Just one last dance

Instead of leaning into him, you recoiled slightly. The intimacy feeling overwhelming rather than inviting. Lifting a hand, you placed your palm flat against the steady beat of his chest and gently but firmly pushed him back.

"You know what? I’m sort of beat, Ji," you said, "You think we can just go to bed?"

The last thing you wanted to do right now is sleep with him,

Jiyong paused, his movement halting instantly. He raised his head, a single eyebrow arching upward as his eyes searched yours looking for any hint of a joke. In all the time they had spent together, she had never once turned him away. Their physical connection had always felt like a natural part of their routine.

As the silence stretched, the realization settled in that you were entirely serious. Jiyong cleared his throat, the sound a bit rough in the quiet space.

"Um—yeah. For sure," he said. Jiyong sat up fully, clearing his throat again as he quickly adjusted his underwear to mask his visible arousal. The sudden rejection hung heavy in the air, shifting his mood entirely.

"I need a shower," he muttered abruptly.

Without waiting for a reply, he swung his legs out of bed and crossed the dark room. The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, and seconds later, the distinct hiss of the shower filling the pipes echoed through the wall.

A wave of quiet satisfaction washed over you. For the first time, you had held your ground, and it felt genuinely empowering to turn him away like that. A small smile touched your lips as you pulled the heavy duvet up to your shoulders, sinking into the warmth.

You knew exactly why he was taking a shower. It wasn't to wash off the day; it was to relive himself from the tension you had left him with.

It felt like a small victory. For a long time, sex had been something you easily went without, but you knew Jiyong wasn't that type of person. Withholding it was a perfect way to get back at him for now. You refused to cry over him anymore; he simply didn't deserve your tears. Two could play at this game.

The moment the hiss of the water stopped, you quickly rolled over, turning your back to his side of the bed. You closed your eyes and slowed your breathing, pretending to be fast asleep.

Jiyong walked back into the bedroom a few moments later, his breathing snoticeably heavy and out of breath. His black hair was damp, clinging to his forehead, and a single towel hung loosely around his waist. He stood by the edge of the bed for a moment, his eyes tracing the silhouette of your naked body beneath the light blanket. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He dropped the towel, pulled his boxers back on, and slid under the sheets next to you.

To your surprise, he reached out, his hand gripping your waist firmly as he pulled you back against his chest, holding you in a tight cuddle. You didn't fall for the sudden affection, instead, the words of the text message you had discovered earlier replayed on a loop in your mind, over and over, until you finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning was entirely different from the day before. Your alarm actually did its job and woke you up this time. As you stirred to roll over and shut it off, you immediately noticed the emptiness—there was no warm body behind you, and no hands holding you tight.

You sat up, looking at the empty sheets where Jiyong usually slept. Maybe he's making breakfast, you thought to yourself. Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you got out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom to brush away the morning taste from your mouth. Walking back into the bedroom with the toothbrush still clutched between your teeth, you quickly pulled on the first half of your work outfit. Stepping out into the living room, you peeked into the kitchen. No Jiyong.

"Hmm," you mumbled around your toothbrush

You turned to the right, and your eyes landed on Bear, who was still sleeping soundly. The sight instantly brought a genuine smile to your face. After finishing up in the bathroom and getting fully dressed, you walked over to the patio door. The click of the handle made Bear’s ears perk up instantly. She woke right away, her tail starting to wag.

"Wanna go outside, girl?" you asked softly.

Bear ran over, happily jumping up on you before heading out onto the patio. It had started snowing again overnight, leaving the patio floor covered in a thick, white blanket. You watched with a sigh of contentment as Bear made perfect little footprints in the fresh powder. Not wanting to leave her out in the cold for too long, you closed the door behind her and quickly moved to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee, waiting for that rich, familiar aroma to fill your apartment.

Just as you set the mug down, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to see a text from Nabi.

Nabi🦋:Can you take a break from getting fucked for a sec to message your best friend? hahah! how are you babe.

A smile tugged at your lips. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, you typed out a reply.

Y/n:I suppose I can. I'm ok, just making coffee. how are you.

You decided against telling her about Jiyong just yet. You were still processing the heavy reality yourself. So, while waiting for Nabi to text back, you walked over to the pantry, filling Bear's bowl with kibble and refreshing her water. As if she could hear the distinct clatter of food through the glass, Bear was already waiting anxiously by the patio door.

You walked over and opened it to let her in. She was so incredibly excited about her breakfast that she bolted past you before you could grab a towel. "Wait, Bear!—"

It was too late. She trotted happily straight to her bowl, leaving a trail of cute, wet, muddy paw prints all the way from the patio entry to the kitchen. You let out a heavy sigh and locked the door.

"I hate the winter," you mumbled to yourself, grabbing the mop from the utility closet to clean up the wet trail she had left behind.

By the time the last paw print was wiped away, you checked the clock. Panic hit you—there wasn't enough time left to actually sit and drink your coffee. "Great," you muttered under your breath. You unplugged the machine and poured the remaining brew down the sink.

Turning back to Bear, you smiled at her enthusiastic eating. "Eat up, girl. I'll be back later," you said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

You hurried back to the bedroom to put on the final touches of your outfit, and within minutes, you were out the door. You didn't even stress about the wet mop you left sitting out; your sister was scheduled to stop by any minute, and you could just text her to ring it out and put it away.

When you pushed past the heavy lobby doors and stepped outside, you fully expected Jiyong's private car to be idling at the curb waiting for you. But the street was empty.

A small, knowing smile spread across your face. Oh, so he's mad mad, you thought to yourself.

As much as you had grown used to the luxury of his heated leather seats and a quiet, private ride to work, this absence felt like another major victory in your quiet war. You felt a wave of independence as you raised your hand, hailed a regular cab like a normal civilian, and slid into the backseat. Settling into the ride, you watched the snow dance outside the window, enjoying a genuinely peaceful commute to work.

It wasn’t long before your stomach started growling loudly in the back of the cab. You looked down and held your stomach, feeling a brief wave of embarrassment.

Right, no luxury rides means no breakfast, you thought to yourself. Jiyong's driver usually had a warm pastry or a fresh breakfast paring waiting for you in the console, but today, you were entirely on your own. You sighed, leaning your head against the cold glass of the window and watching the city blur past. Luckily, the ride to work wasn't too far. Only minutes later, the familiar glass facade of your office building came into view.

The moment you stepped out of the elevators, the blast of heated office air welcomed you, thawing out the chill from the street. It felt incredibly nice. Taking a deep breath to center yourself, you walked straight down the hallway toward your desk.

As you got closer, you slowed your pace. Sitting right in the middle of your desk was a pristine, brown paper bag waiting for you, the faint scent of warm pastries and fresh coffee drifting through the paper.

Once you reached your desk, your first instinct was to look over at Jiyongs office, but his blinds were completely shut. That wasn't unusual for him, but today it felt heavy with intention. Just happy to have something to eat, you sat down, logged into your computer, and unpacked the food.

The moment your screen loaded, a crazy list of emails popped up. A bunch of system errors needed to be fixed from a project you had completely finished last week, and on top of that, an influx of brand-new assignments had been dumped into your inbox.

You scoffed, glancing at his dark office again before looking back at the screen. Punishing me for no sex, how mature, you mumbled to yourself, certain he was overloading your schedule out of spite.

You took another bite of the pastry, and just as you began to type a reply to the first email, a familiar face peeked into your cubicle.

"Hey, good morning! I hope that warmed you up," Yunho said. He smiled down at you, motioning toward the brown paper bag.

You looked down at the sandwich, then back up at him in surprise. Did he get this for me? you thought to yourself. "Oh, um, yes! Thank you so much, Yunho, it's delicious," you said, masking your shock.

He bowed his head slightly, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously. "Oh, of-of course. Um, it's a sausage egg drop toast. I—I wasn't sure which one you favored."

Well, I definitely don't favor this, you thought to yourself once more. You honestly preferred just the plain egg drop toast without the meat. But you kept your expression sweet.

"Ah, yes, it's delicious, thank you. Just what I needed this morning."

A bright, genuine smile spread across Yunho's face, and a slight blush crept up his cheeks. "Ah, yes, good to hear! Well, have a good rest of your morning."

"You too, Yunho," you smiled. He gave another polite bow before trailing off down the hallway.

You wouldn't know it just yet, but Jiyong was watching that entire interaction. 

Luckily, you managed to avoid seeing Jiyong for the entirety of the day. Your main communication with him was strictly over email, which was perfectly fine by you. The hours passed pleasantly whenever you pushed down your growing feelings for him and remind yourself of the text message. Plus, Nabi was a huge help and a welcoming distraction. The two of you had lunch together, and luckily, the topic of Jiyong wasn't brought up even once.

This time, you wanted her to dominate the conversation, and she did—happily telling you about her own work, a new hobby she wanted to try out, and even a guy she had been seeing. It was genuinely nice to just listen and hear about someone else's peaceful, uncomplicated life.

When the workday finally ended, you found yourself as one of the very last people left in the dark office, still catching up on the mountain of work Jiyong had left for you. It was closing in on midnight, and you had already been forced to cancel your after-work plans with Nabi. Your head rested in your hands as you scanned over the data sheets, looking for the system mistake Director Kwon was so adamant you made. But there was absolutely nothing. Everything was perfect, just like you knew it was from the start.

You scoffed under your breath and sent out the last of your digital work, not even bothering to skim over the final page. With a satisfied sigh, you pushed back from your rolling chair, shut down your computer, and gathered your things.

But you wanted to do one more thing before heading home.

You walked over and quietly knocked on Jiyong's office door. After a few seconds, his deep voice boomed from the other side. "Yes."

You let yourself in. There he was, sitting casually on his office couch with his legs spread. One of his arms hung loosely over the back of the sofa, while his other hand held a lowball glass of whiskey. His tie was undone, his top button popped, and he looked completely relaxed despite the late hour.

Holding the printed reports in your hand, you gave a formal bow. "Mr. Kwon, I wanted to hand in my finished reports in person."

You walked over and set them down onto his desk in a neat, orderly pile. Jiyong motioned toward the papers with his whiskey glass, his eyes tracking you. "They are fixed?"

You wanted badly to snap back that they were, even though there was never anything to be fixed in the first place. But instead, you held your tongue and kept your voice professional. "Yes."

Jiyong stood up, the ice cubes clicking sharply against the glass as he moved. He walked over to the desk, flipping through the pages with his fingers for a quick look before leaning back against the edge of the wood, facing you directly. He took another slow sip of his whiskey before speaking. "Good work."

You offered a tight smile, feeling incredibly awkward beneath the heavy weight of his glare. "Thank-you, um- have a good night'' you said,

As you turned to leave, a soft knock came at the door. Yunho stuck his head into the office and bowed slightly. "Ah, sorry Director Kwon, I didn't mean to disturb your conversation, I—I'll wai—"

Jiyong interrupted him smoothly, his tone clipping the end of the sentence. "What is it, Yunho?"

Realizing you were no longer a part of the conversation, you bowed politely to both of them and stepped out into the quiet hallway.

Well, that wasn't too bad, you thought to yourself as you walked away. You were honestly surprised he hadn't mentioned anything about last night, or at least demanded that you come over to his place. But if that was all it took—if denying him sex once was enough to make him act this distant—then you were completely fine with that. It just gave you the definitive, bitter answer of what all of this actually was to him.

As your manicured finger pressed the glowing elevator button, rapid footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, running toward you. You turned around to see Yunho. When he finally reached the elevator bank, he leaned down with his hands on his knees, panting trying to catch his breath.

You laughed lightly at the sight. "Yunho, what are you doing?"

He took a deep breath, straightened up, and looked at you. "Um, well, it's really late, and I'm sure you're hungry," he said, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I—I was wondering if you want to get dinner with me?"

This was absolutely not something you were expecting, and under normal circumstances, it wasn't something you wanted either. Yunho was a good friend, nothing more, and you didn't want to lead him on. But just as the polite refusal was about to leave your lips, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye.

Jiyong was standing at the end of the hallway by his office door. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes burning into you as he watched the entire scene unfold.

A daring smile spread across your lips. You turned your full attention back to Yunho, making sure your voice carried just enough in the quiet hallway. "I would love to."

Right before stepping into the elevator, you saw Jiyong spin on his heel. A split second later, the sharp, echoey slam of his office door rattled down the empty hallway.

A wave of deep satisfaction washed over you. Knowing exactly how mad you were making him felt incredible.

You turned back to Yunho, your smile becoming much more genuine this time. Yunho politely bent his elbow and held out his arm for you to take. Without hesitating, you slipped your hand through his arm, leaning into the comfort of his steady presence.

Together, you both stepped fully into the elevator. The metal doors finally slid shut with a soft click, and the carriage began its quiet descent down to the lobby, leaving Jiyong on the top floor far behind.

The restaurant Yunho took you to was a cozy, warm little spot owned by his parents, who seemed like the absolute sweetest couple. The moment you walked in, the chill of the midnight air melted away.

As you sat down at a small corner table, Yunho draped his coat over the back of his chair, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. "Okay, what sounds good?"

You smiled, looking down at the laminated menu. "Honestly, tteokbokki sounds amazing right now."

Yunho’s face lit up with a bright smile. He gently took the menu from your hands. "Alright, one bowl of tteokbokki coming right up!"

You laughed, looking at him in surprise. "Wait, you're cooking?"

"Of course!" he said proudly, adjusting his sleeves. "I help my parents run this place when I can. I was taught all the family recipes."

You smiled up at him, suddenly seeing Yunho in a completely different light. He wasn't just the quiet, nervous guy from the office anymore.

"I'll be right back," he said with a wink before disappearing through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

Left alone at the table, you pulled out your phone. Your fingers hesitated as you unlocked the screen, fully expecting to see a string of furious messages or missed calls from Jiyong. But there was nothing. The screen was completely blank. It felt odd and a little unsettling given how angry he looked, but you tried to shrug it off.

Instead, you opened your chat with Nabi. Even though it was hitting close to 2:00 AM, you hoped she might still be awake.

Y/n: I guess I'm on a date? 

You stared at the screen for a few seconds, waiting for the typing bubbles to pop up. When they didn't, you kept writing

Y/n:  It's Yunho from the office. He seems pretty sweet. 

You sent the message and slid the phone back into your purse, deciding not to send anything else so you wouldn't keep waking her up if she was asleep.

A moment later, the rich spicy aroma of fresh tteokbokki hit your nostrils. You closed your eyes, inhaling the comforting scent as your stomach rumbled again. Curiosity got the better of you. You tried to lean over the table to peek around the corner, but you couldn't see anything.

Smiling to yourself, you quietly slid out of your chair. You sneaked past the front counter and crept up to the swinging kitchen doors, pushing them open just an inch to peek inside. There stood Yunho by the stove, completely focused. The steam swirled around him as he carefully added the finishing touches to your food, looking entirely in his element.

You pushed the door open and stepped fully into the kitchen, the heavy aroma of garlic, gochujang, and sesame oil wrapping around you in the warm space.

Yunho didn't jump or look startled at all. Instead, he simply looked up from the stove as you walked in, his expression instantly softening into a warm, welcoming smile. He adjusted the heat on the burner and tilted the pan slightly so you could get a better look.

"Just in time," he said smoothly, using a pair of tongs to arrange the rice cakes. "I was just plating it up."

"Wow, Yunho. This smells incredible," you said, stepping closer to the counter to look at the simmering pot.

The tteokbokki looked perfect. The rice cakes were thoroughly coated in a thick, glossy, bright red sauce, beautifully mixed with scallions and a boiled egg sliced clean down the middle. He picked up a small container and carefully sprinkled a handful of toasted sesame seeds over the top as the final touch.

"My parents have been using the same base recipe for thirty years," he explained, looking down at the finished plate with a sense of pride before turning his eyes back to you. "I wanted to make sure it tasted exactly right for you. You had a really long, exhausting day."

Hearing him acknowledge how hard you had worked brought a sense of comfort. Standing here in the warmth of his family's kitchen felt completely removed from the cold games Jiyong had been playing all day.

"Well, it looks amazing," you said, reaching for the small side plates to help him carry everything out. "Let's go eat."

The conversation flowed beautifully between the two of you. Neither of you missed a beat, and not once did the dialogue fracture or feel forced. Before you knew it, the entire pot of tteokbokki was completely finished, leaving nothing but scattered empty plates between you two.

Now, the table held a few green bottles and small glasses as you each took shots of soju, the crisp alcohol cutting through the lingering spice of the meal.

As the conversation continued to drift effortlessly from topic to topic, you completely stopped worrying about the time. The ticking clock on the wall didn't matter anymore. You didn't have to go to work tomorrow, which meant the night belonged completely to you. Jiyong, the office the stress he's causing felt miles away as you laughed at another one of Yunho's stories and held out your small glass for him to pour another round.

"So there I -I was, trying to flip the pancake perfectly like my dad always does," Yunho chuckled, gesturing with his hands as he slightly slurred his words. "But instead of landing back in the pan, it sailed straight through the air and-and stuck perfectly to the ceiling. My mom just stared at me for three solid seconds before handing me the broom."

You burst out laughing at the mental image, shaking your head as you lifted your glass. "No way! Did it actually stick?"

"Solidly," he grinned, clinking his glass against yours. "We had to scrape it off with a spatula."

You laughed again as you swallowed the last bit of your crisp soju shot. Just then, a sharp beep echoed from your purse.

"Mmh, one minute," you said, setting the empty glass down and pulling out your phone.

The screen lit up with a message from your sister. She texted to let you know she had left your apartment about an hour ago, but assured you that Bear was fully fed, watered, and had already been let outside for her final bathroom break. A wave of relief washed over you. You smiled warmly at the screen and set the phone face down on the table.

Yunho read your expression immediately, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Uh oh, gotta go?"

You smiled, stumbling your words almost aa much as he is. "Yeah, my dog needs to be let-let out soon''

"Oh, yeah! The beautiful white one," Yunho said, his eyes lighting up. "Gosh, you're so lucky to have a dog. I'm actually ...al- allergic."

You pouted your face playfully as you stood up from the table and reached for your coat. "Aw, man. I couldn't imagine being allergic to any animal. I love animals so much."

Yunho quickly stood up, stepping around the table to gently take the weight of your jacket, helping you slide your arms into the sleeves. "Well, honestly, it's nothing a good allergy pill can't fix," he said with a warm smile.

You looked up over your shoulder and smiled back. "That's good to know." Looking down at the empty plates, the green bottles, and the scattered mess on the table, you felt a bit guilty. "Oh! Let me help you clean up at least."

Yunho quickly stepped in front of you, waving his hands dismissively. "No, no, don't worry about it at all. Just get home safe, it's incredibly late."

You nodded your head and smiled, accepting his kindness. Yunho walked you toward the front of the restaurant. The little bell above the frame dinged loudly as the door swung open, and the two of you stepped out onto the sidewalk where the cold air hit your face and the snow was falling lightly.

An awkward silence suddenly settled between you. You found yourself smiling faintly and looking down at the snowy floor, not quite sure how to end the night.

Yunho reached up, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, nervous gesture. "So, um... I -I had a great time tonight."

"Me too," you said

"I would really like to see... you again," he added, his eyes searching yours.

Your face faltered a bit at his words. The reality of the situation hit you—you didn't want to lead him on too much, especially since it was becoming very clear that he actually, genuinely liked you. But before you could find the right words to gently decline, Yunho spoke up again, saving you from the awkward rejection.

