, though the sternness on his face had softened into quiet concern. Even Juhoon's usually unreadable expression carried unmistakable relief that the truth had finally come out.

Seonghyeon reached over, lightly squeezing your shoulder. "We've been worried all day."

James let out a quiet sigh. "You just didn't let us help."

Martin shook his head. "You've spent the entire day protecting everyone else's feelings." His gaze met yours. "...Now it's our turn to take care of you."

The moment your manager understood the severity of the situation, every remaining commitment on the day's itinerary was abandoned without hesitation. There was no discussion, no negotiation, no insistence that you could simply "push through it."

The decision was immediate. "Cancel everything." His voice carried a level of authority that silenced the room almost instantly. "The post-performance interviews are off." He turned toward another staff member. "Notify the broadcasting team."

Another nod.

"The radio recording scheduled for tonight?"

"Canceled."

"The behind-the-scenes content?"

"Canceled."

"The promotional livestream?"

"Canceled."

Every obligation that had once seemed impossible to postpone disappeared from the schedule within minutes. Phones rang continuously throughout the backstage hallway as managers hurried to contact organizers, publicists, and production teams. Apologies were exchanged, rescheduling discussions began, none of it mattered to you anymore. The only priority left was getting you back to the hotel.

The journey there felt strangely subdued. Ordinarily, the van would have been filled with excited chatter after a successful performance. James would enthusiastically replay clips from the stage, insisting everyone watch his favorite moments. Keonho would dramatically complain about some microscopic mistake that nobody else had even noticed. Martin would pretend not to laugh before inevitably joining the conversation. Seonghyeon would tease everyone until the entire vehicle dissolved into another round of laughter. Even Juhoon, despite his naturally reserved personality, usually smiled quietly while listening to everyone else.

Tonight, none of that happened. The silence settled gently over the van, the kind of silence born from shared concern. Rain hadn't begun to fall outside, but the city lights still reflected softly across the windows as the vehicle navigated through evening traffic. Streetlights streaked past in blurred ribbons of gold and white.

You rested against the seat, every ounce of energy seemingly drained from your body. The adrenaline that had sustained you throughout the performance had disappeared entirely, leaving nothing behind except overwhelming fatigue. Even keeping your eyes open demands effort.

James occupied the seat directly beside you, he hadn't said much since leaving the venue. Instead, his attention remained fixed almost entirely on you. Every time the van rolled over uneven pavement or turned too sharply around a corner, he instinctively reached out before you had the chance to lose your balance.

When the driver slowed suddenly at a traffic light, your body tipped slightly forward. James immediately steadied you with a gentle hand against your shoulder. "You okay?" His voice barely rose above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might somehow make your headache worse.

You gave the smallest nod. "...Mhm."

He wasn't convinced again. But unlike earlier, he didn't argue. He simply kept his hand resting nearby, prepared to catch you again if necessary.

Several minutes passed before Juhoon quietly leaned forward from the seat behind you. Without saying anything at first, he unscrewed the cap of a water bottle he'd been holding before extending it toward you.

"You need this." His voice remained calm, gentle, almost soothing.

You slowly accepted it. "...Thanks."

Your throat still burned every time you swallowed, but the cool water offered a fleeting moment of relief. Not enough to make you feel better, just enough to make breathing hurt a little less.

Juhoon waited until you had taken several careful sips before speaking again. "Drink slowly."

You nodded obediently.

He didn't add anything further, he simply settled back into his seat, satisfied that you were at least staying hydrated.

A few minutes later, another shiver unexpectedly coursed through your body. It arrived without warning. One moment, your skin felt unbearably warm. The next, an icy chill wrapped itself around you so intensely your shoulders instinctively curled inward. You rubbed your arms through the fabric of your hoodie, hoping the sensation would pass. It didn't.

Martin noticed almost immediately. From the opposite side of the van, his eyes lifted from the schedule displayed on his tablet. "You cold?"

You hesitated, then quietly nodded. "...A little."

Without another word, Martin reached toward the air conditioning controls mounted above the seats. The steady stream of cool air gradually weakened before disappearing altogether. The warmth inside the vehicle slowly returned. Still, you continued shivering.

Martin watched for another moment. Then, with characteristic practicality, he pulled the oversized hoodie he had been wearing over his head. "You'll be warmer in this."

Before you could protest, he carefully draped it across your shoulders. The soft fabric settled comfortably around you, noticeably larger than your own sweatshirt. It retained the lingering warmth from where he'd been wearing it only moments earlier. A faint scent of fresh laundry detergent clung to the material, accompanied by traces of the subtle cologne he always wore. The familiar fragrance surrounded you almost immediately.

You instinctively pulled the sleeves closer around yourself. "...Thank you."

Martin simply nodded once."No problem."

Across the aisle, Keonho appeared completely absorbed in his phone. At least, that was the image he attempted to maintain. His thumb lazily scrolled through social media, occasionally tapping at the screen with exaggerated nonchalance. Anyone glancing over would have assumed he was far too distracted to notice anything happening around him.

Except, every thirty seconds, almost precisely every thirty seconds, his eyes drifted upward. Just for a moment, long enough to check whether your eyes remained open. Whether your breathing still looked steady, whether you seemed any worse than before.

The instant he confirmed you were still conscious, he'd immediately lower his gaze back to the screen as though nothing had happened. Then another half minute would pass, and he'd do it again. It became so predictable that James eventually noticed. Without turning his head, he quietly muttered, "...You're checking on her."

Keonho's eyes remained fixed on his phone. "No, I'm not."

"You've looked up six times."

"I have not."

"Seven."

"...You're counting?"

James shrugged. "I started after the third one."

For the briefest moment, Keonho looked genuinely offended.

Then he sighed, locking his phone without another attempt to deny it. "...Fine."

His voice was barely audible. "I just..." He glanced toward you one more time. "...I wanted to make sure she didn't pass out."

The confession lingered in the quiet van. No one laughed, no one teased him for caring. Because the truth was, every single person inside that vehicle had been doing exactly the same thing. Some were simply less obvious about it than others.

By the time the van finally pulled beneath the hotel's covered entrance, the exhaustion weighing upon your body had become almost unbearable. The journey itself hadn't been particularly long, but every passing minute seemed to magnify the fever's relentless grip.

Your muscles felt impossibly heavy, as though every movement required far more strength than your body could offer. Even lifting your head from the seat demanded a level of concentration that should never have been necessary.

The vehicle rolled to a gentle stop. Outside, the hotel entrance glowed beneath elegant chandeliers, their warm golden light spilling across the polished stone driveway.

The manager climbed out first, exchanging a few hurried words with the staff waiting near the entrance before opening the sliding door. "We're here."

One by one, everyone stepped onto the pavement. James turned toward you almost immediately. "Easy."

He extended a hand without hesitation. You accepted it, allowing him to help you out of the van. The instant your feet touched the ground… Your knees nearly buckled again. The solid pavement beneath you felt strangely unsteady. Your vision swayed, you instinctively reached toward the side of the van for support.

"...I'm fine."

James caught your elbow before you lost your balance. "You don't look fine."

You forced yourself upright, taking a slow breath. "I can walk."

"No." His answer arrived so quickly that you almost laughed. "...Seriously."

"I can."

"No." James folded his arms. His expression carried the unmistakable stubbornness everyone in the group recognized immediately. Normally, the two of you would have turned this into a playful argument. Tonight, there wasn't anything playful about it.

"I've walked farther than this before."

"No."

"It's literally only the lobby."

"No."

"I—" Before another protest could leave your lips, someone quietly stepped in front of you. You looked up.

Seonghyeon. 

Without saying another word, he turned around and lowered himself into a crouch directly in front of you. "...Get on."

You blinked. "...What?"

He glanced over one shoulder. "Piggyback."

The suggestion caught you completely off guard. "...Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"I'll crush you."

Seonghyeon slowly turned back toward you, looking so dramatically offended that even Martin let out the faintest sigh. "...Excuse me?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"You've seen me."

"I have."

"I'm not exactly light."

He placed a thoughtful hand beneath his chin, pretending to contemplate the matter with exaggerated seriousness. "Hmm..." Everyone waited, after several unnecessarily dramatic seconds, he finally nodded to  ."You weigh..." Another pause. "...Approximately..." He squinted as though performing complex calculations. "...Two pillows."

Silence. Then, a weak laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "...Two pillows?"

"Mhm."

"I don't think you've ever picked up a pillow."

"I've picked up plenty."

"Clearly not."

"They're notoriously heavy."

James snorted. 

Martin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Keonho muttered, "That's the worst comparison you've ever made."

"I disagree." Seonghyeon looked back at you again, smiling far more gently this time. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

"I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You won't."

"I can manage."

"You've been saying that all day."

The words weren't harsh, just quietly honest. He shifted slightly, still crouched in front of you. "...Come on."

You hesitated.

He smiled. "You've carried me emotionally for years."

You blinked. "What?"

"You listen every time I complain." He began counting on his fingers. "You've stayed awake helping me memorize lyrics, covered for me when I overslept, talked me through panic before concerts, and convinced me I wasn't completely hopeless after that awful audition." A small grin tugged at his lips. "I think..." He glanced back over his shoulder. "I can return the favor."

Your eyes softened. "You don't have to."

"I know." His voice remained impossibly warm. "I want to."

A brief silence settled between the two of you. Then he added with a quiet chuckle, "I can carry you physically for five minutes."

The remark earned a chorus of amused laughter, and despite the pounding in your head, you laughed, only softly for a moment. But this time, it felt genuine. "...Fine."

Seonghyeon's smile brightened immediately. "I knew you'd say yes."

"I didn't."

"You were going to."

"I really wasn't."

"You absolutely were." With one last sigh of surrender, you carefully leaned forward. Your arms settled loosely around his shoulders while he reached behind to secure your legs.

"...Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Without the slightest indication of strain, Seonghyeon stood smoothly to his full height. The movement was so effortless that you blinked in surprise. "...See?" He adjusted his grip slightly. "Told you."

"You weren't kidding."

"I rarely kid."

Every member stared at him, James raised an eyebrow. "That's the biggest lie you've told all year."

"...Okay."

Seonghyeon laughed. "I occasionally kid."

"You've been making jokes for the last ten minutes," Martin pointed out.

"Details."

The group began making their way toward the hotel entrance together. The revolving glass doors turned quietly as staff respectfully greeted everyone upon entering.

Throughout the entire walk, Keonho remained close, very close. He positioned himself beside Seonghyeon without anyone asking him to. His pace matched theirs perfectly. Every few steps, his gaze instinctively drifted toward you. Checking your expression, watching your breathing, making sure your eyes stayed open.

At one point, when Seonghyeon stepped down from a curb leading toward the lobby entrance, Keonho's hand instinctively lifted. It hovered only inches beneath your leg. Not touching, simply waiting. Ready to catch you if your balance shifts. The moment the step was over, he lowered it again as though nothing had happened.

Several minutes later, another uneven section of flooring again, and his hand rose again. Almost unconscious in its timing. He never acknowledged it, never said a word, never drew attention to what he was doing.

But the others noticed, James noticed, Martin noticed, Juhoon noticed, even Seonghyeon felt it every time Keonho instinctively moved closer whenever your weight shifted unexpectedly. No one teased him, no one pointed it out, because they all understood. For all of Keonho's endless jokes, dramatic complaints, and playful antics, when someone he cared about was hurting. His concern always revealed itself in the quietest ways.

The moment the hotel room door clicked shut behind the six of you, the atmosphere shifted completely. The bright stage lights, the roaring audience, the cameras, the endless expectations. All of it remained outside. Within the quiet sanctuary of the room, there were no performers. No carefully rehearsed smiles, no need to convince anyone that you were perfectly fine.

There were only six exhausted people who had spent years becoming one another's family, and at that particular moment. Five of them shared the exact same objective, making sure you recovered.

As expected, Martin assumed responsibility before anyone else even had the opportunity to speak. He didn't hesitate, didn't ask for opinions. He simply assessed the situation with the same composed efficiency that had earned him the unofficial title of the group's dependable leader years ago.

His eyes swept across the room once, then he began issuing instructions. "James." James looked up immediately. "Medicine."

"Got it."

Without another word, he disappeared toward the kitchenette, already rummaging through the medical supplies the company insisted every group carried during schedules.

"Juhoon." Juhoon had already retrieved an empty glass from one of the cabinets. "Water."

He gave a quiet nod. "I'm already filling it."

Martin wasn't surprised, of course he was. Juhoon always anticipated what people needed before they asked.

"Keonho." Keonho straightened from where he'd been helping you remove your shoes. "Blankets."

"I'm on it." He vanished into the bedroom, returning moments later with far more blankets than anyone had actually requested.

James stared. "...Planning to mummify her?"

"You can never have too many blankets."

"I think four qualifies."

"She’s cold."

"She’s also running a fever."

"Exactly."

James blinked. "...I don't think that's how fevers work."

"I wasn't a science major."

"You weren't any major."

"...Rude." Despite the exchange, Keonho still carefully draped every blanket over you with surprising gentleness.

Martin almost smiled. "Seonghyeon." He was already opening one of the drawers. "Temperature."

"I've got the thermometer."

Within only a few minutes, the once ordinary hotel room had undergone a remarkable transformation. Water bottles lined the bedside table. Medicine rested neatly beside them. Extra pillows appeared from somewhere. Blankets were layered carefully around your shoulders. A small trash bin had even been moved closer to the bed.

It looked less like a hotel room now, and more like a miniature recovery station assembled entirely through quiet teamwork.

You sat propped against the headboard, cocooned beneath multiple oversized blankets until only your face remained visible. "I can't move."

Keonho looked entirely satisfied. "Good."

"I've become a burrito."

James returned first, carrying a small packet of medication. "Here." He carefully placed the tablets into your palm. "Medicine."

Almost simultaneously, Juhoon approached with a steaming mug. "Warm water." He offered it toward you. "Drink slowly."

The warmth seeped pleasantly into your chilled fingers as you wrapped both hands around the mug. "...Thank you."

Before you could take the medicine, Martin reached over. "Wait." He picked up the instruction leaflet again.

James blinked. "You already read it."

"I'm reading it again."

"You've read it twice."

Martin ignored him. He carefully scanned every line one final time. Dosage, side effects, time intervals. Satisfied, he finally nodded. "Okay." He handed the tablets back. "Nothing crazy."

You sighed dramatically. "...You’re being paranoid now."

"I've had to be." He folded his arms. "You become impossible to handle when you're sick."

Your eyebrows immediately lifted. "I do not."

"You do."

"When?"

Martin gave you an incredulous look. "You spent the entire day insisting you were perfectly healthy."

"I managed."

"You nearly collapsed."

"I stayed standing until the performance ended."

"Barely."

"I still succeeded."

James raised a hand. "Objection."

"Denied."

"You can't deny your own objection."

"I just did."

Martin looked at you with complete seriousness. "You literally attempted to convince five people you weren't sick."

You opened your mouth, nothing came out.

A soft electronic beep interrupted the conversation. Seonghyeon lowered the thermometer, his cheerful expression fading almost immediately as he looked at the display. The room fell noticeably quieter.

"...Thirty-nine point two."

Silence, complete silence. Even James stopped smiling. 

Martin slowly looked up. "...What?"

Seonghyeon silently turned the thermometer around. Martin stared, then rubbed a tired hand across his face. "...That's over a hundred and two."

James looked horrified. "You had that kind of fever?"

Across the bed, Keonho slowly turned toward you. His eyes widened in complete disbelief. "...You seriously danced an entire festival like this?"

You shrank slightly beneath the blankets. "...Maybe."

"Maybe?" He stared another second. Then dramatically dropped backward onto the mattress with an exaggerated groan. "You stress me out."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know." He sighed deeply, running both hands through his hair, his expression softened almost immediately afterward. "...That's what makes it worse."

Without another word, he shifted closer. Then gently rested his head against your shoulder. He simply leaned there, saying absolutely nothing. His quiet presence somehow communicated far more than words ever could.

You didn't move away, a few peaceful seconds passed. Then the mattress dipped again. "...Scoot over." You turned.

Seonghyeon had decided there was apparently enough room for one more person. He settled beside your opposite shoulder, carefully making sure not to jostle you too much. Now, you were sandwiched between them.

James immediately laughed. "...You're literally making her into a sandwich."

"It’s okay." Seonghyeon looked entirely pleased with himself. "The safest place."

"You two have absolutely no understanding of personal space." Martin shook his head, though there wasn't any real irritation behind the words.

James pointed toward him. "You say that..."

Everyone looked over. Martin had unconsciously begun tucking one corner of the blanket more securely around your shoulder after it slipped. He froze.

James grinned wider. "You're literally fixing her blanket."

Martin looked down, then quietly adjusted it anyway. "...Shut up."

Laughter instantly filled the room. Martin couldn't suppress the reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The warmth of that shared laughter settled softly throughout the room, wrapping around all of you as comfortably as the blankets piled across the bed. The kind of laughter that only existed between people who had known one another long enough to understand every habit, every expression, and every unspoken thought.

As you listened to them teasing each other over absolutely nothing, a realization settled gently inside your chest. Home, had never been defined by walls, home had always been this. James stealing everyone else's snacks before pretending he had no idea where they'd gone. Martin sighing dramatically every time someone ignored the schedule he'd painstakingly organized. Keonho borrowing hoodies without permission and somehow insisting they had belonged to him all along. Seonghyeon finding excuses to make everyone laugh, even during the most exhausting days. Juhoon quietly noticing the smallest details everyone else overlooked.

They argued constantly, they stole each other's clothes, they complained, they bickered over food, they teased one another without mercy. Yet the instant one person was hurting, every joke disappeared, every complaint became insignificant, every ounce of their attention shifted toward protecting the person who needed it.

You slowly looked around the room.

James sat cross-legged on the floor, rereading the medication instructions for what had to be the third—or perhaps fourth—time, muttering quietly under his breath to ensure he hadn't overlooked anything.

Juhoon sat at the small dining table, carefully peeling an orange into perfectly even slices. He remembered that fruit was one of the few things you could usually manage when you were sick, and without mentioning it aloud, he arranged the pieces neatly onto a plate.

Martin remained by the window, sending message after message to the company's staff, reorganizing tomorrow's schedule so you could rest without worrying about upcoming commitments.

Keonho, despite insisting he wasn't doing anything, absentmindedly reached over every few minutes whenever one of the blankets slipped from your shoulder, quietly pulling it back into place before pretending he hadn't noticed.

Beside you, Seonghyeon hummed softly beneath his breath, no particular song, just a gentle melody. His shoulder rested lightly against yours, close enough that the quiet contact reminded you someone was there. Someone wasn't going anywhere.

A smile slowly found its way onto your face. "...Thank you."

The room immediately became still. Five heads turned toward you almost simultaneously. James tilted his head. "...For what?"

You looked at each of them, then quietly answered, "For... everything."

James smiled first. "You would've done exactly the same." A pause. Then he laughed softly. "You have done exactly the same."

Martin nodded in agreement. "When I completely lost my voice before promotions..." He looked at you. "You stayed awake the entire night making ginger tea because you kept saying it might help."

Keonho immediately pointed toward himself. "When I sprained my ankle. You carried my backpack for almost two weeks, and you refused to let me carry anything heavier than a water bottle."

Juhoon spoke next, his voice as quiet as ever. "The night before debut..." He met your eyes. "I couldn't sleep. You stayed awake with me until sunrise. You didn't even try convincing me everything would magically be okay. You just..." He smiled faintly. "Sat beside me." The memory lingered between you.

Seonghyeon gently nudged your shoulder. "So..." His smile was impossibly soft. "It's our turn." The words settled somewhere deep inside your heart. Your vision blurred again, emotion tightened painfully inside your chest.

Outside the hotel, the city remained alive with celebration. Fans still filled the streets after the festival, laughing excitedly as they replayed videos from the concert and shared their favorite moments from the night.

Inside your room, the world felt entirely different. Soft lamplight bathed the room in a warm golden glow. Blankets were scattered everywhere. Empty mugs rested across the coffee table.

The conversation drifted effortlessly from ridiculous childhood stories to embarrassing rehearsal memories, from arguments over whose turn it was to order dinner tomorrow to complaints about James' habit of leaving phone chargers everywhere except where he needed them.

The hours slipped quietly by. Gradually, your eyelids grew heavier. The medicine began taking effect. Your breathing finally slowed into a steadier rhythm. Words became harder to follow. Voices blurred into something gentle and distant.

Just before sleep completely claimed you, you felt careful fingers brushing several loose strands of hair away from your forehead. Someone was checking your temperature again. The touch was impossibly gentle, as though they were afraid even the slightest movement might wake you.

A moment later, another pair of hands carefully pulled the blanket a little higher beneath your chin, making certain no cold air could reach you.

"...Sleep well." Seonghyeon's voice was barely above a whisper.

Then another voice followed, carrying the faint smile you couldn't see but somehow heard anyway. "We've got you."

Keonho, the words settled around you like another blanket.

After that morning, as Jay and Aida truly began their story, Jay arranged a dinner with the coven to allow Aida to finally meet everyone properly. Two days later, the house was filled with the warm scent of herbs, roasted vegetables, garlic, and fresh bread. Soft music played quietly from the speaker in the living room while rain tapped gently against the windows outside. The evening felt calm. Domestic. Almost painfully normal for a home occupied entirely by immortals.

Aida sat on one of the tall chairs by the kitchen island, legs tucked slightly beneath her as she sipped freshly pressed apple juice from a wine glass Jay had insisted on pouring for her properly. She watched him move around the kitchen with quiet fascination. Jay looked beautiful when he cooked. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, dark hair slightly messy from the steam rising around him as he stirred something simmering on the stove. Every now and then he would glance over his shoulder toward her, offering one of those small smiles that always made her chest feel strangely warm.

It still startled her a little, how soft he could be. She caught him looking again and smiled into her glass. “You’re staring,” Jay murmured lightly. “You’re cooking like your life depends on it.” “In this house?” He scoffed softly. “It might.” Aida laughed quietly, watching as he reached for more pepper beside the stove. She had met Sunghoon and Heeseung briefly at the beach, and she had spoken a little with Jungwon before that, but other than that, she still knew almost nothing about the others. Her fingers traced the stem of the glass absentmindedly. “So they’re all vampires?” she asked. Jay nodded once. “Yeah. We’re a coven.”

