𝓐𝔂𝓾𝓻𝓪

The frat house is crowded as usual, with people getting drunk and high on whatever substances they prefer in their system. On any other night, Jay would find the scene irritable and annoying. 

After all, he always keeps himself in check, always sober and in control of his actions and thoughts, always so, so responsible. He’d prefer watching from the sidelines and being of help for when Riki starts throwing up from too much drinking or when Heeseung sings too loud after his second fill.

Jay is always responsible. He never lets himself on the loose.

But tonight, as the aftermath of his near-fight with Heeseung and him having to rush to the hospital after the burgundy-haired alpha collapsed in his omega’s doorway, despite Jay himself being too shaken to stand, he thinks he’s fine with getting slightly reckless.

Slightly reckless, in this case, is drinking more than the two red cups he usually gets.

“Why are we using fruits to represent anatomy?” 

Back to the situation at hand, where he’s sitting on top of a tall stool around the kitchen island, Sunoo is throwing Jake a grimace. Beside him, Riki already has his head bobbing to the music, a telltale sign of a blackout drunk that would usually result in Jay and Sunoo cleaning his mess up. A defeated sigh leaves his lips involuntarily.

Jay downs another shot.

"I don't want to be too explicit," Jake shrugs, like it's the most normal thing to do. "So, peach or cherry?"

Jay knows how this will go.

Riki is an ass guy, judging from the way he likes to slap anyone's butt within his proximity. Jake is both because he's an indecisive little shit who's just too greedy to pick. If pussy was on the options, he'd pick all three.

Sunoo, despite his reckless endeavor with alphas, Jay has never heard him doing anything more than a messy make-out and a blowjob. But he might be an ass guy too, just because he has a juicy fat ass. Heeseung—well, if he was here, anyway—would've said boobs, because Jay knows him a little too well which makes him privy to the former's (previously) sexually active life.

And Jay—he's too respectful to even answer that.

True to his own guess, Riki shakes his head drunkenly from beside an expressionless Sunoo. "My girl is perfect," he says, then grins cheekily. "But I like taking her from the back. Shit, you shouldn't know that."

"We shouldn't, dumbass. Why are you airing out your bedroom activities to us?" Sunoo rolls his eyes, but there's no bite to it. Everybody knows how loose Riki's tongue can get when he's wasted. On any other sober days, he would gate-keep the hell out of his omega. "Anyway, peach."

Jay has guessed almost everything right. He downs another shot.

A shit-eating grin appears on Jake's face. "I knew it, Sunny, you're an ass guy!"

"It's not really a groundbreaking discovery," Sunoo shrugs his shoulders, then turns to Jay. "Jay hyung, what about you?"

Jay is a respectful guy, so there's no way he would ever answer that. He shakes his head, already dizzy from the buzzing alcohol in his system.

"I don't like talking about this."

A chorus of groans echoes around the island. Only Sunoo smiles at him.

"You're no fun, Jjongsaeng," Jake shoves his shoulders playfully. "It's harmless conversation. As for me, I like anything they give me, but I love pussy the most. Which will make me a butterfly guy."

Sunoo lets out a loud groan, while Riki is already giggling. "Are you calling pussy a butterfly? Hyung, please shut the fuck up."

It's ridiculous, really. Jay loves his friends, but they sometimes do questionable things that makes him want to rip his own hair out. If Jungwon was here, he would be up his ass and plot ways to get on his nerves. If Sunghoon was here, well, Jay likes his company the most because he's the calmest and doesn't say controversial shits that could get them cancelled. His friends can be insufferable sometimes, but the most annoying one at this moment is none other than Heeseung.

Thinking about the burgundy-haired alpha just makes his wolf bitter all over again. Seriously, what did he do wrong? Heeseung should've been thanking him instead for keeping his omega dry from the rain. Not taking him down in an almost-fistful physical attack, and definitely not this silent treatment between them that makes their shared apartment smaller than it is, on-edge pheromones suffocating the air.

Jay is pissed. Pissed that they haven't made up yet and pissed at himself for being too kind.

Is he too kind? Should he just let her get soaked in the rain?

He grabs his red cup, ready to feel the alcohol again, and sighs quietly when there's only a drop left inside. Jay is about to stand and refill more booze, but he's stopped by a firm hand on his wrist.

He looks up to a worried Sunoo.

The younger alpha gives him a once-over. He probably looks so red in the face right now, but nobody seems to notice because Jake and Riki are somehow trying to bite each other's heads off arguing about the proper fruit representative for a pussy.

"You're drinking a lot tonight," Sunoo finally says, ever the observant. "Did something happen?"

Everything happened.

Is what Jay wants to say badly.

That near-fight with Heeseung happened. That still-awkward tension between him and Riki's mate happened. That weird glances mated alphas throw at him whenever he's around their omegas happened. That flirty and hopeful stares omegas give him whenever he so as looks their way happened.

And, despite everything, him still not meeting his mate happened.

If anyone should be envious, it's Jay. Not Heeseung. Not Riki.

"Envious of?"

Shit. He said that out loud, didn't he?

He was about to deflect, but now that Sunoo is fixing him with that foxy gaze, glinting with relentless curiosity that won't back down no matter the excuses, Jay knows he has nowhere to go. He looks to his left, where Jake and Riki has reconciled and agree that no fruit matches with a pussy's shape because apparently pussy is too special for fruit comparisons, settling on calling it flower instead, and now have started discussing about how diabolical it is to compare a dick to an eggplant, and sighs.

Jay thinks he needs new friends. Better friends, even. Except Sunoo. And Sunghoon.

"Hyung?"

When Jay's sure that Jake and Riki are too wasted and distracted to eavesdrop, he finally relents.

"I…Sunoo-yah," he swipes a tongue across his bottom lip. "Is there something wrong with me?"

This is why he hates getting drunk. Because his body recognises alcohol as invitation to start talking deep shits and pouring his heart out like an endless stream of river. It's not a bad thing to be vulnerable, but Jay has guarded his heart so tight that only certain people have the privilege to listen to his deepest secrets.

Thankfully, tonight is just his luck. Rather than exposing himself to a stranger, which has been his biggest fear when getting drunk, it's Sunoo who's listening to him attentively. The brown-haired alpha is looking at him softly, amber eyes full of understanding and encouragement, and it makes the tension in his shoulders slowly melt away.

"Why'd you say that?"

Jay is quiet for a moment. Right, why would he? Then he remembers Heeseung and Riki, those omegas and alphas, and, finally—his own wolf.

"Am I too…" he sucks in a breath, not wanting to sound self-absorbed, but it's what he's been hearing from people.

"Am I too much of a green flag?"

Sunoo didn't expect that from him, judging by the micro-surprise in his expression. Maybe he should stop there and let Sunoo reply, but now that he finally lets it out, Jay finds it easy to just continue.

"Is it wrong to be a kind alpha? I think it wasn't, but seeing how anxious and weary alphas can get when I'm being a gentleman to their omegas…" he trails off, hating the fact that it's his best friends' faces that appear on his mind. "I think it's a mistake. I shouldn't be too kind, right?"

There's a muffled silence between them, dampened by the loud bass from the living room and the sharp citrus turning bitter in the air. Jay looks off to the kitchen island, realising that it's now just him and Sunoo in that space; Jake and Riki are now joining the beer pong just getting started in the backyard.

Across from him, a look of understanding crosses Sunoo's face.

"There's no such thing as being too kind, hyung."

"Then why am I being punished for it?" He cuts in sharply. "Why do I feel bad for doing those things to them?"

He still remembers, the day Riki showed up in his apartment, crying because his lifelong crush wanted Jay to help her with her heat. Riki begged him not to agree, and Jay had done so—it didn't feel right to do that, especially when he knows about the younger boy's feelings for his childhood friend. But then Riki changed his mind and convinced him to say yes, because 'I didn't want her to go through it alone in indescribable pain, and I don't want to ruin our friendship if it's not me that she wanted. Please help me, hyung, she's just presented as an omega. It'll be too dangerous for her to do it alone.'

He had agreed out of sympathy for his younger friend, but somehow him agreeing had bloomed jealousy in the alpha's heart. Jay understands—Riki is still too young, and young alphas are the most territorial creatures to walk on this Earth—but it still hurts his feeling to be treated like a Mr. Steal Your Girl, when he has never stolen anything except omegas' hearts unintentionally.

Riki had apologised and admitted to his immaturity, but still, it wasn't enough to erase weeks of awkward silences and clipped conversations over a single apology. His omega has been extra cautious around Jay, and it always makes him sore to hold back from being himself around her. Or around any taken omegas, for the record.

So, really, he'd appreciate it a lot if Sunoo could just be honest with him and tell him, 'Yes, hyung, you're too kind for your own good,' instead of sugarcoating it.

But of course Sunoo would say the opposite.

"The ones who did that to you aren't the people you helped, right?" Sunoo says, smooth voice weaving through the music like it's meant to find Jay no matter the noise. "It's always the jealous alphas. But I'm sure those omegas were thankful for you for helping them. You're not being punished, hyung. You're just too good that you kinda intimidated these alphas into thinking that their mates would run to you the second they look away."

Jay doesn't know what to say to that. Sunoo always has this way of charming people with his words, the kind that can convince a criminal that they're a saint with that lilt in his voice that only he has. He's not sure if Sunoo really means it, or if it's the truth as it is.

The younger alpha sees right through him. "You're doubting me."

"No! No, I'm just—" Jay pauses, hating the fact that he is indeed doubting his friend's words, and decides to just be honest. "Okay—yeah. You're right. It's hard to believe you."

Sunoo hums, not the slightest offended. He leans forward, turning his head to watch the ongoing beer pong, seen through the transparent sliding door. Jay follows his line of sight, and feels his chest tighten when he sees Riki making out with his omega.

It's the familiar ache that he felt when he saw the mating mark on Riki's neck. The same longing he feels whenever his mated teammates talk about their fulfilled love life. It's like a circle of bubble that Jay doesn't dare burst, being the only one outside of a room full of people who have found the meaning of love.

I wish I could have that too.

Sunoo catches him before he could mask his scent. He throws Jay an expressionless look. For a moment, Jay prepares himself for a 'Gotcha!' comment from him, but the younger alpha only gives him a close-lipped smile.

"Ah, hyung. I should've known. You want a mate, don't you?"

"I don't," Jay is quick to deny, but upon seeing the knowing glint in Sunoo's eyes, he realises there's no point in denying. He sighs for the umpteenth time that night.

"Yes, I do. But it's not as easy as you might think."

"Why? I'm pretty sure there are many omegas who'd throw themselves at you."

"But I can't because I…" Jay licks his lips, "I don't find anyone I like enough yet."

Sunoo doesn't say anything for a long, stretched moment. Jay almost squirms under his dissecting eyes. It feels as though Sunoo is picking him apart by his gaze and his scent alone, seeing parts of himself that he wouldn't show bare. It's unnerving yet weirdly comforting at the same time, having someone who can see right through him despite the walls he built.

"Hyung, everything about this gentleman persona and you wanting a mate—there's only one thing I can say."

Jay swallows thickly, mind sobering up with each passing second. "What?"

"You are with this kindness not without a purpose," Sunoo says calmly, like he hasn't just dropped the most riddled sentence that sounds too Shakespeare-ish to Jay's drunken mind.

"Huh?"

"I'm saying, there is someone out there who needs your kindness, hyung. Your patience. Your heart," Sunoo flashes him a small smile, sincere and genuine. "You'll meet them someday. And when you do, you'll understand why you are the way you are. You are never too much for someone who's meant to hold you."

Jay hears him, truly, but that promise sounds so distant and far away. Like a reality he's witnessesing from a different universe, through a portal of lifelong waiting and yearning. He wants to believe it, wants to hold onto every syllable and let it be his new faith, but the deepest, ugly part of him doesn't believe he belongs to that kind of destiny.

He doesn't say anything. Not that he has the chance to when the smell of burning chocolate greets his senses and soon, an upset Jungwon is already filling up the space with his broad shoulders and moody pheromones.

A black leather jacket, zipped up to his chin, hugs his body, highlighting his wide figure under the kitchen light, paired with leather pants. Jungwon's hair is messy, untamed around the frame of his eyes, and Jay knows why when he sees the helmet in his arm.

"Hyung, be honest. Do I look too baby-faced?" The alpha pouts, gesturing at his body. "Even after wearing this whole gear? I even rode my precious bike to see her!"