"Here, I can give you my number," he said smoothly. He held out his hand, gesturing for you to hand him your phone.

Feeling slightly bad but unable to say no to his sweet expression, you unlocked your phone and handed it over. Yunho quickly typed in his contact information, saved it, and handed the device back to you with a reassuring smile.

"Don't fuss over it," he said gently, sensing your hesitation. "Just get back to me whenever you can, let me know."

"Thank you," you smiled, genuinely appreciative of how low-pressure he was making it.

The two of you leaned in for a comfortable hug, whispering a final goodnight. Yunho turned and walked back into the warmth of his family's restaurant, the bell dinging behind him, while you turned your collar up against the cold and walked toward the corner of the street to hail a cab.

The night went on peacefully. Once you got home, you stumbled into your apartment, holding onto the doorframe for support as the alcohol buzzed warmly in your system. You laughed out loud as the door swung open, reaching over to flip on the lights, totally oblivious to the person leaning against your kitchen counter.

You walked straight over to the patio door, sliding it open to call Bear over for her final bathroom break. As Bear trotted past you and ran out into the snowy night, you turned around to head toward the kitchen.

There, watching your every move with his signature glass of liquor in his hand, was Jiyong. He was leaning casually against your kitchen counter.

You jumped, thoroughly startled, but then immediately let out a loud laugh, putting your hand over your chest. "Yah! Oppa, you scared me," you sighed, shaking your head as you walked over to him. "What are you doing... here?" you slurred slightly, the words rolling together.

Jiyong just watched you, a single eyebrow raised as he tracked your uneven footsteps. You reached past him to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

He took a slow sip from his glass and spoke, his deep voice smooth and flat. "You're drunk."

You laughed again, lifting a finger to point directly at his chest. "And youuuuu are handsome," you giggled, your eyes crinkling.

Turning on your heel, you walked back over to the patio door to let Bear back inside. Jiyong moved from the counter, following you carefully across the room as if he was ready to catch you if you tripped.

Once Bear ran back inside, you slid the glass patio door shut and locked it with a quiet click. The moment you turned around, Jiyong was standing right there, his tall frame completely blocking your path. You looked up at him, your head tilting slightly as a smile spread across your face.

He didn't smile back. Instead, he looked down at you, his eyes intense and serious as he evaluated your flushed cheeks and unsteady balance.

"You need to sober up," he said, his deep voice carrying a quiet but firm authority. "Or you're going to wake up miserable tomorrow."

"Oh yeah, mister doctor?" you teased, your voice dripping with playful defiance.

You trailed a slow finger up the crisp fabric of his shirt, moving up his chest in deliberate flirtation. Your gaze locked onto his as you tilted your head back. "A-and what's the antidote?"

Leaning in even closer, you let your head tilt toward his ear, your breath reeking of soju as you whispered, "Your dick?"

The bluntness of your words hit him right away. Jiyong recoiled instantly, his head snapping back as a look of genuine shock flashed across his face.

You just burst out laughing at his reaction, stepping completely away from his personal space. Stumbling back a few steps into the living room, you plopped heavily down onto the soft cushions of the couch. Leaning your head back against the upholstery, you looked over at him with a smug grin.

''Mmm, you know I had a date tonight?" you said, throwing the words out into the quiet room like a weapon.

Jiyong walked over to the couch, his tall frame looming over you as he stood directly in front of where you sat. He looked down at you, his face completely unreadable, but he simply said nothing.

You ran a hand lazily through your hair, looking up at him before continuing. "You know Yunho?" you slurred, nodding your head as if trying to remind him. "Yeah, yeah, him. He's a sweet guy. I had fun."

Jiyong looked visibly irritated now. You watched his jaw tense up, the muscle jumping as he locked his teeth together. Seeing how much it was getting to him, you decided to go even further. You wanted to hurt him the way that text message had hurt you.

Leaning forward on the cushions, you looked Jiyong straight in his eyes, closing the distance between you.

"And his dick?.." You paused, holding his intense glare for a split second before you leaned in just a fraction more. "..even funner," you whispered the last part right to his face.

Jiyong scoffed a dark humorless laugh breaking the heavy silence of the room. The explosive anger faded into a calm dangerous demeanor as he slowly crouched down right in front of the couch. A smirk spread across his face, bringing his eyes completely level with yours. You didn't flinch. You kept his intense gaze, refusing to look away first.

"You wouldn't dare," Jiyong said

In response, your smirk only widened. Leaning back heavily into the soft cushions of the couch, you deliberately shifted your position, spreading your legs just enough where Jiyong could see the hint of black lace of your underwear peeking from beneath your work clothes.

"What?" you mocked, your voice dripping with alcohol and pure defiance. "You think this pussy is only for you?"

Just as you wanted, Jiyong's gaze snapped directly down, his eyes locking onto the space between your legs. The air in the room instantly grew hot and heavy, the tension shifting from anger to something incredibly charged.

You pushed your skirt up even more, letting the fabric bunch around your hips so Jiyong could see exactly what he was missing.

"Awww, no Oppa," you cooed, your voice dripping with sweet, drunken malice. "It’s not."

And then, with a sharp snap, you closed your legs completely shut.

Jiyong’s eyes fluttered up from the sudden emptiness to lock onto yours. The smirk was entirely gone from his face. He shifted slightly, visibly trying to adjust the obvious, heavy arousal stretching against the fabric of his trousers. For a long moment, the room was dead silent. He just crouched there, his chest heaving as he watched you, analyzing every tiny expression on your face.

"I think you're lying," he finally said, his voice a gravelly whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, letting out a soft, slurred chuckle. "Is that so?"

He stood up abruptly, fixing his shirt and tugging at his pants to try and conceal his frustration. "And I think you need to go fucking lie down," he muttered, his tone clipped.

Determined to have the last word, you stood up from the couch. The sudden movement made the room spin, and the soju hit you like a wave. Your balance gave out, and you stumbled forward. Jiyong moved instantly, his hands shooting out to catch you by the waist, steadying your weight against his solid frame.

Instead of pulling away, you leaned heavily against his chest, your small hands moving up to cup his face. You tilted your head up, locking your gaze onto his deep brown eyes. Leaning in close, you gently caught his bottom lip between your teeth, biting it just enough to make him gasp before pulling at it slightly and letting it go.

"Okay, Oppa," you whispered against his lips.

You stepped back out of his embrace, giving him one last smile before turning on your heel and heading straight toward your bedroom.

Left alone in the living room, Jiyong stood frozen. He was completely, painfully aroused. The anger and desire boiled over, and with a sudden burst of pure fury, he slammed his fist hard against the living room wall. The heavy thud vibrated through the apartment.

He was drowning in frustration. Frustrated that you had been out with another man. Frustrated that he didn't actually know if you had really slept with Yunho or if you were just playing with his mind. And most of all, he was deeply, dangerously frustrated because he wanted to fuck you right now more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

He took a ragged breath, trying to force the air back into his lungs. Running a tense hand through his black hair before following your footsteps straight into the dark bedroom.

You were already completely passed out, slumped half on and half off the mattress by the time he walked into the dark room. The heavy effects of the soju had finally caught up to you, and your tiny snores softly echoed through the quiet space.

Jiyong stood at the edge of the mattress, looking down at you. The tight, furious expression he had been wearing finally softened, and a quiet smile touched his lips. Moving gently so he wouldn't startle you, he reached down and carefully unbuckled your high heels, sliding them off your feet and setting them aside. He then gathered you up in his arms, lifting your weight easily to move you fully onto the bed.

The moment your head hit the mattress, you immediately snuggled deep into the plush pillow, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. Jiyong stood by the bedside and let out a quiet exhale of his own. He kicked off his leather shoes, undid his watch, and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it over the nearest chair. After reaching over to shut off the bedside lamp and plunging the room into absolute darkness, he slid under the heavy duvet beside you.

To his absolute surprise, the moment his warmth settled into the mattress, your body instinctively sought him out. You rolled over right away, cuddling flush against his bare chest, your hands finding a familiar resting place against his torso as your tiny snores continued without a break.

Jiyong couldn't help but smile in the dark, looking down at the top of your head. . Reaching up, he gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. He wrapped one solid arm around your waist, pulling you securely against him, before finally closing his own eyes and letting the exhaustion of the long night carry him to sleep.

Before your eyes were even fully open, the morning sun was already blinding you through the window. You squinted hard, trying to adjust to the light, but the entire bedroom looked like a blurry, spinning mess. Your ears rang with a dull buzz and your head ached fiercely behind your temples. You didn't want to move a single muscle.

Thankfully, the comforting realization hit you that you didn't have to work today.

Seeking comfort, you rolled over on the mattress, expecting to grab your plush pillow. Instead, your hand landed flat against a broad, radiating wall of warm skin. Startled, your eyes snapped wide open. You let out a panicked scream, scrambling backward so fast that you got completely tangled in the heavy sheets. The momentum carried you right off the mattress, and you hit the floor with a loud, painful thud.

"Fuck!" you yelled, clutching your throbbing head.

Jiyong sat up right away, his reflexes kicking in as his eyes darted around the room for the source of the danger before finally looking down over the edge of the bed to where you lay in a heap.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your sore forehead and blinking rapidly as your vision finally began to come together. The blurry shapes sharpened, and you found yourself staring right at him. Jiyong. You looked up at his bare chest, seeing that he was completely shirtless, and a wave of absolute panic washed over you.

"Did—did we..." you stammered

Jiyong looked down at you from the mattress, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. "No," he said smoothly.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, leaning back against the wall for physical support as the hangover threatened to pull you under. Seeing your reaction, Jiyong's smirk faltered into a cold expression. He scoffed, looking at you with an irritated gaze.

"Why would that be such a bad thing?" he asked, his deep voice rough from sleep. "Last time I checked, we haven't had sex in days."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you ran a hand through your messy hair. Refusing to engage with his attitude while your brain felt like it was exploding, you pushed yourself up from the floor, untangled your legs from the sheets, and marched straight into the kitchen.

You opened the cabinet, shook out a couple of Tylenol, and poured yourself a massive glass of cold water. You downed the medicine, drinking the water greedily as the cool liquid hit your parched throat.

A moment later, heavy footsteps padded into the kitchen behind you. Jiyong followed you out, rubbing his sleepy eyes with the back of his hand, his hair artfully messy from sleep. He didn't say anything at first. He walked right past you to the patio door, sliding it open to let a waiting Bear out into the crisp morning air.

Once the door was shut, he turned back around. He leaned against the counter, crossing his bare arms over his chest, and just stood there in total silence, watching you finish every last drop of your water.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and let out a heavy sigh, rubbing at your temples. "What were you even doing here?" you muttered, your voice strained.

Jiyong raised an eyebrow, his expression hardening. "What, I can't stay the night here now?"

"I... I really don't want to fight," you groaned, closing your eyes against the throbbing pain. "My head is killing me."

"Yeah, you were pretty drunk last night," Jiyong said, his tone dry.

You looked up at him, a sudden wave of confusion hitting you through the hangover fog. "When exactly did you get here?"

Jiyong stayed silent for a second, his eyes watching your expression before he finally answered. "Right before you got home."

You scoffed, shaking your head. Of course he did. You ran your hand through your messy hair again, staring at him. "Wha—what, do you just happen to know my door code also?"

Jiyong said nothing, offering no explanation for how he had bypassed your security.

You shook your head, completely exhausted. "You know what? I—I can't have this conversation right now. I really just want to lie down and sleep my fucking day away."

"Fine," Jiyong said flatly. He turned on his heel and started walking back toward the bedroom to grab his things. But as he walked away, his voice carried back to the kitchen. "But I should at least get a thank you."

You furrowed your brows, raising a hand in exasperation as he walked back into the room, pulling his button-up shirt over his bare shoulders. "Thank you for what?"

Jiyong stopped, buttoning his cuffs as he looked at you. "For getting your drunk ass into bed without hurting yourself. If I wasn't here—"

"If you weren't here, Jiyong," you interrupted, scoffing loudly, "I would have been completely fine. Just like I was before I ever met you."

Jiyong scoffed back, a dark, bitter edge to his voice. "Oh, really? You often sleep with random men and get drunk enough where you can't even walk straight?"

You stared at him, completely confused by his words. Your brain scrambled to remember the blurry details of the night before. "What are you talking about? I never slept with anyone. I—I went out to dinner with Yunho, that's all."

"That's not what you told me last night," Jiyong said, his jaw tightening as he threw your own whispered words back at you.

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning against the counter. "Jiyong, I was drunk last night. You're really going to believe what a drunk person was saying?"

Turning your back to him, you opened the freezer, rummaging through the shelves until you found a cold ice pack. You pulled it out and pressed it gently against your forehead, the freezing cold sending a sharp jolt through your throbbing head as you tried to process just how much trouble your drunken mouth had gotten you into.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across Jiyong’s face, all the lingering irritation melting away into total smug satisfaction. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you press the ice pack to your forehead. The heavy, anger that had been driving him crazy vanished, replaced by the sheer pleasure of realizing you had engineered the entire thing just to mess with his head.

"So," Jiyong purred, "You didn't sleep with him?''

You rolled your eyes, not acknowledging his smugness as you pressed the ice pack firmly against your head.

"You went out of your way to parade him in front of my office," Jiyong continued, taking a slow step into the kitchen, his bare feet padding softly on the floor. " You came home and whispered all those nasty little lies right to my face..." He paused, stopping right in front of you. "...all because you wanted to make me jealous''

He scoffed a light, triumphant laugh, completely reveling in the fact that he was back in control. "Look at you. You were so desperate to get under my skin that you invented a whole script just to see how far you could push me."

You scoffed, your voice dripping with annoyance. "I wasn't desperate for shit''

You immediately winced, the sheer loudness of your own voice sending a sharp, agonizing spike of pain straight through your throbbing head. You closed your eyes tight, desperately wanting nothing more than to stop this conversation right now.

Jiyong just chuckled softly, completely unbothered. "It sure sounded like it last nig—"

"Ok, ok! Fine!" you yelled, cutting him off before instantly lowering your voice with a painful groan. "I was trying to make you jealous, okay? It was stupid and immature, and I honestly should not have fallen into the trap."

You let out a frustrated huff, the raw exhaustion finally breaking through your defensive walls. You looked up at him, the hurt in your eyes replacing the anger. "But when I saw that girl's text message on your phone, I just—"

"Wait," Jiyong interrupted, his eyebrows knitted together in genuine confusion. "What girl?"

"It was the night before last, when you left to go to the bathroom," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "I heard a phone buzz on the nightstand and I thought it was mine. But I looked, and I saw some girl named... Seo-ah, I think? She was asking where her..... underwear was."

The moment the name left your lips, Jiyong's face went completely white.

It was an expression you had never seen on his face before—the absolute vulnerability completely replacing his usual arrogant composure. You stared into his deep brown eyes, your heart hammering as you waited for him to give you an explanation. You waited for him to tell you it was a mistake, a joke, or a misunderstanding.

But nothing came. He just stood there, completely frozen.

You let out a bitter, heartbroken scoff and turned away from him, the icy sting of reality hitting you far worse than the hangover.

"Y/n..." Jiyong finally began.

"Is it true?" you interrupted sharply, refusing to look back at him as you gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. You paused, swallowing down the lump in your throat before forcing the final words out. "Did she leave her panties in your house?"

Jiyong let out a heavy sigh. He ran a tense hand through his thick black hair, his eyes dropping to the floor as the silence between you stretched to a painful, breaking point.

As you heard no words leave his mouth, you shook your head, the bitter confirmation wrapping around your chest like a vice.

"That's exactly what I thought, too," you whispered.

You took a sharp inhale, forcing down the threatening tears that burned behind your eyes. Turning around to face him fully, "I think you need to leave''

Jiyong stepped forward instantly, his hands reaching out to catch your arms, but you quickly stepped back and avoided his touch.

"Y/n, let me explain. She—" He paused, stumbling over his words as if trying to format the sentence in a way that wouldn't completely shatter you.

You searched his deep brown eyes, looking for any shred of the honesty you thought the two of you shared. "It's a yes or no answer, Ji. It's not hard."

"It's more complicated than that, Y/n!" Jiyong said, his voice laced with a rare, desperate panic.

You gritted your teeth, the anger flaring up to shield you from the heartbreak. "Yes. Or. No."

Jiyong looked down at your soft, tear-rimmed eyes, his shoulders dropping heavily. The silence in the kitchen broke as he gave you the final, crushing truth.

"Yes."

At this point the sun was threatening to rise from the clouds and you still couldn't sleep. The uncertainty was eating you alive. Did Jiyong really mean what he said, or was he just so drunk that he was blurring the lines of reality? How were you supposed to act normal the next time you saw the guys? The sheer awkwardness of the next time you see him loomed over you like a shadow. 

And underneath all the confusion was a cold spike of absolute panic that made your heart beat even faster. What if Seunghyun finds out? The thought of his best friend discovering what had just happened under your roof made you feel physically sick.

Seunghyun’s face kept flashing in your mind, clear and agonizing. He was the one who had brought you into his circle, the one who trusted you, and above all, he was Jiyong’s best friend. They shared years of history, brotherhood, and a bond that was supposed to be unbreakable. Yet, in the span of a single, chaotic night, that sacred boundary had been completely crossed right in the middle of your living room.

Even though Jiyong had been the one to initiate the kiss, and even though he was the one who had confessed his feelings in a drunken, desperate haze, you hadn't stopped it immediately. Your body had melted into it. You had let yourself sink into the warmth of his lips, even if only for a few fleeting, terrifying seconds.

If Seunghyun ever found out, you worried the fallout would be catastrophic. It wouldn't just ruin your close relationship with him, it could permanently shatter the brotherhood between him and Jiyong. The sheer thought of being the wedge driven between two best friends made you feel guilty. You tightly closed your eyes, pressing the palms of your hands against your aching forehead, desperately wishing you could scrub the phantom sensation of Jiyongs touch.

"You are so stupid," you muttered aloud

You cursed at yourself, the harsh words cutting through the monotonous hum of the fan. You pulled the pillow over your face, pressing it down hard as you let out a scream. How could you have let things get this far? You should have pushed him away the second he leaned in.

Another heavy sigh escaped your lips, muffled by the fabric of the pillow. You felt completely pathetic lying there, spiraling over a man who had treated you like an inconvenience only hours prior. Yet, no matter how much you scolded yourself, the memory of his warm hand at the back of your head wouldn't leave you. You were trapped in your own mind, completely furious with yourself for letting a single, drunken mistake put everything—including Seunghyun—at risk.

You abruptly sat up in bed, your throat feeling completely parched from the lingering stress. You grabbed the glass of water from your nightstand, taking a quick, desperate drink to wash away the dry taste. Setting the glass back down with a dull thud, you let out an irritated huff and threw yourself back onto the mattress. You aggressively pulled the pillow over your head once more, blocking out the shadows of the room.

Eventually, exhaustion finally won the battle against your racing mind. You drifted off into a deep sleep—this time, a completely dreamless one. It was as if your brain finally knew you desperately needed a break from the emotional wreckage of the night, shutting down all thoughts to grant you a brief escape.

Hours bled together in total silence. You completely slept through the piercing buzz of your morning alarm. You slept through the continuous, repetitive vibrations of your phone on the nightstand as multiple text messages began flooding in from the group chat.

Outside, the storm cleared, and bright morning sunshine began to spread warmth across your bedroom floor, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the quiet air. Even as the day fully began without you, your body remained tightly curled up in a safe, warm ball under the heavy duvet. The apartment was completely still, save for the steady, peaceful rising and falling of your chest as you remained fast asleep, totally oblivious to the world outside.