Aida tilted her head slightly. “Isn’t a coven something for witches?” That earned a quiet laugh from him. “The word is mostly associated with witches because humans got things wrong centuries ago,” Jay explained. “But vampires actually created the term first. Witches adopted it later, and since witches tend to be… less careful about hiding themselves, humans connected the word to them instead of us.” Aida hummed thoughtfully. “That actually makes sense, I guess.” Jay smiled faintly as he sprinkled pepper into the pan. “There are a lot of things humans misunderstand about our world.” “Like vampires cooking dinner?” He looked over at her again, amusement flickering across his face. “Exactly like vampires cooking dinner.” Aida smiled, though the nervousness in her stomach still lingered beneath it.

Meeting one vampire had already changed her entire understanding of the world. Meeting an entire coven felt oddly intimidating, even if every single one she had encountered so far had been unexpectedly gentle. Jay noticed the way her fingers tightened slightly around the glass. He moved closer, stopping beside her chair before brushing his knuckles softly against her hand. “You don’t need to be nervous,” he said quietly. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve known them for centuries.” A soft chuckle left him. “Unfortunately.” Aida narrowed her eyes a little. “That didn’t sound reassuring.” “It’ll be fine,” he promised. “They’re good people.” Then, after a short pause, he added with visible concern, “I just hope they behave themselves tonight.”

Soon after, someone knocked on the door. Jay blinked in surprise, glancing toward the hallway. “That’s suspicious already.” Aida smiled faintly. “What is?” “They knocked.” Setting the spoon down, Jay walked toward the front door while Aida listened to the quiet shuffle of voices outside. The moment he opened it, he found Niki and Heeseung standing there looking far too pleased with themselves. Jay narrowed his eyes immediately. “Why are you acting normal?” “We can leave if you want,” Heeseung offered smoothly. “You say that like you weren’t about to walk in without permission.” Before either of them could answer, Sunoo appeared from behind them with a half-annoyed expression on his face, arms crossed tightly. “I physically stopped them,” he said flatly. Jay looked at him with immediate gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispered dramatically.

Sunoo gave a single nod before stepping inside. As he passed the other two, he pointed sharply between them without even looking back. “Be nice.” Niki rolled his eyes. “You make us sound evil.” “You terrorize people for entertainment.” “That is not true,” Heeseung argued. Sunoo stared at him blankly. “You convinced Jungwon that garlic bread gave vampires hives for three months.” Heeseung looked offended. “That was funny.” Jay sighed tiredly as the four vampires made their way toward the kitchen. Aida straightened slightly in her chair when they entered. The energy in the room shifted immediately. Not threatening, just… louder somehow. More alive.

Jay returned to her side with an amused smile. “This is Heeseung, who you met at the beach,” he said first. Heeseung immediately offered her a charming smile, leaning slightly against the counter. “Nice to meet you properly this time.” Then Jay gestured toward Sunoo. “And this is Sunoo. He works with me at the clinic.” Sunoo waved brightly at her. “Hi! I’m sorry in advance for whatever happens tonight.” “Hey,” Niki complained. Jay ignored him completely. “And finally we have Niki,” he continued. “He’s our youngest.” Niki’s eyes moved over Aida carefully, studying her with open suspicion like he was silently evaluating whether she deserved Jay or not. His expression remained unreadable for a moment before he seemingly found nothing worth criticizing.

So he just nodded once and gave a short wave. Aida frowned slightly at the reaction. Jay noticed instantly. He let out a tired sigh. “Niki can be a bit of a child sometimes. Don’t mind him.” “I’m literally older than her.” “You’re emotionally twelve.” Niki gasped softly in offense while Heeseung snorted beside him. Jay turned back toward Aida with a softer expression. “You know what? Just talk with Sunoo for now. I don’t trust Heeseung not to be a jerk.” “That’s incredibly hurtful,” Heeseung said immediately. “You flirt with anything that breathes.” “Not anything.” Jay gave him a look. Heeseung paused. “Okay, fair.” That finally made Aida laugh properly, some of her nervousness melting away. Sunoo laughed too as he moved to sit beside her. “See?” he said warmly. “You’ll survive us.”

A few minutes later, another knock echoed through the house. Sunoo immediately stood up from beside Aida. “I’ll get it,” he said, waving Jay away when he looked up from the stove. “Finish your food before these people start complaining they’re starving.” “We do not complain,” Heeseung argued from the living room. “You complained ten minutes before we arrived.” “That was different.” Sunoo ignored him completely as he walked toward the front door. The moment he opened it, he found Sunghoon, Jake, and Jungwon standing outside. Meaning everyone had finally arrived.

Jake smiled brightly the second the door opened while Jungwon stepped inside quietly beside him. Sunghoon lingered near the back for a moment, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark coat before following the others in. “Finally,” Niki called from somewhere inside the house. “Jungwon, tell them I’m right.” “You’re never right,” Jungwon replied immediately. Sunoo snorted softly as he led them toward the kitchen. The room grew fuller instantly. Jake’s warm energy filled the space easily while Jungwon settled into the atmosphere naturally like he had always belonged there. Sunghoon stayed quieter than the others, gaze calmly scanning the room before landing briefly on Aida.

Sunoo clapped his hands together lightly. “Okay, introductions part two.” He pointed toward Sunghoon first. “This is Sunghoon. He can be quiet in the beginning, but I promise he’s a softie once you get to know him.” Sunghoon looked mildly offended by the description while Jake laughed beside him. “Not denying it means it’s true,” Jake teased. Sunghoon rolled his eyes faintly. Then Sunoo gestured dramatically toward Jake. “Next is Jake. He’s basically a golden retriever.” “That is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me,” Jake said proudly. “And finally,” Sunoo continued, motioning toward Jungwon, “this is Jungwon. But I believe you’ve met him already.” Jungwon smiled softly at Aida.

Aida returned the smile before looking toward Sunghoon. “Thank you again for helping that night at the beach.” Sunghoon shook his head once. “It was nothing.” His voice was low and calm, quieter than the others. Still, there was something unexpectedly gentle in the way he said it. Jake, meanwhile, looked genuinely excited to finally meet her properly. “So you’re Aida,” he said brightly before immediately offering his hand to shake hers. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Aida laughed softly as she shook his hand. “Hopefully good things.” Jake glanced toward Jay, who was pretending not to listen while plating food. “He smiles more now,” Jake answered honestly. That made Jay pause for half a second before muttering, “Jake.” “What? It’s true.” Aida felt warmth spread across her cheeks while Sunoo grinned knowingly nearby.

Jungwon watched the interaction quietly for a moment, eyes moving between her and Jay before a small smile appeared on his face. “You’re a perfect pair,” he said simply. Then, before either of them could respond, he walked off toward the living room with the calm determination of someone about to settle unfinished business. Aida blinked in confusion right before she heard his voice from down the hallway. “Niki, why is Jay’s guitar out?” A pause. Then Niki answered defensively, “I was looking at it.” “You touched it without permission?” “I barely touched it.” Their arguing slowly faded deeper into the house while the others laughed softly around them.

Soon enough, they were all sitting around the dinner table, filling their plates with the food Jay had spent hours making. The atmosphere had changed completely from earlier. The nervousness Aida had felt before was gone now, replaced by warmth and constant noise. Everyone spoke over one another casually while reaching for dishes and passing plates around the table like this was something they did every night. Maybe they did. Jay sat to Aida’s right while Sunoo remained on her left. Across from her sat Jake, smiling brightly every few minutes whenever someone said something ridiculous. Beside him sat Heeseung and Niki, who were already arguing about something entirely irrelevant. On the other side sat Sunghoon and Jungwon, both calmer than the others but clearly entertained by the chaos.

Aida glanced around the table for a moment. It was strange. None of them needed food to survive, yet the dinner still felt important somehow. Human almost. Jay noticed her looking around and leaned slightly closer. “What?” “Nothing,” she said softly. “This is just… nice.” Something warm flickered in Jay’s eyes before Heeseung immediately ruined the moment.  He told her about the time Jay accidentally set a curtain on fire trying to cook during the 1920s because he became distracted reading medical journals. “He stared at the flames for ten whole seconds before reacting,” Jake said through laughter. “You panic very elegantly,” Sunoo added.

Sunghoon quietly mentioned how Heeseung once convinced tourists he was a ghost haunting an old theater for nearly six months just because he was bored. “It improved local business,” Heeseung argued proudly. “You got us banned from the building,” Jungwon corrected. Aida laughed harder with every story, her stomach hurting from it by the time dessert was brought out. At some point during the chaos, she realized something quietly. She felt comfortable here. Comfortable with vampires. Comfortable with this strange, loud, immortal family sitting around the table teasing one another endlessly while Jay occasionally rested his hand against her knee beneath the table like he needed the reassurance that she was really there. She had spent so much of her life feeling alone that she never imagined finding people like this. Never imagined finding a family at all. Especially not one like them.

~~~

A few days later, Sunghoon showed up at the clinic unexpectedly. The second Sunoo saw him step through the front doors, he knew something was wrong. Sunghoon was always composed. Controlled. Even when irritated, he usually kept it buried beneath cold silence and sharp stares. But now tension rolled off him so heavily that even the humans sitting in the waiting area seemed to sense it subconsciously, shrinking quieter in their seats as he passed. His jaw was clenched tightly. His hands flexed at his sides like he was trying very hard not to tear something apart. Instead of going on a killing spree, he had come here. That alone told Sunoo how bad things were.

Sunoo quickly excused himself from the front desk and walked over to him carefully. “Hey,” he said softly. “Come with me.” Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately, but after a second he followed him toward one of the back rooms away from the humans. The moment the door shut behind them, the air in the room shifted violently. Sunghoon’s eyes bled red instantly. His fangs extended sharply as he turned away, both hands bracing against the edge of a metal counter hard enough to dent it slightly. Sunoo remained calm. He had seen this before. Not often, but enough. “What happened?” he asked gently. Sunghoon clenched his hands tighter. “They trashed the arena again.” That was all he said. But Sunoo didn’t need more information than that.

A few years ago, Sunghoon had finally found something that made existing feel peaceful again. The ice skating arena. He had built it almost entirely himself, pouring decades of hidden savings and countless sleepless nights into every detail. The place had slowly become more than just a building. It became proof that he could create something instead of destroy it. During the day, children filled the rink laughing loudly while stumbling across the ice during lessons. Schools rented the arena for activities. Families gathered there on weekends. At night, when the world grew quiet, Sunghoon often skated alone beneath the dim lights in complete silence.

It was the closest thing to peace he had found in centuries. And for two years now, people had been ruining it. Break-ins. Destroyed equipment. Spray paint across the walls. Slashed rental skates. Sometimes they carved deep marks directly into the ice itself just to force the rink to close for repairs. The first few times, Sunghoon handled it calmly. By the tenth time, something darker started waking inside him again. Something old. Something violent. Hundreds of years ago, before the clinic, before the coven became a family instead of soldiers trying to survive, Sunghoon had led troops during the war.

Unlike Jay, who had become known for saving lives even in the middle of bloodshed, Sunghoon had become feared for taking them. He had been ruthless. Efficient. A killing machine dressed in black armor and frozen rivers of blood. Even now, centuries later, there were still vampires old enough to remember his name with fear. Sunghoon spent every day trying not to become that person again. But these vandals were making it harder and harder.  Sunoo understood exactly how terrifying that thought was for Sunghoon himself. Sunoo gave him a soft smile. “Why don’t you lie down and rest for a while,” he suggested gently. “Then tonight, after the clinic closes, we can head over to the arena and clean up.” For a moment, Sunghoon simply stood there breathing heavily, the red in his eyes still burning faintly. Then finally, he nodded once. Without another word, he walked over to the couch pushed against the far wall of the room and laid down on it, one arm thrown over his eyes. Sunoo quietly dimmed the lights before slipping out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind him, he let out a relieved sigh. Because he knew, if it ever came down to a real fight between them, Sunghoon would always win. Sunghoon was taller, stronger, faster. His power was overwhelming when unleashed fully. Even among vampires, there was something frightening about him when his control snapped. Centuries of war had shaped him into something deadly long before Sunoo had even been turned. But while Sunghoon excelled in violence, Sunoo excelled somewhere else entirely. He understood people. He always knew what to say, when to stay quiet, when to push, and when to simply sit beside someone until the storm inside them calmed down. And sometimes that mattered more than strength ever could.

~~~

A few hours later, the clinic finally closed for the night. Sunoo flipped the sign on the front door while Jay locked it behind him. The street outside had already darkened beneath the winter evening sky, cold air curling through the empty sidewalks. Jake and Jungwon had arrived earlier to help. So had Aida. She stepped inside carrying two bags of food and drinks after receiving Sunoo’s text earlier that afternoon. If you can, come to the clinic around closing time. Bring food. That was all the message had said. The moment Jay saw her, some of the tension in his shoulders eased immediately. He crossed the room and pulled her gently into his arms, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. “You came.” “Obviously,” she murmured, hugging him back. “What happened?” Jay sighed quietly before explaining the situation briefly while helping her set the food down on the reception desk.

Aida’s eyes widened slowly. “Wait,” she said. “I’ve heard about that.” Jake nodded while leaning against the counter. “Pretty much everyone in the city has.” “It’s been going on for two years,” Aida continued. “The police barely do anything and people are furious about it. They love that arena.” Jay nodded once. “Yeah. That’s why Sunghoon is so upset.” There was a heaviness in his voice when he said it. “He worked really hard for that place,” Jungwon added quietly from nearby. Sunoo glanced toward the hallway leading to the back rooms before speaking softly. “So we’re going to help him clean everything up tonight.” Aida nodded immediately without hesitation. “Of course.”

Jay walked over toward the coat hanger near the entrance and pulled down one of his thicker jackets before returning to her. “Here,” he said gently while helping slide it over her shoulders. “You’ll need this. It’s going to be cold in there.” The jacket smelled faintly like cedarwood and herbs. Aida smiled softly while pulling it closed around herself. “Thank you.” A door clicked open down the hallway then. Everyone looked up as Sunghoon finally stepped out from the room Sunoo had left him in earlier. He looked calmer now. Still tired. Still angry somewhere underneath. But the violent edge from before had dulled enough that his eyes had returned to normal.

His gaze moved briefly across the group gathered in the clinic lobby. “You don’t all have to come,” he said quietly. Jake frowned immediately. “Too late. We’re already emotionally involved.” Sunghoon looked unimpressed. Aida noticed the corner of Jungwon’s mouth twitch slightly though. Jay stepped closer to Sunghoon. “You’re not fixing it alone.” For a second, something vulnerable flickered across Sunghoon’s face before he looked away again. Then silently, the group gathered their things and headed out into the cold night together toward the arena.

Once they arrived at the arena, Aida stopped in her tracks. “Oh my god.” The front doors had been completely destroyed. One of the glass panels had shattered inward, fragments still scattered across the floor beneath the entrance lights. Dark spray paint covered the walls around the lobby in ugly streaks and symbols while overturned benches littered the hallway beyond. The deeper they walked into the building, the worse it became. Graffiti covered nearly every surface. The front desk had been smashed apart entirely, pieces of wood and broken monitors scattered across the floor. One of the display cases nearby had been ripped open violently. Then they finally reached the rink itself. Aida gasped softly. The ice was ruined.

Deep carvings had been gouged into the surface like someone had taken machinery directly to it. Some holes reached all the way through the frozen layers deep enough to expose the concrete beneath. Chunks of ice covered the entire rink. The entire rink looked wounded. Cold air drifted through the arena in eerie silence. Sunoo stared out over the destruction before sighing heavily. “This is worse than ever.” Jungwon nodded slowly beside him. “It’s terrible.” Jake’s gaze shifted toward Sunghoon immediately. Even with the anger radiating from him, Jake could still see it. The sadness underneath.

Sunghoon looked exhausted standing there beneath the dim rink lights, staring silently at the damage like he was watching something precious die in front of him. Then his gaze moved toward the empty rental shelves near the entrance. “They stole all the rental skates too,” he said quietly. Something about the way he said it made the room feel heavier. Jay walked over to him slowly. He rested a hand briefly against Sunghoon’s shoulder before offering him a reassuring smile. “We’ll fix this,” Jay said gently. “I promise.” Sunghoon looked at him for a moment before finally nodding once, a small tired smile appearing briefly on his face.

Sunoo suddenly clapped his hands together, forcing some energy back into the room. “Okay,” he announced firmly. “We eat first, then we get to work.” Jake pointed at him immediately. “See? This is why Sunoo keeps us alive emotionally.” “Correct,” Jungwon agreed. They eventually settled around one of the tables near the seating area overlooking the rink, unpacking the food Aida had brought while the arena lights reflected dimly across the damaged ice below them. For a little while, the atmosphere softened again. Aida watched them carefully while they ate. Even now, surrounded by destruction, they still somehow felt steady together. Like this was simply what family did. You showed up. You stayed. You helped clean up the mess.

Aida glanced back toward the rink before looking at Jay curiously. “How are we even going to fix all of this?” Jay smiled faintly. “Right,” he said. “I haven’t actually filled you in on our powers yet.” Aida tilted her head immediately, curiosity replacing some of the heaviness in her expression. “You all have different powers?” she asked. Jay smiled slightly at her curiosity before beginning. “I have healing powers,” he explained. “Hence why I run a clinic.” Aida nodded slowly. “That one I figured out already.” Jake grinned. “To be fair, he’s the least subtle out of all of us.” Jay ignored him completely. Sunoo pointed at himself next. “I can levitate things, and I can also change the size of objects.” Aida blinked. “Seriously?” Sunoo smiled proudly. “Not all things though. There are limits.” Jake immediately pointed at him. “He once shrunk my favorite hoodie because I kept stealing his snacks.” “You deserved it,” Sunoo replied without shame. Jake looked offended. “It never returned to the right size.” Aida laughed softly.

Jake spoke next. “I have fire abilities. I can conjure flames from nothing, control existing fire, and generally manipulate temperature.” He snapped his fingers lightly then. A small flame flickered above his fingertips briefly before vanishing again. Aida stared openly. “That’s insane.” Jake looked very pleased with himself. “I can also heat up food without a microwave.” Sunoo sighed. “That is genuinely his favorite use of his powers.” “It’s practical.” “It’s lazy.” Jake ignored him. Jungwon spoke next, calm as always. “I can shapeshift into other people. Some creatures too.” Aida’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?” Jungwon nodded once. “But to do it properly, I need to know the exact size and proportions of whatever I’m copying. Otherwise things end up looking wrong.” Jake snorted suddenly. “His first wolf transformation looked terrifying.” Jungwon looked mildly offended. “It was dark.” “You had six legs.” “That only happened briefly.”

Even Sunghoon let out a quiet breath of amusement beside them. Then the attention shifted toward him naturally. Sunghoon sat silently for a moment before speaking. “I have ice powers,” he said simply. “I can create ice from nothing. Similar to Jake’s fire abilities.” As he spoke, frost slowly crept across the tips of his fingers unconsciously before fading away again. “However,” he continued quietly, “my power has a backlash. If I use too much of it at once, my hair turns white and my body starts frosting over.” Aida frowned slightly. “That sounds painful.” “It can be,” Sunghoon admitted. “But eventually it fades.”

Jay leaned back slightly in his chair before continuing. “It’s strange,” he said thoughtfully. “Only Sunghoon experiences backlash from his abilities.” “We spent decades trying to figure out why,” Sunoo added. “Our best guess,” Jay continued, “is that the scale of Sunghoon’s power is far greater than most vampires. So the backlash exists as a way to balance it out.” Sunghoon looked away slightly after that, clearly uncomfortable being discussed so openly. Aida looked around the table slowly, still trying to process everything she had learned. “All your powers seem amazing,” she admitted honestly. Then she blinked suddenly. “Wait. What about Niki and Heeseung?” The group exchanged quick looks. Jake smiled faintly. “We’ll let them tell you on their own sometime.” Aida nodded immediately. She could respect that.

After they had eaten, they moved down onto the ice, deciding it was best to start there and work outward through the arena afterward. The damaged rink crunched beneath their shoes as they carefully stepped around the larger broken pieces. Sunoo walked toward one of the massive chunks of shattered ice near the center of the rink and crouched slightly, placing his hand against it. Almost instantly, the piece began to float. Aida blinked in surprise as the heavy ice lifted smoothly into the air like it weighed nothing at all. “Okay,” she murmured. “That’s still terrifying.” Sunoo grinned. “You get used to it.”

One by one, he touched the larger broken sections scattered around the rink, levitating them so the others could carry and move them out of the way easier. Even Aida could help thanks to this, guiding floating pieces carefully toward the edge of the arena. Once everything had been gathered together, Sunoo focused again. The piles of ice slowly began shrinking beneath his hands. Larger pieces compressed smaller and smaller until each chunk was only about the size of a basketball. Aida stared openly. “That should not be physically possible.” “Most things around us aren’t,” Jungwon replied calmly while carrying another floating piece past her. After Sunoo finished, Jake stepped forward. Without hesitation, flames bloomed from his hands in warm orange light. The fire wrapped around the ice piles carefully, melting them rapidly until steam rose into the cold arena air and the debris vanished completely. 

It was clear this wasn’t the first time they had done this. They moved together too naturally. Too efficiently. Like they had spent centuries cleaning up one another’s disasters. Once all the debris had been removed, Jake suddenly walked over toward Aida. “You should stand close to me,” he said. Aida looked confused. “Why?” “So you don’t freeze.” Then she noticed everyone looking toward Sunghoon. Realization hit instantly. Oh. Sunghoon was going to fix the rink himself. Jake lifted one hand slightly, creating a small steady flame that hovered between them like a miniature sun. Warmth spread outward immediately, protecting Aida from the biting cold beginning to gather across the arena.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon walked alone toward the center of the ruined ice. The entire rink fell silent. He stood there for a moment beneath the dim overhead lights, black coat hanging still around him as he slowly took a deep breath. And suddenly the temperature dropped. Not normal cold. Not winter cold. It felt like standing in the middle of a snowstorm at midnight. Aida inhaled sharply as frost spread across the surrounding railings and cold mist curled through the air around the rink. Then ice began appearing out of nowhere.