Jay doesn't have to stay to know that Jungwon's whining about the older omega he has a crush on, someone that used to babysit him when he was 10 years old and is now still treating him like a baby. He would've stayed to listen and comfort the younger alpha, really, but unfortunately for Jungwon, Jay also needs some comfort for himself before he loses his fucking mind.

He grabs his red cup and stands up, needing the alcohol to be in his system now more than anything. The other two alphas don't notice him leaving, and if they do, Jay's sure Sunoo's more interested to hear about Jungwon's failing love life than his already-doomed one.

Jay makes his way through the crowd, giving polite smiles to everyone in his way. He's not really a fan of this kind of crowd—it's more of Heeseung's and Riki's crowd—but it's the least of his concerns now. The alpha squeezes past dancing omegas whose stares linger, past a group of alphas who give him a nod of acknowledgement, past a pair of lovers making out on the wall.

That makes him falter.

Jay blames it on the alcohol. Really, he's usually not like this. It's actually easier to act like not having a mate among friends who are already mated doesn't affect him when his thoughts are more coherent and making sense. But right now, as he watches the couple giggling at each other, lips in ears and soft eyes looking into soft eyes, a pinch of envy twists in his chest.

Jay huffs, leaving the scene faster than he'd like to admit. Seriously, if he was so good and kind like everybody had said, if he's the picture-perfect alpha like every family member had boasted about, then why is it only him alone with no one to hold? Why is it always him who's cleaning after everybody's mess when he only watches on the sidelines as they get their happy ending? Why is it that people who run from love are more favoured than someone who's always been ready like him?

What about him? What about his happy ending?

After what felt like hours, Jay finally finds his booze. Jake has an eccentric preference of placing the booth all over the frat house, and the one in the kitchen has long ran out. He's standing at the booth by the stairs right now, the majority of them still untouched. Jay pours into his cup full to the brim. His senses are already tingling with the thoughts of drinking more.

When the alcohol buzzes through his system, Jay lets out a satisfied sigh. God, he's so carefree tonight. But whatever, he's pretty sure Sunoo can drive them home safely. Right now, Jay's focus is only on making himself feel better and forget whatever ruckus that has unfolded the past few weeks.

He pours more when his cup empties. From where he's standing, the bass doesn't really reach him, a bit distant from the speaker now blasting Miley Cyrus' Party In The U.S.A.. It makes the conversation around him sounds clearer in his ears. Including the ones coming from upstairs.

Jay pays them no mind. He's not here for gossips or shits and giggles—he's here to cool off. But when something sweet, something that reminds him of his mom's berry strudels and morning coffee drifts into his nose, Jay's senses sharpen.

Is someone baking? He wonders alone. The last time he left the kitchen, there were only Sunoo and Jungwon. As far as he remembers, neither could touch the oven without risking an explosion.

So where does this sweet scent come from?

It gets sweeter the more he spends his focus on it. Jay looks around, mind still buzzing, unable to find the source of the scent that has piqued his interest through the haziness. His nose twitches. Even in his drunken state, Jay can't help but notice how constrasting the scent is to his sharp citrus.

And for some reason, his wolf likes it.

"Is it from the stairs?" he mumbles, stumbling to the foot of the stairs, drink sloshing in his cup.

But just as he's about to look up, he's already colliding into a soft body coming down from upstairs.

"Ah!"

Oh no.

Jay watches in horror as the drink in his hand spills all over the person's shirt, staining the white fabric with yellowish mark that almost looks like someone's piss. He freezes, mouth gaping in surprise, but the only thing his hazy mind picks up is 'Yes, he's finally found where the scent comes from.'

It's from the victim of his booze.

Or rather, the furious omega who's looking down at him with a sneer on her face right now.

"Hey!" You yell, face burning red. "Look at what you did!"

Oh, Jay is definitely looking. For some reason, his eyes are glued to your face, taking in every feature decorating your sweet face. The perfectly sculpted brows that are now frowning deep, the round eyes that are narrowing down at him, the full lips that are pulled into a tight, dissatisfied line.

Such an angry omega. But also the most beautiful he's ever laid his eyes on.

"Hey, stupid alpha. I'm talking to you!"

Jay has never seen you before. Who are you? Why are you making his heart beat so fast? Why is his wolf wiggling his tail at the sight of you?

"Oh my fucking God. So fucking annoying."

Even when you're glaring at him, under the dim light of Jake's frat house, you look very, very pretty. Are you even real, or just a drunken manifestation of his desperation for a mate?

Jay's too starstruck and drunk to notice how dumb he must look right now, but you've had enough of the alpha gaping at you like a dying fish. You shake his shoulders, manicured nails digging into his shirt.

"Earth to dumbass alpha! Hello??? You just spilled your drink all over my Limited Edition Cherry Chanel Baby Tee!"

Oh, right. Jay snaps out of his reverie, and drops his eyes on your chest to see the damage he's done.

But instead of realising his mistake, he's realising something else instead.

The wet patch darkens your shirt from its usual shade, sticking to your chest like second skin. From where he's standing so close, just a step below you on the stairs, his eyes level with your chest, Jay has a belated realisation that you have such perfect…boobs.

They're slightly bigger than average, perfectly-shaped and round, and they sit so nicely that Jay feels like they'd beat his expensive pillows in softness. A thought, a small thought that sober-Jay would never have, crosses his mind.

Jay wants to bury his face in your chest to test it.

Oh my God. This is bad. Drunk-Jay is so, so bad. He's really malfunctioning tonight.

You, on the other hand, are already at your wits' ends. It doesn't help that the shirt feels so sticky, so uncomfortable and it irritates you to the core. Also, why the fuck is this stupid alpha staring at your chest like—like he wants to touch it?

"Hey!" you push his shoulder again, but the alpha doesn't budge. You grit your teeth. "My eyes are up here, dumbass!"

Jay breathes out. "Che…rry."

Your brows furrow in confusion.

"What?"

"Cherry." Jay repeats, eyes never leaving your chest. His mind is dissolving into mixed up conversations—he can hear Jake's voice, your voice, and the bass mixing together.

"I prefer…cherry."

There is a heavy silence that follows, loaded with bubbling anger, drunk confusion, and a very, very horrific realisation that he's talking about your chest. Your mouth falls open.

With a handsome face and neat shirt like that, you can't believe that this alpha is such a fucking pervert!

"Yah! Are you crazy?! What cherry?!" You scream, attracting more attention on the two of you. Jay barely blinks. "Are you talking about—about my boobs?!"

Jay blinks blearily, then nods.

"Your…cherry."

You let out a scandalised gasp. Humiliation starts creeping up your face, painting your skin even redder than before.

This is ridiculous. This is diabolical! The audacity of this alpha—!

Before you know it, your hand already swipes across his cheek in a surprised, harsh slap. Jay's head jerks to the side, his own eyes growing wide at the impact. A ringing silence echoes between the two of you, followed by a chorus of gasps from the onlookers.

After literally getting slapped into his senses, Jay sobers up in that one single moment and realises with a dread, What the fuck did he just do?

He slowly looks back at you, touching his stinging cheek like you had personally offended his whole bloodline. You're glaring at him, chest heaving rapidly like you can't contain your anger any longer.

"You fucking pervert!"

Jay's breath hitches. He's a pervert?

"Get away from me!"

The alpha lets his body get shoved to the side like a door blocking the way. He stands there, motionless, as he watches you leave, angry steps making your hair bounce. Shame and guilt start crawling up his chest when his mind decides to replay the scene, realising in horror how out of character he had been and how rude he was to you.

Oh God. Oh my God.

Seriously, Park Jongseong? Cherry? That's the first thing you say to the literal love of your life?

"Isn't that Park Jongseong?"

"Oh my God, I thought he was a green flag?"

"I guess even a green flag still has a knot to satisfy."

"Park Jongseong is a pervert?"

Jay squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand down his face. He doesn't really care about his reputation, so the whispers barely bother him.

What he cares more is the lingering scent of acidic espresso and rotting cherries in the air, trailing after you even when you're long gone. His cheek still burns, but he couldn't care less because—you know…he kind of deserved it.

Fuck.

And Jay doesn't even know your name.

"All alphas are nothing but a knothead!"

You spit, seething in anger as you glare at anyone in your way. Not even the loud music can muffle your voice, sending death threats and insults to a certain alpha (and literally all other alphas.)

Maybe it's just your bad day, because just as you finally see your exit, an alpha—stupidly broad-shouldered alpha, fuck alphas and their ridiculous proportions—bumps into you. You click your tongue and look up at him.

"Why do you guys stupid alphas only think with your dick, your cock, and only your small fucking knot?!"

The alpha stares at you in horror. It seems like today is more of his unlucky day than yours.

"I-I don't—"

"What? You don't have a dick?" You cut him off, irritation pulling at your nerves. Tonight is such a shitty night. "Isn't that the only thing you alphas are proud of? Thinking with your knot and tricking omegas with your cock?!"

The poor alpha stands there cowering, hanging his head low as if he's already accepted his fate of being the receiving end of your hatred towards alphas and…dicks.

You push a trembling finger on his chest, eyes prickling with tears. Fuck these hormones and emotions, fuck this soft scent that makes people think you're nothing more than a weak, defenceless omega—you've had enough of everything.

"Am I wrong? Isn't that why Riki cheated on me?!" You yell, not caring if people catch your words. "Because his dick can't get enough with only one pussy?!"

A ripple of murmurs and whispers start spreading around you. Even the DJ has turned the volume down slightly, taken aback by the sudden drop of the bomb of truth.

A cheating scandal? That's the juiciest gossip college students could have ever had.

The nameless alpha looks at you, eyes wide in surprise mixed with disappointment when he hears your words.

"Oh my God—there's no way—Riki cheated?" He stammers. "Nishimura Riki cheated?"

"Who the fuck is Nishimura Riki?" Your brows furrow, first time hearing that family name. "It's Hirota Riki! My stupid, cheating ex who's immature and younger than me and just plain dumb like a textbook alpha!"

The relief physically vanishes from his face. Then, as if realising what you have said, his face mirrors your confusion. "Wait—you mean Maki? That German-Japanese guy?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. Of course people know him. You almost forgot that your ex, other than being a piece of garbage and a pain in your ass, is also a famous model for the college magazines. His face is everywhere, in every campaign and poster and advertisements, wearing clothes that always gains attention.

Clothes that you designed and sewn by hand.

The back of your eyes burn with tears, but you blink them back, not wanting people to see your sadness. You'd rather they have your anger and rage, because lashing out and being called crazy for screaming seem less vulnerable than the little drops of tears down your cheeks.

You push at the alpha weakly, every fibre of your being just begging to go home and forget everything about tonight.

"Are you okay, angry omega?"

"Shut up," you hiss, voice shaky. "I'm leaving this place."

The crowd parts for you as you make your way to the exit. You sway slightly, too drained from spending your energy screaming at everyone and no one at the same time.

You hate the prying eyes. You hate the pitying words. You hate the whispers. But there's nothing you can do when it's you who accidentally aired out your ex boyfriend's scandal in your fit of anger.

It's been two months since the breakup—a breakup that you thought was healthy and reasonable. Maki told you that he was going to get busy with growing his career, balancing his job as a freelance model with being an engineering student was starting to take up most of his time. Somewhere in between schedules, he no longer could find the time to love you, to fit you in his world of fame and glory.

You didn't want to hold him back. Even when you had liked him more than you ever did anyone, you still let him go. The relationship lasted only for nine months, and you never really expected anything serious or long lasting from dating someone in college.

But tonight, a friend let the truth slip.

Maki didn't break up with you because he wanted time for his career growth—or whatever bullshit he spouted at you. No.

He has been seeing another omega behind your back. Someone from the same major as you.

It's no surprise that you didn't find out any sooner. Being a fashion major warrants competitiveness and rivals—and you're not exactly well-loved by your fellow designers. You're the notorious omega known for your ridiculous standards, your pride and stubbornness, and your sharp tongue. It's your brilliant designs that get people to at least pretend to be your friends, hoping to steal a bit of your creative talent—but you always smell bullshit from miles away.

So, really, it upsets you that you failed to detect Maki's bullshit first. And people have been keeping it from you because they like to see your downfall.

And what better downfall is there than seeing your ex cheating on you with your fashion rival?

It's not like you liked him to the point of love—no. It's the betrayal that makes your mouth feel dry, heart heavy in ways it never had been before, like an anchor pulling down ships to sink.

Before you know it, you're already outside. The air is too chilly for your skin, amplified by the wet stain on your chest. You bite your lips, on the verge of tears when you're reminded of that perverted alpha.

Another alpha that only caused you humiliation. Really?