For Jiyong, the morning was a completely different story.

When he had finally stumbled back into his own place that night, he didn't even make it to the bedroom. He had collapsed right there on his couch, passing out into a heavy, alcohol-induced stupor. It wasn't until Zoa, trotted over and began affectionately licking his face that his eyes finally fluttered open.

Right away, the hangover hit him like a physical blow, bringing with it a splitting headache that throbbed behind his temples. The bright morning sun piercing directly through the window blinds straight into his sensitive eyes only made the agony worse. He groaned loudly, shielding his face with a heavy arm to block out the harsh light.

Squinting through the glare, he looked around the quiet living room, his mind completely blank as he tried to figure out why the hell he was fully clothed on the couch. But before he could piece any timeline together, a sudden, violent wave of nausea hit him.

He bolted upright as he practically sprinted down the hall to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees and gripped onto the porcelain sides of the toilet as his stomach violently revolted, throwing up everything he had eaten the day before. He squeezed his eyes shut, his knuckles turning white against the seat as the dry heaves kept coming, wracking his entire body.

When his stomach finally settled and the retching ceased, he slumped back against the wall. He ran a trembling hand through his messy black hair, leaning his head back against the cool tile to catch his breath. Panting softly, he forced himself to stand up on unstable legs. He turned on the faucet, aggressively rinsing his mouth out at the sink and grabbing the mouthwash to scrub away the bitter taste of liquor and bile.

As the sharp burn of the mint hit his throat, the fog in his brain suddenly cleared. The floodgates opened, and the suppressed memories of the night before came crashing back with terrifying velocity.

I like you, Y/N. Shit, probably love you at this point.

His own drunken desperate slurred words echoed loudly in his mind, followed instantly by the phantom sensation of her lips against his. Jiyong froze, the mouthwash bottle gripping tightly in his hand. He slowly raised his head, staring at his exhausted reflection in the bathroom mirror as the absolute gravity of his mistake settled into his bones.

He spat out the mouthwash, gripped the edges of the sink until his fingers went numb, and whispered to the empty room, "Fuck."

Luckily for you, the agonizing memories of the night before didn't disrupt you just yet. Your slumber remained deep and dreamless, letting you sleep almost the whole morning away without realizing you were already incredibly late for work.

It wasn't until your phone ringtone suddenly blasted through the quiet room that you finally drifted awake. Without even raising your head from the pillow, you blindly reached your hand over to the nightstand, fumbling for the vibrating device. You cleared your raspy throat, sliding the screen open. "Hello?" you mumbled sleepily.

On the other end of the line was your boss, and he did not sound happy at all. You were supposed to be at work hours ago. The sharp reality hit you instantly, shattering your sleepiness. You scrambled out of the sheets, immediately apologizing over and over, frantically explaining that you were getting dressed right this second to leave.

As your boss continued to yell instructions and reprimands through the speaker, you went into absolute overdrive. You balanced the phone between your ear and your shoulder, pulling on your clothes, aggressively brushing your teeth, and grabbing a stray muffin from on top of the fridge all at the exact same time.

"Yes, yes sir! I am leaving right now," you panicked into the receiver, grabbing your bag. "I'll be there in like ten minutes tops, I am so incredibly sorry!"

You quickly slapped the lights off, kicked the front door shut behind you, and ran as fast as your legs could carry you. If there was any silver lining to the chaotic morning, it was that you finally had a distraction to keep your mind off Jiyong for the day.

Jiyong, on the other hand, felt as if absolutely nothing in the world could distract him from his actions last night.

After a much-needed cold shower he just sat heavily on the edge of his mattress. He wore nothing but a white towel slung loosely around his waist, his wet black hair dripping cold water droplets down his tense shoulders. He stared blankly at the floor, his phone gripped tightly in his palm. His thumb hovered over your contact name, deeply debating if he should reach out to you to explain himself, or anyone for that matter.

Jiyong shoved his phone down onto the mattress angrily, completely frustrated with himself. The device bounced slightly against the unmade sheets, mirroring the volatile irritation radiating from his entire body.

"How can you be so stupid?!" he snarled aloud to the empty bedroom, his voice raw and thick with self-hatred. He roughly dropped his face into his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes as he let out a long ragged sigh,

"Why did I do it?" he whispered into the dark safety of his palms "Why did I have to tell her like that? Drunk!??''

Since you've joined the circle, he had meticulously built up a wall of indifference to keep you at arm's length. He had convinced himself that pushing you away was the only way to keep his own complicated emotions under wraps. But in a single, drunken sequence of events, he had completely torn down his own fortress. He hadn't just crossed the line by kissing you—he had laid his entire heart out on a silver platter for you to see in the absolute worst way possible. The thought of facing you now made his chest tighten painfully. He was terrified of the look of pity he might see in your eyes, and even more terrified of what would happen if his confession reached Seunghyun's ears.

First things first, he had far more immediate things to worry about. Thinking of his best friend instantly made him remember that he owed the man a massive, overdue apology.

The heavy cloud of guilt shifted slightly, reminding him of his terrible behavior from the afternoon before. Jiyong let out a low groan, rubbing his temples as the memories of his sober hostility mixed painfully with his drunken vulnerability. He knew he had let his own internal confusion and jealousy poison his attitude, taking it out on you and making things incredibly uncomfortable for his bandmate.

He couldn't even begin to fix the mess he made at your front door until he fixed the fracture he caused in his brotherhood. Grabbing his phone back off the mattress, he stared at Seunghyun’s contact name, knowing he had to swallow his pride and make things right with his friend immediately.

Jiyong quickly dialed the number before he could talk himself out of it, holding the phone to his ear as he paced the length of his bedroom.

After a few tense rings, the line clicked open. Seunghyun’s voice came through, sounding low and slightly raspy from just waking up.

"Hey," Jiyong said, clearing his throat and trying his best to mask the splitting headache. "Are you busy? Come over to my place for breakfast. We need to talk."

On the other end of the line, the heavy silence stretched for a moment. Hearing the words we need to talk from the group leader usually meant serious business, but after Jiyong's explosive outburst at the studio the day before, the context was painfully obvious. Seunghyun let out a quiet sigh through the receiver, his tone neutral but guarded.

"Alright," Seunghyun replied. "I'll head over now."

The line went dead, leaving Jiyong standing in the middle of his quiet room with the phone still pressed to his ear. His heart hammered heavily. He was happy hyung even answered his call, but the reality of the situation was terrifying. He was bringing his best friend over to apologize—all while harboring the catastrophic secret that he had been at your apartment just hours ago, kissing you and confessing his feelings.

Pushing the anxiety aside, he needed to focus. Jiyong quickly threw on a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, not even caring that his hair was still damp. He rushed into the kitchen, desperately needing to occupy his hands before his mind could spiral any further.

He pulled open the refrigerator and began grabbing ingredients, deciding to cook some of Seunghyun’s favorite dishes from all the way back during their trainee days. He fired up the stove, cracking eggs, sizzling meat, and getting the rice going. The familiar, comforting aromas of savory spices and hearty comfort food quickly filled the apartment.

Cooking these specific meals was a silent homage to their history, a tactile reminder of the years they had spent starving, grinding, and building a brotherhood. It was his way of showing utmost respect and remorse before he even opened his mouth.

As the pots bubbled and the pans hissed, Jiyong checked the time on the microwave clock. Seunghyun would be walking through the front door at any minute. Jiyong wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his stomach twisting into an uneasy knot. The kitchen counter was set with the variety of dishes for Seunghyun to choose from, hopefully lifting his mood.

Suddenly, the sharp electronic beep of the front door keypad unlocking cut through the sizzle of the kitchen. Jiyong immediately tossed his dish towel onto the counter waiting for his friend to appear.

Seunghyun walked into the apartment, heavy and silent. Without saying a single word, he strolled straight over to the kitchen island, his sharp eyes surveying the massive spread of nostalgic dishes laid out before him.

He raised an eyebrow, looking from the steaming plates up to Jiyong. "You cooked all of this?"

Jiyong leaned back against the kitchen counter, casually cradling a warm cup of coffee "I figured, why not?" he said, trying to offer a relaxed shrug. "I’d rather have you in a better mood from the start."

Seunghyun let out a short laugh, the heavy tension in his shoulders breaking just a fraction. He pulled out a barstool and took a seat, immediately grabbing a bowl and a pair of chopsticks. He took a generous bite of the food, closing his eyes to savor the familiar, comforting taste of their youth. After swallowing, he leaned back in the chair, setting his chopsticks down across the rim of the bowl. He fixed Jiyong with a steady look.

"So," Seunghyun said, "Why am I here?"

Jiyong carefully set his coffee cup down on the marble counter and slid onto the barstool directly across from Seunghyun, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as his mind raced to find the right words.

Before he could even open his mouth, Seunghyun swallowed his second bite of food, "Is this about yesterday?"

Jiyong tapped his heavily ringed fingers against the cold marble counter. "It is," he admitted. "I wanted to apologize. What I did yesterday at the studio was completely uncalled for. I was a complete ass."

Seunghyun didn't argue. He just raised an eyebrow and gave a slow, deliberate nod of agreement as he calmly continued to eat his breakfast.

"I just wanted to make sure I apologized for my behavior in person," Jiyong added, his chest tightening as he watched his friend's relaxed demeanor.

Seunghyun finally set his plate down, pushing it forward slightly before crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned in, his expression turning serious. "I appreciate it, Ji. But you also have to apologize to Y/n, you know. Have you?"

He nervously rubbed the back of his neck again, his tongue feeling entirely too thick as he forced out the truth—or at least, a heavily filtered version of it.

"I—I have," Jiyong stammered, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "I did. Last night."

Seunghyun’s tense posture immediately melted away. A genuine, relieved smile spread across his face, and he let out a soft chuckle. "Good," Seunghyun said, "The last thing I need is my two best friends fighting."

Jiyong let out a low, noncommittal hum, reaching for his coffee mug. He took a sip and he asked, "How is she doing... Y/n?"

Seunghyun reached across the counter, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee from the hot jug sitting on the table. "Well, she wasn't answering any of my texts this morning, which was weird," he said, stirring a bit of sugar into his mug. "And I knew she was going to be late for work, so I was actually about to head over to her apartment to check on her."

"But then she finally sent me this whole message," Seunghyun continued, a sudden laugh breaking through his deep voice. He shook his head, looking thoroughly amused. "It’s actually quite funny. Apparently, she completely slept through all her alarms, and her boss had to violently wake her up with a phone call."

Seunghyun took a relaxed sip of his coffee, totally missing the way Jiyong’s shoulders finally dropped a fraction of an inch in sheer relief.

"She was in an absolute frenzy trying to get out the door," Seunghyun chuckled, setting his mug back down. "All I know is, right now, she’s safely at work."

Jiyong gave a stiff nod, not saying a single word. He picked up his own bowl and focused entirely on his food. A heavy silence stretched between them for a moment, the only sound being the quiet clinking of their chopsticks. But the peace didn't last long before Seunghyun broke it, leaning forward against the counter.

"So, what was that all really about?" Seunghyun asked, "You yelling at her yesterday. I mean, it's strange, Ji. You've disliked her from the very start."

Jiyong swallowed his food, the bite suddenly feeling like sandpaper in his throat. Beneath the marble counter, his right leg began bouncing aggressively—a telltale, anxious nervous habit.

"Well, um..." Jiyong began, his mind racing to construct a believable lie that wouldn't betray the chaotic feelings swirling in his chest. "I just don't—well, I didn't trust her," he corrected himself quickly.

Seunghyun nodded slowly, absorbing the answer. "But you trust her now?"

Jiyong gave another nod, a faint, almost involuntary smile tugging at the corners of his lips "Yeah," he murmured. "I do."

Seunghyun immediately set his chopsticks down onto his empty bowl and loudly clapped his hands together, a bright grin breaking across his handsome face. "Great! She and I are supposed to have dinner tonight. Join us."

Jiyong froze completely.

His hand stopped dead in mid-air, the porcelain rim of his coffee cup hovering just inches away from meeting his lips. Dinner. Tonight. With you and Seunghyun. The absolute worst-case scenario was manifesting right in front of him.

He forced his rigid muscles to relax, slowly lowering the mug back down to the counter. He cleared his throat roughly, "Sounds... great."

But inside his mind, his thoughts were screaming a single, loud, catastrophic word over and over again: Fuck.

Back at your office, the sheer chaos of the day completely swallowed you whole. The hours blurred together in a frantic rush as you scrambled to catch up on every single task, file, and email you had missed from sleeping through the entire morning. Papers upon papers were stacked in messy, towers across your desk, pinning you to your chair.

You were so thoroughly overwhelmed by the crushing workload that you didn't even have a single spare second to think about Jiyong, let alone check your personal phone. Because of that, you completely missed the text message Seunghyun had sent you hours ago—the one casually mentioning that his best friend would be joining the two of you for dinner tonight.

Before you knew it, the bright morning sunshine faded away, and the orange and purple hues of sunset began to cast long shadows across your cluttered desk. Realizing the time, you frantically looked up at the clock and gasped. You were supposed to meet Seunghyun in less than thirty minutes, and you were nowhere near done.

"Minjee!" you called out.

Your assistant quickly stuck her head through the office door. "Can you please do me a massive favor? Call Seunghyun right now and let him know I’m running behind. Tell him I’m going to be a little late to the restaurant, but I’m leaving as fast as I can!"

"On it," she nodded, quickly disappearing to make the call.

You let out a heavy breath, aggressively sorting through the remaining documents on your desk. You were completely oblivious to the fact that the "dinner with Seunghyun" you were rushing to attend had just turned into a ticking emotional time bomb.

"Alright, thanks for calling," Seunghyun said into his phone before clicking the screen off and setting it face-down on the white tablecloth.

Jiyong sat directly to his right, his posture tense as he took another slow sip of his red wine.

"That was Y/Nn's assistant," Seunghyun explained, picking up his own glass. "She's running a bit late. Trying to catch up on everything she missed this morning, I guess?" He gave a casual shrug before taking a sip of his wine.

Jiyong nodded silently, slowly swirling the dark liquid in his glass. He stared at the ripples for a moment, his chest tightening as he gathered the courage to ask the one question that had been burning a hole in his mind all day. He tried his absolute best to keep his voice completely steady and casual. "So, um... these dinners that are just the two of you... is—is this a regular thing? Do you do this often?"

Seunghyun took another sip of his wine and gave an easy nod. "Yeah, actually. We do this quite often."

Jiyong’s eyes narrowed slightly, searching Seunghyun’s face for any hidden meaning. Seunghyun caught the intense look right away, raising an eyebrow at his friend. "What?"

Jiyong quickly leaned back in his leather chair, clearing his throat "Are—are you two like... a thing?"

Seunghyun let out a sudden laugh, waving his hand dismissively. "Oh, us? No! Come on, we're just really good friends."

Jiyong raised an eyebrow, silently demanding more clarity. Seunghyun let out a soft sigh, leaning closer across the table as his tone dropped into something more serious. "Look... there was a time where I did have feelings for her. But that's over with now. I put our friendship first."

Jiyong’s heart completely sank right into his stomach. He knew it. Deep down, he had always known there was some kind of underlying tension between them, and hearing it confirmed aloud made a suffocating wave of jealousy crash over him. He knew he absolutely couldn't show it, but hiding the possessive irritation clawing at his throat was proving to be almost impossible.

Before Jiyong could say another word, the sound of rhythmic clicking echoes through the restaurant entryway.

You walked into the dining room, wearing an elegant, form-fitting black dress that contrasts beautifully against the dim lighting. Your heels clicked firmly against the polished floor as you navigated the tables.

Seunghyun noticed you first, a bright smile breaking across his face as he instantly stood up and pulled out the chair directly across from them

The moment Jiyong's brown eyes caught sight of you, he froze completely. He was utterly stunned by how breathingly beautiful you looked. His gaze automatically tracked every single movement—the way your soft eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled, the plump shape of your lips as you took a breath to speak, and the flawless way the dark fabric of the dress hugged every curve of your shape. It was absolutely outstanding, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

But the moment your eyes scanned the table and finally landed on Jiyong, the entire atmosphere violently shifted.

You froze dead in your tracks for a fraction of a second, your heart stopping as the vivid memories of that 4:00 AM kiss. You rapidly fluttered your eyelashes, your brain scrambling. Forcing down the panic, you quickly pulled yourself together and plastered a polite, seamless smile onto your lips.

Seunghyun stepped forward to greet you first, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, welcoming hug. "Hey, Jagiya," he murmured softly against your ear. He pulled back, his eyes adoring. "Wow... you look beautiful."

You offered him a soft smile. "Thank you, Oppa."

Jiyong stood up from his seat next, his body rigid as he stood beside his best friend.

"I sent you a message earlier in the day asking if Jiyong could join us tonight," Seunghyun explained casually, gesturing between the two of you. "I hope that's still okay?"

You maintained your smile, looking directly at both men even as your pulse hammered wildly against your ribs. "Of course," you said smoothly, your voice miraculously steady.

You slid into the chair Seunghyun had pulled out, sitting down directly across from both of them. As the waiter approached to pour your water, the silent, electric tension between you and Jiyong stretched across the table.

The sleek, polished atmosphere of the restaurant hummed softly around you as the waiter finally approached the table with a leather notepad in hand. He took your orders one by one with a polite, professional bow, carefully collecting the menus before melting back into the background of the dining room.

With the menus gone, a wave of casual small talk began to ripple across the table. Seunghyun led the conversation with his usual easygoing charm, asking light questions about your workplace and sharing a few minor updates about the studio. You did your absolute best to chime in, keeping your voice light and breezy, while Jiyong mostly leaned back in his chair, swirling his red wine and offering short, agreeable hums whenever necessary. To anyone looking in from the outside, it looked like a perfectly normal, relaxed dinner between close friends.

That fragile illusion lasted exactly until the waiter returned to serve the meals.

He deftly placed the steaming plates onto the white tablecloth—the rich, savory aromas of the hot food immediately filled the narrow space between you all.

"Please enjoy your meals," the waiter murmured politely, refilling the wine glasses one last time before quietly stepping away.

The moment the waiter left them alone, Seunghyun enthusiastically picked up his chopsticks. He sliced off a piece of his chicken, completely relaxed and entirely oblivious to the massive emotional landmine. He swallowed his first bite, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and leaned forward.

"So," Seunghyun said, his deep voice slicing right through the quiet air. "Jiyong tells me he came over last night."

You froze completely, your chopsticks stopping dead in mid-air right above your plate.

The thin wooden sticks trembled slightly in your grip as a cold spike of pure panic shot straight through your chest. You didn't dare move a muscle, your wide eyes locked onto Seunghyun as you waited for the hammer to drop.

Seunghyun, completely oblivious to the sudden shift in the air, casually ate another piece of his chicken.

"...you know, to apologize," he continued smoothly, offering an easygoing shrug. "For how he acted at the studio yesterday."

A heavy sigh of relief quietly escaped your lips. Your shoulders dropped an inch as reality finally rushed back into place. He doesn't know. You carefully lowered your chopsticks back down to your plate, your racing pulse gradually slowing down.

"I'm really glad things are okay between you two now," Seunghyun added, a genuine, relieved smile plastered on his face. He looked back and forth between the two of you, his deep voice carrying a tone of pure warmth. "I seriously can't imagine my two best friends disliking each other."