It crawled across the damaged surface rapidly, filling every hole and crack with impossible precision. Broken sections smoothed over seamlessly as fresh layers of crystal-clear ice spread outward beneath Sunghoon’s feet. The rink rebuilt itself before her eyes. It was beautiful. And terrifying. The colder the arena became, the more Sunghoon changed with it. His dark hair slowly turned white in streaks, black fading into silver frost strand by strand until half of it looked completely frozen. Frost spread across one of his arms next, crawling beneath the fabric of his sleeve before creeping up half of his face like delicate ice veins.

Aida stared quietly. Now she understood what he meant by backlash. Sunghoon exhaled slowly as the final cracks sealed shut. The entire rink gleamed perfectly beneath the lights once more. Then his shoulders tensed sharply. A quiet groan escaped him as he flexed one arm stiffly, frost crackling faintly along his skin. Jay immediately walked toward him. The closer he got to Sunghoon, the colder the air became. Frost spread across Jay’s coat and sleeves almost instantly, thin layers of ice clinging to the dark fabric. “Let me see your arm,” Jay said gently. Sunghoon nodded once. He couldn’t really speak yet. The cold had settled too deeply into his body.

Jay carefully took hold of his arm, blue light slowly glowing from his hands. The warmth of his healing spread gradually through the frost covering Sunghoon’s skin, melting parts of it away little by little until the stiffness eased enough for him to move properly again. Sunghoon let out a slow breath through clenched teeth. “That better?” Jay asked quietly. “A little.” Jay nodded before helping him carefully off the ice. “Jake,” he called softly. “Heat him up. Slowly.” Jake immediately nodded. Using one hand, he maintained the steady warmth surrounding Aida while lifting the other toward Sunghoon. Gentle heat spread outward from his palm, careful and controlled so the sudden temperature shift wouldn’t hurt him further.

Steam curled faintly from the frost still lingering on Sunghoon’s clothes. Aida looked at him quietly for a moment before speaking. “That was beautiful.” Sunghoon blinked slightly, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Most people found his abilities frightening. Dangerous. Not beautiful. A small smile appeared briefly on his face. “Thanks,” was all he said. After that, they continued cleaning the arena. The hours blurred together slowly. Jay repaired smaller structural damage where he could while Jungwon helped reorganize overturned equipment and salvage whatever remained usable. Sunoo floated broken furniture pieces and shattered wall panels effortlessly through the air toward a large container out back.

Jake burned ruined debris down safely while keeping the freezing arena warm enough for Aida to move around comfortably. Meanwhile, Sunghoon silently scrubbed graffiti from the walls himself. Aida noticed nobody tried stopping him. Maybe because they understood he needed to do it. Needed to reclaim the place with his own hands. By the time they finally finished, exhaustion hung over everyone heavily. Most of the damage had been dealt with. The rink was smooth again. The walls were clean. The arena no longer looked destroyed. But some things still needed replacing. The front doors were unsalvageable. The front desk needed to be rebuilt completely, along with several benches and broken furniture pieces throughout the building. Still, it looked alive again.

Sunghoon stood near the rink entrance quietly looking around the repaired arena. The first traces of dawn were beginning to glow faintly through the higher windows. He turned toward the others. “Thank you,” he said softly. And somehow, coming from him, the simple words felt heavy with meaning. “You should all head home and sleep,” he added after a moment. “The sun’s already rising again.” Jake groaned dramatically. “I hate responsible decisions.” “You’ll survive,” Jungwon replied. One by one, they gathered their things and said goodbye. Jay squeezed Sunghoon’s shoulder briefly before leaving with Aida beside him while Sunoo reminded him to actually rest instead of continuing repairs immediately. Eventually the arena grew quiet again. And for the first time in days, Sunghoon stood alone inside his beloved rink without feeling like it was falling apart around him.

Once Sunghoon was left alone, silence settled over the arena again. The faint sounds of the others leaving eventually disappeared completely, leaving only the quiet hum of the cooling systems beneath the rink. Sunghoon slowly walked through the arena by himself. His footsteps echoed softly across the concrete floors as he looked around at everything they had repaired together. The fresh ice reflected the pale early morning light spilling through the higher windows while the newly cleaned walls no longer carried traces of the vandalism.

Still, exhaustion weighed heavily inside him. He wished he could find a way to stop them from breaking in. That was the part nobody understood. It wasn’t really about the money or the repairs anymore. It was the principle of it. The arena was his one good thing. His one peaceful thing. And for some reason, people seemed determined to ruin it for him over and over again. He just couldn’t understand why. Sunghoon stopped near the center of the rink, staring out across the smooth ice silently. Then, against his will, his thoughts drifted back toward Aida. That was beautiful. The words echoed strangely in his head. Beautiful. Nobody had ever called his powers beautiful before. Not once. His gaze lowered slightly as old memories surfaced.

After he had first been turned into a vampire centuries ago, his abilities had appeared far earlier than normal. Most vampires developed powers slowly over decades. Not him. The vampire who turned him had been teaching him how to feed properly without killing humans. Sunghoon still remembered the warm summer night clearly. The sound of insects in the trees. The heat in the air. And then suddenly, it felt like winter. A snowstorm had exploded around them without warning. Ice had erupted violently across the ground, freezing the nearby human solid instantly. Sharp frozen spikes burst outward in every direction hard enough to seriously injure even the vampire who had turned him.

Sunghoon still remembered the horror on his own face afterward. The fear. Not because he had killed someone. But because it had been effortless. After word of his abilities spread, everything changed quickly. He had been taken from his old coven and brought before the Royals. The true elders. The oldest and most powerful vampires in existence. They had looked at him the same way humans looked at weapons. Useful. Dangerous. Valuable. With the scale of his raw power, Sunghoon could wipe out entire armies within moments if unleashed fully. During the war, that was exactly what they used him for.

He became a monster draped in ice and blood. Entire battlefields froze beneath his feet. Rivers iced over instantly. Men died screaming while snow fell in the middle of summer. For centuries, his power had only ever been associated with fear. With violence. With death. Even now, people still flinched when they saw what he could do. So hearing someone call it beautiful… It felt unfamiliar enough to unsettle him. Sunghoon slowly crouched near the edge of the rink, trailing frost-covered fingers lightly across the smooth ice beneath him. Beautiful. A small, almost disbelieving smile appeared briefly on his face before fading again.

~~~

A few days later, rain poured heavily outside. Water ran down the apartment windows in endless streams while cold wind rattled the glass faintly every now and then. The trees lining the streets below had almost completely lost their leaves now, golden and orange piles scattered across sidewalks beneath the storm. Autumn had fully arrived. And winter was close behind it. Sunghoon sat sprawled on the floor of Heeseung’s apartment with a controller in his hands while Jake, Niki, and Heeseung sat around him equally invested in the game currently ruining all of their moods. Some random drama series played quietly in the background on another screen, completely ignored except for occasional dramatic shouting from the actors.

“Absolutely not,” Niki complained loudly. “That attack should not have killed me.” “It literally exploded,” Jake argued while laughing. “Skill issue,” Heeseung said calmly. Niki glared at him. “I hope your character dies next.” “My character already won.” Unfortunately, Heeseung was correct. A second later, the game announced his victory across the screen while triumphant music blasted through the speakers. Jake groaned dramatically. Niki threw himself backward onto the couch in outrage. “This is because nobody defended the entrance,” he complained. “You should’ve put a guard there.”

The words barely left his mouth before Sunghoon suddenly froze. A guard. The others blinked in confusion as Sunghoon slowly looked up from his controller. A guard. It was so obvious. For two years he had been trying cameras, alarms, reinforced locks, motion sensors. But what he really needed was something that could actively protect the arena. Or rather… Someone. A guard dog. Sunghoon abruptly stood up so quickly the others startled. Jake nearly dropped his controller. “Whoa. What are you doing?” Niki squinted suspiciously at him from the couch. “Why do you suddenly look possessed?”

For the first time in days, actual excitement flickered across Sunghoon’s face. “I’m getting a guard,” he announced. The apartment fell silent. Heeseung blinked slowly. “…A what?” But Sunghoon was already pulling on his coat. Jake stared at him in disbelief. “Right now? It’s pouring outside.” Sunghoon ignored him completely. Niki sat up straighter. “Wait, are you serious?” Sunghoon finally smiled slightly as he opened the apartment door. “I’ll see you later.” And with that, he walked out into the storm, leaving the other three staring after him in complete confusion.

Sunghoon ran through the rain with vampire speed. The city blurred around him in streaks of gold lights and gray skies while icy rain soaked through his clothes almost instantly. Wind whipped through his hair as he moved silently through empty streets and alleyways. It was only five in the evening. The local shelter closed at six. One hour. He knew it might be difficult finding the perfect dog in such little time, but he also knew one thing for certain. He wanted a shelter dog. Not a breeder. This wasn’t about appearances or status.

The dog was mainly meant to guard the arena, yes, but that didn’t mean Sunghoon intended to treat it like some object or weapon. If he brought an animal home, then it would have a real home. A safe one. Besides… He understood what it felt like to be chosen for usefulness before anything else. Thanks to his speed, Sunghoon reached the shelter by 5:15. Forty-five minutes left. Rain poured down around him as he slowed near the entrance, finally becoming aware of how soaked he actually was. Water dripped from his coat, his hair clinging damply to his forehead.

For a brief second, he genuinely wished he had Jake’s fire abilities. Being able to dry himself instantly suddenly sounded incredibly useful. Sunghoon pushed open the shelter door and stepped inside. Warmth immediately hit him. So did noise. Dogs barking somewhere deeper in the building. The faint sound of a television near the reception area. A volunteer laughing softly with someone nearby. A few people were still inside despite the weather. But none of them mattered. Because then he caught a scent. Sunghoon froze instantly. His entire body went still. It didn’t smell like blood. Or danger. Or anything he could properly identify. It was just… Warm. Soft.

Something about it wrapped around his senses immediately, pulling at him in a way that made no sense at all. Like instinct itself had suddenly grabbed hold of him. His heart, which rarely reacted to anything anymore, gave one heavy unnatural beat inside his chest. Sunghoon frowned slightly. What the hell? Without even realizing it, he started walking toward the scent. Drawn closer and closer like something invisible was calling out to him from somewhere deeper inside the shelter. The scent drew him toward a girl. Well… not a girl exactly. A young woman, probably somewhere in her twenties. She stood near the front desk organizing bags of dog food while speaking softly to an older couple nearby. The second she noticed him standing there soaked from head to toe, her eyes widened slightly.

Then she smiled. And Sunghoon forgot how to move. “Oh my,” she said softly. “You’re soaked. Let me get you a towel.” Before he could even answer, she disappeared into a nearby room. Sunghoon remained frozen where he stood. Her smile had been so warm. So kind. It felt impossible. The strange pull inside him only grew stronger the longer he stood there surrounded by her scent. It wrapped around his senses gently, almost like warmth spreading through frozen hands. A few seconds later she returned carrying a towel. “Here,” she said brightly while handing it to him. Their fingers brushed briefly. And for a terrifying moment, Sunghoon thought the frost beneath his skin might actually crack open his composure completely. He took the towel carefully. “Thanks,” he breathed quietly.

The woman smiled again while he slowly dried off his face and neck, then pushed the towel through his damp hair. Up close, he noticed dirt smudged against one of her cheeks. Her hands were stained faintly brown too, probably from dog kibble or cleaning supplies. And somehow, despite all of that, she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. Not polished. Not perfect. Just… real. 

“So,” she asked warmly, leaning lightly against the counter nearby, “what brings you in today?” Sunghoon cleared his throat softly, trying to ignore the way his entire body seemed hyperaware of her presence. “I’m looking to adopt a dog,” he admitted. “Though I didn’t exactly choose the best day for it.” She laughed quietly. And somehow that sound felt dangerous too. “Actually,” she said, “today is the perfect day to adopt a dog.” Sunghoon blinked slightly. “Every day is perfect for adopting,” she added with a grin. For the first time in a very long time, Sunghoon felt something inside himself soften instantly.

“So,” she asked, “what kind of dog are you looking for?” Sunghoon thought for a moment before answering. “Well… I own the local ice rink,” he explained. “And I kind of need a guard dog for it. Hopefully something that can stop the break-ins.” The woman nodded thoughtfully as she listened. “So the dog also has to be okay with the cold,” he added. “Hm,” she hummed softly. “Okay…” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear while thinking before her expression brightened slightly. “We might actually have one dog that fits that,” she said. “Though I don’t know how good of a guard dog he really is.” A small smile appeared on Sunghoon’s face. “Can I see him?” She nodded immediately. “Come with me.” Sunghoon followed her deeper into the shelter.

The further they walked, the louder the barking became. Some dogs barked excitedly when they passed while others remained curled up in blankets inside their cages. But eventually she stopped in front of one enclosure near the back. Inside laid a large fluffy white dog. A samoyed. The dog barely looked up at first, seeming almost uninterested as it rested its head against its paws quietly. There was something sad about him. Like he had stopped expecting people to choose him. Then the woman crouched slightly beside the cage. “Hi, Mochi,” she said softly. “You have a visitor, boy.” Instantly, the dog looked up at her. His entire face seemed to brighten. His fluffy tail started wagging rapidly against the floor as he moved closer to the cage door happily. Sunghoon stared for a second before looking at her. “He seems to like you.” The woman smiled warmly at the dog.

“He’s been here quite a while,” she admitted softly. “It takes time for him to warm up to strangers.” Mochi pressed closer toward her hand through the bars immediately. “But once you get through his walls,” she continued while scratching gently behind the dog’s ear, “he’s a total softie.” Something about the way she said it made Sunghoon still slightly. Because for some reason, it sounded painfully familiar. The woman suddenly laughed softly, almost embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said. “I totally forgot to introduce myself.” She held out her hand slightly. “I’m (Y/n).” Sunghoon froze. Because the second he heard her name, everything inside him suddenly made sense. The pull. The scent. The way his entire body reacted to her presence like it had known her forever. (Y/n) was his mate. Holy shit.

For a moment, Sunghoon genuinely forgot how to speak. Centuries of existing, and suddenly fate had decided to hand him his mate in a dog shelter while he was soaking wet and looking for a guard dog. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying desperately to appear normal. “I’m Sunghoon,” he managed. (Y/n) smiled brightly. “Nice to meet you.” Then she gestured toward the fluffy white samoyed beside her. “And this is Mochi.” The dog barked softly at the sound of his name. “Mochi,” (Y/n) continued dramatically while crouching slightly beside him, “meet my new friend Sunghoon.” Mochi finally looked toward Sunghoon properly. And immediately looked unimpressed. Sunghoon almost laughed.

The dog stared at him with visible suspicion before looking back at (Y/n) like he personally disapproved of this man existing nearby. Still, Sunghoon slowly crouched down near the cage and carefully held out one hand. The moment he did, he noticed something. Mochi looked warm. Too warm. The thick white fur probably made autumn feel miserable for him indoors. Without thinking much about it, Sunghoon let a tiny bit of his power slip free. Just enough to cool the air around the dog gently. Almost instantly, Mochi’s entire demeanor changed. The dog perked up before happily moving closer, rubbing himself against Sunghoon’s hand while his tail wagged furiously.

(Y/n) gasped softly beside them. “Wow,” she breathed. “Mochi has never warmed up to someone this fast before.” Sunghoon chuckled quietly as Mochi continued happily pressing against him, clearly enjoying the colder air surrounding his hand. “I guess he just likes me.” Though honestly… At the moment, Sunghoon was beginning to think fate might like him too. (Y/n) unlocked the cage door before pulling it open fully, allowing Sunghoon to step inside the little meeting area. “We still have some time before closing,” she said warmly. “Come on, let’s sit with Mochi for a bit and see if he continues liking you.”

Sunghoon nodded quietly before following her inside. The room was small and cozy, with blankets scattered around the floor along with a few worn dog toys shoved into the corners. Rain tapped softly against the nearby windows while the warm shelter lights gave everything a gentle glow. Sunghoon sat down carefully on the floor. At first, Mochi immediately walked toward (Y/n), settling beside her like he naturally belonged there. Sunghoon couldn’t blame him. Then, after a few seconds, the dog suddenly stood again. To Sunghoon’s surprise, Mochi walked directly over before laying his fluffy head straight into Sunghoon’s lap.

(Y/n)’s eyes widened instantly. “No way.” Sunghoon smiled faintly while resting one hand carefully against the dog’s thick fur. Again, he subtly let his power spread outward just enough to cool the air around Mochi comfortably. The dog visibly relaxed beneath his touch. His tail thumped happily against the floor. Then somehow it got even worse for (Y/n)’s shock levels. Mochi rolled onto his back completely, exposing his stomach without hesitation and looking up at Sunghoon expectantly. Sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath before rubbing the dog’s belly gently. (Y/n) stared openly. “He has never acted like this before,” she said in disbelief. Sunghoon glanced down at the extremely content samoyed sprawled dramatically across his lap before smiling softly.

“You know what?” he murmured. “I think Mochi is the perfect dog.” Mochi immediately let out a small bark at the comment. (Y/n) giggled brightly. “I think he agrees.” They sat there with Mochi for a while longer. The rain continued tapping softly against the windows while the fluffy samoyed happily remained sprawled across Sunghoon’s lap like he had already decided this was his person now. Eventually, though, (Y/n) glanced toward the clock on the wall before slowly standing up. Mochi immediately looked up at her, tilting his head slightly. “It seems Mochi approves of you,” she said with a smile. Then her expression turned a little apologetic. “Unfortunately, it’s a bit too late to go through with the adoption tonight. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” Sunghoon gently scratched behind Mochi’s ear one last time before standing as well. “That’s alright,” he said softly. “Any specific time I should arrive?” (Y/n) shrugged lightly. “Whenever you can.”

But something about her expression shifted afterward. Sunghoon noticed it immediately. The sadness. Her eyes had gone slightly glossy, like she was trying hard not to let it show. She turned away quickly before opening the little meeting room door and stepping back into the hallway. Sunghoon followed her while Mochi padded after them briefly before stopping near the cage entrance. (Y/n) carefully locked the enclosure again. Then she crouched slightly beside Mochi. The smile she gave him was gentle. But sad. “I hope this works out,” she whispered softly. Had Sunghoon been human, he never would have heard it. But vampires heard everything. His brows furrowed slightly as he watched her. What did she mean by that?

(Y/n) stood again quickly before walking back toward the front desk. Sunghoon followed beside her silently while she shuffled through several papers and folders scattered nearby. Finally she found what she was looking for. “Here,” she said while handing him a sheet of paper. “This is a list of things you’ll need if you’re going to adopt a dog.” Sunghoon looked down at it. Dog food. Bowls. A bed. Leashes. Toys. Simple things. Normal things. Things he had absolutely never imagined himself shopping for centuries into immortality. “Thanks,” he said quietly. (Y/n) smiled softly again. Sunghoon folded the paper carefully before slipping it into his coat pocket.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he turned and started toward the exit. But just before the door closed behind him, he heard her whisper again. “I really hope we do.” The sadness in her voice stopped him for half a second. It sounded completely different from the warmth she had shown him all evening. And suddenly, standing there in the rain outside the shelter, Sunghoon realized something. His mate carried sadness the same way he did.

~~~

The next day, at noon, Sunghoon stood outside the shelter doors. The weather was better today. Still cloudy. Still cold enough for people to walk quickly with their hands buried in their pockets. Wind swept through the streets hard enough to rustle the nearly bare trees overhead, but at least the rain had finally stopped. For a moment, Sunghoon simply stood there looking at the building. He was excited. Not just because his mate was behind those doors. But because he was genuinely excited about adopting Mochi. The realization still felt strange to him.

One hundred years ago, the vampire he had been would have laughed at the idea of this life. A former war commander who once froze entire armies solid now stood outside an animal shelter thinking about dog beds and chew toys. Sometimes he barely believed he was still the same person. But maybe that was a good thing. Sunghoon let out a quiet breath before pushing the thoughts aside and walking inside. Warmth greeted him immediately. And then her scent wrapped around him again. Soft. Warm. Comforting in a way that made his entire body loosen instinctively. (Y/n) sat behind the front desk speaking quietly on the phone when he entered. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

Sunghoon slowed slightly as he watched her. Her eyes were glossy again. Sad. He could hear enough of the conversation to understand quickly. Someone was returning a dog they had adopted. “I understand,” (Y/n) said softly into the phone, though her voice cracked slightly around the edges. “No, it’s okay… we’ll take her back.” The sadness in her scent deepened. Sunghoon’s chest tightened unexpectedly. It was painfully obvious how deeply she cared about the animals here. Could that be why she sounded so sad yesterday? Was she afraid he would return Mochi too? A few seconds later, the call ended. (Y/n) quickly wiped at one of her eyes before taking a slow breath, forcing herself to steady. Then she looked up. And froze.

Shock spread instantly across her face. “You came back,” she whispered. “I said I would,” Sunghoon responded softly. “Didn’t I?” (Y/n) stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding. “That you did,” she admitted quietly. “But a lot of people say they’ll come back.” Her fingers tightened slightly against the desk. “And then they never do.” Something painful flickered across her face when she said it. Sunghoon understood then. Why her voice sounded sad yesterday. Why she looked surprised now. She had stopped expecting people to stay. Sunghoon nodded once. He could understand the reluctance to trust him immediately. But he had come back. He had shown up.

“If I may,” he said carefully, “I’d still like to adopt Mochi.” For the first time since he walked in, (Y/n)’s smile became fully genuine. Soft warmth spread across her face so naturally that Sunghoon almost forgot what she had even said afterward. “Of course,” she answered brightly. “There’s a ton of paperwork first though.” Sunghoon smiled faintly. “I’m ready.” (Y/n) laughed softly before stepping out from behind the desk. “Come on then.” She guided him toward a quieter sitting area further inside the shelter, away from most of the barking and noise. A small table sat near the windows along with a couple of old chairs and stacks of adoption folders nearby.