How can someone look at you like you're the most divine being one minute, then blatantly stare at your chest the next?

It's beyond you, really. Alphas are just evolutionary failures.

You fish out your phone from your wallet and look for an Uber. You're not too drunk to drive. If anything, you've never felt more sober in your life. It's just skills issue—you just cannot drive. Even when you have a whole damn Porsche in the garage of your family's mansion; a gift from your overly-doting parents who got too excited when you managed to get into fashion school—it still terrifies you to hold the steering wheel.

All of these privileges and wealth, yet no success in the dating department (and driving classes). Your whole life, you have dated a cheater, a closeted alpha who was too scared to tell you that he liked knots better than your pussy, and just a total manchild who sulked back whenever you pouted.

"Seriously," you mutter, confirming your location on the screen. "When will it be my turn to date an actual manly alpha?"

You pause. Now that you think of it, even so-called green-flag alphas give you the ick.

They're just a bunch of performative males. Just look at the college's beloved cheater. Maki was acting like a green forest itself when he was courting you!

None of these alphas can be trusted!

"I will just die single," you decide, closing the app once your driver is confirmed. Your parents have more than enough money to support you anyway.

You stand at the porch in silence, the sound of the bass can be heard faintly through the walls. The stickiness of your shirt is now long forgotten; you've given up thinking about it when the memory of your ex comes back. There are more pressing matters at hand that need your attention.

Like the upcoming fashion week, no doubt will get you into another spiral of self-doubt and stress. Like your parents who keep insisting you meet this one young, handsome bachelor that apparently would be just your type—but you're still hurt by Maki's action that you haven't found the right timing to say yes. Like your favourite cherry Chanel baby tee, now ruined and stained, and you wonder if you should send it for dry cleaning or pay a fortune to scalpers—

"Miss?"

A deep timbre greets your hearing. It's soft and a tad bit familiar, like you've heard it somewhere before.

You turn around and immediately frown when you see him.

It's that perverted alpha.

"What?" You reply, already annoyed. The alpha blinks at you, looking more sober than before. His collar is folded neatly now, and the red tips of his ears are hinting more on shyness than alcohol influence.

He gives you a nervous smile. "I came to apologise."

Tch. Another performative alpha. But this one likes to stare at your chest too much.

You roll your eyes and turn back to the front, wishing for your driver to arrive fast.

"Just save your breath and go. You don't even know what you're apologising for."

One thing you hate about men, especially alphas, is that they never mean their sorry's. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything'. Everything is too generic. They don't have any idea what they apologise for. The phrase has lost its value from how often it flows out of their mouths without meaning.

But this alpha is a bit more stubborn than you think. He shuffles closer, still keeping a safe distance, and stands next to you. Now closer, you can smell the citrusy scent wafting from him—sharp and refreshing, something that reminds you of summer. It has to be his pheromones.

Well, okay. He has sexy pheromones. You'll admit that. Too bad that the owner is already on your blacklist.

"I apologise for spilling my drinks on you and ruining your baby tee," he begins, turning his body facing you. But you refuse to look.

"It's the Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee," you correct him. From your peripheral vision, you can faintly see him grin.

"Yes, I'm sorry for ruining your Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee."

Okay. He's obedient. But it could be performative. Maybe he's just trying to get into your pants. You're not oblivious to how beautiful you look. You know that your family has good genes.

"And I apologise for staring at your chest inappropriately. I came off as a pervert even when I didn't mean to," he breathes out, voice lowering down in shame. "I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable."

Something tugs at your heart unexpectedly. It surprises you that this alpha actually knows what he's apologising for, unlike your previous exes who only said sorry to get your nagging self off their backs. You shift slightly, unwilling to let this new change get to your head.

"Well, apology heard," you retort, still strong on not letting the alpha get too close—or accepting his apology. "But I'm not sorry for slapping you. So don't expect an apology from me."

An amused chuckle slips past his lips. His lemon scent bursts in the air, sounding too elated for your liking.

What's so funny?

"I guess I deserved it," the alpha, whose name you just realise you never know, replies as he touches his cheek with a brush of his fingers. You take a glance, satisfaction blooming in your chest when you notice the red mark on the tender skin.

That's what alphas like him deserve. Omegas run the world anyway.

You don't bother to say anything, just letting the cold breeze of night wind engulf you. It seeps into your bones, making you shiver almost too aggressively. The driver is still five minutes away, taking suspiciously long time at the red light just in front of a Burger King drive-thru.

You feel eyes on you before you feel his movements. The alpha sheds his trench coat, brushing wrinkles off the fabric before he hands it to you. You almost sigh, both out of relief and annoyance because really, you could use some extra layers right now but seriously, does it have to be in the most cliche, K-drama-worthy situation ever?

"What is this," you flatly ask, unimpressed.

"You're cold."

"How did you know that I'm cold?"

You watch the tip of his ears blush, and then his eyes traitorously drop to your chest before quickly lift up to face you again.

"I just…noticed."

You roll your eyes before looking down. "I know it's soaked, and it's—"

The words die on your tongue.

Your nipples. They're erect from the cold, mounting the thin, drenched fabric of your shirt in deadly-obvious pebbles. You brain dissolves into incoherent blabbering as a heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck. It's seriously the worst day ever to choose not wearing a bra.

You don't know if it's shame, or anger, or both, but when you look up to the now-blushing alpha, there's rage boiling over like a kettle about to whistle.

"I fucking knew it!" You couldn't hold yourself back this time, snatching the coat and smacking the alpha with the fabric. The alpha's eyes widen as he cowers to dodge your attack.

"You're just a pervert!"

"I-I'm not! I'm sorry—ow! Ow!"

You don't relent and keep hitting him with his coat, tears of shame threatening to spill over.

"What are you sorry for, you performative wolf?!" Smack! Smack! "You just ogled at my chest again!"

"I didn't mean to—ow! I'm sorry!"

With one final hit, you throw the coat at his face with all your might. He clumsily catches it, eyes wide with shock. The anger is hot, too hot that the cold doesn't bother you anymore, in fact you think steam might rise from your head in any second. With a huff, you stomp down the porch, ignoring his cries of sorry's from behind.

"I-I'm sorry! It's a misunderstanding! I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable again!"

"Shut the fuck up! You better not show your face anymore!" You flip him off without looking back.

However, upon seeing the Uber driver, you take a U-turn and stomp back to the alpha. His eyes immediately light up, there's a thin layer of moisture in his eyes. Maybe the coat hit his eyes or he's just so performative he'd cry if he could, you don't really care.

"You came back," he breathes out. "I'm sorry—"

"I said shut up!" You yell, already too irritated and overstimulated. While you're at it—embarrassing yourself to the point of no return—you snatch his trench coat and sling it over your chest shamelessly.

The driver is also an alpha, and you're not risking flashing your tits to another pervert.

"I'm taking this. Bye!"

"Wait!"

"And I am NOT returning it!"

With a harsh slam of the door, the car finally drives into the horizon, leaving behind a confused and guilty and perverted alpha as he chases after your Uber. Your chest heaves deeply, adrenaline running hot as your face flushes. You pretend not to notice the bag of chips and burger in the driver's lap, or the way the perverted alpha stands smaller in the side mirror as he watches you leave.

You just hope you never see that alpha again.

You never see that alpha again. However, as if you had personally offended the Earth and the entire Solar system, the Goddess doubles it down and sends your cheating ex to your studio instead.

His presence is too invasive that you feel him before you see him. His pheromones, now making your hair stand instead of providing the comfort that it used to do, breaches your senses when you round the corner. You had just stepped out to get some lunch, already grumpy from resisting your persistent mom and her chosen alpha for you to mate, when you see Maki walk down the hallway like it was his runway.

Your stomach drops. Like it's survival instinct, you turn back around and speed-walk to your studio. It's like a drum war being hit inside your chest, and you hope you're fast enough because you really, really don't want to deal with him right now.

Just as you're about to close the door, a force of Maki's hands pushes it back open. You stumble backwards, eyes wide in surprise as Maki effortlessly slips inside. His body, tall and wrong and crowding, swallows the room like a black hole sucking in the light and leaving you empty and alone in the darkness.

There's a lazy smirk playing at his lips.

"If it's not my favourite ex."

His voice is dripping with honey, a sweet poison that always gets to you no matter how hard you pretend it doesn't. It's sticky and uncomfortable, it makes you squirm and feel like there's something you should be scrambling for. It gets under your skin and Maki always gets the reaction that he wants.

You snap, face pulling into a scowl.

"What do you want, Maki?"

Maki lets your voice fade, acting like he didn't hear you. With his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the young alpha straightens, easy eyes meeting your sharp ones. And when he speaks, the words roll off his tongue so smoothly, like seeing the person he used to love didn't affect him the slightest. Like you didn't have such an impact on him the way he does you.

"Did I cheat, Y/N?"

The question strikes you dumb for a moment, but you recover quickly. Of course. Words spread fast on campus, especially if the source is the frat house. You knew it'd reach Maki eventually, but you didn't expect it to be this fast. It's like every person inside that house was an extension of Maki; the golden boy, the people's favourite, the face painting every cover of magazine.

You try to hide the tremble in your fists.

"You did."

Maki hums noncommittally.

"Do you have proof?"

"Liz told me," your voice grits out, "You'd been fucking around with your new girlfriend since you were with me."

The alpha tilts his head, still wearing that laid-back expression that you wish you could slap off his face. "Did she?"

"Yes. Now get out of here, you fucking stink—"

"Why would she help you, Y/N?" Maki calmly cuts you off, a bored tone in his voice. Like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, like he'd rather deal with a child than you. His smug face makes your skin prickle. You hate how easily he can hit your nerves.

Maki takes a step closer, taunting as ever.

"Had you started thinking that you have friends now?"

It's a soft blow that lands hard in your chest. Maki used to know you, therefore he knows all the ugly parts of you. And seeing him turning every knowledge he has of you into a weapon against you feels like being forced looking into a mirror that you've spent your whole life avoiding.

Your fists shake, nails digging into soft skin, almost drawing blood.

"Even if she lied to me, you got together with your new girlfriend so quick after the breakup," you spit between gritted teeth, holding back more than words. "That told me enough."

Maki is silent for a few heartbeats, his face unreadable.

"So what?"

There's a drop in your heart. Confused, disbelieving. "What?"

"What's wrong with moving on from you so fast? You didn't think you were so special for me to weep around, did you?"

There's a vaccuumed silence that swallows you whole. His words, casually laid out like he was discussing the weather, like the matters of your heart was something he wasn't concerned about, seep into your skin and every fibre of your being. The thoughts turn and curl, igniting a numbing buzz that replays his voice like a broken record.

Special. What's so special about you?

And when even you cannot find an answer, you feel the first crack in your chest.

Maki revels in your silence; in the first sign of submission. His smugness is loud in the studio, his pheromones flaring with dominance. He advances, taking deliberate steps, circling you like a predator assessing its prey.

"You've always been like this. So fiery, so passionate. All this energy yet no particular direction to go to," he drawls out, the words tumbling out lazily. He stops right in front of you, only a few centimeters away, and makes a show of looking around your studio.

He takes in the rumpled fabric, the crumpled sketchbooks, the spilled coffee. It appears as what he just observed: too much energy with no proper control. Loud. Messy. Reckless.

You.

"You can't even keep your studio tidy, Y/N," he breathes out a sigh.

"What's so unforgettable about you?"

When you had first started fashion school, you'd been told by every living person that money couldn't buy talent. No matter how big your mother's name is in the beauty and healthcare industry, no matter how prominent your father is in the automobile sector—you're nothing more than a mundane, passing student if you don't possess talent. And here, people always feel the need to remind you of that fact, especially after learning about the affluent background you come from.

So you learned. It's not like you got here through nepotism, anyway—you got in through your own grit. Your parents had always wanted you to get into med school, and the only thing you're good with when it comes to medicines is drawing the anatomy by hand. That sketch turned into figures and furls and soon, your dream to study fashion finally bloomed.

You have the talent and you have the grit. People always pass you nice compliments and constructive feedbacks you often dwell on—but the sleepless nights didn't really matter when you could finally see your collection walking down the runway front-row. You wear your confidence loudly that sometimes it's easy to forget that some people hate shiny things.

Your designs are so forgettable.

Said the new lecturer one day, tearing your sketchbook apart in front of the whole class came the third semester.

It was humiliating; the kind that burned your skin and the back of your eyes. Your nails cracked under pressure, trying so hard not to shed tears in front of so many pairs of eyes. But no matter how hard you try to reassure yourself, the comment lingers. It becomes an invisible knife that twists each time someone so much as look at your designs the wrong way.