At his words, you and Jiyong slowly raised your heads, your gazes locking across the flickering candlelight. The sheer weight of the secret you were now forced to keep from Seunghyun hung heavily in the air. Forcing your expressions to cooperate, you and Jiyong exchanged a tight, polite practiced smile

Almost simultaneously, as if driven by the exact same desperate need for a distraction, both you and Jiyong reached out and grabbed your wine glasses. You each took a massive, lingering sip of your wine, swallowing the dark liquid to wash away the tension.

Seunghyun paused, slowly raising an eyebrow as he watched both of you mirror each other's movements so perfectly. He stared at the two of you for a quietmoment, but ultimately thought nothing of it. He let out a brief chuckle, shook his head, and went right back to enjoying his dinner.

The evening went on surprisingly well, the smooth steady flow of the wine helped to dissolve any anxiety you or Jiyong felt. No one got drunk, instead the alcohol just did its job of making everyone feel comfortable, confident, and deeply relaxed in their seats. 

Seunghyun dominated most of the conversation, telling hilarious, animated stories and making jokes that had you laughing genuinely, your posture softening as you leaned back in your chair. Even Jiyong seemed to finally unwind, his anxious leg-bouncing stopping entirely beneath the tablecloth. He joined in on the laughter, his sharp wit cutting through the air as he bantered effortlessly with his best friend

Seunghyun leaned forward against the table, completely animated as he continued his story, "And then I just stood frozen there for a second, no knowing what the hell to do!"

You leaned in closer across the white tablecloth, your eyes wide with amusement as you gasped. "No way? In front of the whole crowd?"

Jiyong laughed softly, bringing his wine glass to his lips. He took a relaxed sip. "Yep," he chimed in, thoroughly enjoying the memory. "Right in front of everyone."

"And then once I remembered, I just went right back into it," Seunghyun continued, waving his hands dismissively as if it were no big deal now.

You let out a genuine laugh, shaking your head. "Holy crap. Did you get in trouble?"

"Surprisingly, not really," Seunghyun chuckled, leaning back in his chair and gesturing toward the leader sitting right next to him. "Although, Jiyong was pisseddddddd."

Jiyong leaned in toward the center of the table, "Yeah, man. We were still rookies back then, and you were over here fucking stuff up on stage''

You watched the two men continue to banter across the table, their laughter loud, easy, and deeply rooted in years of shared history. They were brothers, plain and simple.

Looking at them now, a sudden, heavy ache settled deep into your chest. The beautiful reminder of their bond only served as a terrifying warning of what was at stake. If Seunghyun ever found out about the kiss—or the fact that his best friend was actively falling in love with you—it would completely destroy this. It would crush the very brotherhood you were currently watching.

A wave of suffocating panic rose in your throat. Nervously, you reached for your wine glass and took a quick, grounding sip before setting it down.

"Um, excuse me," you murmured, forcing a polite, apologetic smile onto your face as you grabbed your purse. "I'm getting a phone call."

Both men looked up at you and nodded understandingly. Seunghyun didn't miss a beat, immediately launching into another animated story to keep the table occupied, but Jiyong's intense brown eyes silently tracked your movements as you slid out of your chair and walked away.

You navigated past the crowded tables and finally stepped outside through the restaurant's heavy glass doors. The night air was slightly cold, a stark and immediate contrast to the warm, wine-fueled atmosphere inside. You shivered slightly, rubbing your bare arms through the elegant fabric of your black dress as the breeze nipped at your skin.

You were genuinely happy that the dinner was going so well, but just the overwhelming thought of last night made you desperately want to light a cigarette. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back as you took one last, deep, freezing breath of the night air, trying to gather your composure. You braced yourself, turning around to open the glass doors and head back inside, when the door suddenly swung open on its own.

Jiyong stepped out into the cold night.

You stepped back slightly, your heels clicking against the cold pavement as your breath hitched. "Jiyong..."

He offered a soft smile, casually sliding one hand into his suit pants pocket. "Hi," he said

"What are you doing out here?" you asked, trying to steady the frantic beating of your heart.

Instead of answering right away, Jiyong moved to stand right beside you. He pulled a silver lighter and a pack from his pocket, smoothly lighting a cigarette. He took a slow drag, the small orange ember glowing in the dark, before finally answering your question by gesturing to the smoke.

"Ah, I see," you murmured, looking away. The chill of the night air was really starting to get to you. You tightly rubbed your bare arms, trying to generate any ounce of warmth. "Well... I—I better get back inside—"

"You're shivering," Jiyong cut you off softly.

Before you could protest, he fluidly slipped his tailored suit jacket off his shoulders. He stepped closer, the lingering scent of his expensive cologne and a hint of tobacco enveloping you as he carefully placed the warm fabric around your shoulders.

You blinked up at him, entirely caught off guard. "Uh... thank you."

He didn't say a word. He just took another drag of his cigarette, his brown eyes looking out into the dim city sky. A heavy silence stretched between you two—it wasn't awkward anymore, but the underlying tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

After taking one final drag, Jiyong finally broke the quiet. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

The sudden words drew your full attention, and you fully turned your body toward him. He shifted as well, locking his brown eyes directly onto yours as he repeated himself, making sure you heard the weight behind it. "I'm sorry for last night. And for yelling at you the day before at the studio. I-i shouldn't have showed up at your house that late, let alone that drunk. It wasn't right." His ringed finger ran through his black hair.

You ran a hand through your soft hair, "Oh, um... it's fine. I—"

"But I meant everything I said," Jiyong interrupted, his voice dropping into a whisper.

He casually tossed the cigarette onto the ground, using the toe of his leather shoe to firmly grind it out against the pavement. He turned his full body toward you, stepping into your personal space until he was standing incredibly close.

Jiyong took a deep breath and finished, "Everything''

Before you could even form a coherent sentence or process the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks, Jiyong pulled open the heavy glass door and walked back inside, leaving you standing alone in the cold, wrapped in his jacket.

You stood entirely stunned on the pavement, the heavy glass door clicking shut behind Jiyong. You clutched the lapels of his oversized suit jacket tightly around your frame, pulling it closer to your chest. The fabric was still radiating his body heat making your head spin.

You closed your eyes, leaning your back against the cool brick wall of the restaurant as you took a long, shaky breath. Your heart was hammering against your ribs so violently you were certain the entire street could hear it.

He had been sober.

That was the thought that completely shattered whatever fragile composure you had managed to build up throughout the day. All afternoon, you had comforted yourself with the desperate hope that his confession had just been the messy, unfiltered rambling of a man who had had way too much to drink. You had convinced yourself that he would wake up, regret it, and try to sweep the whole thing under the rug.

But he hadn't. He had looked you dead in the eye and intentionally doubled down on every single word. He liked you. He loved you. And he wasn't taking it back.

You took another deep, shuddering breath, trying to clear the sudden dizziness from your head. The gravity of the situation pressed down on you. Jiyong was serious.

"Just calm down," you whispered to yourself, gripping the soft fabric of the jacket. "Get through this dinner. Handle it later."

You gave yourself one final, firm pep talk, forcing your racing pulse to steady. You couldn't fall apart out here. You squared your shoulders, and pushed open the glass doors to step back inside the warm restaurant.

As you walked back into the dining room, the distant sound of deep, booming laughter echoed from your table. Even from a few yards away, it was blindingly obvious that Seunghyun had more wine than you thought. The comfortable buzz he had earlier had officially crossed over into a loud, incredibly jovial state of drunkenness.

"I mean, look at you!" Seunghyun bellowed, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye as he gestured at his best friend. "You're sitting there shivering in a shirt! Who goes outside in the middle of a cold night without a coat?!"

Jiyong just sat there, casually leaning back in his chair with a remarkably amused expression, though his eyes instantly locked onto you the moment your heels clicked closer to the table.

"Oh, look, she's back!" Seunghyun cheered, completely missing the loaded silence between the two of you as you slid back into your seat, still wrapped in Jiyong's warm suit jacket.

Seunghyun leaned across the table, pointing a clumsy finger at his best friend while letting out another booming laugh. "Wait a minute" he smiled, his eyes tracking the tailored fabric resting over your shoulders. "Is that your jacket, Ji? Wow, look at you being a gentleman for once in your life! Did the sun rise in the west today?"

You froze for a split second, your heart leaping into your throat, but you managed to maintain your practiced smile.

Jiyong picked up his wine glass, taking a calm sip as he looked at Seunghyun with an amused expression. "Shut up," he mumbled playfully, shaking his head. "She was freezing out there''

"Aha'' Seunghyun chuckled loudly, waving a hand dismissively as he took another big gulp of his own drink. He leaned back in his chair, thoroughly entertained. "But seriously, it’s a miracle. Giving up your designer clothes? Damn''

He raised his glass slightly toward you and Seunghyun in a silent toast, mocking the praise he was getting.

You laughed quietly, "Ah, yes, well... thank you for your jacket, Oppa," you said smoothly, using the casual honorific to keep up appearances in front of Seunghyun. "Next time, I’ve definitely gotta be more prepared."

With a graceful movement, you shrugged the warm fabric off your shoulders and handed it back across the table.

Despite Jiyong's perfectly calm demeanor, he was absolutely freaking out inside. His mind was in a complete tailspin. He had laid all his cards on the table, soberly confirming his feelings, but you left him completely in the dark. He wasn't sure at all how you actually felt about his confession, and the suffocating tension of not knowing was utterly killing him.

Still, like the seasoned performer he was, Jiyong masked his internal panic effortlessly. He reached out and took the jacket from your hands and the two of you shared one last tight, knowing smile. Then, completely in sync, you both turned your attention back to your wonderfully drunk entirely oblivious friend who was already clumsily flagging down the waiter for the final bill.

Jiyong practically carried Seunghyun outside, the taller man leaning heavily over his shoulders as they maneuvered through the restaurant. You were on Seunghyun's other side, firmly holding onto his shoulder to keep him balanced as the two of you guided him out.

"Ah, Oppa, watch your step," you warned softly, navigating him through the heavy glass doors and out onto the pavement.

Jiyong let out a heavy, strained huff, shifting his stance to accommodate his friend's dead weight. "Shit, dude," he muttered, adjusting his grip. "How much did you actually drink?"

Seunghyun just laughed, a loud, slurred sound as he waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Hardly anything," he mumbled, completely serious. "I can't drink too much tonight anyway. I have to go out to dinner with my friends soon."

You rolled your eyes, a genuine laugh escaping you at his complete disorientation.

When the three of you finally made it to the curb where the private car was waiting, Jiyong took full control. He carefully maneuvered Seunghyun’s large frame into the back seat, making sure he didn't hit his head. With a solid thud, Jiyong closed the passenger door, cutting off the muffled sound of Seunghyun's humming, and turned back to face you.

An awkward, sudden silence fell between you both. You stood on the chilly sidewalk, neither of you quite knowing how to say goodbye after everything that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. You made brief eye contact, the absurdity of the entire situation hitting you at once, and you both let out a soft, nervous laugh.

You tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, looking down at the pavement before meeting his gaze again. "Well... tonight was... fun," you said, your voice softening. "Thank you for joining us."

Jiyong smiled, his eyes warm "Of course."

You glanced through the tinted window of the car, watching Seunghyun, who was very obviously having a massive struggle trying to pull his seatbelt across his chest. You sighed softly and looked back at Jiyong. "Well, I better go. I think I'm going to ride back with him. I really don't want him being completely alone right now."

As much as those words cut straight to Jiyong's chest, a visible flash of hurt crossing his features, he understood. He knew his severely intoxicated best friend shouldn't be left to navigate his apartment alone in this state either.

Jiyong gave a respectful nod. "Yeah. You guys get home safe."

Before you could turn away, he stepped forward & gently took your hand in his. His touch warm against your chilled skin as he brought your knuckles up to his lips, giving them a lingering feather-light kiss. He broke eye contact, turned on his heel, and walked over to his own private car waiting further down the block.

Your heart did a flip in your chest. You took a deep, grounding breath to steady your racing pulse, opened the door, and slid into the back seat right next to Seunghyun. He was still aggressively wrestling with the strap, his brow furrowed in deep frustration.

"Yah! What the hell is wrong with this thing?" he groaned, tugging at the metal clip.

You laughed, shaking your head at him. "Move, let me do it." You leaned across his broad chest, pulling the strap smoothly down and clicking it securely into the buckle. You pulled back and gave him a stern, teasing look. Really?

Seunghyun immediately looped a heavy, comfortable arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "See? what would I do without you."

You laughed, letting your head rest against his shoulder as the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to you. "Die, I think."

Seunghyun let out a sleepy, satisfied laugh as the driver put the car in drive. The vehicle pulled away from the curb, smoothly navigating the city streets as it began the quiet drive toward his apartment.

Luckily, this time around, Seunghyun managed to use the walls for support, leaning heavily against the hallway as you kept a firm, guiding grip on his shoulder. He blinked groggily, a look of pure surprise washing over his handsome face as he looked around the corridor.

"Oh, shit... are we at my place?"

You laughed softly, steering his broad frame toward the front door. "Yes, Oppa."

You leaned your back against the wall, propping him up with your side as your fingers quickly tapped his security code into the electronic keypad. The lock clicked open with a cheerful beep. Gripping his heavy arms once more, you carefully guided him through the threshold.

"Come on, big guy," you muttered, breathing a bit heavily as you maneuvered him past the entryway and all the way into his bedroom.

With a loud resounding thud Seunghyun collapsed face-first onto the mattress. Being in his room didn't feel weird or uncomfortable to you at all; you had stayed over and crashed here plenty of times.

A low groan escaped his lips the moment his body hit the sheets. "Oh... that didn't feel too good."

You huffed, entirely out of breath from carrying his tall weight. You ran a hand through your hair, looking down at his sprawling figure "Are you going to puke? Please don't puke."

Seunghyun waved a dismissive hand in the air, his eyes already tightly shut. "Nah, I'm fine..."

Half-asleep, he clumsily attempted to kick off his own shoes, completely failing as his feet tangled together. You stood at the edge of the bed, watching his pathetic struggle until you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, you are absolutely wasted," you chuckled. You leaned down and began pulling his shoes off for him, tugging the leather loose.

You kicked his shoes aside onto the floor and pushed his long legs fully onto the mattress so he was lying comfortably. Seunghyun immediately cuddled deep into his pillow.

You let out a wide yawn, checking the time on your phone. Just the thought of trying to hail a taxi in the middle of the night to get back to your own apartment made you dreadfully exhausted. You turned back toward his sleeping form, your voice quiet in the dim room. "Hey... is it okay if I stay here tonight?" You yawned again, the exhaustion pulling at your eyelids.

Seunghyun mumbled incoherently into the fabric of his pillow, his voice thick with sleep. "Jagiya... you know you don't even have to ask..."

Still completely out of it, he blindly lifted the edge of the heavy duvet, moving over just enough to invite you into the warmth of the bed. With a soft smile, you reached over to shut off the bedside lights, plunging the room into darkness. You kicked off your tight heels, slid under the covers, and slipped into bed right beside him, exactly like you had done many times before.

It wasn't long before the quiet room was filled with the familiar sound of Seunghyun snoring softly next to you. You let out a quiet laugh, rolling over onto your side so your back was turned toward him, staring into the dark as you waited for a peaceful, dreamless sleep to finally take you away.

The safe, dreamless oblivion you had been desperate for didn't last. As you finally drifted deep into sleep beside the steady, rhythmic sound of Seunghyun’s snoring, your subconscious took a sharp, chaotic turn, refusing to give you the break you needed.

The cold night air melted away, replaced by the heavy heat of your own apartment from the night before.

In the dream, you weren't pulling away. You were pinned against your front door, the solid wood pressing into your back while Jiyong’s hands—warm, desperate, and heavily ringed—anchored themselves firmly at the sides of your waist. The scent of his cologne and rich liquor was overwhelming, wrapping around you until you couldn't breathe anything else.

When his lips crashed onto yours this time, there was no hesitation, no cold spike of panic. It was raw, possessive, and thick with long over due buried tension. Your fingers tangled desperately into his messy black hair, pulling him closer as his body pressed heavily against yours, molding into your curves. His mouth moved against yours with an confident rhythm that made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Every touch felt electric, blurring the lines of what was real until your chest rose and fell in a rapid, frantic pace.

"Look at me," he murmured, his deep voice a low command . "Stop fighting it, Y/n. You know you want this as badly as I do."

Before you could even form a breath to reply, his hands slid firmly under your thighs. With a sudden, effortless surge of strength, he lifted you right off your feet. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands tangling desperately into his messy black hair to hold on. He didn't break eye contact for a single second as he carried you down the short hallway of your apartment, his grip possessive and unyielding, until he dropped you gently onto the center of your mattress.

He instantly followed you down, his body pressing heavily against yours, pinning you into the sheets as you felt his hardened cock pressing firmly against his pants. His lips slid down your jawline, trailing fire along your skin until they found the crook of your neck.

The phantom sensation of his lips against your skin felt terrifyingly real, blurring the line between the dream and the quiet bedroom. In the depths of that heavy sleep, your lips parted, and a soft, breathy moan escaped your throat.

He bit softly at the skin there, making you gasp. His hands slid up from your waist, his thumbs tracing the curves of your hips beneath your clothes.

"Tell me to stop," Jiyong whispered against your pulse point, his hot breath blooming against your skin as his lips moved lower. "Tell me you don't feel this, and I'll walk out right now."

"Jiyong, please..." you breathed out, but your fingers only tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, begging for the exact opposite.

In the depths of that heavy sleep, your clothes in the dream were already being shed. Jiyong’s warm hands left a trail of fire as they slid your shirt down your shoulders. His fingers brushed against your now bare skin. He peeled the material away, exposing you completely to his intense gaze under the dim light of your bedroom.

"Beautiful," he whispered against your skin, his voice a low, gravelly vibration.

Your lips parted in the real world once more, letting out another soft moan—a sound of pure, uninhibited reaction to the heat of the dream echoing out into the absolute silence of the room.

The sound of your own voice woke you.

You abruptly jolted awake, your eyes flying wide open as you stared blankly into the shadows of Seunghyun's bedroom. Your skin was flushed, damp with sweat, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

''What the fuck'' You whispered into the dark.

Beside you, the steady sound of Seunghyun snoring softly continued uninterrupted. You had to hope he hadn't heard a thing.

A wave of intense guilt crashed over you, turning your stomach into painful knots. You closed your eyes tightly, biting down hard on your lower lip as if you could physically lock any further sounds inside your mouth. You were lying directly on Seunghyun's bed, wrapped in the safety of his home, while your own body had just completely betrayed him aloud with his best friend.

Wiping a smudge of blue washable paint from her cheek, she let out a breath and stood up. The school bell chimed, indicating the frantic morning drop-off rush was finally over. The toddlers were safely corralled, the assistant teachers had the circle-time reading under control, and Y/n finally had a three-minute window to step out onto the shared brick patio and grab the morning mail.

The moment she stepped outside, the humid morning air hit her, but so did the heavy metallic buzz of a tattoo machine coming from next door.

 Studio Noir was the shop that occupied the other half of the duplex building. The shop's door swung open at the exact same moment Y/n reached into the mailbox. Out stepped Jiyong, holding a steaming cardboard cup of black coffee.

To anyone else on the block, Jiyong looked like an advertisement for beautiful, bad decisions. Intricate black ink crawled behind his neck and disappeared down his side. He was built to intimidate.

To Y/n, however, he was just the neighbor who always left his bright neon parlor sign on late at night so she wouldn't have to walk to her car in the dark.