(Y/n) handed him an intimidating amount of paperwork along with a pen. Sunghoon looked down at the stack in mild horror. She noticed immediately and giggled. “It’s not that bad,” she promised. “It looks legally threatening.” “That’s how you know it’s official.” Sunghoon quietly accepted his fate. (Y/n) smiled again before stepping backward toward the hallway. “I’ll come back in around thirty minutes,” she explained. “Or you can come find me if you finish earlier.” Sunghoon nodded. “Alright,” he said softly. “See you soon.” Something in (Y/n)’s expression softened again at the words before she disappeared down the hallway.

Once she was gone, Sunghoon leaned back slightly in the chair and stared at the paperwork in front of him. Then immediately stopped paying attention to it. Because his mind drifted straight back toward her. His mate. The thought still felt unreal somehow. As he slowly filled out the forms, he found himself wondering how exactly he was supposed to ask her out. Niki had once claimed modern dating was complicated now. “You can’t just dramatically confess your love anymore,” he had complained one evening. “People think you’re insane.” Sunghoon still wasn’t sure if that had been genuine advice or if Niki had simply been trying to confuse Jay for entertainment purposes. Honestly, both were equally possible. Still… Maybe he didn’t need to rush things.

Maybe Mochi could give him a reason to stay in contact with her naturally. (Y/n) clearly loved that dog deeply. Maybe she would want updates. Maybe she would want to visit him sometimes. And through that… Sunghoon could get to know her properly. The real her. Not just the girl smiling kindly at customers behind the shelter desk. Sunghoon looked down at the adoption form in front of him before a small smile appeared on his face. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to do it yet. But one thing was certain. He was going to try his absolute best to make her fall in love with him. Soon enough, he was finally done signing the paperwork. There had been far more forms than he expected, but now the stack sat neatly completed on the table in front of him.

Sunghoon stood, stretching slightly before following the familiar trail of his mate’s scent through the shelter. He found her in one of the feeding areas. (Y/n) was crouched on the floor filling metal bowls with dog kibble while several dogs barked excitedly nearby. Loose strands of hair had fallen into her face and her sleeves were pushed up messily to her elbows. And once again, Sunghoon noticed it immediately. The sadness. Her scent was drenched in it. So much so that it almost hurt him to smell it. Yet the second she turned and noticed him standing there, she smiled instantly like she could simply push it away. Like she had practiced hiding it. Sunghoon’s chest tightened slightly. He wanted to ask what was wrong. Wanted to comfort her somehow. But he also knew it wasn’t his place. Not yet.

So instead, he smiled softly. “I finished the paperwork.” (Y/n) stood up quickly, wiping her hands against her pants before walking over to him. “Perfect.” She took the papers from him carefully and flipped through them, scanning over the pages. “Everything looks good,” she said after a moment before looking back up at him. “Alright, let’s go get Mochi.” Sunghoon nodded immediately, following beside her through the shelter hallways. The closer they got to the room from yesterday, the heavier the sadness in her scent became. Yet outwardly, she remained warm and friendly. Still smiling. Still kind. Like she refused to let anyone see how much pain she was carrying underneath it all. Mochi barked happily the second he saw them approaching. His fluffy tail wagged furiously as he hurried toward the front of the enclosure while (Y/n) smiled softly despite the sadness still lingering beneath her scent.

She reached for the leash hanging outside the cage. And that was when Sunghoon noticed it. Her hand was trembling slightly. Very slightly. Enough that a human probably never would have noticed. But he did. (Y/n) unlocked the cage before kneeling down to clip the leash onto Mochi’s collar. Once it clicked into place, she wrapped both arms around the dog tightly. Sunghoon stayed quiet. He simply stood there and watched, allowing her the space to say goodbye properly. Mochi licked her cheek affectionately, earning a quiet laugh from her before the dog suddenly turned and trotted directly toward Sunghoon instead.

Then, without hesitation, Mochi jumped up against Sunghoon’s legs and barked excitedly. Sunghoon leaned down immediately. “Hi, boy,” he murmured softly while petting his head. Mochi practically melted beneath the attention. Behind him, (Y/n) took a shaky breath. Sunghoon caught the slight sniffle that followed. But he didn’t comment on it. He was certain this was already difficult enough for her without a stranger pointing it out. A few seconds later, she stepped closer again and carefully handed him the leash. “There,” she said softly. “Now you can bring him home.” Sunghoon took the leash gently before smiling down at the samoyed. “Wanna go home, Mochi?” Mochi barked loudly before immediately beginning to march toward the shelter entrance like he had been waiting for this exact moment his entire life.

That finally pulled a quiet laugh from (Y/n). She followed beside Sunghoon as Mochi proudly led them outside into the cold autumn air. The wind outside was sharp today, though thankfully dry. Mochi seemed thrilled by the colder weather immediately. Once they stopped outside the shelter doors, Sunghoon turned toward (Y/n). For a second, he hesitated. Then finally, he spoke. “If you ever want to visit him,” he said softly, “just give me a call. Or come by the arena.” He pulled a small folded note from his coat pocket before handing it to her. “My number.” (Y/n) looked genuinely surprised as she took it carefully. Then finally… Her smile became real again. Not forced. Not hiding sadness. Just genuine warmth. “I will,” she said quietly. And somehow, that simple answer made Sunghoon feel warmer than he had in centuries.

Sunghoon felt bad leaving her standing there outside the shelter. Every instinct inside him wanted to stay longer. To ask her what was hurting her. To make her smile again. But as he looked down at the fluffy white dog happily walking beside him, tail wagging with every other step, the guilt eased slightly. At least Mochi was going home now. “Okay,” Sunghoon said softly while starting down the sidewalk. “Let’s go home.” Mochi barked once excitedly before trotting even faster beside him. The sight alone made Sunghoon laugh quietly under his breath. Sunghoon unlocked the brand new front doors before stepping inside with Mochi eagerly pulling ahead. The second they entered, Sunghoon unclipped the leash from the dog’s collar.

Mochi immediately began exploring. His paws clicked against the floors while he sniffed everything in sight with serious determination. Sunghoon watched him for a moment before crossing his arms slightly. “Okay, Mochi,” he began seriously. “You seem like a very smart dog, so here are the rules.” Mochi looked at him immediately. “I need you to guard this place from people who want to wreck it.” Mochi barked once. Sunghoon nodded like they were having a completely normal conversation. “Good. Next rule, no pooping inside.” Mochi blinked. “If you need to go outside…” Sunghoon paused awkwardly while looking around the empty arena. Then his eyes landed on the leash still hanging loosely in his hand.

He lifted it slightly. “Can you grab the leash and bring it to me?” Mochi barked again. Sunghoon tilted his head. “I hope that means yes.” Almost immediately, Mochi walked over calmly, took the leash directly from Sunghoon’s hand, then proudly carried it back toward the doors before looking at him expectantly. Like he was saying, I got it. Sunghoon stared for a second before laughing quietly. “Good boy, Mochi.” The samoyed barked happily. “Okay,” Sunghoon continued. “Last rule. We have a lot of kids around the arena, so you have to be nice to them.” Another bark. Sunghoon shook his head slightly in disbelief. “You’re really smart, huh?” Mochi’s tail wagged furiously. “The perfect dog.” Mochi barked proudly again. Sunghoon laughed properly this time, the sound echoing softly through the empty arena.

Then he gestured for the dog to follow him. “Come on,” he said warmly. “I’ll show you around.” After showing Mochi around the entire arena, Sunghoon led him up a small staircase near the back hallways before stopping in front of another locked door. He unlocked it and pushed it open. “This,” he said while stepping aside for the dog, “is my apartment.” Mochi immediately ran inside. Sunghoon laughed softly as the samoyed excitedly explored every corner of the space, paws sliding slightly against the wooden floors. The apartment itself was cozy. Cool-toned furniture, soft lighting, shelves filled with books and old records. Large windows overlooked the ice rink below, allowing the glow from the arena lights to spill faintly into the room.

Sunghoon leaned against the doorway watching Mochi sniff everything in sight. “I haven’t bought everything for you yet,” he admitted. “But I’m gonna do that this afternoon, okay?” Mochi barked immediately. Sunghoon smiled. “You really understand me, huh?” Another bark. Honestly, it was becoming unsettling. Eventually they settled down on the couch together, Mochi sprawling dramatically across half of it while some random television show played quietly in the background. For the first time in a while, the apartment didn’t feel empty.

Then suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Mochi shot upright instantly. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he hopped off the couch and stood protectively near Sunghoon. Sunghoon blinked in surprise before smiling softly. “It’s okay, Moch,” he reassured gently while standing. “It’s just my friends.” Almost immediately, Mochi stopped growling. Though he still looked deeply suspicious. Sunghoon walked toward the door with Mochi closely following beside him before opening it to reveal Heeseung and Jungwon standing outside.

The second they stepped inside, Mochi moved closer to sniff them carefully. Very carefully. Like he still wasn’t entirely convinced they weren’t criminals. Sunghoon laughed quietly. “He takes his job very seriously.” “We can see that,” Heeseung replied while eyeing the dog with amusement. Jungwon crouched down onto the floor almost immediately, holding out one hand calmly toward Mochi. “Hi, buddy.” Mochi sniffed him cautiously. “So what’s his name?” Jungwon asked. Before Sunghoon could answer, Heeseung spoke first. “It’s Mochi.”

The samoyed immediately looked toward him and barked once. Heeseung gasped dramatically. “He likes me already.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes while crouching beside the dog. “Mochi,” he said gently, “this is my friend Heeseung, and that’s Jungwon.” Mochi sniffed Jungwon once more before allowing a cautious head pat. Then Sunghoon leaned slightly closer to the dog like he was about to share a secret. “And I’m gonna tell you something important, okay, boy?” Mochi barked softly. Sunghoon smiled. “We’re vampires.” Mochi stared at him for one long second. Then barked again. Heeseung pointed immediately. “See? He accepted it way faster than Aida did.” 

“Okay, Hee,” Sunghoon said while crossing his arms slightly, “I asked you to come because I wanted to know if you could use your power to see what Mochi thinks.” He paused. “But I guess you can already do that since you somehow knew his name. Or did you read my mind?” Heeseung chuckled immediately. “I read the dog’s mind, not yours,” he said. “Your mind is freezing. It’s like walking into an abandoned iceberg.” Sunghoon nudged him lightly with his foot. “Whatever. Now tell me what you can see or hear in there.” Heeseung shrugged before sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Mochi.

The samoyed walked over curiously, sniffing him once before sitting down nearby. Then Heeseung’s eyes turned black. Completely black. Even after centuries of knowing him, the sight was still unsettling. Silence filled the apartment for almost a full minute while Heeseung focused. Mochi tilted his head curiously during the whole thing. Eventually, Heeseung’s eyes slowly returned to normal. He blinked once before looking over at Sunghoon. “Alright,” he said. “Here’s what I got.” Sunghoon listened carefully. “His name is Mochi. He’s three years old. Originally born in some city really far north.” Mochi barked once proudly. “But then he got bought by a family here,” Heeseung continued. “Apparently they thought fluffy white dog meant easy.”

Jungwon snorted softly. “He was too high maintenance for them,” Heeseung finished more quietly. “So they surrendered him to the shelter.” Mochi’s ears lowered slightly. “And he’s been there for two years,” Heeseung added, “until you adopted him.” Sunghoon’s expression softened instantly as he looked toward the dog. Two years. No wonder Mochi had looked so sad when he first saw him. “But,” Heeseung continued, suddenly sounding amused, “he also seems to understand us perfectly fine.” Sunghoon blinked. “What?” Heeseung shrugged. “Apparently dogs just can.” Jungwon looked deeply unsurprised by this information. Honestly, so did Mochi. The dog barked once like he was confirming it.

Sunghoon stared at him for a second before laughing quietly under his breath. “Okay,” he said softly while reaching down to scratch behind Mochi’s ears. “Well then. Thanks, Hee.” Mochi leaned happily into the attention immediately. Sunghoon looked over at Jungwon then. “Think you can stay here and watch him for an hour or two while I go shopping?” Jungwon nodded instantly. Though honestly, he seemed far too focused on petting Mochi to fully process the question. The samoyed had somehow climbed halfway into Jungwon’s lap despite weighing far too much for that to make sense. Heeseung chuckled from nearby. “Safe to say Jungwon loves your dog,” he said. “His mind is literally just cute dog, cute dog, cute dog right now.” Jungwon looked mildly offended. “That’s not true.” He paused. Then scratched Mochi behind the ears again. “He is very cute though.”

Sunghoon laughed softly before grabbing his coat. “Let’s go then.” And so Sunghoon and Heeseung headed out to buy everything Mochi still needed. The shopping trip ended up far more chaotic than Sunghoon expected. Apparently owning a dog involved an absurd amount of choices. Different foods. Different toys. Different beds. At one point Heeseung spent ten whole minutes arguing passionately about why Mochi deserved decorative seasonal bandanas. “He does not need pumpkin-themed accessories.” “He absolutely does.” “He’s a guard dog.” “He can guard while being festive.” Sunghoon regretted bringing him almost immediately.

Still, somewhere between comparing dog food ingredients and trying to stop Heeseung from buying unnecessary luxury treats, Sunghoon’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out absentmindedly. And smiled instantly. It was (Y/n). Would you mind if I came by tomorrow to meet Mochi? Warmth spread through him so suddenly that even he looked slightly caught off guard by it. Sunghoon typed back immediately. Come by anytime. He had barely put his phone away before Heeseung spoke beside him. “So,” he began casually while staring at shelves of dog food, “who is it that suddenly has your heart beating again?”

Sunghoon looked over sharply. “Did you read my mind?” he asked immediately. “I told you centuries ago to stay out.” Heeseung laughed. “I promise I haven’t touched your mind in ninety-seven years,” he said. “You’re terrifying when you notice.” Sunghoon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “But,” Heeseung continued, smirking slightly, “it’s easy to tell something’s different with you.” Sunghoon looked away for a second. Different barely covered it. For the first time in centuries, the future actually felt… bright.

And so, Sunghoon had to tell Heeseung. There was absolutely no way around it now. He let out a slow breath while pretending to compare two brands of dog food. “A girl that works at the shelter,” he finally admitted. Heeseung immediately turned toward him. Sunghoon already regretted everything. “She’s my mate.” The grin that spread across Heeseung’s face was instant. Oh no. Sunghoon felt dread settle into his soul. Of all the vampires in the coven, Heeseung might genuinely have been the worst person to find out first. “Shut up,” Sunghoon said immediately. Heeseung hadn’t even spoken yet. That only made the older vampire grin wider.

“Ooohhh,” Heeseung sang dramatically. “You’re in looove.” Sunghoon stared at him. “You’re centuries old.” “And yet this remains funny.” “You’re insufferable.” “You found your soulmate at a dog shelter.” Sunghoon looked away. “That’s adorable.” “I hate you.” “You absolutely do not.” The teasing only got worse. Heeseung followed him through the aisle carrying a basket full of dog supplies while making increasingly dramatic observations. “You texted her back immediately, didn’t you?” Sunghoon refused to answer. “That means yes.” “Leave me alone.” “You smiled at your phone.” 

Sunghoon stopped walking. Very slowly, he looked around. The aisle was mostly empty. The only other person nearby was the cashier working near the front registers. Perfect. Before Heeseung could continue, Sunghoon reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Instantly, frost spread through the fabric. Heeseung yelped. “Cold!” The ice crept further. Not enough to actually hurt him. Just enough. “Okay!” Heeseung winced while stepping backward. “Okay, fine!” Sunghoon removed his hand. “I won’t tease you.” A beat passed. “Much.” Sunghoon glared at him. Heeseung wisely raised both hands in surrender. “Message received.” Only then did Sunghoon return to looking through the shelves for the things Mochi still needed. A dog bed. Food bowls. Some toys. And hopefully enough patience to survive having Heeseung know about his mate.

Thankfully, they finished shopping before Heeseung could embarrass him any further. By the time they loaded everything into the car, they had purchased enough supplies to spoil Mochi for the foreseeable future. A dog bed. Several toys. Food and treats. Bowls. Blankets. And far more things than Sunghoon originally intended to buy. Once they returned to the ice rink, Jungwon and Heeseung helped carry everything upstairs before eventually heading home themselves. Leaving Sunghoon alone with his new best friend.

The moment the bags hit the floor, Mochi became intensely interested. His fluffy tail wagged furiously as he shoved his nose into every shopping bag he could reach. Sunghoon laughed softly while kneeling beside them. “Patience.” Mochi ignored him completely. A moment later, the samoyed pulled out a plush penguin toy. Of every item they had bought, it immediately became his favorite. The toy wasn’t particularly special. It didn’t squeak. It didn’t light up. It was simply a small stuffed penguin. Yet Mochi proudly carried it around the apartment like he had discovered buried treasure.

Sunghoon couldn’t stop smiling. Watching the dog happily trot around with the toy dangling from his mouth was strangely comforting. For someone who had spent centuries surrounded by war and immortality, it was amazing how much joy a dog and a stuffed penguin could bring. Eventually, Sunghoon noticed something. “Hey,” he said. Mochi immediately looked up. “Give me that for a second.” The dog froze. “You still have the tag on it.” Mochi tightened his grip. Sunghoon laughed. “Come on.” A playful growl rumbled from Mochi’s chest. Not threatening. Just stubborn.

“Don’t make me fight you for it.” Another growl. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You know I’d win.” After a moment, Mochi reluctantly walked over and dropped the penguin into his lap. “Thank you.” The samoyed sat down directly in front of him and watched with complete concentration as Sunghoon carefully cut the tag off. The second he finished, he tossed it lightly back toward the dog. Mochi launched himself after it. The catch wasn’t graceful. But it was successful. The dog landed dramatically on the floor before immediately curling around the penguin and nibbling on one of its flippers. Sunghoon laughed again. The apartment felt warmer than it had the day before. Not physically. Just… happier. And for the first time in a very long time, Sunghoon found himself looking forward to tomorrow. After all, tomorrow his mate was coming to visit.