And the first mistake you did was open up about it to someone.

The second mistake was that someone was Maki, of all people.

Because now, that alpha—all pride and arrogance—is throwing back the exact same insult at you right in your reddening face.

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

"Nothing," Maki finishes, eyes never leaving your face, as if savouring every twitch of hurt in your features.

There's nothing unforgettable about you. Not your designs; someone else probably invented something far more interesting than you. Not your face; you're just another pretty omega in a sea of more pretty omegas. Not your scent; you smell like pastries that people can easily get from any bakery. And certainly not you as a whole.

That's what he meant by it, right?

You're just a plus-one. An afterthought. The reason why skip buttons exist.

A heavy lump forms in your throat.

Maki takes your silence as a win and steps back.

"Now be a good girl and retract your statement. I never cheated on you," he says with conviction that you start questioning your own truth. "It's just your omega hormones messing around with you."

The door closes with a thud, leaving behind a ringing silence, the echo of his insults bouncing off the walls. There's a thin veil of moisture in your eyes, but you refuse to cry.

You refuse to cry for the rest of your time in your studio, trying to fix some of the mess, hating yourself even more when you realise that you care about his comments more than you should.

You refuse to cry on your way home, sitting in silence at the backseat of your Uber, replaying Maki's words in an endless loop that you wish could stop.

You refuse to cry when you have nothing to eat for dinner, stomach growling in hunger for some warm, homecooked meals, yet you have to settle for takeout again.

You refuse to cry when you sit in the middle of your living room, a luxury apartment far too big for one person to live in, trying to eat the soggy noodles and too-drenched fried chicken.

But like any normal human being, you have a heart too—a soft one at that. You can only hold on for so long.

It's hard to ignore the vast, empty space of your apartment; of the two vacant rooms down the hallways; of the single mug, single cutlery set, single-everything because for some reason you half-know and half-not, you just don't have…friends. At least not those who can reach the depths of your being—just fleeting, surface-level friends. Or companion.

Or whatever it was that Maki said that finally got to your head.

The dam finally breaks when you enter your room.

For the first time in your life, your nest that you always keep tidy on the love couch you have by the window, your safe haven where you lie in to find comfort, becomes the spot that you want to avoid the most.

There, arranged into a circle, are all the things that smell like solace and consolation after a rough day—or at least used to. Maki used to be like that—used to be your person, used to be your comfort place. So it's almost pathetic that you are still clinging onto his hoodie, his sweatshirt, the mittens he gave you last winter, the plush bunny that he won at an arcade, for comfort long after the breakup happened.

God, you didn't even want that bunny. You wanted the black cat.

You pick up his hoodie. It's the one he asked you to wear during a movie night, the one he received as a gift from GAP after a modelling gig with them. With shaky hands, you press your nose into the fabric, trying to catch the person who used to care for you—the person he was before he is now.

His scent lingers, faint and fading, but it's still there. Pine and frost, cold and sharp as his features. But instead of the warm feeling that you used to get, his scent makes your stomach twist and churn, a bile rising behind your throat.

The first drop of tears slides down your cheek.

He's no longer your safe space. Hadn't been since that breakup. Hadn't been since the night he kissed another woman behind your back.

Without thinking, you throw the hoodie on the floor. The fabric lands with a soundless thud, but the indication is loud regardless. When you look back at the love couch, the sight almost breaks you into pieces.

Your nest is all destroyed.

With a cry of fury, you lunge, hands tearing his sweatshirt apart next. At your force, the plush bunny tilts sideway, further breaking the perfect circle that used to be your nest.

"It's just a nest," your voice trembles, but the words ring hollow. Inside, your wolf twists and turns, aggressively shaking her head.

A nest is never just a nest.

"I don't care!" you shout, stomping on the plush bunny. "It's not like—it's not like anything would ever comfort me anymore."

Your knees buckle, too worn after carrying the weight of your inner battles for so long. You slump on the floor, sobs wrecking your chest, the sound raw and scratched. As if on instinct, you bring your knees close to your chest, staring at the mess with a solemn, teary gaze.

You don't even know what you're crying for. It's not like you still have feelings for Maki; or at least, there's no positive feelings for him except for lingering resentment and a strong sense of betrayal.

Is it because what the destroyed nest symbolises?

That you're nothing but a lonely, easily-discarded omega?

That nothing will ever be safe enough for you to rely on anymore?

You might act strong on the outside and bite every bullet with squared shoulders, but if only they knew what you truly feel inside.

If only they knew.

A loud, shrill ringing from your phone cuts you off your silent misery. You drag your body to where your mattress is located at the center of your bedroom, your mom's contact name blinking to be picked up.

With a wipe on your cheeks and a sniffle, you answer the phone.

"My lovely daughter! How are you? Are you eating well, sweetheart?"

I just destroyed my nest. "I'm good, Mom. Just had dinner."

"Come visit this weekend! I'll send our chauffeur to you. I'm planning to—"

"Mom."

You look around your room. At the space that feels too big to fill in, the discarded fabric on the floor. Then, at your disheveled reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, daughter?"

You bite your lower lip, trembling. You look like a mess. Just like what Maki had said.

"I wanna go home."

There's a split second of silence before your mom's voice echoes again.

"You mean you wanna move back here, sweetheart?"

"Mhm," you almost sniffle but you catch yourself, not wanting to give yourself away. "I wanna live with you again."

"Oh, my! That means you agree that alpha, don't you?"

Sigh. You almost forgot about that. The silly condition your pouty mom makes if you ever want to live with them again. One that you've been trying to avoid, too busy with the fashion week preparation and planning revenge on your heartbreak.

But is there really anything to lose?

If you agree, you'll be in close proximity with what you'd say your comfort: your family, and the mansion you used to grow up in. A blind date is just free dinner and having an alpha shower your with praises and compliments. You might have to put up with a little bit of boasting here and there, but it's nothing you can't handle.

So long as you can escape this loneliness, even if only for temporary…

"Yeah," you breathe out. "I'll meet him."

Just let me go home to you, Mom.

Park Jongseong's cheek is still stinging.

But instead of acting like any other man who just got slapped would, he's wearing a giddy smile on his face. He's lying down on the couch, his apartment being the hangout spot of the day for the weekend, but thoughts about his friends are scattered away. Jay is absolutely gone and lost in cloud nine, a cherry-shaped cloud wearing the face of a certain beautiful omega that has been running on his mind as of late.

"Geez, this guy has turned crazy," Sunoo shakes his head before he nudges the older alpha. "Jay-hyung, I brought some ice packs for your cheek."

Jay absentmindedly reaches out his hand, barely registering his friend's words. "Sunoo-ya, Britney Spears was right."

Confusion knits Sunoo's brows closer. "Britney-noona?"

Jay hums. "I want her to hit me one more time."

Sunoo gives him a deadpanned look and then shoves the ice pack in his face. Jay yelps from the sudden cold contact.

"Ow!"

"Well, if you can't find her, I'm more than willing and capable to hit you one more time in her stead."

The older alpha huffs, pressing the cold compress into his swollen cheek. "You don't understand, Sunoo," he defends, "Her hands were so soft and she's so….beautiful."

"She slapped you."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah, cause you were ogling at her chest."

"I—" Jay gulps. Well, now it doesn't sound so good. "I mean…yeah, I did. I stared too long, in fact. That's why I said I deserved it."

Even while saying so, there's still this stupid smile decorating his handsome face. Sunoo can only shake his head, hands on his hips like a tired mom handling her teenage son's first underage drinking. It sounds that bad because it was that bad.

"I can't believe this is the end of Jay-hyung's gentleman era," Riki snorts from the floor. He's been hogging Jay's latest edition of PlayStation all to himself, secretly eavesdropping the two alpha's conversation.

Jay doesn't take it nicely. "What do you mean? I am still me."

"Mhm. Gentleman by day, boob enthusiast by night. Totally not a pervert."

Jay is open to criticism, especially anything to improve himself. But there's nothing to improve here. Jay is just…in love. Okay, that's a bit too soon. Jay is infatuated would be the best way to describe his situation right now because there's no doubt that he, as in human-Jay, and his wolf, like you.

Yes, in a romantic way. Yes, in a 'he wants to court you' way. Yes, in a 'I need her name and a priest now because he does hope he can marry you' way.

He's everything but he's not a pervert. No. And Jay has a hard time receiving criticism about his personality if it comes from a certain alpha named Nishimura Riki, and another alpha named Lee Heeseung. Call it pettiness or a vendetta, but those two have no right to say shit about him. Right now or ever.

Beside him, Sunoo starts to sigh. "Riki."

"What? At least we know why omegas like you now."

Jay's expression hardens. There's a twitch in his jaw that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunoo.

"What do you mean by that?"

Riki, still not sensing the sudden drop of temperature in the room, casually shrugs. "I'm saying maybe you've always been looking. Heeseung-hyung and I knew better."

A heavy silence blankets the room, suffocating each corner with unspoken rage. Sunoo almost recoils from the sudden bitterness that comes from Jay's pheromones. He casts a worried glance at the wounded alpha.

"Yeah." Jay lets out a quiet laugh. "Because both of you thought I'd steal your omegas."

Riki goes rigid. He puts down the console, finally registering the damage that came out of his mouth. He whips his head around, only to be met with a sharp glare from Jay.

"Jay-hyung…"

"No, let's talk about it." Jay gently pushes away Sunoo's hands that come up to comfort him, putting down the ice pack with calm fury that radiates more heat than if he had shouted. He fixes Riki with a burning glare that could've melted the ice pack.

"Let's talk about how I am always the collateral damage of your love story."

Riki gulps. Truthfully, he has never seen Jay angry. And even when he did, that anger was never directed to him. But this time, being the receiving end of such disappointed eyes, Riki wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"Jay-hyung, you know I don't mean it like that."

"Which part? The pervert part? Because you and Heeseung surely treat me like one whenever your omegas are around," Jay says, still soft, but the venom is there. "As if I was some horny wolf waiting for the time to pounce on them. Let me ask you, Riki. What was so wrong with wanting to help you when you literally asked me for help?"

"I—I know. You're never wrong—" Riki swallows, too paralysed from how fast the situation took its bad turn. "I just…shit. I'm sorry, hyung. You're such a good alpha—"

"Am I, really? Because with you two, I never feel like one."

Riki tries to say something back, mouth gaping like fish out of water. Jay heaves out a long sigh, ruffling his already-messy hair. As if on cue, the door to his apartment opens and comes in Heeseung, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm upon sensing the tension in the living room.

"What are we fighting about?"

"About your terrible jealousy issues," Jay grits through his teeth, looking up to meet eyes with Heeseung. The latter almost flinches from how sharp his gaze is. Jay takes another deep breath.

"God, you know what? I understand jealousy. I truly do. I wouldn't want any alpha near my omega too. But that would be any alpha but you two. Because I trust you. I trust you so much and it actually," Jay halts for a moment, realising how intense his emotions have been running. But the reassuring pat from Sunoo serves as his motivation.

He needs to say this. He needs to. Otherwise he'd drown in undeserving guilt and shrink himself again.

"It actually hurts when you guys don't feel the same about me."

The tension thickens it could be cut with a knife. Riki's expression crumples, the alpha who's usually prideful and cocky is now in shambles upon seeing his older alpha breaking down like this. Heeseung fails to find any words, the guilt is lodged in his throat that barely any voice would come out, blocking any syllables from being spoken.

"I just wanted to help. My kindness has no underlying meanings. I didn't offer to help because I wanted to have your omega in bed, Riki. I was thinking about you. I was thinking how I could stop you from crying because you were my friend first and it—it hurt to see you cry so much like that."

Jay is still soft. His voice is still gentle, and that's what makes this whole situation uglier. That's what makes the guilt press harder. Both alphas in question could only stare at their feet, reflecting on their actions towards Jay.

"And you, Heeseung. Would you rather have your mate get soaked that night?" Jay doesn't let him answer. "I don't think you would. I couldn't just leave knowing she'd get drenched in the rain, knowing how much my friend cherishes her and would freak out if she got sick."

Heeseung purses his lips. He was so busy mending what was broken with his omega that he didn't realise how much he's been hurting his friend.

The apartment is silent, save for the PlayStation menu playing its music on loop. Riki can't bring himself to look at Jay, perfectly fine with tucking his chin low and hiidng his shame. Heeseung still has a hand on the doorknob, the metal feels cold on his slippery palm.

"Jay-ah…"

"I'll be in my room. I want to be alone for a moment."