Jiyong stopped on the patio, lowering his sunglasses just enough to look at her over the wire rims. His brown eyes scanned her face, tracking the blue paint on her cheek up to the top of her head.

"You have glitter in your hair," Jiyong mumbled. His voice was a low.

Y/n didn't even blink at the blunt observation. Instead, she beamed up at him, her sunshine energy bouncing right off his solid exterior. "Good morning to you too, Jiyong, It’s craft day. Glitter is an occupational hazard."

Jiyong let out a low grunt that sounded suspiciously like a huff of amusement, though his lips didn't curve in the slightest. He took a slow sip of his coffee. "It’s a biohazard. It gets everywhere."

"It adds sparkle to the neighborhood," she countered playfully, flipping through the stack of envelopes.

Before Jiyong could retort, the fenced-in playground area right next to the patio erupted. A couple of student's noticed Y/n standing outside and instantly charged the fence, their tiny faces pressing against the wire grid.

"Teacher Y/n! Look at my rock!"

"Teacher! Min-jun took the blue block!"

But then, a little girl with pigtails named Sara spotted the tall, dark-clad man standing next to you. Instead of crying or running away from the imposing figure, Sara frantically waved both arms above her head.

"Hi, Mr. Tattoo Man!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs.

Jiyong froze. His coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth. He looked left, then right, as if hoping the toddler was addressing a different tattoo artist standing on the pavement. No such luck. Within three seconds, four other toddlers joined in, yelling greetings at him and showing off their light-up shoes through the fence.

Y/n watched out of the corner of her eye, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. Jiyong always claimed he found the daycare noise entirely irritating. He complained about the kid-friendly pop music bleeding through the shared drywall.

Yet, Jiyong didn't walk away.

Instead, he lowered his sunglasses completely, looked at Sara, and gave the toddler a tiny wave.

Sara giggled hysterically.

They adore you, you know," Y/n whispered, stepping a little closer to him as she organized the mail.

Jiyong quickly jammed his sunglasses back up his nose, "They’re loud. And they have sticky hands. I'm trying to run a reputable business here.

"Oh, absolutely," Y/n agreed, her voice dripping with teasing sarcasm. "You’re terrifying. Terrifyingly bad at hiding how sweet you are."

Jiyong scoffed, taking another gulp of coffee. He turned on his heel, as he retreated into the safety of his dark, ink-scented studio. But Y/n didn't miss the slight soften of his shoulders right before the door shut.

Smiling to herself, she walked back into the daycare, the bright chaos of the classroom welcoming her back. An hour flew by in a blur of snack time, story time, and a quiet free-drawing period where the kids finally settled down with buckets of crayons and construction paper.

Y/n walked between the low tables, checking on her students. The kids bubble over with excitement, scribbling along. One little boy shouts that he wants to draw a purple dinosaur with wings, while a little girl next to him insists she is going to draw a castle made entirely of candy. You spend the next half hour listening to their wild ideas, helping them pick out their perfect crayon colors. The room erupts with glitter and stickers as each kid runs back and forth from the crafts table to grab something to add to their drawing. Y/n's classroom was a chaotic mess, and she loved it. Each picture was put up on display around the classroom so that every one of her kid's can see their artwork every day.

Once the creative brainstorming wraps up, it is time for fresh air. You gather the children at the door, guiding them to hold onto the "walking rope"—a bright canvas rope with soft handles that keeps them safely aligned in a neat, adorable row.

"Alright, little ducklings, hold tight," you say, checking the front and back of the line.

As your neat little parade walks down the sidewalk toward the local park, you pass by the familiar, neon-lit window of the Jiyong's shop. Through the glass, you see him. He is sitting back, dressed in his usual streetwear, adjusting his tattoo machine. But the moment his brown eyes catch sight of your line outside, his tough exterior completely vanishes. A soft, gummy smile breaks across his face. He drops his tools and enthusiastically waves his hand

Right on cue, the entire line of kids erupts into giggles. Still holding tightly to the rope with one hand, all the kids raise their free hands, waving back furiously. Hearing the commotion, you look up and catch his eye. The exact second Ji-yong notices you looking at him, his face turns pink and he pushed his sunglasses back up to cover his eyes as he turns his attention back to the tattoo machine.

You can't help but giggle just a little as you lead your happy line past the shop.

The rest of the morning flies by in a blur of crisp autumn air and laughter. The park is right across the street from the daycare, making it the perfect spot for the kids to burn off their energy. They spend hours running through the fallen orange leaves, swinging on the swings, and playing tag until their cheeks are flushed pink from the cool breeze.

As the afternoon rolls in, the energy finally settles down, and the daycare routine shifts into pickup mode. One by one, parents arrive to gather their children. Soon, the sky begins to deepen into a warm twilight, and you are left waiting with the very last child in your classroom. It wasn't long before the front door clicks open, and the child's mother walks in, looking exhausted.

"Hi, sorry I'm a little late today, traffic was a nightmare," she says, kneeling to wrap her arms around her running toddler.

Oh, don't worry about it at all!" you reply, handing over the child's backpack. "We actually had a wonderful day. We went across the street to the park so someone might fall asleep early tonight."

"You are a lifesaver," the mother laughs, adjusting the heavy bag on her shoulder. "Thank you so much. Have a great night!"

"You too! See you tomorrow!" you wave as they walk out.

With the building completely silent now, you head back into your classroom to tackle the mess. You stay late, wiping down tables, stacking tiny chairs, and sweeping the floor. As the sun fully sets, you kneel down with a wet paper towel trying to scrape up the stubborn leftover bits of colorful glitter from this morning when a low deep rumble of a motorcycle engine vibrates through the glass window.

You raise your head and peer out into the darkening street. Across the road, you see Ji-yong walking out of his shop. his dark hair shifting slightly in the autumn wind as he swings a leg over his sleek motorcycle. You sit back on your heels, watching him through the glass for a long moment with a soft smile. You have always thought he was incredibly handsome, even with that tough, intimidating exterior he tries so hard to keep up.

Ji-yong kicks the bike into gear and drives off into the night, the engine roar fading down the street. But just like every single night, he leaves the vibrant neon lights from his shop burning bright. The neon glow spills straight across the asphalt, perfectly illuminating the dark walkway so you can see safely as you walk to your car.

Smiling at the silent gesture, you finish locking up the daycare, head out to the parking lot, and make the quiet drive back to your apartment.

Once inside, you instantly shed the stressful day. You twist your hair up into a messy bun, change into your coziest clothes, and brew a hot, steaming cup of herbal tea. Sitting cross-legged on your bed, you pull your heavy briefcase over and open your laptop to carefully organize tomorrow's arts and crafts project.

The apartment is perfectly quiet, save for the soft clicking of your keyboard and the occasional sip of your tea. You get so completely lost in the zone that before you even realize it, the clock on your screen reads 1:00 AM.

With the sleeve of your shirt you rub your eyes to do a double take of the time, ''Crap'' you whisper. This was a bad habit of yours, always getting so lost in the groove of doing something special for these kids.

With a long stretch you yawn, shut down your laptop, and slide the briefcase away. As you prepare for bed you think of how excited your students will be for tomorrow's project, just thinking about it makes you smile.

After a phew more brushes, you rinse your mouth and shut off the bathroom light, patting across the floor to your cozy bed. You turn off the bedside lamp, pull the warm blankets up to your chin and finally drift off to sleep, dreaming of the family you pray one day you'll have.

The next morning, the autumn air is noticeably crisper, but you don't have a care in the world as you drive to work with the window rolled down. The back of your car is completely packed with heavy bags from the arts and crafts store, you had woken up extra early just to hit the place before work to make sure everything was perfect for the big project. As you grip the steering wheel, you can't help but notice the stubborn remnants of yesterday’s glitter still trapped under your freshly polished nails, getting distracted by the mess you forget for a moment that propped up on the car phone holder on speaker is your mother.

"Okay, sweetie, that sounds so fun!" your mom says. "I'm sure the kids will absolutely love it."

Your mom has always been supportive of your career and almost every morning the two of you spoke so you can tell her the activities for the day.

"Oh, they will, Mom! Ugh, I just cannot wait to see their faces," you beam, adjusting your grip on the wheel.

"Gosh, Y/n, you've gotta have your own kids one day. You would be a fantastic mother," your mom says softly.

You smile to yourself, feeling a warm blush creep up your neck. "I know, Mom, I know. Oh, I'm just pulling into the daycare parking lot now. Love you, but I've got to go!"

"Love you too, sweetie. Have a good day!"

After hanging up, you step out into the chilly morning and quickly button up your jacket against the biting breeze. You walk around to the back of the car, open the trunk, and begin fumbling with the massive pile of plastic bags, trying to loop as many as possible onto your arms.

Across the street, Jiyong is standing outside his shop, holding a steaming cup of hot coffee. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he watches you struggle and sway under the weight of the crafts. Shaking his head in amusement, he sets his coffee down on a ledge and makes his way right over toward you.

"Need some help with that?" his deep voice suddenly rumbles.

You jump, completely surprised, nearly dropping a roll of construction paper. "Oh! Good morning, Jiyong," you say, your words coming out completely mumbled because your car keys are clenched tightly between your teeth. You quickly bow your head then softly kick your car trunk shut with your foot. "Um... maybe. Thanks."

With an effortless chuckle, Jiyong steps in and grabs the vast majority of the bags from your arms, leaving you to hold only two light ones.

You take the keys out of your mouth, unlock the main daycare door, and lead him down the quiet hallway toward your room. When you unlock your classroom door and step inside, Jiyong follows, pausing in the doorway to take a look around. It is his very first time seeing your world, and he looks genuinely amazed. Twinkling fairy lights cascade softly across the ceiling, and the walls are completely covered in colorful, messy drawings from the kids. The entire space feels warm, vibrant, and almost magical.

"You can just set them right there on the table," you say, gesturing to crafting station.

Jiyong walks over, sets the heavy bags down, and immediately claps his hands together, trying to shake off the stray glitter that had instantly transferred from the bags onto his knuckles.

You break out into a laugh "Yeah, it’s not coming off anytime soon. Trust me."

He lets out a low laugh of his own, rubbing his hands against his dark jeans. But as the laughter fades, a sudden, heavy silence fills the room. The two of you stand there for a profoundly awkward second, the air thick with unsaid words, until Jiyong nervously clears his throat.

"Well... I, uh, I better go open up shop," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Have a good rest of your morning."

''Yeah, you too," you reply softly.

The two of you exchange another polite bow and he turns to head out the door. A huge smile spreads across your face the second he is out of sight. Heart fluttering, you turn to the bags and happily begin setting up the grand arts and crafts project. Before you know it, the front bell rings, the heavy doors open, and your busy day officially begins.

The kids are more than thrilled about the project. They all lean in over their tiny tables, eyes wide and completely silent as you pull the heavy tape away from the hidden structure like a magician. Beneath the wrapping is a massive, towering pile of cardboard boxes, intricately painted and constructed to look like a giant dragon.

"Alright, everyone," you announce, throwing your arms out wide. "Today, we are going to decorate Mister Dragon!"

You gesture dramatically toward the craft table, which is practically overflowing with giant tubes of neon glitter, buckets of googly eyes, feathers, and bottles of liquid glue. The classroom instantly erupts into a deafening chorus of screams. The kids scramble out of their seats, rushing toward the craft table in a wild stampede. You don't even bother putting on your usual apron; at this point, you know the glitter is going to find its way onto your clothes anyway.

The kids decorate that dragon like crazy. For hours, they glue googly eyes onto his nose, stick bright feathers onto his tail, and dump entire bottles of glitter onto his cardboard wings, turning him into a wonderfully sparkly, colorful mess.

The project takes up almost the entire day, but you naturally pace it out with the usual routine. There are breaks for a snack time, a quiet afternoon nap time, and a structured learning block. During the lesson, you write giant, colorful letters on the whiteboard for the kids to trace on their own papers, reading aloud from the exact same picture books they are looking at. Your classroom is noticeably ahead of all the other groups in the building, and you couldn't be more proud.

By the end of the day, you leave the classroom with a giant, tired grin stretched across your face.

For the next few weeks, the evening routine stays exactly the same. Every single night, you stay late to clean up, hear the familiar rumble of Jiyong’s motorcycle, and watch him drive away through the window. Then, you close up your classroom and walk out to your car, with the glowing neon lights from his tattoo shop safely illuminating your path.

But after that one morning where he helped you carry the heavy craft bags into your classroom, something subtly shifts between you two.

A comfortable routine begins to form. Every single morning, Jiyong meets you near the sidewalk, and the two of you share short, sweet conversations. On the mornings when you aren't rushing to set up a massive project, he brings over an extra cup of hot coffee, and you sit on the daycare steps together. It is a swift, natural change that neither of you explicitly talks about, but both of you thoroughly enjoy each other's company more and more each day.

The change is so obvious that even the children start to notice. It doesn't take long for the kids to start calling the "Mr. Tattoo Man" Miss Y/n's husband. Whenever you hear them saying it, you just laugh it off. You are incredibly grateful that they only ever say it inside the safety of the classroom, far out of Jiyong's earshot.

Until one crisp afternoon.

You are outside with the kids on the daycare's front sidewalk, enjoying the autumn sun while everyone draws with colorful sidewalk chalk. Next door, Jiyong steps out of his shop to grab something from his motorcycle.

Before you can even react, one of your most energetic little boys breaks away from the group. He rushes toward the Jiyong waving a crumpled piece of drawing paper in his hand.

"Here, Mr. Tattoo Man! This is for you!" the little boy shouts.

Ji-yong pauses, looking surprised. A soft smile touches his lips as he crouches down to be perfectly at eye level with the boy. He reaches up, lowering his sunglasses slightly over his nose, and extends his hand. "Well, thank you, buddy," his deep voice rumbles warmly.

He takes the paper and smooths it out. Your breath hitches in your throat from across the pavement as you realize what it is.

There, drawn in bright, messy crayon colors, is a picture of you and Jiyong standing side by side, smiling and holding hands.

The little boy beams pointing a finger at the crayon drawing. "I drew you and your wife!"

Your heart completely drops. Your face flushes a deep, burning red, and you instantly rush across the pavement, your sneakers squeaking against the concrete. "Oh my goodness! Okay, sweetie, thank you, let’s go back and finish your chalk drawing over here!" you say in a panicked, high-pitched rush, gently ushering the boy back toward the rest of the classroom.

Behind you, Jiyong slowly stands up to his full height. He folds his sunglasses, slipping them into his jacket pocket, and watches you struggle to handle the situation with an entertained smirk on his face.

You frantically clear your throat, smoothing down your jacket as you try to regain your composure. Turning back to him, you let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh. "Don't... don't mind them! You know how kids are. Just wild, active imaginations!"

Jiyong doesn't say anything at first, he just looks down at the drawing as his eyes soften with a hint of amusement.

Anxious to get the embarrassing drawing out of his sight, you step forward and offer a hand. "Here, I can take that back for you so you don't have to carry it—"

"Oh, no," he interrupts smoothly, pulling the paper slightly out of your reach. "This is going up in my shop."

You stop in your tracks, blinking in surprise. A playful grin tugs at your lips despite your blushing cheeks, and you cross your arms over your chest. "Oh yeah? What about your icy, tough-guy reputation you must uphold?''

Jiyong lets out a genuine laugh as he looks down at the drawing one more time. "Well," he says, his brown eyes locking onto yours with an undeniable spark. "It's a picture of me and my wife. How can I not keep it?"

You stand there completely stunned, your brain completely short-circuits. Before you can even gather the vocabulary to formulate a coherent response, Jiyong chuckles softly at your frozen expression, turns on his heel, and starts walking back toward his parlor.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Y/n," he calls back over his shoulder.

And that was the moment that began your love story: a simple, messy crayon drawing.

A few days after that sidewalk incident, Ji-yong finally built up the courage to officially ask you out to dinner. One dinner turned into dates every other night, and eventually, the two of you were officially a couple. It was a love story you never saw coming, but everyone around you—and especially you—couldn't have been happier. Despite his tough-guy demeanor, Jiyong was actually a complete puppy when it came to you. He would leave breakfast sitting on your classroom desk almost every single morning, surprise you with fresh flowers at work, and even insisted on driving you to work and home every night since you fortunately lived so close to each other. It was an absolute fairytale.

When your one-year anniversary mark hit, life handed you both a beautiful unexpected surprise: you were pregnant. You hadn't even been trying yet, but you both couldn't have been more thrilled. The tough guy you fell for also happened to be a natural family man, stepping into his new role with absolute pride.

Now, four years into marriage, you stand in your warm kitchen flipping a batch of golden pancakes. Across the living room, you watch the absolute loves of your life.

"And one, two, three... airplane!" Jiyong yells.

He carefully swoops his tatted arms under your daughter's tiny frame, lifting her high above his head and flying her through the air. Sarang giggles loudly, her little legs kicking with pure joy.

"Appa, again! Again!" she squeals.

Jiyong laughs, a bright, gummy smile lighting up his face as he brings her down for a tight hug, peppering her cheeks with kisses. You lean against the kitchen counter, a look of absolute contentment on your face. You know you couldn't possibly be any happier.

Setting your cup down on the counter, you walked over to meet him. "You're home early! I thought you said it was going to be an all-night thing."

Ji-yong sighed, slipping his feet out of his shoes and shuffling over to you in his socks. "Seunghyun wanted to call it a night," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. "He was getting a headache."

Before he could say another word, he leaned down and let his head drop heavily onto your shoulder, letting out a long, weary groan. "I'm so tired."

You wrapped your arms around him, gently rubbing his back through his shirt. "Ohhh, oppa... you feel so tense," you murmured.

He let out another low groan, melting further into your embrace.

"How about some tea?" you suggested softly, tilting your head against his. "I bet your throat hurts''

Jiyong lifted his head, looking down at you with grateful eyes. A tiny smile finally tugged at the corners of his lips. "That sounds amazing, jagiya."

You smiled back, leaning up to press a soft comforting kiss to his cheek before walking back into the kitchen. He trailed closely behind your heels like a shadow. As soon as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen island, Lye immediately climbing onto his lap to settle down. Jiyong’s fingers unconsciously tangled into the cat's fur, his eyes tracking your movements.

While the tea finished brewing, you leaned your elbows on the clean kitchen counter and rested your chin in your hand as your free hand reached out across the space between you and your fingers gently moved a few stray messy strands of black hair away from his tired eyes.

"Yah, you're so tired, oppa," you murmured softly.

Jiyong didn't answer with words. He simply closed his eyes and leaned into your hand, his cheek pressing against your palm as you gently rubbed his face. The sharp demanding artist who had spent the last phew hours in the recording studio vanished completely. Here, under the soft kitchen light, he was just a man looking for a safe place to land.

"Are you hungry?" you whispered, your thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone.

With his eyes still closed, he slowly shook his head no. The cat on his lap let out a soft purr, mimicking the quiet rhythm of the room.

You hummed in response, understanding without him needing to explain. Just as you withdrew your hand, the teapot let out a sharp whistle. You moved away to turn off the stove, carefully pouring the steaming water into a fresh mug for him.

Picking up his cup of tea along with your own, you walked out of the kitchen and over to the living room couch. Jiyong followed you automatically, his feet shuffling against the floor, drawn to your presence like a planet caught in its orbit.