The night ended with Sunghoon asleep in his bed, with Mochi by his side. Or at least, it ended that way after losing a battle he had never stood a chance of winning. He had tried everything. The dog bed. The floor. The couch. All perfectly reasonable sleeping locations. Unfortunately, Mochi possessed puppy eyes powerful enough to destroy centuries of self-control. So now the samoyed was curled up comfortably beside him beneath the blankets while Sunghoon silently accepted defeat. The night passed peacefully. No nightmares. No break-ins. No problems. Just the soft sound of Mochi snoring occasionally beside him.

~~~

Morning arrived. Sunghoon opened his eyes slowly. Almost instantly, Mochi did too. The dog jumped off the bed excitedly before giving a quiet bark. As if saying good morning. Sunghoon chuckled. “Good morning to you too.” Mochi’s tail immediately started wagging. A few minutes later, they were standing in the kitchen. Sunghoon prepared breakfast while Mochi sat patiently nearby. Well… Mostly patiently. The dog definitely scooted closer every thirty seconds. “Sit.” Mochi sat. “Good.” Another scoot. Sunghoon laughed. Eventually, breakfast was served, and once Mochi had eaten, they headed out for a walk through the chilly autumn morning.

The air was cold enough that most people kept their hands stuffed into their pockets while hurrying past. Mochi, meanwhile, looked happier than ever. By the time they returned to the arena, the first employees were beginning to arrive. Sunghoon unlocked the front doors before looking down at the dog. “Okay, Mochi.” The samoyed immediately sat. “We’re open today.” Mochi tilted his head. “We have two large groups of school kids coming by.” A bark. “And probably other visitors too.” Another bark. Sunghoon pointed toward him seriously. “So you need to be nice.” Mochi stared at him. “You can’t scare the children.” The dog blinked. “You especially can’t scare the teachers.” A pause. Then Mochi barked once. Sunghoon nodded. “Good.”

The samoyed stood immediately and trotted across the lobby. Without being told. Without hesitation. Straight toward the front desk. Sunghoon watched as Mochi climbed onto the dog bed he had placed beside the counter the night before. The fluffy dog circled twice before lying down proudly. Ready for work. Sunghoon smiled. “Good dog.” Mochi’s tail thumped happily against the bed. As Sunghoon flipped the sign to OPEN and unlocked the main entrance, it only took a few minutes before the first visitors arrived. Or rather… The first forty-eight visitors.

Two entire school classes poured through the front doors, twenty-four students in each group, all wearing winter jackets and carrying enough energy to power the city. Sunghoon smiled faintly. This was their second visit to the rink. One of the teachers immediately approached the front desk. “Good morning, Sunghoon,” she greeted warmly. “Morning,” he replied. “We’re here to borrow the skates again.” Sunghoon nodded before moving toward the rental shelves. “Same sizes as last time?” “Mostly.” While the teachers organized the students, Sunghoon helped hand out skates. Despite not liking chaos in most situations, he genuinely loved days like this. Loved watching people discover skating. Especially children. 

Once everyone made it onto the ice, the rink transformed completely. Some students stepped onto the ice and immediately took off like they had been born there. Others lasted approximately two seconds before crashing onto their backsides. But the best part was that they always got back up. Again. And again. And again. The sound of laughter echoed throughout the rink. A few students waved excitedly at Sunghoon as he stepped onto the ice. “Teacher Sunghoon!” “I’m not a teacher,” he corrected automatically. “Yes, you are.” “No, I’m not.” “You teach us skating.” Sunghoon sighed. The child had a point. Eventually he gathered everyone together near the center of the rink. The students quieted almost immediately.

The teachers noticed it too. With them, the children were loud and energetic. The moment Sunghoon stepped onto the ice, they became completely focused. Mesmerized. Partly because they liked him. Mostly because watching him skate never stopped being impressive. Sunghoon glided effortlessly around them while explaining techniques. “How you fall is just as important as how you skate,” he told them. Several students groaned. “We don’t want to fall.” “But you will.” More groans. “Everyone falls.” He demonstrated how to bend their knees properly. How to balance. How to stop without crashing into walls. And slowly, little by little, the students improved. The teachers watched gratefully from the sidelines.

Meanwhile, beside the front desk, Mochi observed everything carefully. The dog had looked up the second the children entered. His ears perked. His eyes followed them. But he never moved. Not once. He remembered what Sunghoon had told him. Be nice. Don’t scare the children. So Mochi remained on his dog bed like the world’s fluffiest security guard, watching the rink with quiet focus while dozens of children laughed and skated across the ice. Every now and then a student would notice him. “Look!” “A dog!” “He’s so fluffy!” Mochi’s tail would thump against the bed. But he stayed exactly where he was. Being a very good boy. And from across the rink, Sunghoon noticed. “Good dog,” he murmured to himself. Mochi immediately barked once in response.

Three hours later, the first visitors were finally preparing to leave. The students shuffled through the lobby carrying skates and backpacks while teachers desperately tried to keep track of forty-eight excited children at once. A chorus of complaints echoed through the building. “Can we stay longer?” “Please?” “We just got good!” One teacher sighed heavily. “You said that last time too.” Sunghoon couldn’t help smiling. Days like these always left him tired. But they were a good kind of tired. 

In the middle of all the chaos, the front doors opened once more. Only one person stepped inside. Mochi immediately stood up. Sunghoon noticed from across the lobby. The dog’s ears perked. His tail started wagging. And then, to Sunghoon’s surprise, Mochi sprinted across the floor. “Mochi?” Sunghoon called. His first thought was that the dog had rushed one of the children. His heart nearly stopped. Then he looked up, and froze. (Y/n). She stood just inside the entrance, bundled up against the autumn cold. Mochi reached her a second later and immediately jumped up happily. (Y/n) laughed. A real laugh. Bright and warm.

“Hello, big boy,” she said while rubbing both hands through his fluffy fur. Mochi practically vibrated with happiness. Sunghoon stood completely still. For a few seconds, he couldn’t even breathe. Because for the first time since meeting her, she looked genuinely happy. At the shelter, sadness had always lingered around her. Always hiding behind her smiles. But now… Her eyes sparkled. Her entire face seemed brighter as she greeted Mochi. And for a moment, Sunghoon couldn’t look away. Eventually he forced himself to move. Walking across the lobby toward them.

“Hey, (Y/n),” he said softly. “Nice to see you.” She looked up immediately. That same kind smile appeared on her face. “Hey.” Then she glanced around at the students and teachers filling the building. “Sorry if I’m interrupting something.” Sunghoon shook his head immediately. “No, it’s fine.” He gestured toward the departing school classes. “They’re just about to leave.” One child immediately proved him wrong by running past yelling something incomprehensible. Sunghoon waited patiently for the chaos to pass. “The next visitors don’t arrive for another hour,” he finished. (Y/n) nodded. “Good.” Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

Sunghoon almost said it. You’d never be in the way. The words rose right to the surface. But he swallowed them. It was too soon. Probably. Hopefully. Instead, he glanced down at Mochi, who was currently leaning his entire body weight against (Y/n)’s legs. “I’m sure Mochi doesn’t mind the company.” As if on cue, Mochi barked happily. (Y/n) laughed again. And Sunghoon decided that if he could spend the rest of the day making her smile like that, it would be a very good day indeed. “How’s it working out with him?” (Y/n) scratched behind Mochi’s ears as she spoke. “I know it’s only been one night, but still. I’m curious.” Sunghoon chuckled softly. “He’s a very smart dog.”

Mochi barked proudly. Sunghoon pointed at him. “See?” (Y/n) laughed. “It’s like he actually understands every word I say,” Sunghoon continued. “Honestly, he truly is the perfect dog for me.” Mochi immediately barked again. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Another bark. (Y/n) giggled. Sunghoon felt his chest tighten slightly at the sound. “You made a good recommendation,” he finished. (Y/n)’s smile softened. “I’m glad.” Her gaze drifted down to Mochi. “He was so sad in the shelter.” She rubbed her fingers through the dog’s fur absentmindedly. “So I’m relieved he seems to have found a human who’ll treat him well.” 

And there it was again.  That sadness. The moment it appeared, it poured out of her so strongly that Sunghoon almost physically felt it. Her eyes lost some of their brightness. The sparkle from moments ago dimmed beneath something darker. Something heavy. Sunghoon hated it. He hated seeing her smile disappear. “I promise,” he said gently. (Y/n) looked up. “I’ll treat him like a king.” Mochi wagged his tail furiously. “He’ll never have to be sad again.” For a second, something flickered across her face. Hope. Pain. Longing. Then she lowered her eyes. Neither will you, Sunghoon almost wanted to add. But he didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, beneath her breath, so quietly that nobody else would have heard it, she whispered: “I wish I could believe that.” The words hit him harder than they should have. Sunghoon said nothing. He simply stood there while questions filled his mind. What happened to her? Why did she carry so much sadness? Why did she seem so certain that good things couldn’t last? But he didn’t ask. Because some wounds couldn’t be rushed. And if there was one thing immortality had taught him, it was patience. 

So Sunghoon pushed the questions aside. He had already made his decision. His plan wasn’t to overwhelm her. Wasn’t to confess immediately. Wasn’t to force fate into moving faster. He would simply get to know her. Slowly. Naturally. If it took a week, he would wait. If it took a month, he would wait. A year. A decade. However long it took. He didn’t care. As long as he could stay by her side in some way. Because for the first time in centuries, Sunghoon had found someone worth waiting for. Meanwhile, completely unaware of the emotional crisis occurring beside him, Mochi rolled onto his back and demanded belly rubs. Which, thankfully, made (Y/n) smile again.

As the school classes finally left the building, the arena grew quiet again. The sudden silence felt strange after hours of children laughing, shouting, and sliding across the ice. Now it was just Sunghoon, (Y/n), and Mochi. The samoyed looked mildly disappointed that forty-eight potential admirers had disappeared. Sunghoon glanced toward the clock hanging near the front desk. “We still have about forty-five minutes before the next visitors arrive.” (Y/n) followed his gaze. “Oh.” Sunghoon hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “So… why don’t we head up to my apartment and get some coffee?” He nodded toward Mochi. “That way you can spend some more time with him.” (Y/n)’s face brightened slightly. “Sounds good.” The answer came so easily that Sunghoon almost forgot how to walk.

Instead, he led the way toward the stairs. And immediately began panicking internally. What if the apartment was messy? What if she felt uncomfortable being alone with him? What if he said something stupid? What if Heeseung had somehow hidden something embarrassing somewhere? What if Mochi revealed one of the conversations he’d had with the dog? By the time they reached the apartment door, Sunghoon was contemplating every terrible possibility imaginable. Then they stepped inside. And thankfully, nothing exploded. The apartment was clean. Comfortable. Normal. Mostly. Sunghoon released a small breath of relief before gesturing toward the living room. “Make yourself comfortable.” (Y/n) nodded.

While she settled in, Sunghoon retreated to the kitchen to get some water and coffee started. The few minutes alone helped him collect himself slightly. By the time he returned carrying two glasses of water, he found a scene that instantly made him smile. (Y/n) sat on the couch. Mochi occupied approximately half of it. The giant samoyed had his head resting comfortably in her lap while she scratched behind his ears. His eyes were closed. His tail thumped lazily every few seconds. He looked completely content. Completely spoiled. Completely in love with her. Honestly, Sunghoon couldn’t blame him.

He sat down in the remaining free space and handed her one of the glasses. “Here.” (Y/n) accepted it. “Thank you.” She took a sip before immediately returning her attention to Mochi. The dog made a pleased grumbling noise. Sunghoon laughed softly. “I think he’s forgotten I exist.” “Can you blame him?” (Y/n) asked. “No.” “Good answer.” For a while, neither of them said much. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable though. Just peaceful. The kind of silence that came from enjoying someone’s company rather than needing to fill every second with conversation. And as Sunghoon watched Mochi happily stretched across both of them, he too felt content.

Once the coffee was ready, Sunghoon stood and headed back into the kitchen. Mochi immediately looked after him. “Don’t start,” Sunghoon warned. The dog huffed dramatically. (Y/n) laughed. A few seconds later, Sunghoon returned carrying two mugs. He handed one to (Y/n), who carefully swapped it with the glass of water she sat down on the table. “Thank you.” “Of course.” Sunghoon sat down again, taking a sip from his own coffee. For a few moments, everything felt peaceful. Mochi stretched across both of their laps. The coffee was warm. The apartment was quiet.

Then (Y/n) asked a question. “What made you open the ice rink?” Sunghoon immediately choked on his coffee. (Y/n)’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, are you okay?” Sunghoon coughed twice before nodding. “Yeah.” “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine.” It wasn’t a strange question at all. Honestly, it was probably one of the most normal questions she could have asked. Which was exactly the problem. Because how was he supposed to answer it? The truth wasn’t exactly something he could tell her. That after centuries of war and bloodshed, he had desperately searched for something peaceful. That despite his powers being used as weapons for most of his life, ice itself had never felt cruel to him. That skating was the only thing that had consistently made him feel like himself. Not a soldier. Not a monster. Just Sunghoon. When he skated, he felt human. More human than he ever did standing still. But he couldn’t tell her that. Not yet.

So instead, Sunghoon scrambled for a normal answer. “Well,” he began awkwardly. Immediately he hated how awkward he sounded. (Y/n) waited patiently. “I’ve always loved skating.” Technically true. “And I wanted to share that with other people.” Also true. Mostly. He took another sip of coffee. “Plus, the city didn’t really have another ice rink.” (Y/n) nodded. “So I saw an opportunity and decided to open one.” The explanation sounded reasonable enough. Even if it felt painfully incomplete. (Y/n) smiled softly. “Well, I’m glad you did.” Sunghoon looked up. She glanced toward the windows overlooking the rink below. “The children looked so happy.” A genuine smile tugged at her lips. “And from what I saw, they clearly adore you.”

Sunghoon nearly choked on his coffee a second time. “They do not.” “They absolutely do.” “They only listen because they know I can ban them from the ice.” (Y/n) laughed. “I don’t think that’s why.” Sunghoon looked away. Because the truth was… Seeing her smile at something he had built made him happier than any compliment ever could. Sunghoon decided to take the opportunity to ask a question of his own. “How come you’re working at the shelter?” The change was immediate. (Y/n) looked down at the coffee cup resting between her hands. Her other hand, which had been absentmindedly stroking Mochi’s fur, slowed. Then stopped completely. The brightness left her eyes. That overwhelming sadness swept through her again. Heavy. Familiar. Painfully familiar. Sunghoon immediately regretted asking.

(Y/n) sighed softly before shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t exactly like other people.” Her voice wasn’t bitter. Just tired. “Animals are different.” Mochi lifted his head slightly, looking up at her. “I guess…” She hesitated. “I always felt more connected to them than I ever did to other humans.” As if sensing her mood, Mochi shifted closer. The giant samoyed buried his head further into her lap. Trying to comfort her. (Y/n)’s fingers automatically found their way back into his fur. Sunghoon watched quietly. He knew there was more to the story. Much more. But he also respected that she wasn’t ready to tell him. Just like he had things he couldn’t share. She had things she carried too.

Still, curiosity got the better of him. “Can I ask why?” (Y/n) stared into her coffee for several seconds. Then she shrugged again. “Most people I’ve met in my life have been…” She searched for the right word. “Far from kind.” The apartment fell silent. “So I guess I have a hard time seeing the good in people.” Her eyes remained fixed on the coffee. “Since I’ve mostly known the bad.” The words hit Sunghoon harder than he expected. Because he wanted to tell her he understood. Wanted to tell her that he knew exactly what it felt like to lose faith in people. But the words never came. Because all he could think about was his past. The battlefields. The frozen corpses. The screams. The blood staining white snow red.

He was trying to be a good person now. Had been trying for centuries. But two hundred years ago? He had been far from good. And suddenly, for the first time since meeting her, doubt crept into his mind. A cold, uncomfortable feeling. Because what if she was right to hate people like him? What if, when she learned the truth, she would look at him and only see the monster he used to be? Sunghoon stared down at his coffee. The surface reflected his face. Calm. Collected. Nothing like the man he remembered. Yet somehow he still saw him. The soldier. The killer. The weapon. And for a brief moment, he wondered if continuing to get closer to her was selfish. Because she deserved someone kind. Someone good. Someone who hadn’t spent centuries drenched in blood.

Mochi suddenly stretched across the couch and planted one massive paw directly onto Sunghoon’s leg. The vampire blinked. Mochi stared at him. Then huffed. The interruption was so absurd that Sunghoon almost laughed. Almost. And when he looked back up, he found (Y/n) watching him. Not afraid. Not judging. Just curious. As if she was trying to figure him out too. And somehow, that made the doubt hurt a little less. (Y/n) took another sip of her coffee. For the first time since arriving, a small genuine smile appeared on her face. She leaned back slightly against the couch and looked up toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to feel bad.” Sunghoon blinked. “What?” (Y/n) looked back at him. “I know what that look means.” Her voice was calm. Certain. “You’ve done something in your past that you think makes you a bad person.” Sunghoon froze. It felt like she had reached directly into his chest and pulled the thought out. (Y/n) shrugged lightly. “And maybe that’s true.” The words should have hurt. Instead, they felt honest. “But you’re also doing a lot to be a good person.” Mochi lifted his head, looking between them. “No one is completely good,” she continued softly. “And no one is completely bad.” Her fingers absentmindedly sank into the dog’s fur again. “Your past matters.” The darkness was still there in her eyes, still lurking beneath every smile. Yet somehow, her words made Sunghoon feel lighter. “But what matters more is what you choose to do now.” The apartment fell silent. Then (Y/n) looked directly at him. And for the first time, Sunghoon didn’t look away. “The fact that you feel bad about it makes me think you’re actually a good person, Park Sunghoon.”

Mochi barked. Once. Firmly. As if casting his vote. (Y/n) laughed softly. Sunghoon couldn’t help smiling. “I see Mochi agrees.” The samoyed barked again. “Yes, yes, your opinion has been noted.” Mochi’s tail wagged. Sunghoon looked down into his coffee. “I hope so.” The words came out quieter than intended. (Y/n) didn’t respond. She simply continued petting Mochi. After a few moments, she finished the last of her coffee and placed the mug onto the table. “This was nice.” Sunghoon looked up. “But I should probably go.” His chest sank slightly. Though he knew he couldn’t ask her to stay. Instead, he nodded. “Feel free to come by anytime.” He glanced down at the dog. “To visit him.” (Y/n)’s smile returned. “Thanks.”

Mochi immediately seemed offended by the idea of her leaving. The samoyed sighed dramatically before climbing off the couch and onto the floor to allow her room to stand. “You’re such a drama queen,” she told him. Mochi huffed. Sunghoon walked her to the door. She waved once before stepping into the hallway.“See you later, Sunghoon.” “See you.” And then she was gone. The apartment suddenly felt quieter. Sunghoon stood there for a moment before letting out a long breath. Without thinking, frost spread across one of his hands. Thin white crystals creeping over his skin. He stared at them. “Can I really be a good person?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. Mochi barked immediately. Sunghoon looked down. The dog stared back. Completely serious. As if the answer was obvious. Sunghoon didn’t know exactly what the bark meant. But somehow… He felt better. The frost slowly melted away.

A moment later, he glanced toward the clock. Twenty minutes until the next class arrived. Sunghoon smiled slightly. “Want to go for a walk?” Mochi froze. Then spun around. Then sprinted out of the room. A few seconds later, he returned carrying his leash proudly in his mouth. Sunghoon laughed. “Right. I’ll take that as a yes.” Mochi barked happily. And together, they headed downstairs.

~~~

Later that evening, Sunghoon and Mochi found themselves in Jay and Aida’s apartment. The monthly coven dinners had become something of a tradition over the years. A chance for everyone to gather, eat far too much food, and argue about absolutely everything. Mochi was the center of attention almost immediately. Jake had spent most of the evening on the floor with the dog. At one point, Sunghoon was fairly certain Jake had forgotten other people existed. “Who’s a good boy?” Mochi barked. “You are.” Another bark. “That’s right.”

Sunghoon watched in amusement as Jake continued his one-sided conversation. Meanwhile, Niki pretended not to care. At all. “It’s just a dog.” Nobody believed him. Especially not when everyone repeatedly caught him slipping pieces of meat from his own plate under the table. Mochi accepted every offering. Naturally. “Niki,” Jungwon sighed. “What?” “You’ve fed him six times.” “Prove it.” Mochi immediately looked toward Niki expectantly. Traitor. Sunoo laughed. “He likes you.” “No, he doesn’t.” Mochi walked over and sat beside Niki. The youngest vampire looked horrified. Everyone else burst out laughing.

Eventually, dinner began winding down. The plates were mostly empty. The conversations quieter. And then Jay’s expression changed. Immediately, the room noticed. The amusement disappeared from his face. His gaze settled on Jake. Jake froze mid-petting session. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Jay folded his hands together. “I guess all of you have heard about the strange fires happening around the city?” The room immediately grew more serious. Everyone nodded. Sunoo sighed. “One of my colleagues lost half her apartment because of one.” The memory clearly upset him. “She was devastated. Most of her belongings were destroyed.” Aida frowned. “That’s awful.” “It was.”

Jay’s gaze remained fixed on Jake. “Please tell me you’re not involved.” Jake gasped dramatically. The betrayal. “The audacity.” “Jake.” “I’m not a pyro!” Jay raised an eyebrow. “I might have fire powers,” Jake continued, offended, “but why would I go around setting people’s homes on fire?” “Fair point,” Jungwon admitted. Heeseung waved a hand. “Relax. We don’t actually think you’re responsible.” Jake pointed accusingly. “You absolutely did.” “We had to ask.” Jake grumbled something under his breath before returning to petting Mochi aggressively. The dog seemed delighted. Heeseung’s expression became more serious.

“The problem is that the fires aren’t random.” The room fell silent. Sunghoon immediately looked up. “What do you mean?” “I spent the last week digging into reports.” Heeseung leaned back slightly. “At first they look random, different neighborhoods, different victims, different buildings.” Sunghoon frowned. “But?” Heeseung folded his arms. “But when I started looking at who was actually being targeted, a pattern appeared.” Nobody spoke. Even Mochi seemed unusually still. “The fires are targeting supernatural creatures.” The words settled heavily over the room. Aida looked confused. “Supernatural creatures?” Heeseung nodded. “Witches, shifters, fae, several species that most humans don’t even know exist.” Sunghoon felt ice creep into his fingertips instinctively.

Jake stopped petting Mochi. For the first time all evening, nobody had a joke. Because if someone was hunting supernatural creatures… Then eventually they might come looking for vampires too. Heeseung sighed heavily. “I fear we might have a hunter on our hands.” The words settled over the room like a storm cloud. Nobody spoke immediately. Even Jake looked uncomfortable now. “I’ll continue investigating,” Heeseung continued, leaning forward slightly. “But so far, we have absolutely no trace of who’s setting the fires.” His gaze flickered briefly toward Jake. “Hence why I had to ask you.” Jake groaned dramatically. “Still offended.” “You’ll survive.”  Sunoo rolled his eyes. Meanwhile, Jay remained serious. “No matter what,” Heeseung continued, “we need to be careful.” Everyone nodded. “We don’t know if this hunter plans to come after us, we don’t know what they want, and we don’t know how much they already know.” The room grew quieter. Mochi, sensing the shift in mood, abandoned Jake and wandered back toward Sunghoon, settling beside his chair.

Then Heeseung looked toward Aida. Immediately, Jay straightened slightly. “Aida.” The human looked up. “You need to be careful too.” Her expression immediately tightened. “Me?” Heeseung nodded. “Even though you’re human, you carry the scent of a supernatural creature.” Aida glanced toward Jay. “Because of him?” “Yes.” Jay’s jaw tightened. “If this hunter can track scents,” Heeseung explained, “there’s a chance they’ll notice it.” The room grew even more tense. “So until we figure this out, you need to be extra careful.” Aida listened closely. “Take showers before leaving the apartment, don’t touch Jay afterward, try to minimize his scent on you as much as possible.” Jay visibly hated every word coming out of Heeseung’s mouth. But he nodded. Because he knew Heeseung was right. Aida nodded too. Looking more worried than before. “Okay.”