The anger has long left his body. All he feels now is exhaustion and relief, like finally putting back a heavy backpack he's been carrying for months.

The three watch as Jay disappears behind the door of his master bedroom. It closes with a gentle click, as if even in anger and disappointment, Jay wouldn't ever be harsh to his friends. Heeseung and Riki immediately let out a breath they didn't know they were holding while Sunoo watches them with amusement.

"It took him a lot of courage to say that, you know." Sunoo takes a seat on the couch, grabbing the console that was left untouched by Riki. "You guys better apologise and make up to him properly."

"I am such an asshole," Riki whines and drapes his body across the couch, letting his head fall into Sunoo's lap despite his protest. "Hyung was right. It's all about trust. And I was acting like an insecure dog."

Sunoo snorts. "You're a big puppy, Riki."

Heeseung is still quiet. The memory of the punch that almost landed on Jay's face still haunts him, even before the confrontation. He knew it needed to be talked about eventually, he just didn't expect it to be in a situation like this. But alas, Jay has been a sponge that absorbs everybody's emotions, the reliable one—it's about time that the patient alpha loses it.

Just as he's about to enter the apartment fully, the door is suddenly pushed open from behind and Heeseung gets shoved inside instead. Immediately, the smell of burnt chocolate fills the air and the insults he prepares for the intruder die on his tongue.

"Sunoo-hyung!" Jungwon barges in, a pout protruding on his lips. "Noona called me his little brother again!"

Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please protect this friendship.

Heeseung walks silently to his room, ignoring the trio alpha now fighting for Sunoo's attention. Jungwon, however, upon seeing Riki, immediately scowls at the younger. His pout disappears and his complaints die in his throat.

"YOU! Nishimura Riki. You're not cheating, aren't you?"

Riki blinks confusedly.

"Cheating? In FIFA or PUBG?"

"On your girlfriend!"

"Fuck, no!" The blond-haired alpha sits up, taking full offence from the sudden accusation. "I would jump off the cliff first before I'd ever dare cheat on my lovely mate. What the fuck are you on? You know I'm loyal as fuck."

Sunoo pinches his arm. "That's too many curse words, Riki."

Jungwon shakes his head. He pushes the younger off the couch and claims his previous spot, laying his head comfortably on Sunoo's lap. The scandalised look on Riki's face hasn't faded, the alpha is still glaring at Jungwon like he has offended Riki's ancestors.

"Nothing. There was just this omega yelling about getting cheated on during last Friday's party."

"And? What does that have to do with me?"

"The cheater's name is also Riki! You don't know how disappointed and heartbroken I was for those three seconds when I thought it was Nishimura Riki. It turned out to be Hirota Riki," Jungwon nudges Sunoo's hand, urging the older to pat his head. He's still heartbroken, please comfort him, thank you. "I was so close to committing a murder on you that night."

With that explanation, a look of understanding passes Riki's face. He slumps and sprawls on the floor, relief bleeding out of his muscle.

"Oh. That's Maki. Riki C. He's the disgraceful Riki. I don't fuck with him. Not anymore."

"You better not!" Jungwon hisses at him like an angry kitten.

"Wait, so you're Riki B?" Sunoo tilts his head. One of his hands is playing with Jungwon's hair. "Then who is Riki A?"

"The other Riki is Taki, and no, I am Riki D, because this dick—"

"Nishimura Riki!" Sunoo and Jungwon simultaneously yell, drawing out a cheeky laugh from the youngest.

From inside his room, Heeseung could hear the commotion. He shakes his head. Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please save Nishimura Riki.

Living with your parents has been as peaceful as it can get. Nothing much can be said, considering that it has only been a week.

For the time being, you manage to get your mom off your back about meeting this handsome alpha that she'd like to have as a son-in-law. You hide behind the excuse of being busy with the fashion week, which is not totally a lie.

Fashion week is one of the biggest assessments there is. It means two months of outsourcing high-quality fabrics, sketching and crumpling papers and sketching, hours spent in the studio, finding suitable models for your runway and, the most important part: piecing your imagination and hardwork into a clothing worth wearing and parading.

Which is why you're spending your time in the studio on a Saturday, leisurely going over your sketches again as you wait for your fabrics to arrive. It had been preordered a month ago and the delivery was scheduled today. Precisely, two hours ago.

But you try not to worry. It's only 12 p.m., and there's probably traffic on the road since the working civilians are supposed to be having lunch now. But one hour turns into two. Then another one passes.

Before you know it, it's almost five in the evening, yet there's no sight of a truck or even a ring from the company itself. By the time you dial their office number, you have already done a cherry set on your nails, tidied up the space to accommodate your resources, and even sketched a whole damn new collection.

"Hello, this is The Nakakita. How may I help you?"

The Nakakita. A Japanaese establishment that is owned by the Nakakita family. You wouldn't have gotten in touch with such a prestigious supplier of the Japanese fabric materials had it not been for your cheating ex's connection in the fashion industry.

Maki is all things, and resourceful is one of them.

"Good evening. I'm Y/N. There's supposed to be a delivery for order #1284 today to my studio. Japanese denim, linen cotton, blended silk?"

Well, you might have sounded too demanding. But that's the least of your concern now.

"Oh, Miss Y/N. I'm terribly sorry, but this order was cancelled."

If your jaw could drop down to the ground right now, it would cause a huge-scale earthquake across the city.

"What? I never cancelled it, though?"

There is a sound of clicking on the keyboard from the end of the line. "Um…it was cancelled by the account holder two weeks ago. By Mr. Hirota Riki, approved by the heir himself, Mr. Nakakita Yuma."

What the actual fuck. Two weeks ago was when Maki had confronted you about the rumour spreading about his infidelity. Despite feeling a bit intimidated (not that you'd ever admit), you did no such thing and let his reputation continue to get tarnished. You still firmly believe that he did cheat and whatever manipulation he pulled on you was just an attempt at making you feel miserable.

Not only is his ego as big as he is and a gaslighter, but he is petty, too?!

You let out a disbelieving scoff. Oh my Goddess…That alpha is really something else. As if shattering your dream of having a mate wasn't enough, now he wants to interfere with your career path as well?

What a fucking weirdo.

"So, what happened to all those fabrics? I already paid for the deposit."

"Based on this record, it has been delivered to Miss Kim Areum three days ago and your money is in the process of being refunded back to your bank account."

And as if all of those things weren't enough to pull you under, Maki just has to deliver the final blow to the most sensitive part of your heart.

Of course he'd give those resources to his new girlfriend. Of fucking course.

It's like a cellotape on skin. Peeling it off would sting, taking away your body hair that gives you heat, and leaving sticky residue that wouldn't come off easily. Your relationship with Maki—during and after the breakup—has always left you with this hollow, sinking feeling that weighs heavy on your shoulders.

No matter what you did, if the relationship has ended or not, it'll always leave burn marks that you have been trying so hard to heal. And whether the world has moved on or not, it's always you bearing the ugly aftermath.

"…Miss?"

"I see," you finally speak, voice hoarse from suppressed anger. "Let Yuma know that my attorney will be in contact with your team soon."

"Wait—"

Not letting them finish, you end the call and toss your phone on the couch. Your perfectly blowed hair is now disheveled, untamed by your fingers as you pace the room. There's unshed tears hanging low on your waterline, waiting for the time to fall down, yet you still refuse to give in.

"Fuck!"

It's so unfair. It's so fucking unfair. It wasn't you who left, nor was it you who cheated and being disloyal—yet you are the one who have to pay the price for his crumpling ego? And now he's putting your hard-earned place in the fashion school on the line?

What a fucking manchild.

"What am I supposed to do? Goddess, help me—what am I supposed to do?"

You sink into the couch, the tears now slide down your cheeks with no restraints. There's a choked sob coming out of your throat, your scent souring with every hiccup slipping past your lips.

Time is not a luxury that you can afford now. Confronting Maki would only mess with your head more and result in nothing. You'd love to find a way to sue The Nakakita, but that's a matter that you'd like to solve after the fashion week ends.

Fuck. You barely have two months on your hands, yet you have just lost your resources that you have ordered a month ago. Finding a new supplier would be tough—since not many of them would take indiviual customers due to economies of scale. You are no wholesaler or retailer; catering to you would be expensive for them.

But you have to find a way somehow.

With a shaky hand, you tuck your hair behind your ears and grab your laptop. The tears are uncontrollable at this point, but it's not a sign to give up or stop. Your dainty fingers start typing fast on the keyboard, trying to search for any textile businesses that would make some space for you.

This is not how you imagine your evening would end. You had pictured measuring and cutting fabric pieces to fit your six-piece collection, getting prepared to start assembling them and fitting your models.

Yet here you are, giving calls after calls, accepting rejection after rejection from every business you try to contact. It's exhausting, the tears are now just cracked vulnerbaility on your cheeks. Somewhere along the way, you have accidentally snapped your manicured nails while typing.

"I'm sorry, you have to place an order three months prior in order to secure the fabrics."

This is the sixth one.

You barely hold back a sigh. "I see. Thank you for your time."

You slam your phone on the couch and start rubbing your face. This is hell. You're sure a truck had hit you somewhere on the road and this is your hell, punishing you for being such a bitchy omega to everyone around you.

But how could you not be one when everybody always gives you a reason to protect yourself?

Taking in a shuddering breath, you open your bleary eyes and stare at another line of name on the screen.

Sinar Textile.

It's operating until 8 p.m., which is unusual for many companies. Talking about the time, your stomach growls on instinct, as if reminding you of the skipped lunch and forgotten dinner that you are yet to acknowledge.

"This is the last one," you whisper to yourself. "If this too fails, I will fucking kill Maki."

You punch the number on your phone screen, exhaustion clinging to every movement. It's inhumane to sabotage someone like this; you wonder if you can sue Maki too somehow. He deserves it more than anyone in this world.

It takes five rings before the call gets picked up. A cheery voice greets you.

"Good evening! I am Jake from Sinar Textile. How can I help you?"

You rub your temple, appreciating the friendly tone while it lasts before you start threatening this poor Jake to agree to your proposal.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. I'm looking for a few bolts of fabric for my upcoming collection."

A rustle is heard from Jake's side. "Hello, Miss Y/N. When do you need the fabrics?"

You tap your fingers on your thigh. "Two weeks from now."

There's a few seconds of silence before Jake speaks again. "Are you a wholesaler or a retailer?"

I fucking knew it. "Um," you gnaw at your bottom lip, nerves grating your edges. "Neither. I'm in fashion school, and I need them for my fashion week."

Please. Please accept me. Please take my request. Oh Goddess, this is the least you can do for justice.

But unfortunately, Jake is not your Goddess. "I am sorry, Miss Y/N, but our business strictly provides for wholesaling and retailing establishments only. As for indivi—"

"Please," you let out before you could stop yourself. "I'll take scraps or leftovers. Or even any cancelled order. I'll take anything but please don't turn me down."

You are never one to beg. Especially not to alphas. And while you're not sure about Jake's secondary gender, he's still a man and it still feels humiliating to beg.

But you don't have many choices now, do you? You care more about your degree than your dignity as of now.

The hesitance in Jake's silence is loud. "Miss Y/N, I am a mere part-timer here. I'm afraid I don't have the power to decide."

"Then let me talk to the person in charge, please."

You feel bad for Jake for putting him in a tough spot like this. But to be fair, he's receiving your kindest energy now—since you've lashed out on many other receptionists prior to this call, when you were still brimming with anger.

"Please wait a moment."

You inhale sharply. Is this really happening?

It doesn't take long before a feminine voice takes over the call. "Hello. You're speaking to the CEO of Sinar Textile. I am Mrs. Park."

You straighten up. "H-Hello, Mrs. Park. I apologise for the late disturbance."

The woman hums. "It is not a big deal. My receptionist has told me about your situation. Unfortunately, we do not supply for individuals like you."

The hope blooming in your chest deflates instantly. You close your eyes as you gather your composure.

"I—Please, ma'am. I don't know how to tell you that I desperately need them for my fashion week." For a strange reason, you feel yhe need to give her context. You're no careless student who forgot to book her supplier until last minute—you just got sabotaged. "My supplier terminated our agreement after my…ex-boyfriend intervened."

The woman seems to consider this, as her next words give you a sliver of hopium. "Please email me your sketches. Then I will consider. What's your name again, Miss?"

"Y/N. I am Y/N."

"Y/N?" She repeats, and if you tried to listen hard enough, you'd be able to detect the hint of recognition in her tone. "Great, Miss Y/N. Email me at [email protected], then I will let you know my decision."