The gentle crackle of the fireplace provided a warm background to the quiet apartment. You both sat cross-legged on the couch, facing each other with your mugs cradled between your hands to catch the warmth of the tea. The soft, amber glow of the flames danced across Jiyong’s face, softening the sharp edges of his features.

Taking a slow sip of your tea, you looked at him over the rim of your cup. "How was your day?" you asked softly.

Jiyong let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping another fraction of an inch. "Exhausting," he admitted, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Everyone kept looking to me for answers. The mix wasn't coming together, no one knew what the fuck they were doing when it came to my MAMA performance. It felt like the whole thing would just fall apart."

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your knee as if anchoring himself to the reality of being home. "I just... I spent the entire day carrying everything. My head hurts from making decisions."

Setting your mug down on the coffee table, you patted your lap and said softly, "Come lay down."

Jiyong looked at your lap, then took one more long drink of his tea before setting his cup down on the side table. He shifted his weight, turning his body and laying his head gently right into your lap. He let his legs stretch out across the length of the couch, curling up as much as his long frame would allow.

You immediately began running your fingers through his messy black hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips. After a moment, you slipped your hand beneath the hem of his loose shirt traceing soothing, slow circles on his back. He let out a deep sigh of content as his eyes closed completely. "This is exactly what I needed," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your thigh.

"I wish you weren't this stressed all the time, Ji," you said softly, "It makes me sad to see you like this."

He just hummed in response.

You shifted your hand up, your thumb and fingers finding the tight knots at the base of his neck. You started massaging his shoulders, applying a firm, steady pressure that made him sink even deeper into the cushions. "I wish you didn't have to carry all this weight on your shoulders," you murmured gently. "It's not fair."

Jiyong shifted slightly, mumbling into the fabric of your pants. "I have to. I'm the leader, Y/n" He paused before he let out a long sigh. "I do wish I could just..."

He trailed off, his eyes opening just a crack to look up at you through his eyelashes in the dim firelight.

"...just let go," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It would be nice to not be the one in control for once."

You let out a soft, amused laugh to yourself, the sound quiet against the crackle of the fire. "That would be a fun little dynamic,"

Ji-yong’s eyes fluttered open at that. He raised a single black eyebrow, looking up at you from your lap with a curious expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you said, your fingers continuing to weave through his hair, "I just can't imagine you not being their leader. Or the man who can walk into a room... and the entire room doesn't sit down until you do. People look up to you so much, Ji."

Ji-yong let out a wry huff, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, rolling his eyes playfully at the reminder of his daytime persona.

You laughed again, the warmth of it filling the space between you. "But I know you," you whispered. You leaned down, pressing a lingering, tender kiss right against his warm cheek. "Inside, you're a total softy."

He leaned up into the kiss, his eyes closing again as a look of pure contentment settled over his face. "Mmm, I am," he agreed softly. He reached up, blindly finding your hand and squeezing your fingers tightly. "I would trade everything just to lay here with you."

"Aren't you my sweet oppa?" you murmured softly, looking down at his relaxed face.

Ji-yong hummed again, a deep, contented sound vibrating against your thigh.

As you continued to rub his bare back beneath his shirt, an idea suddenly sparked in your mind. The thought made your heart beat just a fraction faster. You leaned down closer to his ear, your voice dropping to a soft, enticing whisper. "What if you did let go, Ji? Like... completely?"

Ji-yong’s eyes fluttered open at that, "What do you mean?"

Before you could answer with words, he shifted, sitting up on the couch so he was facing you properly. Taking advantage of the movement, you slid forward and straddled his lap, your knees framing his hips. Jiyong’s hands instinctively came up to rest on your waist.

Leaning in, you spoke softly, "Why don't you let me take care of you, oppa?"

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing softly against his skin as you began kissing his neck. Jiyong let out a low, shaky sigh, his head tilting back automatically to give you better access. His grip on your waist tightened, his long fingers anchoring into your hips as if he were trying to pull you even closer to him. The contrast between his usual fierce, commanding presence and the complete vulnerability he showed in your arms was dizzying.

You pressed slow, lingering kisses along his jawline, tracing down to the sensitive skin of his throat. Every time your lips moved against him, you could feel the tight tension draining out of him.

"Y/n.." he whispered, his voice incredibly rough and desperate. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths under your hands.

You slid your hand beneath the hem of his shirt, your warm palm pressing flat against his chest. As you rubbed slow, soothing circles over his skin, you could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat right against your fingertips.

Jiyong let out a sharp, ragged breath, his entire body shuddering at the direct contact. His fingers flexed against your waist, anchoring himself to you as you continued to dominate his senses. Under your touch, he was breathless, completely pliant, and entirely yours.

"Just like that, oppa," you whispered against his pulse point. "Don't think about anything else. Just focus on me."

"Mmm..." he groaned helplessly. He was completely drunk on the relief of your touch.

You broke the kiss on his neck, moving your lips back up to whisper directly against his ear. "Hands behind your back.'' you commanded,

Jiyong’s eyes flew open, he blinked up at you, his breath hitching as the direct dominant shift in your voice cut through the last of his exhaustion. He didn't hesitate. The absolute authority he carried out in the world evaporated in an instant. Slowly, he pulled his hands away from your waist and tucked them behind his back.

"Good boy," you murmured, leaning back just enough to look down at him.

He sat there as you straddled him, his chest heaving under your palm as you continued to rub his bare skin beneath his shirt. Without his hands he was completely forced to rely on his core and your body to keep steady, looking up at you through his long eyelashes with total, breathless submission.

"Can I touch you, jagiya?" he whispered, his voice trembling as he begged for permission.

"Not until I tell you to," you said softly, your thumb tracing his jawline, asserting your rules in the quiet room. "Tonight, you don't do anything unless I say so. Understood?"

Ji-yong swallowed hard, a dark flush spreading across his cheeks as he nodded eagerly. "Yes'' he breathed.

You leaned down slowly, stopping when your lips were just a breath away from his. You could feel the heat radiating from his face, his breath coming in shallow, ragged puffs against your mouth. But instead of kissing him, you tilted your head and trailed your lips down his jawline, completely bypassing his lips.

Jiyong let out a frustrated whine, his shoulders tensing he tried to lean up to meet his lips with yours.

"Ah, ah," you murmured against his skin, your hand moving from his chest to firmly grip his chin, holding him still. "Did I say you could move?"

"No," he whispered hoarsely, his knuckles were locked tightly behind his back.

"Good. Stay still for me," you commanded softly.

You leaned back slightly, your gaze dropping down from his flushed face to the waistband of his sweatpants. Jiyong’s stomach muscles flexed as he watched you.

Slowly, you reached down and wrapped the drawstrings around your fingers, giving them a gentle, authoritative tug. You kept your eyes locked onto his, watching the pupils dilate in the dim firelight as you slowly began to work at the knot, your fingertips brushing against the warm skin of his lower stomach.

"Y/n..." he gasped out, his fingers twitching against each other as he desperately fought the urge to break your rule. "Please, I can't—"

"Shh," you interrupted softly, you paused your fingers on the loosened knot, tapping his chin gently. "Did I give you permission to speak''

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he forces himself back into absolute silence.

Satisfied with the immediate submission, you reach for a discarded scarf resting nearby. You do not use it as a punitive measure, but rather as a clinical, physical boundary. Uncoiling the soft material, you loop it around his wrists, securing them with a firm knot. The cotton provides a tangible, unyielding reminder of the current power dynamic.

"Much better," you observe softly, your tone evaluating his restraint. "Now, let us see how well you maintain your silence."

Your focus shifts downward from his expression back to the loosened drawstrings of his sweatpants. You do not rush the process, allowing the anticipation to break down his remaining defenses.

Your hands descend to the waistband, your knuckles lightly grazing the hyper-sensitive skin of his lower abdomen. Jiyong’s core muscles contract sharply in an involuntary visceral reaction to the tactile contact. You grip the fabric on either side of his hips. With a smooth, downward motion, you strip the sweatpants from his form, forcing the material past his thighs until it pools uselessly around his ankles.

The sudden exposure to the cool air of the room creates an immediate sensory shock, contrasting sharply with the residual warmth radiating from his body. Deprived of his clothing, his vulnerability is now absolute. He sits completely exposed, physically anchored to the spot by the scarf binding his wrists. His hardened cock springs upwards,already slightly wet.

You stand and Jiyong’s gaze follows you, his brown eyes desperately pleading you.

"Please, Y/n," Jiyong breaks the silence, ''Touch me. Please... just touch me."

Your clinical assessing gaze dropped to his hands, then traveled slowly up his torso, deliberately withholding the very contact he is starving for. Not saying a word

"Fuck, you have no clue how bad I want you'' he groans out, his head tilting back slightly as his knuckles strain against the scarf behind his back. He is completely unraveled, every muscle in his body is taut.

Leaning forward with deliberate slowness until your breath brushes against the shell of his ear you whisper, "I'll touch you when I want to touch you. Remember, you're not calling the shots tonight, Oppa."

The title hangs in the quiet air as you stand & take step back just out of his physical reach, ensuring his captive gaze is locked entirely onto you.

You hooked your fingers around your bra straps, twisting the fabric slowly around your fingers while keeping your eyes locked onto his. You didn't rush. You wanted him to see every single movement. Jiyong swallowed hard, his eyes dropping down to your hands before snapping back up to meet your gaze. He was breathing through his nose now, his jaw so tight.

With an agonizingly slow movement, you let the straps slide off your shoulders, letting the material drop down just a fraction. You paused right there, giving him a long, teasing look as if deciding whether or not you even wanted to take off the rest. He shifted his weight just an inch, the fabric of his sweatpants tangled around his ankles reminding him he couldn't actually go anywhere.

Then, you reached behind your back, unhooking the bra and letting it slide down your arms until it dropped onto the floor, your eyes never leaving his face for a single second.

Next, your hands moved slowly down to the button of your jeans, unzipping them with a clicking sound that seemed loud in the quiet room. You stepped out of them one leg at a time, kicking the denim aside until you were standing in front of him completely stripped down.

Jiyong’s eyes tracked every single movement, his eyes tracing every curve of your body as he took in the sight of you. ''F-fuck'' He whispered.

You leaned in close, your bare arms brushing lightly against his shoulders as you hovered over him. "You want to touch yourself?" you whispered right against his ear.

Jiyong didn't even hesitate. He nodded desperately, waiting for whatever was coming next.

Instead of teasing him further, you reached right behind his back. Your fingers worked quickly at the knot, loosening the soft material. The moment the restraint gave way, his hands fell free, the sudden release of tension leaving his arms slightly shaky. He moved immediately to his dick, rubbing it vigorously as he stared at your plump breasts.

Your own legs were practically trembling at this point, if you gave him the go ahead to touch you, to fuck you, your body was already ready for him.

Jiyon's head leaned back against the couch, keeping one eye open on your body, ''Mmm, fuck you're so- so beautiful''

You weren't going to let him cum yet, you wanted him just at the edge of his orgasm before commanding him to stop. So, to intense his pleasure you gently take his free hand and guide it to your breast.

His head perked up right away, gripping his ringed finger into your skin as she pumped his cock faster now. ''Dammit I-m close''

With your knee you widen his legs and stand in between them, watching him tremble under you as he got closer and closer. Then, you have your next command, ''Stop'''

Jiyong bites his lip, not registering your voice anymore.

You repeat yourself but this time gripping his arm away from his member. A pathetic whimper pasts his lips as he didn't get to reach his climax.

Jiyongs eyes were hazed with passion. ''What the fuck, I was close''

Without saying anything, you straddle him, letting his tip tease your entrance. Slowly you plant yourself fully onto his lap, his dick still not inside you. You began rubbing your folds against him, completely controlling the pace.

''Mmm'' Jiyong moans, leaning his head back against the couch again.

Your eyes remained shut, savoring the pleasure. ''Be quiet'' you tell him quickly, trying to focus.

Jiyong's hand come's up trembling, desperate to touch you. As soon as you felt the warmness of his skin you quickly slapped his hand away. The rule still stands, he touches you when you say so. Your pace quickens as you now are the one chasing your orgasm, nothing was stopping you and you were going to finish.

Before you even reached your climax, you felt the familiar warmness begin to drip down your thighs. You open your eyes from the sudden feeling, looking down you see Jiyong gripping the couch as he bucked his hips against you, finishing on your leg.

''Fuck!'' He groans.

The sight alone sent you over the edge. Your hips moved rhythmically as you rode out your orgasm. ''Oppa!''

The last vibration of your orgasm slowly ripples through your body, leaving your muscles entirely spent as you collapse forward against Jiyong’s chest. Your chest heaves, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps against the warm skin of his neck. The absolute silence of the room is broken only by the sound of both of your racing hearts trying to find a normal rhythm again. Jiyong’s arms, finally freed from the restriction of your rule, immediately wrap around your waist. His grip is tight, desperate, pulling you flush against him as if to anchor himself back to reality. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven.

"Damn it," he mutters, "You really know how to break me."

You laugh, kissing him gently.

For a few tender seconds, neither of you move.. You stay straddled on his lap, completely heavy and intoxicated by the afterglow. But as the frantic heat between you begins to cool , the physical reality of the mess sets in. Jiyong’s cum is a slick dripping slowly down your inner thigh.

You shift slightly, your knees sliding on the leather of the couch as you try to lift yourself up. The movement makes the warm fluid streak further down your leg.

"I need to... I need to clean this off," you whisper, your voice thick and raspy from the screaming climax.

Jiyong groans softly at the loss of your weight, his hands lingering on your hips for a split second before letting you slide off him. Your legs feel entirely like jelly when your feet hit the floor, a soft shiver running through you the moment the cold air hits your bare skin.

You walk unsteadily toward the attached bathroom, your eyes downcast at the prominent white streaks running down your thigh. Reaching the sink, you turn on the faucet, letting the water run until it turns a soothing, steaming warm. You grab a soft washcloth, soaking it completely before pressing the warm damp fabric against your skin. A quiet sigh of relief escapes your lips as you begin to wipe away the traces of his cum.

Before you can even finish, the bathroom door pushes open. Jiyong stands in the doorway, completely unbothered by his own nudity, looking slightly disheveled with his sweaty hair falling into his eyes. He looks at you, his eyes softening. Without saying a word, he steps inside and takes the washcloth gently from your hand. He rinses it under the running water, wrings it out, and then kneels down on the tiled floor right in front of you.

"Let me," he murmurs, his voice incredibly low and sweet.

His slender, ringed fingers steady the back of your knee while his other hand uses the warm cloth to gently, meticulously clean the rest of your leg. He works with tender care, wiping away every last bit of the mess until your skin is clean and warm. When he finishes, he doesn't immediately stand up. Instead, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the exact spot on your thigh where he had just finished, his warm breath sending a completely different kind of shiver straight up your spine.

He looks up at you from the floor, a genuine, fond smile tugging at his lips. "Better?"

"Much," you say, looking down at him with a soft, teasing smile. "I also like my view. It's nice to see you kneeling."

Jiyong’s hand pauses against your leg. He looks up at you through the dark fringe of his hair, a slow smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Oh, yeah?" he asks, his voice a low challenge.

Before you can even reply, his large, slender hands grip your hips. He stands up smoothly, his lean frame towering over you for a split second before he effortlessly lifts you off your feet. You gasp, your hands flying out to catch his shoulders as he hoists you up and sits you down backward onto the edge of the marble sink counter. The sudden chill of the stone against your bare skin makes you shiver, a breathless giggle escaping your lips as you look down at him.

"Mmmm, I know you're not done with me yet. Tell me what you want me to do to you.'' Jiyong whispers, stepping directly into your space.

You bit your lip almost making it bleed, you intended your voice to come out loud and commanding like before but He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

He sinks right back down, dropping to his knees on the floor between your thighs. His hands slide up your legs, parting your knees wide so he can fit perfectly between them. He looks up at you once more, his hands resting heavily on your inner thighs, anchoring you to the edge of the counter.

"I'll obey every word.'' he whispers again, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

'' Kiss me," you say softly, your voice carrying a quiet authority as you lift your hand and point directly to the sensitive, flushed skin of your inner thigh. "Right here."

Jiyong’s eyes follow the movement of your finger, his gaze darkening with immediate focus. A slow, breathy chuckle escapes his lips.

"Yes, ma'am," he whispers against your skin.

He leans forward, his hands sliding slightly higher on your hips as he tilts his head, his damp hair brushing softly against your leg. Jiyong brings his lips to the exact spot you pointed to. The first touch is incredibly gentle—a soft, lingering press of his warm lips that makes your toes curl. He doesn't just stop at one. True to his promise of complete obedience, Jiyong treats the command with meticulous care.

He presses another slow, open-mouthed kiss higher up the curve of your thigh, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He uses his tongue to trace a damp line across your skin, making you gasp and tighten your grip on his shoulders. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, his brown eyes gleaming with a mixture of submission and pure delight.

Jiyong listens to the hitch in your breathing, using your quiet gasps as a map to find exactly where you are most sensitive. The soft, open-mouthed kisses turn more deliberate, shifting from gentle reverence to a deeper, hungrier pressure that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core.

He catches the soft skin of your inner thigh between his teeth, sinking them in just deep enough to leave a stinging, sharp nip. The sudden flare of friction and pressure cuts through the heavy haze of pleasure, making your hips jerk off the cool marble counter as a sharp gasp leaves your lips.

Before you can even pull away, Jiyong immediately soothes the sting, his tongue sweeping over the bite mark in a wet stroke that turns the mark into a thrumming ache. He looks up at you from your knees, his jaw tight.

"Did you like that?" he murmurs against your wet skin, his voice a gravelly, low vibration that sends a tremor straight up your spine.

Your hand grip into his dark hair, guiding him closer to your wet pussy, ''Eat me'' you gasped.

The sudden, direct command hangs heavy in the humid air of the bathroom, shattering whatever restraint he had left. A low, ragged growl escapes the back of his throat, the sound vibrating directly against your inner thigh.

He doesn't ask twice. His hands slide up from your waist, his long fingers locking tightly to hold you firmly in place against the edge of the counter. He looks up at you one last time, his eyes fierce before he leans forward and buries his face between your legs.

The first touch of his tongue is a searing, wet streak that makes your spine arch completely. Your breath catches entirely in your throat, your knuckles turning white as you grip his hair even tighter, anchoring yourself to him as the room begins to spin. Jiyong is relentless, moving his tongue with a practiced desperate hunger. He uses his mouth to trace every single inch of your pussy, his hot breath pooling against your wet skin with every ragged gasp he takes.

''Fuck, don't you stop Kwon Jiyong!'' You moaned out.

The contrast between his complete submission to your command and the absolute dominant intensity of his mouth is dizzying. You can only cry out, your hips trembling uncontrollably against his shoulders as he drives you rapidly toward the edge.

His mouth moved gracefully and it wasn't long before he used his hands making you scream in pleasure. One digit entered first, making you jolt before pumping in and out of you.

The sheer intensity of his touch sends a wave of blinding pleasure straight to your core, making your breath hitch completely as a ragged cry escapes your lips into the quiet room. It is a dizzying, overwhelming sensation that leaves your mind entirely blank.

Jiyong is completely relentless, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath. He stays firmly on his knees, his hands locked onto your hips like a vice, anchoring you as he maintains his agonizingly perfect rhythm from both his tongue and his fingers.

"Jiyong, wait—" you gasp out, your head slamming back against the mirror as you feel you reaching your climax, the pleasure a little too intense.