Sunoo reached over and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “For now, we don’t believe they’ll come after us.” Heeseung nodded. “Exactly.” “There’s no reason to panic.” “We just need to be careful.” The conversation eventually shifted to plans. Extra precautions. Who would keep an eye on what. But Sunghoon barely heard any of it. Because his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere. To a shelter. To warm smiles. To coffee shared on a couch. To a girl who carried sadness in her eyes. (Y/n). A cold feeling settled in his stomach. What if being close to her put her in danger? What if the scent of a vampire lingered on her the same way it lingered on Aida? What if this hunter noticed? What if he led danger directly to her doorstep without even realizing it? Sunghoon looked down at Mochi. The dog rested his head against Sunghoon’s leg. Completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his owner’s mind. For the first time since meeting his mate, fear began creeping into Sunghoon’s heart. Not fear for himself. Fear for her. And somehow, that was infinitely worse.

~~~

It wasn’t until three days later that Sunghoon heard anything from (Y/n) again. Or rather, he noticed Mochi first. The samoyed suddenly lifted his head from the couch and barked. Sunghoon looked away from the show playing on the television. Mochi wasn’t looking toward the apartment door. He was looking toward the floor. Or more specifically, toward the rink below them. The dog barked again before jumping off the couch and running toward the apartment entrance. Sunghoon frowned. The arena should have been closed by now.

Immediately, his thoughts jumped to the possibility of another break-in. Especially after Heeseung’s warning. Sunghoon stood and followed after the dog, heading downstairs toward the arena. The second he opened the door leading from his apartment to the rink, a familiar scent hit him. Warm. Comforting. His mate. Sunghoon froze for half a second before hurrying the rest of the way down. Mochi was already racing across the lobby. When Sunghoon reached the front of the arena, and opened the door, he found (Y/n) standing just outside the entrance. The late autumn cold had covered her. She was shaking slightly.

Far off in the city, sirens echoed through the streets. Possibly another fire. Sunghoon’s chest tightened. But then his attention returned to her. There were faint tear tracks on her face. Her eyes looked red. Like she had been crying. “Hey,” he said immediately. His voice came out softer than intended. “Come in.” He stepped aside. (Y/n) nodded quietly before walking further inside. The moment she did, Mochi reached her. The samoyed immediately rubbed himself against her legs, tail wagging so hard that his entire body moved with it. (Y/n)’s expression softened. She crouched down despite looking exhausted. “Hey there, big boy.” Mochi barked once. Then immediately shoved his head against her. Demanding affection.

Sunghoon stood a few feet away, quietly watching. Something felt wrong. One of her arms moved differently than before. Stiffer. Restricted. As if simply crouching hurt. Three days ago she hadn’t moved like that. Now every movement seemed careful. Guarded. Sunghoon’s concern immediately spiked. Had she gotten hurt? Had she been caught in one of the fires? Had someone hurt her? He didn’t know. All he knew was that she had come here. To him. And whatever had happened, he intended to do everything he could to help her.

He let her sit with Mochi for a few minutes before speaking. “Did something happen?” (Y/n) looked up. For a moment, she seemed to consider brushing the question aside. Then she slowly stood. The movement immediately made her wince. Her injured arm twitched slightly. “It’s complicated,” she replied quietly. Sunghoon’s expression softened. He gestured toward the staircase leading up to his apartment. “I’m okay with complicated.” (Y/n) blinked. “But,” he continued, “let’s talk about it over some hot tea or something.” He pointed toward her hands. “You’re shivering like a leaf.” Only then did (Y/n) seem to notice how cold she actually was. The adrenaline that had apparently carried her here was beginning to fade. And with it came exhaustion. She nodded. “Tea sounds nice.”

Together, they headed upstairs. The moment they entered the apartment, Mochi rushed ahead and leaped onto the couch. (Y/n) sat down a second later. Immediately, the samoyed flopped directly onto her. Not beside her, but on top of her. Like a giant fluffy weighted blanket. A surprised laugh escaped her. “Mochi.” The dog made no attempt to move. Sunghoon smiled. “He’s decided you’re cold, and he’s the best blanket,” “I noticed.” Mochi settled even more heavily across her lap. Apparently satisfied with his solution. Meanwhile, Sunghoon headed into the kitchen. “Coffee or tea?” he called out. “Tea.” “Good answer.”

A few minutes later, he returned carrying two steaming mugs. He handed one to her carefully. The warmth seemed to help immediately. (Y/n) wrapped both hands around the cup and let out a quiet sigh. Sunghoon sat down in the armchair across from the couch. Mochi watched him carefully. As if making sure he behaved. “Traitor,” Sunghoon muttered. The dog’s tail thumped once. (Y/n) smiled faintly. Then the silence returned. Not awkward. Just waiting. Sunghoon took a sip of his own drink. “So.” (Y/n) looked up. “What’s complicated?” She stared down into the tea for several moments. The steam curled upward between her fingers. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than before. As though saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. She took another sip. Then slowly let out a breath. Preparing herself to answer.

“I told you last time,” (Y/n) began quietly, staring into the steam rising from her tea, “that I don’t really like other people.” Sunghoon nodded. “I remember.” For a moment, she said nothing. Mochi remained sprawled across her lap, his head resting against her stomach. Every now and then his tail would give a small thump, as if reminding her he was there. (Y/n) swallowed. “Most of that is because of my mother.” Sunghoon didn’t interrupt. Didn’t push. He simply listened. The sadness he’d sensed before completely surrounded her now. She wasn’t hiding it anymore.

“My mother got pregnant when she was eighteen.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “She always made sure I knew that.” Her fingers tightened around the mug. “She had dreams. Plans. Places she wanted to go. Things she wanted to do.” Another pause. “Then I happened.” Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “My father disappeared before I was even born. I don’t know his name, I don’t know what he looks like, and honestly, I don’t care.” She looked down. “All I know is that my mother blamed me for everything that went wrong afterward.” The room was silent except for the television playing quietly in the background.

“She worked jobs she hated, she struggled with money, and so she fell into debt, and eventually…” Her voice cracked. “Eventually she found alcohol.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “She would drink and tell me how much better her life would’ve been if she’d never had me.” Sunghoon felt something cold settle in his chest. “She’d tell me I ruined everything.” Another tear followed the first. “When I was little, I used to think if I behaved perfectly she’d love me.” (Y/n) laughed softly. It was one of the saddest sounds Sunghoon had ever heard. “So I got good grades, I cleaned the apartment, I stayed quiet, I tried to be easy to love.” Her voice broke completely. “But it never mattered.” Mochi lifted his head and gently nudged her arm. (Y/n) immediately buried her fingers in his fur. “The only one who ever seemed happy to see me was my dog.” A small smile appeared through the tears. “Yuki.”

The name hung softly in the room. “When things got bad, I’d sit on the floor and cry into his  fur.” She wiped her eyes. “And he never judged me.” Sunghoon remained completely still. He didn’t trust himself to speak. “That’s why I work at the shelter,” she continued quietly. “Animals don’t pretend.” “They either love you or they don’t.” “They don’t spend years making you wonder why you’re not enough.” The silence stretched between them. Then she looked down at her injured arm. “I was visiting her before I came here.” Immediately Sunghoon’s attention sharpened. “I still bring her groceries sometimes.” The sadness in her eyes deepened. “I don’t even know why anymore.” She laughed bitterly. “Maybe because a stupid part of me keeps hoping she’ll be different.” Her grip tightened around the mug. “She wasn’t.” 

A few tears slipped free again. “She was drunk before I even got there.”Sunghoon felt his hands curl into fists. “I unpacked the groceries, she started yelling because I hadn’t bought alcohol.” (Y/n)’s voice became smaller. “Then she picked up the milk carton and threw it at me.” She lightly touched her arm. “It hit harder than you’d think.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. “She screamed at me to get out.” The words came out barely above a whisper. “Told me she never wanted to see me again.” Sunghoon’s chest ached. Because despite everything she’d told him… The part that hurt her most wasn’t the injury. It was the rejection. Again, and again, and again. (Y/n) stared down at the tea. “I left, I started walking, I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going.” Another tear fell into the cup. “Then somehow I ended up outside the arena.” She looked up at him. Her eyes were red. Exhausted. Broken. “And I don’t know.” A shaky laugh escaped her. “I guess I just wanted to be somewhere safe.”

The words hit Sunghoon harder than anything else she’d said. Because out of every place in the city… She had come to him. And suddenly all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and tell her none of what happened was her fault. But he stayed still. Knowing this wasn’t about him. This was about her finally letting someone see the hurt she’d been carrying alone for years. Sunghoon leaned forward slightly. “That sounds awful.” His voice was quiet. Gentle. “Having to live like that.” (Y/n) laughed. But it wasn’t a happy laugh. It was the kind that came from being exhausted. The kind that appeared when someone had cried so many times that eventually it became ridiculous. “Yeah.” She stared down into her tea. “I’m tired.” The admission came out barely above a whisper. “Tired of trying to be happy.” Her fingers tightened around the mug. “Tired of trying to build a relationship with someone who has never wanted one with me.” Another bitter laugh escaped her. “Tired of spending my entire life trying to earn love from someone who decided I wasn’t worth loving before I could even speak.”

Sunghoon’s heart ached. Because he could hear it now. The real wound. It wasn’t the screaming. Or the drinking. Or even the bruises. It was the belief she had carried because of it. The belief that she was somehow the problem. That she had failed. That she wasn’t enough. And suddenly he understood why she looked so surprised whenever someone was kind to her. Why she doubted good things. Why she expected people to leave. She had been taught those lessons since childhood. Sunghoon realized then that she was the first person he’d ever wanted to protect this badly. Not from monsters. Not from hunters. Not from supernatural threats. From herself. From the awful things she believed about herself.

Slowly, he reached out his hand. (Y/n) looked down at it. Then at him. For a moment she hesitated. Then she placed her hand in his. Sunghoon smiled softly. Suddenly feeling more nervous than he had felt in centuries. “This might be a weird moment to say this.” (Y/n) looked up. “But hopefully it’ll help a little.” He swallowed. Because despite all his plans about taking things slowly… Despite telling himself he’d wait months if necessary… The words refused to stay inside. “Ever since I met you at the shelter a week ago…” His thumb lightly brushed against the back of her hand. “I’ve grown feelings for you.” (Y/n) froze. Sunghoon continued before he lost his nerve. “I’m sorry if that’s too much, or if it’s bad timing.” He paused, “I just…” He laughed awkwardly. “I wanted to be honest.” 

Silence. Complete silence. (Y/n) simply stared at him. One second. Two. Three. Her eyes widened slightly. The mug in her hand slipped. Sunghoon reacted instantly. Without thinking. Without even realizing he was moving. One moment he was sitting in the armchair. The next he was standing directly in front of her. One hand holding the mug. The other steadying her injured arm. Not a single drop of tea spilled. The room went completely still. Sunghoon’s heart stopped. Oh no. Slowly. Very slowly. He looked up. (Y/n) was staring at him. Frozen. Confused. The mug trembled slightly in his hand. Because he knew exactly what she had seen. A second ago he had been a few meters across the room. Now he was standing right in front of her. No footsteps. No movement. Just… There.

The silence stretched. Neither of them spoke. Even Mochi looked between them curiously. Sunghoon felt panic beginning to rise in his chest. And then (Y/n) spoke. Very quietly. “Sunghoon…” Her eyes never left his face. “How did you do that?” Sunghoon just stood there. Frozen. His mind desperately searched for an excuse. Any excuse. Maybe he could say she imagined it. Maybe he could claim adrenaline. Maybe he could pretend she hadn’t seen anything. The problem was that none of those explanations worked. Because she had seen it. She had watched him cross the room in less than a second. So instead, Sunghoon sighed. Slowly, he placed the mug onto the table. Then he returned to the armchair and sat down. For a moment he stared at the floor.

“You told me your deep dark secret.” (Y/n) didn’t respond. Still staring at him. “So I guess I’ll tell you mine.” Sunghoon took a deep breath. Then another. “This is going to sound insane.” “That’s usually not a good start.” “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I might kind of be…” He paused. “a vampire.” The silence lasted approximately half a second. “What?” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the apartment. Mochi’s ears twitched. Sunghoon nodded miserably. Looking very much like a man who wished the floor would swallow him. “I’m a vampire.” Another pause. “I’ve been alive for around four hundred years.” (Y/n) stared. Sunghoon continued awkwardly. “Or well… kind of alive.”

He gestured vaguely. “Which is why I could move that fast, and catch the tea.” Silence. More silence. Then even more silence. (Y/n) blinked. “You’re joking.” “No.” “You are absolutely joking.” “No.” “Sunghoon.” “I’m not.” “Sunghoon.” “I swear.” (Y/n) stared at him. Then laughed once. Not because it was funny. Because it was absurd. “A vampire.” “Yes.” “Like Dracula.” “Dracula wasn’t real.” “You’re correcting me?” “A little.” (Y/n) pointed at him. “You just told me you’re a four-hundred-year-old vampire.” “That’s fair.” She stared for another few seconds. Waiting. Expecting him to laugh. To admit it was a joke. But he didn’t. Because it wasn’t.

Finally, Sunghoon sighed. “I can prove it.” “How?” “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “I can show you my fangs?” (Y/n) blinked. Then slowly looked down toward Mochi. The samoyed was watching both of them carefully. “He’s crazy, right?” She whispered it to the dog. “Right, Mochi?” Mochi barked immediately. (Y/n) pointed at Sunghoon. “See?” Mochi stood up. Walked directly away from her. And over to Sunghoon. Then the giant samoyed sat down beside the vampire and leaned his entire body against Sunghoon’s leg. Resting his chin on his knee. Completely comfortable. Completely trusting. Sunghoon scratched behind one fluffy ear. Mochi sighed happily. (Y/n) stared at them. Then at Mochi. Then back at Sunghoon.

“Do you trust him, Mochi?” Mochi barked once. Firm. Certain. Without hesitation. The room fell silent. (Y/n) simply watched them. The vampire, and the dog who trusted him completely. And for the first time since Sunghoon had spoken the word vampire… She wasn’t looking at him like he was crazy. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth. Sunghoon sighed. There was no going back now. Slowly, he stood from the armchair.

“Okay.” (Y/n) immediately tensed. “Why do people always say okay before doing something weird?” “I don’t know.” “That wasn’t reassuring.” “It wasn’t meant to be.” Before she could ask another question, Sunghoon stepped closer. “Trust me?” (Y/n) looked at him suspiciously. “You literally just told me you’re a vampire.” “Fair.” “But yes.” The answer surprised both of them. Sunghoon smiled softly. Then, before she could change her mind, he carefully wrapped an arm around her waist. A second later, the world blurred. (Y/n) let out a startled yelp. The apartment vanished. The staircase vanished. Everything vanished. Wind rushed around them. Then suddenly… Stillness. (Y/n) gasped.

The cold air of the rink surrounded them. They stood in the exact center of the ice. The arena lights reflected across the smooth surface beneath them. And because she wasn’t wearing skates… (Y/n) immediately grabbed onto Sunghoon. Hard. Terrified of slipping. “Holy shit.” Sunghoon laughed. “You weren’t lying.” “No.” “You actually weren’t lying.” “Nope.” (Y/n) looked around wildly. Then back at him. Then around again. “What the hell?” “That’s a reasonable reaction.” She laughed despite herself. Still clinging to him. Sunghoon found that he didn’t mind. Not even a little.

Eventually, (Y/n) attempted to take a step backward. The second her foot touched the ice, she slipped. A startled noise escaped her. Sunghoon caught her instantly. One arm around her waist. The other steadying her shoulder. “Careful there.” “Traitorous floor.” Sunghoon laughed. A few moments later, the sound of paws echoed through the arena. Mochi came running after them. Or attempted to. The samoyed made it about halfway onto the ice before realizing it was significantly more slippery than normal flooring. His paws skidded. His legs went in four different directions. Yet somehow he remained upright. Eventually he reached them. Looking very pleased with himself. (Y/n) pointed. “He’s braver than I am.” Mochi barked proudly. 

“You proved you weren’t lying,” (Y/n) said, looking back at Sunghoon. “Good.” “But could we maybe not continue this conversation while standing on an ice rink?” Sunghoon chuckled. “Fair enough.” “Thank you.” “Hold on.” (Y/n) narrowed her eyes. “Whenever you say hold on, something weird happens.” Sunghoon ignored her. The air around them suddenly grew colder. (Y/n) felt something shift beneath her feet. Then she gasped. The ice itself moved. Like a living thing. A smooth frozen path carried them across the rink toward the exit. As if they were standing on a moving walkway made entirely of ice. “This is insane.” “Probably.” “No, definitely.” Sunghoon laughed.

Then he felt it. The familiar ache. The backlash. White spread through his dark hair. Like frost creeping across winter glass. (Y/n)’s breath caught, she couldn’t look away. By the time they reached the doors, nearly half of his black hair had turned white. Thin frost covered parts of his neck. The tips of his fingers. Sunghoon carefully helped her off the ice and onto solid ground. Only then did he notice she was staring. Not at his eyes. Not at his fangs. At his hair. At the frost. At the remnants of his power. Slowly, she reached out. Sunghoon froze. Her fingers brushed gently through the white strands. Soft. Careful. Almost reverent. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

The words hit him like a physical force. Because all his life… His power had been called dangerous. Monstrous. Terrifying. A weapon. The thing that had slaughtered armies. The thing people feared. And now. For the second time. Someone looked at it. Looked at him. And called it beautiful. Sunghoon couldn’t find any words. So he simply stood there. Letting her touch his frost-covered hair. And wondering why hearing those words from her meant so much more than it should.

Sunghoon sighed, wincing as pain shot through one of his legs. (Y/n)’s attention immediately shifted to him. “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” he said automatically. Then immediately winced again. (Y/n) crossed her arms. “That wasn’t convincing.” Sunghoon laughed quietly. “This is what happens when I use my powers.” He took a few steps toward the exit. The limp was subtle. But it was there. “Sometimes the backlash hurts more than other times.” (Y/n)’s eyebrows pulled together. “Then why use it?” Sunghoon shrugged. “Sometimes it’s instinct.” He looked over at her. “If I see something falling toward someone, I don’t exactly stop and think about whether using vampire speed is a good idea.” (Y/n) stared at him for a moment. Then smiled slightly. “Fair.”

They began walking toward the lobby while Mochi trotted happily beside them. “I think I understand the ice rink a bit better now,” she said. Sunghoon glanced at her. “How so?” She laughed softly. “Well, considering you’re apparently some magical ice vampire.” “That’s not an official title.” “It should be.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes. (Y/n) continued smiling. “I mean, it makes sense now, the rink, the skating, the fact that you seem suspiciously comfortable on ice.” Sunghoon chuckled. “Maybe.” “Definitely.” He shook his head. 

“Every vampire has some sort of ability.” (Y/n)’s curiosity immediately returned. “Really?” Sunghoon nodded. “For me it’s ice.” “What about the others? One of my friends has healing powers.” (Y/n)’s eyes widened. “What?” “Another can shapeshift.” “What?” Sunghoon laughed. “It’s pretty amazing at times,” he said, before his eyes softened, “but we’ve all been through hell and back in our own ways.” The words hung between them. (Y/n) looked over at him. “So… like me?” (Y/n) said, Sunghoon met her gaze, then nodded. “I guess you could say that.” Neither of them spoke for a few moments.

Then Sunghoon glanced down at her injured arm. “Does it hurt a lot?” (Y/n) immediately shrugged. Then regretted it. A sharp wince crossed her face. “Ow.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “That’s a yes.” “Maybe.” “That’s definitely a yes.” She sighed. “Yeah.” Without another word, Sunghoon looked down at Mochi. “Can you grab my phone, boy?” Mochi barked once. Then immediately sprinted away. (Y/n) watched him disappear. “Did you just ask your dog to get your phone?” “Yes.” “You know that’s not normal, right?” “No, it absolutely isn’t.” A minute later, Mochi returned. Holding Sunghoon’s phone carefully in his mouth. Proud of himself. (Y/n)’s jaw dropped. Sunghoon took the phone from Mochi. “Good boy.” The samoyed wagged his tail furiously.

Then Sunghoon quickly dialed a number. The call connected almost immediately. “Hey.” Jay’s voice came through the speaker. “Sunghoon?” “Can I come by?” A brief pause. “With someone.” Sunghoon hoped Jay understood. Because there was absolutely no way he was saying the word mate over the phone. Especially not with (Y/n) standing right beside him. Fortunately, Jay was far too observant, and Sunghoon was about 90% sure, that Heeseung had already told the rest of the coven of his mate. Heeseung wasn’t always the best with secrets. “Of course.” Jay said,  Sunghoon relaxed. “We’re home.”  “Thanks.” “See you soon.” The call ended.

(Y/n) looked at him curiously. Sunghoon slipped the phone into his pocket. Then smiled. “Let’s go see my friend with healing powers.” She blinked. “The actual healing powers?” “The actual healing powers.” “Like magic?” “Basically.” (Y/n) stared at him. Then laughed. “You know, my day somehow became significantly weirder after meeting you.” Sunghoon grinned. “Most people’s do.” Mochi barked. As if agreeing completely.

~~~

Despite his leg hurting with every few steps, Sunghoon led the way toward Jay and Aida’s apartment. Thankfully, it wasn’t far from the arena. The walk gave (Y/n) a chance to process everything she had learned. Vampires. Ice powers. Four hundred years old. Healing abilities. At this point, she had simply stopped trying to understand any of it. Mochi trotted happily beside them, completely unconcerned by the fact that his owner had apparently turned out to be a supernatural creature. Eventually they arrived. Sunghoon knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened. Aida smiled warmly. “Hey.” Her gaze immediately landed on (Y/n), Aida smiled. “Come on in.” She stepped aside to let them enter. “Jay’s waiting in his office.” Then she pointed toward the living room. “I’ll be out here if you need me.” With a friendly wave toward (Y/n), she disappeared down the hallway. Sunghoon watched her leave before pointing after her. 

“That’s Aida, Jay’s girlfriend.” (Y/n) nodded. “Alright.” Truthfully, she seemed a little nervous. Which Sunghoon couldn’t blame her for. A week ago she worked at an animal shelter. Now she was following a vampire to meet another vampire with magical healing powers. Not exactly a normal Thursday. Sunghoon led her toward the home office. When they stepped inside, Jay looked up from his desk. A gentle smile appeared on his face. “Hey.” He stood. “Come sit down.” As they entered, Jay’s eyes immediately landed on Sunghoon. Specifically the frost still lingering in his hair. The stiffness in his movements. The signs were obvious. Sunghoon had used his powers, in front of the human. Jay sighed internally. So we’re doing this now. He also noticed the way (Y/n) stayed close to Sunghoon. And the way Sunghoon kept glancing toward her. Heeseung had absolutely been right. “I’m guessing you’re here for a medical matter?” Jay asked. 

Sunghoon nodded. “She knows about our secret.” Jay raised an eyebrow. Straight to the point. “Her arm is injured.” Sunghoon gestured toward (Y/n). “Can you heal it?” Jay immediately shifted into doctor mode. “May I?” (Y/n) looked between the two vampires before nodding. “Sure.” Jay carefully took her arm. His touch was gentle, professional. He examined it for a few moments. Turning it slightly. Pressing a few places. As he did, (Y/n) winced. “Sorry.” “It’s okay.” After another moment, Jay nodded. “It’s not bad.” Sunghoon visibly relaxed. “It would’ve healed on its own within a week or so.” Jay released her arm. “But it’d be inconvenient to leave it like this.” (Y/n) looked relieved. “So I’ll heal it.”

Before she could respond, Jay’s hands began glowing. A soft blue light spread through the room. (Y/n)’s eyes widened. “Whoa.” The warmth spread from Jay’s hands into her arm. It didn’t hurt. If anything, it felt comforting. Like sinking into a warm bath after standing outside in the cold. The ache faded first. Then the stiffness. Then the lingering soreness. Within less than a minute, it was gone. Completely gone. Jay stepped back. “There.” (Y/n) immediately moved her arm. Then moved it again. Her eyes widened. The pain was gone. She rotated her shoulder. Bent her elbow. Nothing. No ache. No bruise. No discomfort whatsoever.