Relief floods your senses like a tidal wave. With trembling lips, you try to piece your words together.

"Thank you, Mrs. Park. I—I'll take anything. Leftovers—or any defects. I can do it. Please consider my request."

"No worries, Miss Y/N. I'll get back to you the soonest tomorrow."

And with that, the call ends. You slump in your seat.

You could've gotten the details of their wholesale customers and buy from them, but from experience, you knew that getting the materials directly from the sources is hundreds time better in terms of quality and the price. And you have reports to submit much later on, where your budgeting would be questioned like you just laundered the national income.

Later that night, you arrive home with this aching need to be comforted. Instead of a pile of all the soothing scents you've encountered in your life, you open the door to your empty bed, void of any nest. Your mom's bedroom is just one door away, but it's too late to ask for cuddles, isn't it?

You open your wardrobe, staring at the empty spot where your nesting blankets used to be.

"It's just a nest," you convince yourself. "I'll feel better after waking up."

Completely ignoring the twisting pain in your gut, you settle yourself under the cover after washing up.

Sundays are fun days, and this time, your kind of fun is rushing your chauffeur to take you to your studio and threatening him into disregarding every traffic rule he's ever learned about.

"Miss, the light is red."

"I don't care."

"We will get fined."

"I will pay," you urge.

The chauffeur closes his eyes. "Please don't tell your mother."

And that's how a fifteen-minute drive could be cut into ten minutes of ride only. Your thanks barely leaves your lips as you rushes out, trying your best to look put-together while also lightly sprinting to the private studio that you've rented since your first year, located inside the university compound.

This morning, you woke up to an email from Sinar Textile. Mrs. Park, bless her heart—seems so taken with your sketches and has decided to give you some leftovers of their previous arriving batch from Japan. It's like the Goddess has finally taken pity on you overnight, and proving that the evil shall perish altogether (Fuck you, Maki).

You spend the entire ride mentally redesigning half your collection. Leftovers are more than enough. You'll make them work. You always do.

By the time you reach the studio, your mood has improved significantly.

There are bolts of fabric, stacked near the door to your studio. Two men wearing short-sleeved Polo stand around the stack, chatting with each other while waiting for your arrival. You waste not even a second and approach them faster.

"Good morning!" You greet them enthusiastically, so unusually you, but you're too giddy to care. "Are you from Sinar Textile?"

The shorter of the two greets you back, a puppylike smile stretching wide on his face. "Hello! You must be Miss Y/N. I'm Jake, and this is Sunghoon. We are the part-timers from Sinar Textile."

The latter bows to you. Up close, you finally notice the wolf ears nestling among his pitch-black hair. Oh, so he's a wolf hybrid. No wonder his pheromones are still strong to your nose despite the thick scent patch glued to his neck.

Well, first of all—Sinar Textile sure hires only super good-looking guys to work with them. If you weren't so into your post-breakup feelings, you might think about asking for their numbers after this.

"Nice to meet you two. Now, shall we?"

"We're waiting for Jay."

Your brow jumps at that. Who is that? "Jay? Is he supposed to be here?"

"Yeap! He went to take the last bolt of your Japanese denim—oh there he is!"

You know the saying, every good thing comes with a price? While yes, there is a price tag to every bolt of fabric tha you receive from Sinar Textile today—apparently, there is a hidden tax that you have to pay the Goddess for granting you with this opportunity after Maki's stupid stunt yesterday.

And that tax is Jay. Or more precisely, if your memory hasn't betrayed you—the pervert alpha from the frat house party a few weeks ago.

There he is indeed, walking down the hallway in a similar black Polo shirt. He's carrying a bolt of Japanese denim, but does he have to carry it on his shoulder like that? It looks so show-off-y, what with the way his biceps stretch against the sleeves, bulging muscle straining under the weight of the fabric. His face is as handsome as you remember it, and without the dim light of the porch, every cut of his face is clearer for your eyes to see now in broad daylight.

Damn it. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly good-looking?

Your smile has never dropped so fast, but it's the opposite case for the alpha, because as soon as he recognises you—you've never seen a smile light up so fast.

"Cherry?"

You could barely tone down your irritation. Who the hell is Cherry?

"Are you the other part-timer?"

Jay blinks confusedly. He glances at the clipboard in his hand, and then his eyes widen imperceptibly.

"Oh—I apologise. You're Miss Y/N, right?"

"Yes, that's me," you narrow your eyes at him. But Jay only smiles back. "And you are Jay."

His eyes shine—what the heck?—at the mention of his name. "You know my name? It's actually Park Jongseong, but you can call me Jay. It sounds better when you say it."

You try to ignore the offended gasp coming from Jake.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm not!" Jay is fast to deflect, shaking his head when you only stare at him thretaeningly. "I just—I think—I just want to…talk to you?"

Jake and Sunghoon wince from sheer awkwardness.

"Aren't you here for Sinar Textile?"

"Yes."

"Then we're here strictly for business. I am going to open my door and you three will carry the bolts inside, and then you leave. Understand?"

If Jay were to have wolf ears like Sunghoon, they'd droop like wilting flowers from your tone alone. "I understand," he gives in, then shoots a serious look at two of his friends behind you.

"Boys, let's get moving!"

Jake springs up with a salute. "Aye aye, captain!"

You sigh and unlock the door to give way to them. The three boys lift two bolts at the same time, marching in like soldiers ready for the battlefield. Jay stops briefly in front of you, and you prepare another scolding if he tried to say something absurd again.

"Where would you like these?"

You almost falter by the unexpected, but you don't let it show. "At that corner. I tidied up that space for these bolts yesterday."

Jay nods and wordlessly steps further inside. You watch as the three men move effortlessly together, avoiding mannequins and putting down the bolts gently like true experts. They seem close, judging by how at ease they are with each other. Probably just three best friends working part-time together to kill the time while gaining extra pocket money.

Jake, being the first one to reach the corner, claps his hands and looks around. There's amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Wow, this is my first time at the fashion building and I already got to be in a private studio."

You quirk up an eyebrow. "Are you from around here?"

There's a surprised chuckle from the beta. He slaps a hand on Sunghoon's shoulder, but the wolf hybrid barely budges.

"Yeah, we attend this university too! I am from engineering, Sunghoon is from law school, and Jay is from the business department—obviously, if he wants to inherit this company."

Your curiousity is growing like a moving snowball. "Inherit…?"

"Sinar Textile is owned by his parents. He's just doing this on the weekend when he's got nothing to do with his basketball team," Jake casually says like he didn't just drop the bombest bomb you've heard the entire week.

That says a lot, considering The Nakakita incident yesterday.

And—What?! Sinar Textile is—what—so Mrs. Park is his mother?

You are left with no words. Not that you could muster anything, when said guy is already speaking. "Stop referring to me like I'm not in the same room as you."

Jake pouts at that. "Well, you're busy with your clipboard, so why not?"

"I am counting the inventory and preparing the invoice for Miss Y/N," Jay smoothly says, while he's scribbling something on the clipboard. You ignore the efficient way his hand moves, the veins popping on his forearms, and the pout he makes when he's focusing.

When he chances you a glance, you scowl back at him. The alpha only smiles.

It's so irritating. Why does he keep smiling?

"Alright boys, get back to the van. I'll follow you after I'm done with the invoice."

"Stop bossing me around! We are the same age!" Jake protests.

"Well, technically, I am your boss."

"A boss baby! You are not even the CEO yet!"

Sunghoon only sighs and drags Jake by the arm to follow him. He stops momentarily in front of you, gives you a short bow and a 'thanks'—that you reply back with a 'thanks' too, what the heck?—before he leaves with the beta. Jake waves his hand at you, his previous pout melting into a wide grin.

"See you again, Miss Y/N!!! Please invite me to your fashion week!"

If it weren't for Sunghoon's tail and wolf ears, you'd think that Jake was the hybrid. Probably golden retriever—that seems to suit him more.

It's only when Jay clears his throat that you're reminded you're left alone with him in this studio. Instinctively, you back into the door, putting more distance between the two of you. Jay doesn't seem to mind or take offence, he just gives you that easy smile that's been putting you on edge since fifteen minutes ago.

"Two bolts for Japanese denim, linen cotton, and blended silk each. This is your invoice. You may make the first payment when we send you an email," Jay speaks, his tone professional, as he hands you a piece of paper the size of A4. "Please sign here."

You take the pen painfully slowly, trying to avoid any physical contact, and sign.

"If you need anything more, please feel free to contact me." You glare at him. "Or any of us, really! But don't hesitate—my mom told me to put you on our priority list."

There he goes again. Typical alpha trying to flirt his way into your pants. As if you had forgotten about his perverted gaze a few weeks ago!

You cross your arms and dare to look into his eyes. "Thank you. I will contact Jake."

Jay purses his lips. "That's great. Jake works every Saturday and Sunday, while Sunghoon works after 3 p.m. on weekdays. Please feel free to reach out."

He opens his mouth, seemingly to add something, but decides against it when he smiles instead.

"It's actually nice to see you again," he mutters almost quietly, his tone soft and delicate, the grip of professionalism loosening. "I've been hoping I could run into you again."

But you're not easily swayed by sweet-faced alphas like him. "So you can, what, stare at my chest again?"

Jay's ears perk and blush a deep shade of pink. "What? No! Y/N—" he shakes his head, eyes pleading. "I really meant it when I said that I didn't mean to! I swear I'm not a pervert. Please forgive me."

"But you still stared."

"I…did." His voice becomes quieter, the confession feels like cold air hanging in the studio.

Jay shifts in place. The way you stare at him all cold and menacingly seems to undo him more than anything. From where he stands, he can catch a whiff of your scent—the sweet cherry that's been haunting him since that night.

You're so pretty even when you're mad, glaring at him like some kind of a criminal like this. A sight that he's not used to, because people often look at him like an angel sent from the Goddess as an apology on behalf of the alpha population.

"Y/N," he begins, already making up his mind. Your name falls easily from his lips now that he finally gets the chance to know it. "I would like to apologise. I made you feel uncomfortable twice, and probably unsafe, too. I deserved to get beaten more than what you did that night."

"Yeah, I should poke your eyes for good measure. Making sure your eyes don't stare at omegas like that again."

"I don't do that with other omegas, though. Only with you."

"So, congratulations? I'm your first victim?"

Jay panics. "No!"

"Your favourite victim?"

"No!"

"Your exclusive victim?"

"Please stop saying victim."

"Then stop staring at my boobs. You're doing it again." The corner of your lips lifts when the crimson on his ears deepens. Okay. It's kind of fun teasing him, and truthfully, you're no longer that upset from his behaviour that night.

"No, I'm sorry," Jay dips his head lower, staring at his feet, not catching your intention. "It's very wrong of me. I sincerely apologise. Please forgive me."

Your heart does something strange. The sincerity in his voice is unlike any other you've heard from not even a single alpha before. It's raw with honesty and vulnerability, like he actually spends every night dwelling on this mistake of a first impression he had made of himself.

But you say nothing. You simply stare at the alpha whose eyes are remorsely fixed on the ground.

"I know you probably don't trust me."

You snort. "Obviously."

"But I hope one day you'll feel safe around me."

There it goes again—your heart, lurching like Jay was a K-drama main lead saying something corny to win the heroine over. But this is not fiction, and Jay is not your alpha, nor are you his omega.

"Are you threatening me with a next time?"

He shifts again. "May I earn another first impression someday?"

You almost scoff at that. You wish there's no next time or someday! ...Though, you admit, if you put aside the two—or three if you count just now—times he stared at your boobs, it has been quite alright to talk to him.

He just has this aura that puts people at ease around him. Maybe it's his face, or the citrusy scent coming from him that easily tops every other masculine pheromones you have ever sniffed, but Jay just has a way with words that makes you feel like old acquaintances.

Whatever. A pervert is still a pervert!

"Actually, my family has chosen an alpha for me."

Jay's smile falters. "Oh."

You lift your chin proudly. "Yeah! Apparently his family is very wealthy, and he's ridiculously handsome too."

Jay only blinks at you, taking every hint of rejection like a champ. "I see. I mean—that's what you deserve. An omega like you doesn't deserve anything less than that."

Your eye twitches. Why is he so damn good with words? You can't tell if it's genuinelt who he is or if it's all performative. And that infuriates you.

With a newfound determination to flaunt an unknown alpha, you triumphantly nod. "And everyone says that he's the most perfect gentleman. My mom said that he's—" How was he again? "—Very capable and hardworking. I can't wait to marry him!"