"No," he growls against your wet folds. He tilts his head up for a split second,"You wanted to be in control. You told me not to stop''

He plunges right back in, his mouth and hands working in absolute, devastating tandem. The sheer speed and precision of his movements shatter whatever remains of your thoughts, making your mind go entirely white. You groan loudly, your fingers clawing desperately at his shoulders, your hips bucking completely out of your own control as he drives you right back over the edge for a second, shattering climax.

Your chest heaves violently, every breath coming in short gasps that echo loudly against the humid bathroom. Your head rests heavily against the mirror behind you, your eyes half-closed and unfocused as you try to ground yourself. The sheer intensity of the back-to-back climaxes has left your body completely spent, your limbs trembling so hard that you couldn't move even if you wanted to.

Jiyong slowly pulls back, his breathing just as ragged and uneven as yours. He stays on his knees between your thighs for a long moment, resting his forehead against your damp knee while his chest expands and contracts against your skin. He slowly lifts his head, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. With a slow movement, he brings the back of his hand up to his face. He drags his knuckles firmly across his lips, wiping away the glistening trace of your wetness left behind on his mouth, not breaking eye contact once.

"You're completely exhausted, aren't you?" he smiles.

You slowly raise your head, blinking through the heavy haze of exhaustion to look down at him. Jiyong watches you for a beat longer from the floor before he finally stands up. His tall, lean frame towers over you once more, casting a familiar, comforting shadow in the dim bathroom light.

Jiyong steps directly into the space between your thighs, leaning forward until his chest presses against yours. His long, slender fingers gently cup the sides of your face as his thumbs rub your flushed cheeks to steady you.

When his lips meet yours, the kiss is heavy with a quiet affection. The moment your lips meet, the distinct sweetness of your own wetness that still lingers on your lips hits your tongue. Tasting yourself on his lips is a dizzying, intimate sensation that sends a final, low thrum of electricity straight down. It is the ultimate marker of how completely he surrendered to your commands, a tangible reminder of the absolute control you just held over him.

Jiyong groans softly into the kiss, his mouth moving gracefully against yours as he drinks in your breathless reaction. He pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours.

"Look at you, you're shaking," he says as he brushes a stray lock of damp hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your jaw. "Why don't we take a nice hot shower together? Just to warm you up and get you clean."

You nod weakly, completely exhausted but comforted by the suggestion. Jiyong gives a small, fond smile and steps over to the glass enclosure, turning the handle until a steady stream of steaming water fills the stall, quickly creating a thick, cozy wall of mist. He walks back to the counter, bending down to slide one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He lifts you effortlessly, and you let out a quiet giggle, looping your arms around his neck as he carries you the few steps into the shower stall.

The moment the hot water cascades over your shoulders, your muscles instantly melt. Jiyong stands behind you to block the heaviest rush of the water so it doesn't hit your face. He grabs the bottle of body wash, working up a rich, fragrant lather between his large palms.

With slow tender care, he begins to wash your skin. He starts at your shoulders, his hands massaging away the last remnants of tension before moving down to gently clean your arms, your waist, and finally your thighs. There is no lust left in his touch now—only a deep, protective aftercare.

The steam continues to rise thickly around you, wrapping the two of you in a private, warm cocoon. Jiyong reaches for the bottle of shampoo next, pouring a small dollop into his palm before rubbing his hands together. He steps closer, his soft eyes smiling at you "Lean your head back for me''

You comply, tilting your head back against his chest as his long fingers slide into your wet hair. The moment his fingertips begin to massage your scalp in slow deep circles, a soft groan escapes your lips, and your eyes flutter shut. Jiyong lets out an amused huff against your ear, his thumbs smoothing along your hairline. "Like that, huh? I think I'm getting pretty good at this."

"You're a professional," you whisper "Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replies softly. He works the shampoo through your strands

Jiyong was gentle, like always, making sure not to get any suds near your eyes. He leans down, pressing a warm wet kiss to the crown of your head, the scent of the strawberry soap swirling around you both. "You completely wore yourself out tonight. You were so bossy''

A faint blush creeps up your neck, "You said you'd obey every word."

Jiyong smirks, "I did. And I meant it. I'd do it all over again if you told me to." He shifts his hands, cup-ping water from the stream to gently rinse the foam from your hair, watching carefully as the water cascades down your face. "But right now, my only job is taking care of you.

You let out a soft sigh as you turn around in his arms to face him under the warm stream of water. He leans his head back slightly against the wet tile, a small smile playing on his lips as he looks down at you through the mist.

"You know," he begins "I really like it when you're dominant like that. Seeing you take control... knowing exactly what you want from me. It's incredibly sexy."

You smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you reach for the shampoo bottle on the ledge. "Oh, really? The great G-Dragon likes being told what to do?"

"Only by you," he whispers, leaning down to press a sweet, wet kiss to the tip of your nose. "With you, I can just let go. I don't have to be the leader. I can just belong to you."

You pour a small amount of the fragrant shampoo into your palms, rubbing them together before lifting your hands to slide your fingers into his damp, dark hair. Jiyong closes his eyes instantly, a deep, relaxed groan escaping his chest as your fingertips begin to massage his scalp. He steps a little closer, his hands coming up to rest gently on your waist just to keep you steady under the steady cascade of the shower.

As you work the lather through his hair, your eyes drift down to his bare shoulders and chest. The water slicks down his lean, muscular frame, making the dark ink of his tattoos stand out vividly against his wet skin. With one hand still massaging his head, you use your other hand to gently trace the intricate lines of the artwork on his shoulder—the familiar designs you’ve always found completely intoxicating.

Jiyong opens his eyes once he feels your fingers tracing his skin. He catches your hand, pressing a warm kiss to your palm before placing it right back over his heart. "Keep going," he murmurs softly, "I'm all yours."

He tilts his head back, exposing the long line of his neck to give you better access. "Mm, just like that. I'm completely at your mercy."

"Good. Stay still then," you say playfully, sliding your soapy hands down his arms

"I like it when you take care of me," he whispers sweetly, his lips brushing yours with a soft, lingering innocence. "Makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

As the final remnants of soap slipped off his skin and circled the drain,

Jiyong turns off the heavy brass handles, and the roaring sound of the water suddenly dies down, leaving only the quiet patter of stray droplets and the soft sound of your shared breathing. He steps out of the glass enclosure first, grabbing two oversized, plush white towels from the heated rack.

Instead of wrapping himself up, he turns back to you with a wide, boyish grin. "Step up, boss," he teases softly, holding the large towel open like a cocoon.

You step out of the shower, and he immediately wraps the warm fabric securely around your shoulders, pulling you into a brief, tightly bundled hug. He takes the corners of the towel and begins to dry you off with an incredibly gentle care, dabbing at your arms and back as if you were made of glass. When he gets to your hair, he bunches the towel up and playfully ruffles it over your head, making you gasp and swat at his hands as your hair turns into a wild, static mess.

''Yah! Oppa, my hair!'' you laugh

Jiyong laughs with you, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. "You look cute like that Jagiya. Like a little cloud."

You take the second towel from his hands, determined to get him back. "Your turn. Hold still."

Jiyong completely cooperates, dropping his hands to his sides and standing perfectly still with that soft, compliant smile on his face. You wrap the towel around his lean shoulders and begin to dry off his chest, your fingers lightly tracing the damp ink of his tattoos one last time. When you reach his hair, you purposely ruffle it even harder than he did to yours, leaving his dark locks sticking up in every single direction. He looks completely disheveled and ridiculous, a far cry from the immaculate G-Dragon, but he just stands there looking down at you with pure adoration.

"Perfect," you declare, patting his cheek.

"If you say so," he chuckles, then you both walk into your bedroom.

The bed is a welcoming oasis of messy sheets and heavy blankets. Jiyong pulls the covers back, waiting for you to climb in first before he slides in right beside you. The moment his long frame hits the mattress, he opens his arms wide in a silent invitation. You don't hesitate, sliding directly into his space and resting your head flat against his bare chest.

He pulls the heavy duvet all the way up to your shoulders, burying both of you in a warm, dark cave. His long legs entwine with yours under the sheets, his body acting as a solid, radiating furnace against the chill of the room. He rests his chin lightly on the top of your wildly ruffled hair, his large hand coming up to gently smooth over your back in hypnotic strokes.

"Goodnight, boss lady" Jiyong whispers into the dark

You smile into the warmth of his skin, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. "Goodnight, Jiyong."

Between his fingers, a lit cigarette burned down, a thin trail of gray smoke twisting up into the wind. Jiyong took a long drag, letting the bitter taste of the nicotine ground him. He usually tried to cut back when they were in the middle of a heavy tracking cycle, but his mind had been a chaotic mess since yesterday. He tapped the ash off the end of the cigarette, his jaw tight. He hated how much that tiny, fleeting interaction had bothered him. He was G-Dragon. He didn't get thrown off by a girl's defensive attitude, and he certainly didn't spend his nights tossing and turning over a forgotten hoodie. Yet, no matter how many times he tries to forget, his focus kept snapping back to you.

He took one final drag, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray on the balcony table. Blowing out the remaining smoke, he watched it dissipate into the morning air. He needed to get his head in the game. The album deadline was breathing down their necks, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. With a frustrated sigh, he turned back inside to get dressed for the studio.

He stepped back inside, sliding the glass balcony door shut against the morning chill. The silence of his massive apartment felt unusually heavy today. Moving through the living room, he headed toward the master bedroom to get dressed, but his footsteps slowed down as he approached the armchair.

There it was. The oversized hoodie, draped carelessly over the arm of the chair exactly where he had tossed it yesterday.

He stopped right in front of it, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his silk robe. He hadn't washed it. The logical, clean-freak side of him should have thrown it into the laundry hamper the second he got home. But he hadn't touched it. A strange, quiet wave of anxiety had stopped him last night—an irrational worry that if he ran it through the wash, the faint, sweet scent of you would completely be erased from the fabric.

Jiyong stared at the cotton for a long moment, his jaw tightening as he realized just how ridiculous he was being. Shaking his head at himself, he forced his eyes away from the chair, grabbed a fresh change of clothes, and quickly got ready for the day. He needed to get out of his own head, and the only way to do that was to bury himself in work.

When he arrives at YG building, he expects it to just be him and maybe one or two of the guys. But when he walks up to the door, inside the room seemed louder than usual. Jiyong grips the handle and walks inside, he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he bypassed the lounge area entirely.

The sight of you tangled up with Seunghyun on the leather couch hit him like a splash of cold water. Seeing you in that pink mini skirt, your long legs casually draped over Seunghyun's lap with a careless familiarity, made his jaw tighten so hard his teeth ached.

"Hey," Taeyang murmured from his spot near the vocal booth, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Yo, Ji," Seunghyun added, his deep voice relaxed as his hand rested casually near your knee.

Jiyong gave them a single, tight nod, not breaking his stride. He dropped into the producer's chair, pulling himself against the mixing desk. The massive dual monitors lit up his face in a cool, blue glow as he aggressively navigated the computer. He deliberately kept his back turned to the couch, pulling on a pair of noise-canceling headphones to block out the low murmur of your voice and Seunghyun's deep chuckle.

The sound of your shared laughter finally became too much to bear. What made it cut even deeper was the fact that it was Seunghyun making you laugh like that.

Unable to take another second of it, Jiyong lifted one side of his headphones and spun his chair around to face the two of you. "Don't you have a job or something? Somewhere else you can go?"

Shocked by the sudden venom in his tone, your eyes fluttered in disbelief. You parted your lips to respond, but before you could utter a single word, he cut you off ruthlessly. "Because you're being really fucking distracting."

Seunghyun’s eyebrows instantly furrowed in anger. He sat up straight on the couch, shifting his weight. "Yah! There’s no need to talk to her like that. Come on, man."

Sensing the rapidly escalating tension, Taeyang quickly stepped between them to play peacemaker. "Alright, alright, let's all calm down," he said soothingly, before turning a sympathetic gaze toward you. "Y/n, why don't you head downstairs for a minute and grab something to drink, yeah?"

With tears already welling up in your eyes, you let out a small sniffle. You nodded quickly and left. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Seunghyun turned to Jiyong, his voice laced with disbelief. "What the hell is going on with you lately? It’s like you have a personal hatred for her."

Taeyang moved to step in again, catching onto the real reason behind Jiyong’s explosive mood shift much faster than anyone else. But before Taeyang could speak, Jiyong snapped, throwing a harsh glare in his direction to shut him down.

He then turned his frustration back to Seunghyun. "No, it’s just—she's always here! Like, why? Doesn't she have anywhere else to be? It's fucking distracting!!."

With that final, angry outburst, Jiyong stood up abruptly, ripped the headphones off his head, and slammed them down onto the producer's chair. Without looking back at either of them, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Seunghyun turned to Taeyang, his expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. "What the hell is his problem?" he asked, gesturing toward the empty doorway.

Taeyang just sighed and offered a noncommittal shrug. He knew exactly what was fueling Jiyong’s sudden hostility, but he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his place to tell anyone

Meanwhile, Jiyong pushed through the heavy exit doors and stepped out into the crisp air to clear his head. He pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he lit it, cursing under his breath with every exhale. He just needed a second to breathe.

But as he turned the corner near the building's outdoor food court, the anger completely vanished from his chest, replaced by a sudden sinking feeling. There you were, tucked away at a quiet corner table, silently crying as a half-empty cup of lemonade sat ignored in front of you, the plastic sweating in the morning air.

Jiyong’s heart dropped into his stomach. A wave of guilt hit him so hard it made him sick. He did this. The tears spilling down your face, the tight, hurt posture—it was all because of him. Cursing his own stupidity, he immediately stubbed out the freshly lit cigarette against a nearby bin. He took a step forward, determined to go over to your table, swallow his pride, and apologize for being such an asshole.

But he didn't even get three steps before he froze.

Seunghyun had found you first. Jiyong watched in painful silence as Seunghyun approached the table and immediately wrapped his arms around your small frame. You didn't pull away; instead, you leaned right into him, buried your face into his chest, and let the tears fall. Seunghyun just held you tight, murmuring soft comforts into your hair.

A cold, bitter ache blossomed in Jiyong's chest as he stood hidden in the shadows, completely paralyzed by the view. That should be me, he thought to himself. I should be the one holding her.

You leaned into Seunghyun’s chest, burying your face into his soft sweater.

"Hey, shh, it's okay," Seunghyun murmured, his deep voice vibrating gently against your ear. He kept his large hands securely wrapped around your frame. "Don't cry. He's just being an idiot today."

You sniffled, pulling back just enough to look up at him, your eyes red and blurry from the tears. ''I don't understand, Seunghyun-ah, did I actually do something wrong? I-i didn't mean to mess up his focus."

"No Jagiya, you did nothing wrong," Seunghyun sighed. "Ji is under a lot of pressure with the album deadline''

You looked down at your pink mini skirt, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and exposed under the bright outdoor lights. "Maybe I shouldn't come to the studio anymore," you muttered softly, the humiliation still burning in your chest. "If my being here makes him that angry, it's better if I just stay away."

Seunghyun frowned, shaking his head. "Don't say that. They all adore you and I like having you around. So don't let his bad get to you'' He took a deep breath, looking over your head toward the hallway doors, "Come on. Let’s get you out of the sun. Do you want to go home, or do you want to grab some actual food first?"

You sniffled, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand before looking up at him. "I am kind of hungry," you admitted softly.

Seunghyun smiled. "Alright, let's go," he said, gently guiding you by the shoulder as you both walked off toward the food court.

Afterward, despite Seunghyun’s persistent pleads for you to just ignore Jiyong and come back up to the studio, you couldn't do it. The humiliation was just too heavy. You needed to be anywhere else but that building, so you went straight home.

The quiet hum of your apartment hallway was a relief. Your hands were full, balancing a plastic bag filled with the leftover food from lunch with Seunghyun as you leaned forward to type in your door code. The electronic keypad beeped sharply in the silence, unlocking with a solid click. You pushed the door open with your elbow and let yourself into the empty, quiet sanctuary of your own home, finally able to breathe without the weight of Jiyong's harsh glares pressing down on you.

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes at the entryway and slumped onto your living room sofa, pulling a decorative pillow on your lap. The silence leaving you alone with your racing thoughts. You knew Jiyong didn't trust you , but today felt different. It didn't feel like his usual arrogant judgement. It felt deeply personal, almost like he was desperately trying to push you away before you could get any closer.

The thought of losing your bond with the rest of the guys twisted a tight knot in your stomach. You had truly come to adore them—their easy laughter, the late-night banter, and the effortless way they had welcomed you into their tight-knit world. Jiyong's sudden, explosive freak-out had completely shattered that comfortable energy. You hated the idea of walking on eggshells around the group just because one person couldn't handle his own turbulent emotions.

Your fingers traced the edge of your phone, the screen dark against the couch cushion. For a fleeting second, the urge to fix it took over. You unlocked the screen, staring at Jiyong's name in your contacts, wondering if a direct text might pierce through his armor and make him explain himself. But as the sting of his harsh words echoed in your head, frustration replaced the anxiety. Why should you be the one to smooth things over when he was the one who crossed the line? You slammed the phone back down on the fabric of the sofa, letting out a decisive sigh. If Jiyong wanted to act out because he was drowning in feelings he couldn't control, you weren't going to beg for his approval.

You needed a physical distraction to stop your mind from looping back to Jiyong’s furious expression.

Stepping back into the kitchen, you opened the plastic bag Seunghyun had packed for you. The scent of the savory leftover dishes hit you right away as you methodically transferred the food into glass containers, snap-locking the lids with a series of sharp rhythmic clicks that echoed too loudly in the quiet kitchen. You slotted them into the refrigerator, wiping down the clean countertops twice just to keep moving.

With the kitchen cleaned to your satisfaction, you walked into the bedroom to change out of your outdoor clothes. You pulled on your softest lounge pants and a worn-in sweatshirt, burying yourself in oversized fabric. As the evening light began to purple outside your window, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor, you decided to force yourself into a routine. You put on a kettle for tea, watching the small blue flames of the stove flicker. While the water heated, you moved to the living room window, looking down at the city streets below. The headlights of cars blurred into long streaks of red and white in the gathering dusk. You wondered what the guys were doing right now in the studio.

As your thoughts trialed off, the sharp whistle of the kettle cut through them. You took a deep breath in, inhaling the smooth city air before heading back inside to make your cup. The hot liquid dribbled from the tea pot as you poured the steaming water over a tea bag, holding the warm mug between both hands you carried it back to the couch, pulling your legs up under you and staring at the television remote, debating whether to put on a mindless show. The idea to let the day drift away in cozy tv show marathon sounded actually pleasing, so you reached for the remote and finally switched on the television, the familiar theme song of a show filling the quiet room. With the cup of tea in hand you settled back against the sofa cushions, hoping the background noise would finally drown out the stress of today.

The entire time you didn't pick up your phone once, if Senghyun was worried you weren't responding, he would call. If Jiyong sent you a text message then you didn't even want to give it a second glance, he should apologize in person and thats that. Your phone sat abandoned on the soft sofa across from you as your eyes stayed glued on the TV.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang, hardly heard over the chatter of the screen.

You frowned slightly, glancing over at the entryway. It was slightly odd for anyone to be ringing your bell at this hour. If it was Seunghyun—who was always the most likely candidate to come rushing over—he wouldn't be standing out there waiting. He had your door code memorized and usually just let himself.

Setting the remote down, you pushed yourself off the couch. The floorboards felt cool against your bare feet as you walked toward the door.

Peeking through the peephole, your eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't Seunghyun at all.