“What?” Jay chuckled softly. “That’s usually the reaction.” (Y/n) stared at her arm. Then at Jay. Then at Sunghoon. Then back at her arm. “You people are ridiculous.” After that, Jay pointed toward the door. “You should probably go find some juice or something in the kitchen.” (Y/n) blinked. “Why?” “Because healing takes energy.” Jay leaned back in his chair. “Humans usually get hungry afterward.” “Oh.” She glanced down at herself. “Actually… yeah.” Now that he mentioned it, she did feel strangely hungry. Jay smiled. “Aida can help you find something, if you don’t find anything on your own.” (Y/n) nodded before standing. “Okay.” She paused at the doorway. “Thank you.” Jay smiled warmly. “Anytime.” Then she disappeared into the hallway.

The second the office door closed behind her, Jay slowly turned toward Sunghoon. A knowing look on his face. Sunghoon immediately groaned. “So,” Jay began. “Don’t.” “She’s your mate?” Sunghoon dropped his head into his hands. Damn Heeseung. “Is there anything he doesn’t tell people?” “No.” “Right.” Jay smiled. Sunghoon sighed. “Yeah, she is.” Jay nodded. The confirmation didn’t surprise him at all. It explained too much. The way Sunghoon looked at her. The way he’d rushed her here. The way he’d willingly revealed the vampire secret. None of those were things Sunghoon would do for just anyone. Jay stood and walked over. “Let me see your leg.” Sunghoon frowned. “It’s fine.” “You’re limping.” “Barely.” “Sunghoon.” The ice vampire sighed. “Fine.”

Jay placed a hand on his leg. Blue light immediately spread across the injured muscles. The familiar warmth eased the lingering pain. Within moments, the stiffness disappeared. Sunghoon flexed his leg. Much better. “Thanks.” “Anytime.” Jay returned to his chair. “Does she know?” Sunghoon already knew what he meant. He shook his head. “No.” “That she’s your mate, I mean.” “I know.” Jay waited. Sunghoon stared at the floor for a few moments. “I haven’t told her.” “Why not?” The answer came quickly. “Because she has enough on her plate.” Jay’s expression softened. Sunghoon leaned back. “It’s not fully my story to tell, but her past is…” He searched for the right word. “Heavy.” Jay nodded slowly. “And I don’t want to overwhelm her.” Sunghoon thought about everything she had told him. Her mother. The loneliness. The years spent believing she wasn’t worthy of love. “It’s enough that she knows about the vampire thing.”

Jay hummed thoughtfully. After a few moments he nodded. “I don’t know what heavy means exactly, but I trust your judgement.” Sunghoon relaxed slightly. Then Jay smiled. “Though you should probably keep her away from Heeseung and Niki.” Sunghoon groaned immediately. “Don’t remind me.” Shaking his head, Sunghoon stood and headed toward the door.

The moment he stepped into the living room, he stopped. Then blinked. Then blinked again. Because somehow, in the twenty minutes they had been in the office, Mochi had completely taken over. The samoyed was stretched out on the couch, under a blanket, his head resting comfortably in Aida’s lap. The television played some dramatic romance series. Aida was fully invested. Mochi appeared equally invested. “Are they watching television together?” Sunghoon asked. Aida looked up. “Yes.” Mochi barked. As if confirming it. Sunghoon stared. The dog had somehow managed to become a permanent fixture in every room he entered.

A few moments later, (Y/n) appeared from the kitchen carrying a glass of juice. She took one look at the couch and laughed. “I see Mochi is living like a king.” The dog’s tail wagged beneath the blanket. Jay walked out behind her. “Oh, you should see how the others treat him.” Aida nodded immediately. “Honestly, we’re practically neglectful compared to them.” (Y/n) laughed harder. “Seriously?” “Jake nearly laid on the floor with him for three hours, Jungwon spent an entire afternoon petting him, Niki secretly feeds him.” “Niki isn’t secret about it,” Jay corrected. “He thinks he’s secret.” Sunghoon added. “That’s true.” Jay responded. (Y/n) laughed again. A real laugh. Bright. Unrestricted. And for a moment, all the sadness disappeared from her face. Sunghoon stood quietly near the doorway. Watching. Listening. Memorizing it.

Soon after, it was time to say goodbye. Getting Mochi to leave, however, proved surprisingly difficult. The samoyed had somehow convinced himself that Aida’s couch now belonged to him. “Mochi.” The dog ignored Sunghoon. “Mochi.” Nothing. Aida laughed from her spot beside him. “I think he lives here now.” Sunghoon sighed. “We literally have an apartment.” Mochi yawned. The betrayal. Eventually, Sunghoon and (Y/n) had to resort to bribery. “Treats.” Mochi’s ears perked up instantly. Sunghoon pointed toward the door. “Let’s go.” The dog launched himself off the couch. Aida laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “Traitor.” Mochi barked. Completely unapologetic.

After saying their goodbyes to Jay and Aida, the three of them stepped out into the cool evening air. Sunghoon glanced toward (Y/n). “Want me to walk you home?” Usually she would have declined. Usually she would have insisted she was fine. But tonight she surprised him. “Okay.” Sunghoon blinked. “Okay?” (Y/n) laughed. “Don’t make it weird.” “Sorry.” Truthfully, she was far too curious to let him leave yet. Because somehow, the man she’d met a week ago had turned out to be a four-hundred-year-old vampire with ice powers. And she had questions. Many questions.

“So,” she began as they walked. Sunghoon immediately knew what was coming. “Uh oh.” “Are vampires actually super fast?” “Yes.” “Super strong?” “Yes.” “Can you fly?” “No.” (Y/n) pointed triumphantly. “Aha.” “But I can turn into a bat and then fly.” (Y/n) nearly tripped over absolutely nothing. “You can what?” Sunghoon laughed. “Turn into a bat.” “What kind of sentence is that?” “A true one.” She stared at him. Then immediately continued. “Are you made of stone?” “What?” “Like those vampires from Twilight.” Sunghoon looked horrified. “No.” “Good.” “We’re still made of flesh.” (Y/n) nodded thoughtfully. “Okay.”

Another pause. “How much can you actually do with your ice?” Sunghoon considered the question. “Quite a lot.” (Y/n)’s eyes lit up. “Like what?” “Well…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I can create complex structures, cover large areas in snow and ice.” “How large?” Sunghoon thought for a moment. “Miles.” (Y/n) stopped walking. “Miles?” “Yeah.” “Miles?” “That’s what I said.” She stared at him. “That’s insane.”  Sunghoon laughed. “Though I don’t really do things like that anymore.” “Why not?” He shrugged. “Most days I just use it to fix the rink, I’m honestly a bit rusty when it comes to the complicated stuff.” (Y/n) looked genuinely awestruck. 

For a few moments, she didn’t say anything. Then she smiled. A soft nostalgic smile. “You know…” Sunghoon looked over. “I wish I would’ve known someone like you when I was a kid.” He tilted his head. “How come?” (Y/n) giggled. The sound made his heart do something embarrassing. “One of my biggest dreams as a child was building the perfect ice castle.” Sunghoon smiled. “An ice castle?” “Or an ice house.” She laughed. “I wasn’t picky, I just wanted one.” Her smile softened. “But it never happened.” Sunghoon already knew why. Her mother. The answer lingered unspoken between them. “I used to draw them all the time,” she admitted. “Huge towers, secret rooms, bridges, all the important stuff.” Sunghoon chuckled. “Of course.” “Obviously.”  The conversation moved on after that. But Sunghoon couldn’t stop thinking about those words. An ice castle, a childhood dream, a smile. And suddenly, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. The idea settled firmly into his mind. By the time they reached her apartment building, he had already started planning. Neither of them realized it. But Sunghoon’s next move had just revealed itself.

(Y/n) stopped outside the entrance. “Thanks for walking me home.” “Anytime.” She smiled. “Goodnight, vampire.” Sunghoon laughed. “Goodnight, human.” (Y/n) shook her head before heading inside. Sunghoon waited until she disappeared through the doors. Only then did he turn around. Mochi looked up at him curiously. Sunghoon smiled. “You know, boy…” Mochi barked. “I think we’re going to build an ice castle.” The samoyed barked again. As if he thought that sounded like an excellent idea.

~~~

For a week after that, Sunghoon didn’t see (Y/n), not in person, at least. They texted constantly. What started as occasional messages about Mochi quickly turned into daily conversations. Good mornings. Good nights. Pictures of Mochi sleeping in increasingly ridiculous positions. Questions about vampire abilities. Stories from the shelter. By the end of the week, texting her had become part of Sunghoon’s routine. Which was why the message that appeared on his phone one evening made him smile immediately. (Y/n): Would it be weird if I joined you and Mochi for your evening walk? Sunghoon didn’t even hesitate. Sunghoon: Not weird. Come join us. A few minutes later he was heading toward a small park not far from her apartment.

Winter was drawing closer with every passing day. The air carried a sharp chill. The trees were nearly bare. Every breeze felt colder than the last. Soon snow would arrive. Sunghoon could feel it. Despite not actually needing warmth, he wore a thick jacket. After four hundred years, he had gotten very good at pretending to be human. (Y/n) was bundled up in a warm coat as well, her hands tucked into her pockets as she waited near the park entrance. Mochi immediately spotted her. The samoyed broke into a run. “Traitor,” Sunghoon muttered. (Y/n) laughed as Mochi reached her. “Hello to you too.” The dog’s tail wagged so hard it looked painful.

Soon they started walking through the park together. The paths were mostly empty. Only a few people remained outside in the growing cold. (Y/n) glanced toward him. “How was your week?” Sunghoon sighed dramatically. “Good.” “Just good?” “Mostly good.” “Mostly?” He looked down at Mochi. Then back at her. “My friend Sunoo has been annoying all week.” (Y/n) laughed. “What did he do?” “He keeps asking questions about you.” “About me?” Sunghoon nodded. “Constantly.” “What kind of questions?” He began counting on his fingers. “What’s her favorite color?” “What’s her favorite food?” “Does she like animals?” (Y/n) looked down at Mochi. “I wonder how he’d ever figure that one out.” “Exactly.” Sunghoon continued. “Then there was: does she watch movies, does she like music, does she like skating, does she know how to fight, would she get along with the coven, does she like coffee or tea?”

(Y/n) burst out laughing. “He sounds invested.” “He’s unbearable.” “I think he sounds sweet.” “He’s nosy.” “He’s curious.” “He’s nosy, trust me.” (Y/n) continued laughing. “Why does he want to know so much about me?” Sunghoon nearly answered honestly. Because you’re my mate. Because everyone already knows. Because they’re all waiting for me to stop being an idiot and tell you. Instead, he settled on a safer answer. “Not many people know our secret.” (Y/n) nodded. “That makes sense.” “The others are always curious when we tell someone.” “Am I the first human you’ve told?” Sunghoon thought for a moment. “No.” “Aida knows.” “Obviously.” “But besides her?” Sunghoon smiled. “Not many.” Something about that answer seemed to make (Y/n) happy. Though she quickly looked away before he could comment on it.

Beside them, Mochi suddenly dove headfirst into a pile of leaves. His entire body disappeared. Only his fluffy tail remained visible. (Y/n) pointed. “Your dog is broken.” A moment later Mochi emerged triumphantly. Holding a stick. The biggest stick he could possibly find. Sunghoon groaned. “Oh no.” “What?” “He’s proud of that.” Mochi barked proudly. (Y/n) laughed so hard she had to stop walking. And once again, Sunghoon found himself thinking the exact same thing. He’d do almost anything to keep hearing that sound.

~~~

A few days later, one evening after the ice rink had closed to the public, (Y/n) found herself wearing ice skates and standing at the edge of the rink. Despite never having skated before. Which, in her opinion, was a terrible idea. Sunghoon stood on the ice beside her, already wearing his own skates. Completely relaxed. Completely balanced. And entirely too confident. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “Take my hand and step out, I promise you won’t fall.” (Y/n) glared at him. “I’m going to break a bone.” Sunghoon chuckled. “You won’t.” “I absolutely will.” “You won’t.” “I can feel it.” Sunghoon laughed. “Besides, if you do, I’ll call Jay.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t make it less scary.” “It kind of does.” “No.” “Yes.”

Before she could continue arguing, Sunghoon suddenly moved. One second he was standing beside her. The next he had picked her up. “Sunghoon!” And then they were in the middle of the rink. (Y/n) screamed. Sunghoon laughed so hard he nearly lost his balance himself. The second he put her down, she wrapped both hands around him. Absolutely refusing to let go. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” The smirk he gave her was infuriating. And unfortunately… Very attractive. It was the first time she’d seen him like this. Confident, playful, certain of himself. Not the awkward man who stumbled over his words whenever she smiled at him.

For a brief moment, her heart beat a little faster. She decided to blame the cold. “Come on,” Sunghoon said. “Let’s skate.” “I’d rather not.” “You’ll be fine.” “Famous last words.” Sunghoon simply offered his hand again. “Hold on to me.” (Y/n) reluctantly accepted. “I won’t let you fall.” “That’s exactly what someone says right before I fall.” Sunghoon laughed. “Just push off with one foot.” (Y/n) cursed quietly under her breath. Then she did it. Immediately she wobbled. Her arms flailed. She nearly lost her balance. Sunghoon caught her before she could fall. “Told you.” “Shut up.” “Again.”

(Y/n) pushed off once more. This time she made it slightly farther. Still clumsy. Still unstable. But moving. Every time she leaned too far one way, Sunghoon gently corrected her. Every time she stumbled, he steadied her. “Bend your knees a little.” He demonstrated the posture. Smooth. Effortless. (Y/n) attempted to copy him. The result wasn’t nearly as graceful. But surprisingly… It helped. The wobbling lessened. Just a little. “There.” Sunghoon smiled. “See?” “I still feel like a newborn deer.” “That’s normal.” “How comforting.” She said voice dripping with sarcasm.

A few minutes passed. Then ten. Slowly, she became more comfortable. Not good. Not even close. But better. At one point, she managed several meters without nearly falling. “Did you see that?” Sunghoon laughed. “I did.” “I practically looked professional.” “Let’s not get carried away.” (Y/n) gasped dramatically. “How dare you.” Sunghoon chuckled. Then, before she realized what he was doing, he let go of her hand. (Y/n) froze. “Sunghoon.” “You’re doing fine.” “Sunghoon.” “You don’t need me.” “Sunghoon!.” For three whole seconds she remained upright. Then she realized she was skating by herself. And immediately panicked. Her legs tangled. She tipped sideways. A shriek escaped her. Sunghoon caught her once again. This time, however, she crashed directly into his chest. For a moment, neither of them moved. (Y/n)’s hands rested against his jacket. Sunghoon’s arm remained around her waist.

The arena suddenly felt very quiet. Very empty. Very cold. Except for the warmth spreading across both their faces. Then Mochi barked loudly from the sidelines. The moment shattered. Sunghoon laughed first. (Y/n) buried her face in her hands. Sunghoon smiled. “It’s okay.” (Y/n) glared at him. “It is not okay.” “It is.” “No.” “Yes.” Sunghoon laughed. “Just remember to bend your knees.” (Y/n) muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Then she tried again. And again. And again. The first few attempts were terrible. She wobbled. Flapped her arms. Nearly fell several times. But slowly, she improved. Very slowly.

After twenty minutes, she no longer looked like a deer that had wandered onto a frozen lake. Now she looked more like a toddler learning to walk. Which, while not ideal, was still progress. “Look at me,” she announced proudly after managing several meters without almost dying. Sunghoon nodded. “Very impressive.” “Was that sarcasm?” “Maybe.” “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. Yet despite all her complaints, she was smiling. Sunghoon stayed close enough to catch her if she fell. Far enough away that she was skating on her own. Every time she stumbled, he was there. Every time she found her balance again, he backed away. Patient. Encouraging. Never making fun of her. Well. Not too much.

After about an hour, (Y/n) finally admitted defeat. “My legs are dead.” Sunghoon laughed. “That’s normal.” “I don’t think it is.” “It is.” “I think I’m dying.” “You’re not.” “I might be.” Sunghoon skated over and held out a hand. “Come on.” This time she accepted it immediately. Far too tired to argue. He carefully helped her off the ice. The second her skates touched the rubber flooring, she sighed dramatically. “Never again.” “You’ll be back next week.” “Probably.” “Definitely.” (Y/n) sat down on one of the chairs overlooking the rink. Meanwhile, Sunghoon pushed himself away from the boards. “You aren’t taking a break?” He shook his head. “Not yet.” Then he skated away.

(Y/n) watched him. At first casually. Then she found herself completely unable to look away. The difference was startling. When teaching her, he’d been focused on her. Watching her movements. Keeping her safe. But now… Now he was simply skating. And he transformed. He became something else entirely. Effortless. Free. He crossed the ice in smooth sweeping arcs. The blades carved elegant patterns into the surface. Then he spun. Fast enough that (Y/n) lost track of where his arms ended and the movement began. He landed perfectly. Flowing directly into another movement. Then another. A leap. A turn. A backwards glide. Everything looked impossible. Everything looked easy. (Y/n) found herself leaning forward in her chair. Mesmerized.

This wasn’t the awkward man who blushed when she smiled at him. This wasn’t the quiet man who stumbled over conversations. This wasn’t even the vampire who carried centuries of guilt in his eyes. This was someone entirely different. Someone who belonged here. The ice reflected the arena lights around him. His dark hair shifted as he moved. His expression was relaxed. Peaceful. Happy. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked young. Not four hundred years old. Not burdened by history. Not weighed down by old wounds. He looked almost like a teenager. Carefree. Free. As if the ice had stripped away everything except the person he truly was. And suddenly she understood. She understood why he built the rink. Why he loved skating. Why he looked so different whenever he stepped onto the ice. This wasn’t just a hobby. This was home. Sunghoon completed another spin before gliding effortlessly across the center of the rink. A genuine smile stretched across his face. And without meaning to, (Y/n) smiled too. Because she had never seen anyone look quite so alive.

After Sunghoon was done skating, they found themselves back upstairs in his apartment. (Y/n) sat curled up on one end of the couch, holding a mug of hot chocolate that Sunghoon had made for her. Mochi was sprawled across the floor nearby, exhausted from what had apparently been a very busy evening of watching people skate. The apartment was warm. Comfortable. Outside, the wind rattled softly against the windows. Winter was getting closer. (Y/n) took another sip of her drink. Then looked over at Sunghoon. “I have more questions.” Sunghoon laughed. “I figured.” “Good.” “Let’s hear them.” (Y/n) immediately sat up a little straighter.

“Do werewolves exist?” “Yes.” Her eyes widened. “Seriously?” “Very seriously.” “And other creatures?” “Lots.” (Y/n) stared at him. “You’re telling me my entire understanding of reality was wrong?” Sunghoon chuckled. “Pretty much.” “Great.” She took another sip. “What else exists?” Sunghoon thought for a moment. “Well, mostly vampires.” “Obviously.” “Werewolves.” “Still weird.” “Probably a good amount of druids, and some others.” (Y/n) blinked. “Druids?” Sunghoon nodded. “They tend to be better at blending in than most species.” “How?” “Their scent isn’t as strong.” He leaned back slightly. “Most supernatural creatures can recognize each other by scent, but druids are harder to identify, so they stay hidden more easily.”

(Y/n) frowned. “Why is hiding important?” The moment the question left her mouth, Sunghoon’s expression changed. The smile faded. Not completely. But enough. (Y/n) immediately noticed. Sunghoon looked down at his hands. No more hiding it, he thought. Eventually she would have to know. “Because there’s been a war.” The room became quiet. “A war?” Sunghoon nodded. “For almost five hundred years.” (Y/n)’s eyes widened. “Five hundred?” “Maybe longer.” The hot chocolate suddenly felt forgotten in her hands. Sunghoon stared toward the window. “Vampires believed they were the superior species.” His voice was calm. Almost detached. As though he was reciting history from a textbook. “They wanted power, control, and eventually many covens decided the easiest way to achieve that was to eliminate anything that could challenge them.” (Y/n) listened silently. “Especially werewolves.” A long silence followed. 

“You fought in that war.” It wasn’t a question. Sunghoon nodded. “Yes.” (Y/n)’s chest tightened. Because suddenly she could see it. The guilt. The sadness. The self-hatred he carried. All the things she’d sensed but never fully understood. “For how long?” Sunghoon laughed quietly. The sound held no humor. “Too long.” He looked down. “For years.” Then shook his head. “Decades.” Another pause. “Centuries.” (Y/n) didn’t know what to say. Sunghoon continued before she could. “I had no humanity left.” The words came out flat. Honest. “I wasn’t a person anymore.” His fingers tightened slightly. “I was a weapon, I was told where to go, who to kill, and I did it.” (Y/n)’s throat tightened. Because she could hear the shame in every word. “The worst part?” Sunghoon laughed softly. “I didn’t even question it.” His gaze remained fixed on the floor. “I stopped thinking, I stopped caring, I became exactly what they wanted me to be.” The silence felt heavy.

Then Sunghoon smiled. A small smile. Sad. But genuine. “Then I met Jay.” (Y/n) looked up. “He found me at my lowest.” Sunghoon’s expression softened. “I had nothing, no purpose, no idea who I was without the war, he should’ve walked away.” Sunghoon paused,“But he didn’t.” For the first time since starting the story, warmth entered his voice. “He reached out a hand.” The image immediately reminded (Y/n) of her own life. Of all the times she wished someone would have done the same for her. “And he gave me a second chance.” Sunghoon looked over at her. “Since then, I’ve spent every day trying to be a better person than I was.”

(Y/n) felt her eyes sting. Because she believed him. She believed every word. Not because he was perfect. But because he clearly wasn’t. Because every mistake still haunted him. Because he carried them with him every day. And somehow that hurt more than if he’d tried to excuse them. For a few moments neither of them spoke. Then (Y/n) quietly set her mug down. “You  know.” Sunghoon looked up. “I don’t think the person sitting on this couch is a monster.” The words hit him harder than she realized. “(Y/n)…” “No.” She shook her head. “You did terrible things.” Sunghoon flinched slightly. “But you’re not doing them anymore.” Her voice was gentle. Firm. “You teach children how to skate, you rescued Mochi, you help your friends, you helped me.” A tear nearly slipped down her cheek. “And honestly?” She smiled softly. “I think the fact that you still feel guilty after all this time says a lot about who you are now.” Sunghoon couldn’t speak. For once. He didn’t know what to say. And sitting there, with Mochi snoring nearby and hot chocolate growing cold on the table (Y/n) realized she wasn’t afraid of the vampire beside her. Not even a little.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, (Y/n) spoke again. “So how does dating work when you’re a vampire?” Sunghoon looked over. “What do you mean?” “Well…” She gestured vaguely with her mug. “You and your friends are all centuries old. Jay is dating Aida. You’re all supernatural. I’m just trying to figure out how any of that works.” Sunghoon chuckled. “Honestly? Pretty normally.” “Really?” “Really.” (Y/n) looked disappointed. “That wasn’t the exciting answer I was hoping for.” Sunghoon laughed. “Sorry.” He leaned back into the couch. “We still date like humans do, we go to dinner, the movies, long walks.” Mochi lifted his head. “Dog walks.” The samoyed barked. “Exactly.” (Y/n) smiled.