Now, you're pushing it. You don't want to marry that alpha. Hell, you're just about to accept the dinner invitation after this!

"That's good…" Jay scratches his cheek. Damn it. Jay realises that you're really trying hard to reject him, even when he hasn't said explicitly that he likes you.

But Jay is a man who can take a hint.

"That's quite a reputation. I really hope he treats you well."

"He will."

Jay purses his lips, trying to swallow down his disappointment. Of course. A pretty omega like you is rarely ever single or unclaimed, even though he doesn't see any mark on your nape or sense any alpha presence around your scent.

Sigh. Just as he finally found an omega that he genuinely likes.

"I wish you and your alpha the best, Miss Y/N." Jay lowers himself to a 90-degree bow. "Thank you for trusting Sinar Textile, and I'm sorry again."

And with that, Jay takes his leave, until the echo of his footsteps fades into oblivion. Once you're confident that you're out of his earshot, you instantly fish for your phone and call your mother.

"Mom!"

"Hello darling~ Did everything go well with the shipment?"

You bite your nails. "Yes, yes it did. Mom, I need your help."

"What is it, sweetheart? Have you finally decided to buy that new handbag from Bonia?"

"No, Mom. I think," you close your eyes and sigh exasperatedly. Truly, there's no one else that puts you in worst case scenarios but yourself and your life decisions.

"I think I'm ready to meet that alpha that you like so much."

As expected, your mother squeals into the phone and you have to force your phone away from your ears.

Great.

Now you have to mentally prepare yourself to sit with an alpha boasting about his wealth and alpha-ic achievements for approximately two hours.

All because you wanted to avoid Jay.

Or so you thought.

Of course, fate—the little evil author that it is—decides that humiliation ritual would be the perfect trope for your failing love life.

Because why the hell are you seeing Jay coming out of the black Mercedes now parked in your mansion?!

"Mom!" You whisper-yell, already halfway bolting upstairs when you see him and his parents start walking towards the door of your house. "You said that the alpha's name was Park Jongseong!"

Your mom, who's been gushing over how handsome and perfect Jay is for you from behind the curtain where the both of you are spying on the newly-arrived guests, only nudges your shoulder gently.

"He is Park Jongseong. And those are Mr. and Mrs. Park."

"No! That's—that's Jay!"

Your mom coos, fanning her face dramatically and turning to your father. "Oh my, honey, did you hear that? They're already on nickname terms with each other."

You feel like climbing the stairs and purposely falling and rolling down to the ground.

This cannot be real!

"Wait," your mother suddenly stops her dramatic gesture. She fixes you with a curious gaze, eyes squinting suspiciously.

"How do you know him?"

Maybe jumping would be faster and easier.

On the other side of the door, Jay has been fiddling with the collar of his suit for the tenth time. Beside him, Mrs. Park is frowning, swatting at his hand when he reaches for his tie again.

"Why are you fixing your tie again? It already looks perfect."

Jay swallows. "I don't know."

No, he actually knows why. Jay has never been able to lie truthfully—an irony that always amuses his friends. His body is vibrating with never-ending nerves ever since he had reluctantly agreed to his mother's planned family dinner with the omega she has taken a liking too.

Yeap. To put it simply, Jay is nervous.

And his mother catches it, if the soothing accent of her scent is telling something. "You'll like her," she convinces. Then, as if it was an afterthought, she adds, "You already met her."

If Jay was shocked, he didn't let it show.

Well, it doesn't matter, does it? When his wolf and himself have been so captivated by you.

Whoever this omega is, Jay wants to apologise in advance. He thinks he needs a couple of months to properly move on from the wonder of you before he'll be ready to accept any dating arrangement again.

"If you're confident that I'll like her, then I hope she's the person I have on my mind, Mom."

And that is the truth. If he had already met this omega and his mother's instincts are sure that he'd fall for her—then it can't be no one else but you.

Jay had crossed paths with many omegas. He had been flirted with, pursued, and even outright confessed to more times than he could count, yet no one had occupied his thoughts quite like you.

And to think that you're spending your time with another alpha…

Jay swallows down the bitterness and forces his pheromones to calm down.

Too lost in his frantic, chaotic mind, Jay hasn't realised that he's already standing in front of the door. It swings open before any of them could press the doorbell, revealing a beautiful couple and…

"Cherry?"

His cherry.

When the scowl appears on your face, Jay feels like a diver finally coming up to the surface for air. The nerves that have been jagging every edge vanish almost instantly, now replaced with a relief so profound it feels like being given a second chance at life again.

It's really. Really. You.

"It's Y/N, you dummy."

That hostile gaze. That frown and unfriendly tone.

It's really you.

The smile that spreads across Jay's face is so hopelessly fond that Mrs. Park immediately knows she doesn't have to do any matchmaking tonight. Your frown deepens, hating the blatant display of joy that's coming from him.

What is he so giddy about?!

Meanwhile, your mother is completely oblivious to the glare you're shooting at him.

"I told you, they're already using endearments for each other!"

You hope the ground could swallow you.

Jay hopes the ground could move and bring him closer to you.

part two coming soon <3

divider from @/cursed-carmine

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula @sugarcwtie @whiskymiller

He carried you into the bathroom, setting you down gently on the edge of the counter while he reached into the stall to turn on the water. Steam quickly began to fill the small, cozy space, fogging up the mirror as he carefully adjusted the temperature getting it just how you liked it, perfectly warm without being scalding. You watched him from the counter with a soft, helpless smile, your legs swinging idly against the wood, your heart still overflowing from every touch, every look you had shared just moments ago.

When the water was perfect, Heeseung turned back to you, offering his hands to guide you off the counter and pulling you under the spray with him. The hot water cascaded over both of your shoulders in a comforting rush, washing away the tangible evidence of your lovemaking. Heeseung reached for your favorite body wash, squeezing a generous amount into his palms and rubbing them together until a rich, fragrant lather formed.

“Come here, you, my beautiful lady” he said playfully, his tone laced with absolute devotion as he turned you around so your back was pressed flush against his warm chest.

His soapy hands glided smoothly over your shoulders, down the length of your arms, and then across your collarbones in slow, deliberate, gentle circles. He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, breathing you in. “Gotta make sure my girl is all clean and taken care of.”

You giggled, squirming slightly as his slick fingers brushed past a sensitive, ticklish spot just under your ribs. “Heeseung! Hey that tickles!... Babe ~”

He laughed softly, the low, rich sound rumbling delightfully right against your spine. Naturally, he deliberately did it again with a impish grin. “What? I’m just being thorough. A professional, even.”

His hands slid lower, tracing down to wash your breasts with careful, reverent, and exquisitely loving strokes. There wasn't a trace of rush or demand in his movements it was pure, unadulterated affection. He leaned down slightly, pressing a silly, exaggerated kiss to the top of your wet head, getting a face full of falling shower water in the process.

Spluttering slightly, he shook his head like a puppy, making you burst into laughter. You turned around in his arms, grabbing the bottle of body wash from his hand with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

“Alright, my turn,” you declared, pouring some into your own hands and working up a thick foam.

You lathered up your palms and started on his chest, tracing the slick, defined lines of his muscles with exaggerated seriousness, pretending to be a stern inspector conducting an important evaluation. “Hmm… very strong. Exceptionally handsome. But definitely needs extra attention right… here.”

With a lightning-fast flick of your wrist, you booped his nose with a soapy index finger, leaving a fluffy dollop of white bubbles right on the tip. Heeseung blinked in shock, staring down at his own nose in disbelief before bursting into a bright, boyish laugh that echoed off the tile walls. He retaliated immediately, scooping up a handful of foam from his chest and swiping it cheekily across your face like war paint.

“Oh, it’s on now,” he teased, eyes sparkling with pure affection.

What followed was a chaotic, adorable battle of bubbles and breathless laughter. You tried to dodge his slick hands as he drew neat little hearts on your stomach with foam. He pretended to slip dramatically when you attacked his ticklish sides, pulling you flush against his body so you both nearly tumbled under the stream though his strong arms steadied you instantly, instinctively protective even in the middle of play. The shower stream washed the soap away in steady, warm rivers, but the giggles didn't stop for a second.

Eventually, reached for the shampoo. Gathering you back into his embrace, he began to work the soap into your hair, massaging your scalp with strong, incredibly gentle fingers. The rhythm of his hands was so soothing, so hypnotic, that you practically melted back into his chest, closing your eyes and humming happily into the warm air.

“Feels good?” he asked softly, the playful spark in his voice fully easing into a quiet, profound tenderness. His thumbs stroked behind your ears, working the lather through your wet locks.

“So good,” you murmured softly, resting your head back against his shoulder. “You’re really, really good at this whole ‘taking care of me’ thing, you know that?”

Heeseung smiled, leaning down to press a warm kiss to the tip of your nose, then another to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin while the water ran around you both.

“Only because I love doing it,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with a emotion so gentle it made your chest ache. “You make it way too easy to want to spoil you forever.”

You switch roles, standing on your tiptoes to reach his hair. He happily bends his tall frame down a little so you can reach comfortably, the effort making you both laugh softly all over again. You pour a splash of shampoo into your hands, working it into a rich, fragrant lather and massaging his scalp with gentle, lingering scratches that make him sigh contentedly. As you work, you can't resist taking advantage of his vulnerability you gather the foamy, wet strands and meticulously sculpt his hair straight up into a completely ridiculous, towering mohawk. Soap bubbles drip down his forehead and past his brow.

“Looking good,” you tease, stepping back a tiny inch to admire your masterpiece and snapping an imaginary camera with your fingers. “Very edgy. Very sexy. Absolute 10 out of 10.”

Heeseung opens one eye, catches his reflection in the steamy mirror, and instantly shakes his head like a soaking wet puppy. Water and foam fly everywhere, spraying your face and shoulders and making you squeal in delightful shock.

Before you can even attempt to retaliate, his strong hands catch you firmly around the waist, pulling you flush against his warm chest right under the full stream of the shower. The spray immediately washes away the mohawk and the stray bubbles, and as the chaotic laughter gradually fades into soft, breathless smiles, you rest your cheek against his chest, closing your eyes and listening to the steady, comforting thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear while the hot water cascades over both of you.

“You’re cute when you’re playful,” you say softly, your voice carrying a quiet warmth that fills the small, steamy space.

“And you’re absolutely beautiful when you’re happy,” he replies just as softly, his deep voice vibrating gently against your cheek. He rests his chin on your damp head before pressing a long, lingering kiss right into your wet hair. “I mean it. I could do this every single day with you... the shower fights, the silly hair, all of it. I'd never get tired of it.”

You stay just like that for a long time, wrapped safely in each other’s arms under the steady, warm stream. You trade soft, lazy kisses that taste like pure water and warmth, sharing quiet giggles over nothing at all as the rest of the outside world completely fades away. There’s no rush, no pressure, no place anywhere else you'd rather be just two people who have found a home in one another, being effortlessly cute, deeply in love, and basking in the simple, perfect joy of sharing such a quiet, ordinary moment.

When the water finally runs out and you both step out of the stall, Heeseung immediately reaches for the biggest, fluffiest towel on the rack. He wraps you up snugly first, tucking the edges around your shoulders with meticulous care, before quickly grabbing another for himself. Without a second thought, he scoops you up in his arms once more, carrying you back to the bedroom as if it’s the most natural, instinctual thing in the world.

The night ends with you curled against him beneath the covers, both of you clean, warm, and still smiling, the last soft traces of laughter lingering between quiet kisses until sleep finally claims you.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 :

Summer has started and so is school too, Right now she were sitting in a bench behind the school reading a book, she was so focused that she hasn't noticed the person sitting beside her now.

The person then poke her cheek causing her to turn her head to look at the person, "You couldn't even look at the person sitting next to you." It was Heeseung. Her childhood friend.

"Heeseung! I'm so sorry i didn't notice you, i was so focused at this book i recently read." She showed it to him, he looks at it and ask what is it about. "It's a dark romance book, it's about a boy who is deeply in love with his friend." She answered with a smile in her face.

"I see, but next time be aware on your surrounding you never know, what if something happen to you while im not by your side." Heeseung said in a protective way, it was obvious that he likes his childhood friend but was waiting for the right time to tell his feelings, "I will, i won't worry you anymore." He nodded.

Then silence came between them, Ashlyn was continuing reading while Heeseung is staring at the sky to Ashlyn.

Her beautiful smile. Her face. Her lips. Her neck. Everything of her is perfect for him. Perfect to ruin.

He then spoke up, "Ashlyn, i have a question.." She hums in response, He then continue, "Do you think we can be together or like more than be friends?" Ashlyn looks at him in confusion, "Why ask that question?" "I don't know maybe im just curious."