It was Daesung. He was standing under the dim hallway light, shifting his weight from foot to foot with a slightly anxious expression. He was wearing an oversized yellow bucket hat pulled low, and in his hands, he was clutching a white plastic convenience store bag. As soon as you pulled the door open, his face instantly transformed. That familiar, bright, golden smile took over his features

"Hey," Daesung said softly. He lifted the plastic bag, giving it a little shake so the contents rattled inside. "I figured you could go for some late night ice cream. Can I come in?''

You let him inside with a polite bow, the heavy weight in your chest lifting just a bit at the sight of his familiar, friendly face.

"I could so go for ice cream right now'' you admitted, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through your somber mood.

Daesung’s own smile widened, his eyes crinkling. He walked past you into the apartment, looking around with genuine interest. "Wow, your place is really nice," he complimented as he padded over to the kitchen counter. He set the plastic bag down and immediately started unpacking the cold containers. "So, Seunghyun-hyung told me your favorite flavor is strawberry? Is that right?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, great!" Daesung beamed.

You walked around him, reaching into the upper cabinet to grab two ceramic bowls and two spoons for the ice cream. As you set them down, you decided to strike up some small talk, keeping your voice casual despite the late hour. "Not that I'm not incredibly happy to see you, but what are you doing here so late?"

Daesung’s bright expression softened, he leaned against the counter, watching you handle the spoons. "I felt awful for what happened earlier, Jiyong-hyung was way out of line today. And when he yells... it’s always shattering, you know? He doesn’t do it often, so when he does, it just hits everybody hard. Honestly, ice cream is the absolute best solution for this type of stuff."

A rush of gratitude washed over you. You smiled, scooping the vibrant pink strawberry ice cream into your bowl and his. ''That's very thoughtful of you, oppa''

After scooping, you opened the freezer, sliding the remaining tubs safely inside to keep them from melting. Holding your bowl, you gestured toward the glass doors at the back of the living room. "Do you want to sit out on the patio? It's really nice out tonight."

"It's gorgeous out, so why not?" Daesung agreed, picking up his own bowl.

You slid the glass door open, letting the cool night breeze brush against your skin. Together, the two of you walked out onto the balcony. The city stretched out before you, a vast blanket of twinkling lights. You both stepped up to the railing, leaning your forearms against the cool metal, comfortably eating your ice cream.

Daesung took a bite of his ice cream, watching the city lights for a second before a grin broke across his face. He turned his body towards you before talking.

"You know, Jiyong tries so hard to maintain this untouchable, perfectionist image," Daesung started, chuckling softly. "But he's really not the hard-ass he makes himself out to be. He can be incredibly ridiculous."

You looked over at him, curious.

"We were on tour a few years ago," Daesung explained, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he recalled the memory. "We were all exhausted, staying in this hotel, and Jiyong was taking forever in the bathroom. So, Taeyang decided to play a prank. He sneaks into the bathroom while Jiyong is in the shower, completely silent, and just waits. The second Jiyong slides the glass door open, wiping the steam from his eyes, Youngbae snaps a photo with the flash blinding him."

You blinked, trying to process the mental image.

"Oh, it was hilarious," Daesung laughed, shaking his head. "Jiyong lost his mind. He came bursting out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, dripping water all over the carpet. He was just screaming at the top of his lungs, chasing Youngbae around the sofa, begging for the photo to be deleted immediately. He looked so absurd''

You chuckled softly at the imagery, the tight lines of your face finally softening. But as the laughter died down, you looked back out at the glowing skyline. It was funny, sure, but after the ice-cold fury you had faced in the studio earlier, it felt impossible to bridge the gap between that human version of him and the man who had just humiliated you.

"I believe you," you murmured quietly, staring down at your bowl. "But... it’s just really hard to picture him not being an ass'' Your face bled pink, immediately regretting what you said, you quickly cover your mouth and whisper, ''Sorry..''

Daesung’s laughter grew louder at your comment, "No, I get it. And I know it's hard to picture it. But believe me, this angry defensive guy you saw today? This isn't the real him. He's just... obviously dealing with something right now. I really hope one day you get to see that side of him, too. Because when he actually lets someone in, he cares louder than anyone I know."

You let out a soft sigh, the cool night breeze fluttering your hair as you stared down at the swirling pink ice cream in your bowl.

"I hope I get to see that one day too," you murmured before taking another bite, "It’s just... I know it’s me. And I really don’t want to cause an issue within the group, you know? I just—I wish he trusted me."

Daesung took another bite of his own ice cream, chewing thoughtfully as he looked out over the glowing city skyline.

"I truly believe it’s not that he dislikes you as a person," Daesung offered gently, trying to piece it together himself. "I do think he doesn't trust you, but only because you're friends with his best friend. He’s protecting Seunghyun-hyung. I just wish he wasn’t so harsh with you about it."

Daesung paused, a sudden bewildered laugh bubbling up from his chest before he continued. "I mean... he was way less cruel to other girls Seunghyun-hyung has dated in the past, so it’s a little confusing." He shook his head with a small smile and went back to eating his ice cream, seemingly dismissing it as just another one of Jiyong's unpredictable quirks.

But you froze, your spoon stopping halfway to your mouth.

You stared out at the twinkling high-rise buildings, Daesung's words echoing loudly in your mind. He was less cruel to girls Seunghyun has dated.

You thought about that for a long second, a strange, prickling sensation rising up the back of your neck. If Jiyong's intense hostility was strictly about protecting his best friend, he would treat you the exact same way he treated all the others—or at least with the same detached, protective caution. He wouldn't be this wildly volatile, this was intensely personal and it didn't add up. Why would he be so much more awful to you if it was just about protecting Seunghyun?

You let out a soft sigh, letting the confusing puzzle of Kwon Jiyong fade out into the dark night sky. Turning your attention back to the glowing cityscape, you took another bite of your ice cream.

The rest of the night with Daesung passed smoothly. Neither of you realized just how late it was getting, you simply found deep comfort in each other’s presence. Daesung was incredibly sweet and understanding. He just let you rant, venting out all the built-up frustration from the afternoon, but he always countered your worries with comforting words and gentle solutions. When you hesitantly offered to just step back from the group entirely to keep the peace, he strongly disagreed, refusing to let Jiyong's mood drive you away. It was a beautiful, healing kind of validation, and it was exactly what you needed tonight.

By the time the strawberry tub was half finished and the night grew noticeably colder, Daesung finally had to leave. Before he did, he insisted on stepping up to the sink to wash both of your bowls and spoons.

"Yah! Oppa, you don't have to do that," you protested, trying to nudge him away from the faucet. "You bought the ice cream, the least I can do is the dishes."

Daesung just waved a soapy hand at you, "Don't worry about it! I don't want to keep you up any longer. You should head straight to bed right after I leave, not stay up cleaning. It's late."

You shook your head with a fond smile, watching him finish up the quick chore before walking him to the entryway. You wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. "Goodnight, Oppa. Get home safe."

"Thanks, Y/n'" he replied gently, patting your shoulder. "You sleep well. Don't let your thoughts get to you tonight, okay?"

With one last reassuring smile, he stepped out, and you clicked the door locked behind him. The moment the lock snapped into place, a massive yawn caught you off guard. Rubbing your eyes, you muttered to yourself, "Damn... I really am tired."

You padded through the quiet apartment, shutting off the lights one by one and making sure the patio doors were locked down tight. After shuffling into the bathroom to brush your teeth, you finally plop down into bed. The absolute second your head hit the pillow, you drifted off into a deep sleep. The perfect combination of the cool night air in your bedroom and the warm weight of your blankets sent you off peacefully.

But the peace didn't last.

As the hours ticked by, your sleep fractured, and your dreams twisted into something vivid and awful. In the dream, you were standing right back in the center of the studio. Jiyong was towering over you, his voice booming as he continued to yell. But this time, none of the other guys moved to defend you. All three of them just sat on the couches, watching you with cold, uncharacteristic disgust.

Taeyang was the first to speak, his voice flat and detached. "Yeah... I think it's best if you leave, Y/n."

Daesung slowly nodded his head in agreement, his usual warmth entirely gone. Your heart shattered as Seunghyun suddenly stood up, gripping your arm firmly and leading you out into the hallway.

When you were out of the room, Seunghyun let go, looking down at you. "I don't think this is going to work out anymore."

Tears blurred your vision in the dream, your voice cracking as you stuttered, "Wait, why? I—I'll be more quiet. Please don't shut me out."

"I'm sorry. It was nice knowing you,"  Seunghyun said coldly, stepping back and slamming the heavy door right in your face.

"No!" you screamed out.

The force of your own voice jolted you awake. You sat straight up in bed, your chest heaving as you panted heavily, your skin completely slick with sweat. You stared into the dark corners of your bedroom, trying to process the nightmare.

"What the fuck..." you whispered to yourself as you tried to catch your breath.

Needing to shake the residual weight of the dream, you swung your legs out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. You turned on the tap and splashed freezing cold water over your face. The icy shock was an instant relief, shocking your system back to reality. Leaning against the sink, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, letting out a breath of pure thankfulness that it had just been a bad dream.

But just as you reached out to shut off the bathroom light and head back to bed, the sudden chime of your doorbell rang through the apartment.

You froze, your hand hovering over the light switch. A sudden wave of genuine concern replaced the lingering traces of your nightmare. Shuffling back into the bedroom, you grabbed your phone off the nightstand. The glowing screen read exactly 4:00 AM.

Who the hell would be at my door at four in the morning? you whispered frantically to yourself.

Instinct taking over, you reached into your bedside drawer and gripped the familiar weight of your pocket knife. Keeping the apartment completely dark, you crept silently across the hardwood floor toward the entryway. Just as you reached the hallway, the doorbell rang a second time, the sound piercing the silence.

Holding your breath, you leaned forward and pressed your eye against the tiny glass of the peephole.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Standing under the dim, buzzing hallway light was Jiyong. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, his shoulder propping him up as if standing completely upright took too much effort. His signature black hair was in absolute disarray, falling wildly over his eyes, and the top buttons of his shirt were completely undone, exposing the pale skin of his collarbone. He looked utterly exhausted and completely vulnerable.

You let out a soft sigh, slipping the pocket knife safely into your waistband. You reached out and clicked on the dim hallway light before finally unlocking and drawing the door open.

Jiyong slowly looked up at you, his eyes foggy and distant, his black hair hanging down in thick, unruly strands right in front of his face.

"Jiyong," you said, your voice a mixture of shock and quiet concern. "What are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?"

The moment you took a proper look at him, your maternal instincts kicked in right away. You immediately reached out and ushered him inside, your hands brushing against his shoulders. "You must be so cold. Is it raining out?"

His clothes were noticeably damp, the wet fabric sticking stubbornly to his skin. Jiyong stumbled past you into the entryway, his movements heavy and uncoordinated. He was obviously very drunk. As he turned his head to speak the unmistakable smell of liquor rushed over you.

"I—I needed to see you, Y/n," he stammered.

You quickly closed the door behind him, locking out the freezing air and followed close behind him to make sure he didn't lose his footing. Jiyong looked around the dark apartment for a second, his foggy gaze drifting from the walls to the kitchen, getting entirely distracted.

"Wow... you—you have a really nice place," he said, his words slurring heavily together. He let out a breathless, unfocused chuckle. "I don't know how I haven't noticed it before."

You gently caught his arm, steering his swaying frame toward the living room. "Here, here... sit down," you urged, guiding him onto the soft cushions of the couch. "Why don't I make you a cup of tea? I really don't want you getting sick."

You rushed straight into the kitchen and put a fresh pot on the stove. Despite the deep anger and humiliation you were still harboring from his cruel behavior earlier that afternoon, you couldn't just leave him like this. He was still Seunghyun’s best friend. While you waited for the pot to heat, Jiyong continued to sit on the couch, aimlessly mumbling nonsensical compliments about your apartment. You grabbed a clean dry towel from the drawer and walked back over to him. Kneeling slightly in front of him, you began to gently wipe the dampness from his face and neck so he wouldn't catch a cold.

"Gosh, you're soaked," you fretted softly, moving the towel through his messy hair. "Do—do you want to borrow something dry? I think I might actually have a few of Seunghyun's old shirts left here."

The mention of his best friend seemed to pierce through his drunken haze. Jiyong’s hand shot out, his fingers surprisingly warm as they wrapped gently around your wrist. He slowly removed your hand from his face, holding your wrist in the space between you.

"No, no," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Don't care for me. I—I don't deserve it."

You let out a gentle sigh, looking at him. "Oppa, just because we don't like each other doesn't mean I can't care for you."

You gently disengaged your hand and went right back to wiping his damp skin, smoothing the towel down his neck. Jiyong’s brown eyes softened completely, the hard, defensive glare he usually gave you entirely vanishing. He just held your gaze, staring up at you with an intensity that made your heart beat faster. He scoffed a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

"Yeah... that’s the thing, isn’t it?" he murmured.

Then, his expression softened deeper into something you had never seen from him before. The cold, untouchable 'G-Dragon' armor was completely gone. In its place was a raw, deeply hidden vulnerability—the exact side of him Daesung had promised you existed.

A sudden wave of goosebumps broke out across your skin. The sheer weight of his gaze was overwhelming, and you quickly tried to avoid his eyes, focusing entirely on tracing the towel along his neck. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with him, it was that you were desperately trying to avoid the electric feeling that sparked in your chest every single time you looked right back at him.

The silence lasted for only a few seconds, but it felt like absolute minutes under his intense stare. Fortunately, the teapot suddenly whistled from the kitchen.

"I—uh, better go get that," you stammered, pulling your hand away.

You hurried back to the kitchen trying to steady your racing heart as you grabbed two ceramic cups, filling them both to the brim with the steaming fragrant tea. Before walking back into the living room, you stopped by the counter and took a deep, centering breath.

You walked back over to the couch, sat down directly beside him, and handed him one of the warm mugs. "Here. Drink this."

"Thank you," he muttered, his fingers brushing yours as he took the cup and took a long, desperate sip of the hot liquid.

You took a small sip of your own tea, before looking over at him. "Geez, Oppa... how much have you had to drink tonight?"

Jiyong slowly set his cup down on the coffee table. He ran his ringed fingers through his messy black hair, pushing the strands back from his face before letting out a rough sigh. "Not enough."

"Were you with the guys?" you asked, a sudden wave of worry hitting you. "Do—do they know where you are? They must be worried sick. I can call Seunghyun and—"

You began to push yourself up from the couch to grab your phone, but Jiyong’s hand moved instantly. His fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"No," he pleaded softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "Please don't."

Without saying another word, you slowly sank back down onto the cushions beside him.

"Just sit here with me... please," Jiyong whispered.

The quiet, desperate plea made your heart break into two. In the short time you had known him, you never in a million years thought he would ever plead for your presence—especially not after he had just screamed at you to leave his sight hours prior. Yet, looking at him now, you couldn't say no. You simply nodded your head, staying right where you were.

Jiyong took another slow sip of his tea, staring into the dark amber liquid. "I drank alone. The guys weren't with me. I—I'm sure they're doing something productive, but I... I just needed a break." He let out a ragged sigh.

You nodded understandingly, "Ah, yes. From work?"

Jiyong drunkenly shook his head, a sad, humorless smile touching his lips. "No. From my mind. I needed to shut off the thoughts, you know? You ever get like that?"

You stared down at your hands, a wave of empathy washing over you. "All the time," you whispered.

Jiyong leaned his head back against the sofa cushions. "And... and it worked for a bit. But then, I was about to head to the car—"

"Not to drive, right?'' you interrupted sharply, your eyes widening in sudden panic.

Jiyong dramatically shook his head again, waving a dismissive hand. "No, no. Jaeho was driving. But... then, across the street from the bar, there was this clothing store. And on display in the window... was that same fucking skirt you were wearing when we had dinner."

You blinked, your voice dropping to a breathless whisper. "When I first met you?"

Jiyong nodded his head a third time, his eyes locked onto yours, completely transparent in his drunken state. "And I just... I couldn't shut up the thoughts anymore. So I came here. I—I wanted to apologize."

Your eyes softened completely, the last remnants of your anger melting away as a gentle smile touched your lips. "Oh, Jiyong... that means a lot. Thank you." A nervous laugh followed after "Honestly... I thought you hated me."

Jiyong’s expression shifted as he spoke softly, the words carried a heavy undeniable truth. "No," he whispered, "I could never."

You looked straight into his brown eyes, the sudden silence falling over the apartment like a heavy blanket. But it wasn't the awkward, painful silence from the studio. This was a thick tension—the kind born from a truth that neither of you could put into words, charging the narrow space between you until the air felt heavy enough to break.

His eyes flicked down to your lips before rushing back up to your eyes, and before you could even register the movement, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was sudden, unexpected, and incredibly warm. Jiyong’s large hand slid to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to guide the kiss, pulling you closer. It felt desperate and full of a deep, aching longing—as if this was exactly what he had been starving to do all this time. Naturally, your body completely betrayed your mind, and you sank right into him. You weren’t sure why, and it was a thought that you knew would keep you awake for nights to come, but right then, your body felt like total liquid. All you could hear in the quiet apartment was the ragged sound of both of your breaths.

But it wasn't long before reality violently crashed back in. You realized exactly what you were doing, who you were kissing, and the sheer chaos of the situation.

You quickly pulled away from him, your palm pressing against his chest to create space. "Woah... Ji, I- cant'' You sighed before continuing, '' I think you've had way too much to dr—"

"I like you," Jiyong cut you off quickly.

The weight of those three words wrapped around you like a vice. He stared at you, completely raw. "I—I like you, Y/n. Shit, probably love you at this point."

He abruptly stood up from the couch, his long legs pacing the narrow space as he ran his hands through his messy black hair again. "I—I can't get you out of my head. Ever since we met... you're all I think about," he whispered, his voice trembling under the gravity of his own confession.

You sat there, completely frozen, having no idea what to say or what to do. The realization hit you all at once, shattering the puzzle pieces of the last few weeks into perfect clarity. His anger, his defensive walls, his volatile mood swings—it all made sense now. He wasn't trying to protect Seunghyun from you; he was trying to protect himself from his own feelings.

Slowly, you stood up with him, your mind racing a million miles an hour. Could this all just be part of his drunken haze? Would he even remember this tomorrow? And oh my god, Seunghyun. What would his best friend think if he ever found out about this? You were panicked, stunned, and completely out of words.

Trying to anchor your soaring emotions, you spoke softly. "Jiyong, I really think you're just drunk....you don't what you're saying ok? Maybe- maybe it's time for you to go home''

You forced a gentle, compassionate smile onto your face to soften the rejection. Jiyong searched your eyes for a long, quiet moment, desperately hunting for any hidden signs of regret. Finding none in your panicked expression, he gave a single, hollow nod.

"Um, right," he muttered, the sudden awkwardness turning the air ice-cold. He reached up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as the defensive walls began to slam back up. "I better get some sleep."

You quietly walked him to the door, the silence between you tense. As you both stood there at the threshold, the cool air of the hallway bleeding into your apartment, Jiyong cleared his throat.

"Thanks for the tea, Y/n," he said softly

"Of course," you replied

He offered you a small strained smile before turning around and walking down the dim hallway. You watched him go for a second before closing the door, the lock clicking into place with a definitive snap. The second he was gone, the strength left your legs. You leaned the back of your neck against the cool wood of the door staring blankly into your dark apartment. You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the absolute madness of the last ten minutes.

Clutching your face in your hands, you whispered to the empty room, "What the. fuck."