“So vampires don’t have some ancient courtship ritual?” “No, unless we pretend to make one up,”  That made her laugh. Then Sunghoon’s smile softened. “You could say there are generally two groups of vampires.” (Y/n) looked interested again. “The first group dates around.” “Nothing wrong with that.” (Y/n) responded.  “The second group waits.” “Waits for what?” Sunghoon hesitated. Then answered. “The one.” (Y/n) tilted her head. “The one?” Sunghoon nodded. “Your destined love, your soulmate.” The room grew quieter. “Vampires and werewolves are born with someone they’re meant to be with.” “Someone they’re bound to, some say by fate, others say by the moon.” (Y/n) stared at him. “That’s real?” “Very.”

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “That actually sounds kind of nice.” Sunghoon smiled. Sometimes. Sometimes it was wonderful. Sometimes it was painful. Sometimes it was both. “Wait,” (Y/n) suddenly said. “Does that mean Jay and Aida are soulmates?” Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah.” “They are.” “That explains a lot.” “What does?” “The way he looks at her.” Sunghoon laughed softly. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” (Y/n) sat quietly for a moment. Then looked over at him. “Do you have a soulmate?” Sunghoon immediately felt his heart stumble. Of course she’d ask that. Of course. He kept his expression calm. Or at least he hoped he did. “I do.” (Y/n) nodded. “Really?” “Yeah.” “What’s she like?” Sunghoon smiled despite himself. Kind. Strong. Funny. Stubborn. Beautiful. Braver than she realized. “She…” He stopped himself. “She’s special.” (Y/n) smiled.

“That sounds like you’re already in love.” Sunghoon laughed nervously. “Maybe.” “Does she know?” The question hit a little too close to home. Sunghoon shook his head. “No, she doesn’t.” (Y/n)’s expression softened. “Oh.” “Yeah.” A small smile appeared on his face. “My mate doesn’t know she’s my mate.” (Y/n) frowned slightly. “That sounds difficult.” “You have no idea.” She adjusted her grip on the mug. “If she’s human, I imagine that’s a pretty strange conversation to start.” Sunghoon nearly laughed. You have absolutely no idea. “Yeah,” he said. “You could say that.” (Y/n) nodded sympathetically. “Well.” She smiled. “I hope it works out for you.” Sunghoon looked at her for a moment. At the woman wishing him luck in winning her own heart. Then he smiled back. “Me too.” After that, (Y/n) went home.

~~~

The two continued meeting over the following week. Sometimes for walks with Mochi. Sometimes for skating lessons. Sometimes just because one of them texted the other first. The days seemed to pass faster than before. And then winter finally arrived. The first snow fell over the city. Not much. Just enough to dust rooftops and sidewalks in white. Sunghoon had been peacefully reading when his phone suddenly rang in the middle of the night. Confused, he glanced at the screen. (Y/n). Immediately, he answered.

“Hello?” “Sunghoon!” He pulled the phone away from his ear slightly. Someone was excited. “Have you looked outside?” Sunghoon smiled. “The snow?” “THE SNOW!” He laughed. “Yes, the snow.” “I’ve been waiting all year for this!” “It’s barely covering the ground.” “That doesn’t matter, Hoon!” Sunghoon could practically picture her bouncing around her apartment. “The first snow is important.” “Is it?” He asked.  “Yes.” “Why?” “Because it’s magical.” She exclaimed.  Sunghoon chuckled. “You sound like a child.” “I am a child.” “You’re not.” “Details.” Sunghoon shook his head. Smiling despite himself. “Get some sleep.” “But the snow.” She whined.  “The snow will still be there tomorrow.” (Y/n) sighed dramatically. “You’re ruining my fun.” “Go to bed.” “Fine, But only if you’ll play in the snow with me tomorrow?” Sunghoon smiled. “Of course.” “Promise?” “I promise.” That seemed to satisfy her. “Goodnight, vampire.” “Goodnight, human.”  The call ended. Sunghoon stared at his phone for a moment before laughing softly to himself. Then he went back to reading.

The next afternoon, they met up. Mochi was already losing his mind over the snow. The samoyed charged through every patch he could find. Which unfortunately wasn’t much. The snowfall had been light. Most of the grass still poked through. (Y/n) looked around in disappointment. “This is pathetic.” Sunghoon laughed. “It’s the first snowfall.” “Correction, it’s barely a snowfall.” She attempted to make a snowball. The result fell apart immediately. “See?” Sunghoon watched her pout. Then smiled. “Hold on.” (Y/n) narrowed her eyes.  The temperature around them dropped instantly. The wind picked up. Snow appeared across the ground. Not falling from the sky. Appearing. Expanding outward from Sunghoon in every direction. White covered the grass. The pathways. The nearby hill. Within moments, the area looked like a proper winter wonderland. Sunghoon winced. Pain shot through one of his arms. White spread through his dark hair. Frost crept along his sleeve. But it was worth it. Completely worth it.

Because the second (Y/n) realized what had happened, she let out the most excited squeal he’d ever heard. “Sunghoon!” Then she ran. Or attempted to. She made it three steps before throwing herself face-first into the snow. Sunghoon burst out laughing. (Y/n) didn’t care. She rolled onto her back. Spread her arms. And began making a snow angel. Laughing the entire time. “Look!” “I see it.” “LOOK!” “I’M LOOKING!” Mochi immediately decided this looked fun. The samoyed launched himself into the snow beside her. Rolling around wildly. Kicking snow everywhere. At one point he accidentally buried his own face. (Y/n) laughed even harder. Sunghoon stood there watching them. The woman. The dog. The snow. The laughter.

For a moment, everything felt peaceful. Simple. Normal. And as (Y/n) sat up, snow stuck in her hair and across her coat, she looked over at him with the brightest smile he’d ever seen. “Best snow day ever.” Sunghoon smiled back. His arm still hurt. His hair was still half white. The frost still stung. But none of it mattered. Because seeing her happy somehow made every bit of pain worth it. They played in the snow together for what felt like hours. Mochi joined every game. Usually by cheating. The samoyed would steal snowballs before they could be thrown, tackle piles of snow for no reason, and occasionally sprint directly through whatever either of them was building.

Eventually, the snowball fight began. Though it wasn’t exactly fair. Mostly because Sunghoon was intentionally losing. “Ha!” A snowball exploded against his shoulder. (Y/n) immediately threw both hands into the air. “Victory!” Sunghoon stared at her. “You’ve hit me three times.” “Exactly.” “I’ve hit you zero times.” “Exactly.” “You don’t think that’s suspicious?” “No.” Sunghoon laughed. (Y/n) pointed at him dramatically. “Don’t ruin this for me.” “Sorry.” “You should be.” She bent down and made another snowball. “Now stand still.” “Why?” “So I can hit you again.” Sunghoon obediently stood still. The snowball hit him directly in the chest. (Y/n) doubled over laughing. And somehow, watching her celebrate such a ridiculous victory made something inside him ache. Not painfully. Warmly. Because every laugh. Every smile. Every excited spark in her eyes. Seemed to chip away at something frozen deep inside him.

Ever since the war. Ever since the centuries of bloodshed. Sunghoon had always felt as though part of himself had been trapped beneath ice. Not physically. Emotionally. His humanity. His heart. Even after meeting Jay. Even after finding his coven. The ice had never fully melted. It had simply become easier to live with. But now… With every laugh that left her lips. With every smile she aimed at him. He could feel the cracks spreading. Slowly. Patiently. The ice was beginning to thaw. Eventually, the snowball fight came to an end. Mostly because (Y/n) declared herself champion. Repeatedly. And very loudly. Mochi was currently buried in a snowbank he had created himself.

Sunghoon walked over to her. Snow clung to her hair. Her scarf. Her eyelashes. A small patch sat on her cheek. Without thinking much about it, he reached out. Gently brushing the snow away. (Y/n) froze. Her breath caught slightly. Sunghoon’s touch was warm. Careful. Tender. Like she was something precious. His fingers lingered for just a second before pulling away. And yet somehow that second felt much longer. Sunghoon found himself holding his breath. Touching her like this felt… Natural. Comfortable. Domestic. Right. The realization made his heart stutter.

(Y/n) smiled softly. Then stepped back. Breaking whatever spell had settled between them. “Thanks for today, Hoon.” The nickname made his stomach flip. “I finally got to play in the snow like a child.” The words were spoken lightly. With a smile. But Sunghoon heard the truth hidden beneath them. The longing. The grief. The years she had lost. Because she wasn’t talking about snow. Not really. She was talking about childhood. About freedom. About joy. About all the things she never got to have. And suddenly he understood. Truly understood. (Y/n) didn’t need grand gestures. Or expensive gifts. Or complicated plans. She needed experiences. Memories. A chance to be carefree. A chance to laugh without fear. A chance to be the child she never got to be. Sunghoon looked at her. At the woman smiling beside him while snowflakes settled in her hair. And quietly made a promise to himself. If he could… He would give her every piece of that childhood she had missed. No matter how long it took.

~~~

A few days later, another snowfall came. This time, winter arrived properly. By the time the sun had set the evening before, thick snowflakes had already begun covering the city, and when Sunghoon looked outside before dawn, everything had disappeared beneath a blanket of white. He smiled. Today was the day. Without making much noise, he got dressed. Mochi immediately noticed. The samoyed stretched lazily before trotting over. “You want to come?” Mochi barked. “I figured.” Long before sunrise, the two of them left the apartment. The streets were almost completely empty. Only a few snowplows had begun their morning routes. They walked beyond the edge of town, following a narrow trail through a quiet forest.

The further they walked, the quieter the world became. Fresh snow muffled every sound. Even Mochi’s paws barely made a noise. Eventually, they climbed a small hill. At the very top, the trees opened into a clearing. From there, the city stretched out below them. Still asleep. Its lights glowing softly beneath the pale morning sky. Sunghoon smiled. “This should do.” Mochi barked once before sitting down nearby. Watching curiously. Sunghoon stepped into the center of the clearing. He closed his eyes. Then took a deep breath. The air around him immediately turned colder. Much colder. The snow beneath his feet began to spread. Ice burst from the ground. Not violently. Elegantly. Like crystal flowers blooming.

Sunghoon carefully guided every piece. Walls rose from the earth. Towers spiraled toward the sky. Windows formed from perfectly clear ice. Archways. Staircases. Balconies. Delicate frozen bridges connecting tower to tower. Every detail shaped by centuries of experience. The castle continued growing. Larger. More intricate. Snow drifted gently around the frozen structure as if nature itself wanted to decorate it. Sunghoon gritted his teeth. The backlash arrived quickly. His black hair turned white strand by strand. Frost crawled across his neck. His arms. His chest. Still he continued. He remembered every word she’d said. One of my biggest dreams as a child was to build the perfect ice castle. So he built one. Not a child’s version. The real thing. The castle she deserved.

By the time he finally lowered his hands, an enormous palace of ice overlooked the sleeping city. It glittered beneath the pale winter sky. Beautiful. Silent. Magical. Exactly as he had imagined. Then his legs gave out. Sunghoon dropped to one knee. His entire body had frozen over. He couldn’t move. Not a finger. Not even enough to brush the frost from his eyelashes. Only his eyes remained free to move. Mochi immediately sprinted over. The samoyed whined before pressing himself against Sunghoon’s side. Trying to warm him. Licking his frozen hand. Circling him anxiously. None of it worked. Sunghoon could only smile faintly. “I’m okay…” His voice barely came out. For nearly an hour, he remained there. Completely frozen. Waiting for his body to recover. 

Slowly, very slowly, the ice receded. Feeling returned to his fingers first. Then his legs. Eventually, he managed to stand. His hair remained crystal white. His muscles ached. Every step hurt. But when he turned around to look at the castle one last time… He smiled. “It was worth it.” Mochi barked happily. Together, they made their way back toward the city. As they walked, Sunghoon pulled out his phone. His fingers still felt stiff from the frost. He called (Y/n). She answered almost immediately. “Hoon?” “Morning.” She laughed sleepily. “You’re up early.” “I have a surprise for you.” Instantly, she sounded awake. “A surprise?” “Mhm.” “What kind?” “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.” “That is incredibly unfair.” Sunghoon chuckled. “Can you meet me in about an hour?” There was a tiny pause, before an excited “Yes!” fell out of her mouth.  “So that’s a yes?” “Absolutely yes!” “I’ll text you the location.” “Okay!” “And wear warm clothes.” She laughed. “That’s a suspicious thing to say.” “Just trust me.” “I do.” The words made him smile. “I’ll see you soon.” The call ended.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, (Y/n) stared at her phone with a grin. “What could he possibly have planned?” She hurried around her apartment. Pulling on the warmest clothes she owned. Searching for her scarf. Trying to find her gloves. Her excitement only grew with every passing minute. She had absolutely no idea what awaited her. And that somehow made it even better. An hour later, (Y/n) stepped out of her apartment building, bundled up in a thick winter coat, scarf, gloves, and a knitted beanie. Waiting outside were Sunghoon and Mochi. The samoyed barked happily the second he saw her, running over to greet her. (Y/n) laughed, scratching behind his ears before looking up at Sunghoon. Immediately, she noticed the white streaks still lingering through his hair. “You’ve been using your powers again.” Sunghoon instinctively reached up to touch his hair. “A little.”

(Y/n) simply nodded. She had gotten used to the white hair meaning he’d been using his ice. She didn’t think much more of it. Instead, her curiosity took over. She skipped over until she stood right in front of him. “So?” Sunghoon smiled. “So?” “Where are we going?” “It’s a surprise.” “What kind of surprise?” “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” (Y/n) sighed dramatically. “Come on.” “No.” “Please?” “No.” She pouted. “Just one hint.” Sunghoon shook his head. “Not yet.” (Y/n) let out another exaggerated sigh. “You’re impossible.” “I’ve been told that.” She laughed. “Fine.” Then she pointed ahead dramatically. “Lead the way.” Sunghoon smiled before stepping closer. “Actually…” (Y/n) looked up. “I’ll bring you there.” She raised an eyebrow. “Vampire style.” A grin immediately spread across her face. “So hold on tight.”

Without another word, (Y/n) wrapped both arms around him. Sunghoon carefully lifted her into his arms. He couldn’t help smiling. She trusted him. Completely. Before leaving, he looked toward Mochi. “Go home and guard the arena, okay, boy?” Mochi barked once. Then immediately sprinted away through the snowy streets toward the rink. “Good boy,” Sunghoon muttered. A second later, the world blurred. The city disappeared around them. (Y/n) laughed as the wind rushed past. She had experienced his speed before. But somehow, it never became less exciting. Within moments, the forest replaced the city. The trees rushed by. The hill came into view. Then, Sunghoon stopped. Carefully setting her back onto the snow. (Y/n) took one step forward. Then froze. Her mouth slowly fell open.

Standing before her… Was a castle. Not a small sculpture. Not a pile of snow. A real castle. Towering walls of crystal-clear ice sparkled beneath the winter sun. Elegant towers reached toward the clouds. Frozen bridges connected them high above the ground. The windows shimmered like diamonds. Snow rested gently across every rooftop and balcony. The entire structure overlooked the city below like something from a fairy tale. (Y/n) couldn’t breathe. She slowly turned toward Sunghoon. Then back toward the castle. Then back toward him again. “How?” Her voice barely came out. “When?” Another look toward the castle. “Why?” Sunghoon laughed softly. His cheeks turned slightly pink. “You told me you wanted an ice castle.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, I built one for you.” (Y/n)’s eyes immediately filled with tears. A single one slipped down her cheek. She didn’t even bother wiping it away.

Instead, she ran. Not toward the castle. Toward him. She wrapped both arms around Sunghoon in a tight hug. He froze for half a second before slowly hugging her back. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her voice cracked. Sunghoon rested his chin lightly against the top of her head. “You’re welcome.” After another moment, (Y/n) finally stepped back. She quickly wiped away the tears on her cheeks. Then turned back toward the castle. She simply stared. Taking in every tower. Every frozen staircase. Every delicate detail carved into the walls. It looked exactly like something she’d imagined as a little girl. Only more beautiful. More magical. More real. And in that moment, standing before the impossible castle built just for her… She felt like the child she’d never been allowed to be. (Y/n) began running around the castle, completely unable to stand still. She wandered through frozen hallways. Ran up icy staircases. Peeked through shimmering windows. She traced her fingers along intricate carvings in the walls, little snowflakes and vines Sunghoon had carefully sculpted into the ice.

“You made all of this?” She turned around in disbelief. “All of it?” Sunghoon nodded. “It took a while.” She looked back toward one of the towers. “It looks like something out of a fairy tale.” Sunghoon smiled. His entire body still ached. His arm hadn’t fully recovered. Every now and then he could still feel the lingering frost beneath his skin. But none of it mattered. Because the way she ran from room to room… Laughing. Smiling. Looking at everything with childlike wonder. Made every bit of pain worth it. Once again, he felt another crack spread through the ice around his heart. It had protected him for centuries. Now… He wasn’t sure he wanted it there anymore.

After several minutes, (Y/n) turned toward him. “Come on!” Sunghoon looked up. “Play with me!” He chuckled before walking over. “What do you want to play?” (Y/n) stopped to think. She looked around the enormous castle. Then shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, what do kids usually play?” Sunghoon laughed. “I haven’t been a kid for over four hundred years, so I honestly don’t know.” (Y/n) playfully punched his shoulder. “But you deal with kids every day, you should know.” Sunghoon rubbed his shoulder dramatically. “Ow.” “I barely touched you.” “You’re very strong.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re literally a vampire.” “Good point.” He thought for a moment. “Well, they like playing tag, hide and seek, and…” He scratched his head. “I don’t know what it’s called, but they usually pretend they have magical powers.” (Y/n)’s eyes lit up. “Hide and seek!” She clapped her hands together. “You count to thirty!”

Before she could sprint away, Sunghoon gently caught her wrist. She looked back at him. “What?” He smiled. “Remember how I’m a vampire?” (Y/n) blinked. “Yeah?” “I can smell you from about a mile away.” Her excitement visibly deflated. “Oh.” “So, you can’t really hide from me.” (Y/n) sighed dramatically. “That’s cheating.” “It’s biology.” “It still feels like cheating.” Sunghoon laughed. She thought for another moment. “Fine, then you hide, and I’ll seek.” Sunghoon nodded. “That works.” He stepped backward. “Count to ten.” (Y/n) immediately covered her eyes. “No peeking?” “No peeking.” She began counting loudly. “One!” The second her eyes closed, Sunghoon disappeared. Using his vampire speed, he raced through the frozen halls. Up winding staircases. Across an icy bridge. Until he reached the highest balcony overlooking the castle. Then he waited.

“Eight!” “Nine!” “Ten!” (Y/n) spun around. “Ready or not, here I come!” Sunghoon had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. She was taking this incredibly seriously. He watched as she wandered through the castle. Opening doors dramatically. “Aha!” She pointed triumphantly into an empty room. Then frowned. “Oh.” She continued searching. Every few minutes another excited shout echoed through the castle. “I found you!” Silence. “No I didn’t.” Sunghoon quietly laughed to himself. She checked beneath frozen staircases. Behind pillars. Even behind a statue that was far too thin to hide a person. “You’re too good at this!” She called out. “You picked the game!” Sunghoon replied, unable to hide the smile in his voice. “That doesn’t mean I like it!” Nearly ten minutes passed before she finally climbed the last staircase leading toward the highest tower.

She stepped onto the balcony. Looked left. Looked right. Then suddenly gasped. “There you are!” Sunghoon turned around just as she pointed dramatically at him. “I found you!” She practically skipped over to him. “I found you!” Sunghoon laughed. “You did.” “I won!” “You absolutely did.” She threw both hands into the air victoriously. “I knew I’d find you.” Sunghoon smiled as he watched her celebrate. For someone who claimed she hadn’t had much of a childhood… She certainly knew how to enjoy one now. And somehow… That made him happier than winning ever could.

(Y/n) suddenly gasped as she looked out from one of the castle balconies. She spun toward Sunghoon so quickly he barely had time to react. “This is totally like the castle from Frozen!” Sunghoon blinked. “The what?” She stared at him. “You’ve… never watched Frozen?” He shook his head. “No.” (Y/n) placed a hand over her heart dramatically. “You poor, poor vampire.” Sunghoon laughed. “I’ve been a little busy the last four hundred years.” “Well, now we’re fixing that.” She pointed toward the grand staircase below. “But first…” A mischievous smile spread across her face. “Can you do special effects for me?” Sunghoon tilted his head. “Special effects?” “So it looks like I have magic.” She bounced excitedly. “I want to be Elsa.” Sunghoon had absolutely no idea who Elsa was. But judging by the excitement shining in her eyes… He nodded anyway. “What do you need me to do?”

(Y/n) let out an excited squeal before throwing her arms around him again. “Thank you!” Sunghoon smiled as he hugged her back. She pulled away almost immediately. “Come on!” She grabbed his wrist. “We have to go downstairs.” Sunghoon laughed as she practically dragged him through the castle. “You’re going to stand behind me.” “Okay.” “And whenever I move my hands like this…” She dramatically stretched both arms outward. “You shoot snow.” Sunghoon nodded seriously. “Got it.” “And you have to sing Let It Go.” Sunghoon froze. “I have to what?” “Sing!” “I don’t know the song.” (Y/n) gasped. “Even better.” “I’ll sing.” “You do the snow.” Sunghoon sighed dramatically. “I feel like I’m being used.” “You absolutely are.” He couldn’t stop laughing. She was simply too excited.