She thinks before answering, "Maybe? I don't know too but we are friends so we can be together as friends." That was enough for him to have a hope that she can like him. He smiles as a response and pat her shoulder.

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Classes ended and it was a pain for Heeseung to wait for it to end and those stupid lectures, he wanted to spend time to her. So when classes ended he sprint out of the classroom to find her, just then he saw her in the hallway after saying goodbye to her friends.

Just before he could called her, he suddenly stop, a boy, maybe her classmate called out to her, Heeseung then hide to hear their conversation.

"What's up?" Ashlyn asked in confusion, "Uh.. I know it isn't the right time to do this but.. I like you, Ashlyn!" That suprise her because she never thought that someone would confess to her let alone from her classmate she barely talk.

Meanwhile Heeseung was clenching his hand, he wanted to punch that guy for confessing to her. She doesn't even know him! She only belongs to him since childhood. Only him. He wanted to go there to stop it but he doesn't want to make her mad so he had to wait and control his body to stop wanting to punch that guy.

Back to Ashlyn who is still standing, suprise. She look down, "I appreciate your confession but i don't like you nor have feelings for you.." She bow down as a sorry, she stop bowing and look at the person, "Oh.. Do you like someone? Is it your childhood friend..?" That suprise her even more, "What? No, no! I don't like anyone. It's just I'm not ready to be in a relationship.. I want to finish school with Heeseung.." That word from her made Heeseung smile. She wanted him to be with her. To go to college. Together.

The boy was furious at her words, "Your just a slut, aren't you!? Your always stuck with Heeseung everyday! I know there is something between you two, am i right? Huh? Right!?" He hold her two arm, gripping making her struggle to free.

"Let.. go.. of me.. Your hurting me!" She tried to pull away but the boy keep gripping her even more.

That was the last stroll for Heeseung. He appear from his hiding spot and punch that guy, making him let go of her arm. Luckily there weren't anyone in the hallway, only them. "She said let go of her." Heeseung glared at the guy while Ashlyn look shock from his appearance. The guy chuckle, "I knew it, there is something between you two.." He stand up and left.

Heeseung turns to her and hug her which make her hug him back. "I told you to be careful around people especially boys.." His voice murmurs in her ears as if his whispering to her like a secret. "I'm sorry, Hee.. I just didn't want to hurt him.. But he is now mad and I'm scared that he might do something after i rejected him.." She avoided his eyes not wanting to see her fear face.

"Are you mad at me..?" She ask quietly.

The question hangs in the air as if to pause before he answers her, "No, no I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at that guy for touching you." He rasped, Ashlyn seem to notice it and calms him by hugging him, which suprise him. "But I'm glad you came.. You don't have to be angry, everyone makes mistakes, right? That guy will find someone.." Right... That guy might find someone or even do worse.. He hug her tightly as if not wanting to let go of her warmth.

─────────────

Heeseung took her home for safety, he even kissed her forehead which made her smile and wave for him and even remind to text him.

After she goes inside her home, what greeted her was her mother, furious for going home late. "Where have you been?" Her voice was rasped, angry. She didn't want to speak but it will only make things worse if she doesn't, "I was with Hee, we were hang—" Before her words could finish, a slap came to her. She put her hand where her own mother slap her. "Mom..?"

"Don't you call me mom. Your always with your stupid childhood! I made you go to school to study, not hangout with him!" Her mother yelled at her and add, "Or maybe you have been a slut to him? Is that why your always around him?" Ashlyn respond quickly, "No! We aren't doing nothing let alone me being a slut! How about you, mom? Your always with other men rather than being with me and dad! Our own family is ruined because of you two!" Ashlyn yelled at her mother, that made it worse.

Her mother push her making her fall, she beat her own daughter, "You ungrateful brat! I raised you and this is what you treat me back? By being a disrespectful!" She continues beating and ab*sing her, Ashlyn tells her to stop but it continues for an hour to teach her a lesson.

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After an hour of it, it finally stop. "After the summer ends, we will move out and you will be transfer to a different school without that boy, do you understand?" Her mother ask her, still in a angry voice. She looks at her, "Mom.. No i can't leave Heeseung and i don't want to transfer, i won't have anyone there.." Tears flow in her eyes as she beg her mom to not move out and leave Heeseung, Her mother grin, "That might even better," She then kneel and cup her chin, "It might be better if you were alone." She roughly pull away and left her alone in the floor.

Ashlyn continues crying but she had to be quiet or else, her father would her and beat her even more. She weakly stand up and go upstairs to her bedroom, she goes to her bathroom and as soon as she saw her herself in the mirror, she froze.

Her cheek, neck and arms are full of bruise and scars. She thinks of what to explain to Heeseung if he saw this, she wash her face and goes back to her room to start bandage her cheek, neck and arms.

Just then her phone rings, she looks at it and it was Heeseung. Texting her if she sleeping. She wanted.. No she wanted to tell him but she didn't want to be a burden to him, so instead she reply back.

She smiled and start to quietly make her way to the window and slowly open it, she manage to escape and make her way to Heeseung apartment.

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She quietly knock on the door and there is Heeseung worried face. He lets her in as soon as she inside, she saw the computer is on. Video game. She assume he is playing, "I get you a water," She nodded and sit on his bed.

Heeseung then gave her the water and she took it, taking a drink. Silence fell between them, only the sound of his computer still on until Heeseung broke the silence, "Want to tell me what happened?" Ashlyn tense up, she didn't want to talk of it but she didn't want to worry her friend even more.

She puts down the glass of water in his nightstand and quietly answered him, "Same thing as always.. I get home getting greeted by my mother.." Ashlyn looks at her lap and fidgets her hands.

Heeseung looks at her and his face darkened at the mention of her mother, he had always hated her since he was a kid. He had saw how her mother treated her as well as her father too.

"Why won't you just live with me? We be fine together. I take care of you, feed you and give you the love you deserve, not from your parents but from me, do you understand what I'm saying?"

She looks at him and smiled at his offer but it was gone on the second. "I appreciates it but we can't. They kill you and they might accuse you for kidnapping me." That word kidnapping made in his mind, he always wanted to kidnap her, But didn't want to do it due to her hating him.

She then added the word that might make him go crazy, "My mom told me we are moving out and I'm changing school too."

That made Heeseung face darkened. No, he didn't just protect her just so she can leave. She belong to him. "And your just agreeing? You be alone there, with me not being by your side.." She looks at him not noticing his intense and darkened looks.

"I tried but it always end up in argue," Heeseung stays quiet and saw her neck, arm and cheek with bandage, he touch it making her wince in pain.

"You need rest, we talk tomorrow." She nodded, "I be here so don't hesitant to ask me something," She nodded again.

She lays down in his bed. His bed was warmth than her own bed, "Goodnight, Hee.. And thank you for being with me," He smiled and ruffled her hair, "No problem, Lyn. After all I'm the only one for you.." He murmurs the last word.

Ashlyn fall asleep comfortable while Heeseung watch her, her breathing was slow but her heart is beating fast.

He start to remember how they meet, how he protect her from a girls in kindergarten and even offering to be her friend. He had watch her grow up to a little girl to a young girl, he had always wanted to be her lover one day. To make a family, but it shatters after her mother tried to set her up to every stranger boy which made her body full of bruise, and her father who was a alcoholic who would even beat her if she won't even buy alcohol or give him her allowance money. He hated it. He hated her parents. He will do everything to make her to be his only. No one else. Even if he had to kill..

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Heeseung was peacefully playing in his computer, guarding Ashlyn to make sure her parents won't find her. He looks at her sleeping form and goes to his computer, opening a folder of picture of her. A picture of her in school, mall, convince store and even when she was walking home. He had stalked her in middle school, keeping a picture of her.

A rustle sound behind him made him startled, he quickly goes to his game and spins his chair and saw Ashlyn feared face, "Heeseung.." She whisper, calling him out. He gets up and goes to her, sitting in his bed infront of her, "What is it? Does it hurt? Do you need anything? Tell me." He ask her, desperate. She shook her head, "I just.. I just need you here.. I can't sleep because i keep having nightmares of them.." She starts to cry but he wipes it.

"Please do anything to make this disappear.. This pain.. This nightmares.. Please.. Anything.." She was desperate. Desperate for him to take it all away. The only sound was his computer, his ac. It was quiet and made it perfect for him for this.

"Then can i kiss you?"

"Huh?" She was suprise at his question.

"I mean that is the only thing that make you forget it, by focusing on only me. By kissing me. You trust me, right?" It was a lie but he didn't care of he had to manipulate her as long as she is near him, that is enough.

Ashlyn thinks, looking down but looks up. She had always trust him but kissing? It made her think but as she looks at him, she saw the boy who had protected her, being with her even in bad days. Of course she would trust him. No matter what.

She nodded. "I trust you." Heeseung smiled and slowly lean in and kiss her, it was slow but gentle. He wanted to roughly and aggressively kiss her in that way but he wanted to take things slow until he let her guard down.

He keep kissing her putting his hand on her waist, gripping while her hand hold on his arm. He even notice that her kiss was good. He pulls away which made her confuse.

"Where did you learn how to kiss? I mean you never had done it with anyone."

"I watched some romance and there's some kissing scene. Why is it bad i kissed back?" She ask innocently that made him smirk and caress her bandage cheek. "No, it means your learning. Learning everything." He continues kissing her, his goes inside her shirt to feel her body.

The only sound in the apartment was their breathing, "Hee.." She pulls away, a saliva connect between their tongue. "Don't make me leave you.. Please.." "I promise i won't let your parents make you live.. Don't worry.." She then continue kissing him and eventually pulling down with him on top of her and her in down.

He kiss her neck and start to pull her shirt up, taking it off. "This will make you forget everything so trust everything to me, okay?" As usual she nodded and lets him continue.

He kiss her chest and unclips her bra, throwing it on the floor and start to suck on her breast making her gasp, "Hee.." "Keep calling me that, baby." His hand slowly goes down in her pants and feel her wet. "Did you get wet from getting kissed?" His voice hoarse and it turn him on.

"I don't know, i just feel weird after you suck on my breast.. Make it go away, Hee.." She looks at him in desperate way, "Don't worry i make it go away." He start by putting one finger in her entrance. A moan slip in her mouth making her cover her mouth but Heeseung pull it away, "It's okay, this wall is soundproof so don't cover and let me hear your moan, okay?" She nodded, he continue, she arched her back and moan from the pleasure.

She then cup his both cheek and kissed him making him get pressed at her breast, "It's not fair I'm only undressed here.." She pout making him chuckle, he sit up and took off his shirt and only unzip his pants, "Happy?"

"Very." The intense make out and almost sex continues that night until morning came.

──────────

Birds chirps, sunrise in the window. Heeseung and Ashlyn were sleeping together. Cuddling after last night, their breathing was the only sound and the birds outside, the first to wake up was Ashlyn. She blinks her eyes and rub it looking up at him. He was sleeping peacefully. His face was beautiful even in sunlight, she smiled and sit up reaching at her phone in the nightstand.

She saw many missed call from her mom, she knew she screwed up but she didn't care. Something just happened between them last night with her childhood. Then Heeseung woke up and saw her deep in thoughts, he sits up and hug her behind making her startled. "Hee..! Your awake.. I'm sorry about last night.. I even made you do something just so i can forget it everything."

"Don't worry about it, im glad your okay now. Was it good?" She nodded, then she remember something. "Shoot! We have school today and i didn't even have my uniform!" Ashlyn sulks, she knows that if she goes home her parents would surely kill her.

"Ashlyn, i really suggest you shouldn't go to school.." Heeseung muttered, she looks at him behind. "Did you say something?" He only shake his head no. They get ready and luckily Heeseung has a extra uniform for her but didn't question why he has one.

Ashlyn didn't answer any of her mom missed call and think about her day with Heeseung but she wouldn't expect the things that is happening in school.

──────────

She goes to her classroom while Heeseung goes on his own, as she walks at the hallway, she notice some of the students were staring, whispering she couldn't understand. She keep walking and goes inside the classroom, same thing as the hallway everyone was staring at her even whispering.

She sits down and finally heard some it.

"Did you hear she rejects a boy just for her childhood? I knew something was happening between them.." one of the girl whisper to her friend. And it continues

"I know right? Maybe that’s why he is always with her.. Or maybe she a slut and gave herself to Heeseung.."

"Maybe that’s true.. What a slut.."

She couldn't believe it. Her? Being a slut? What kind of rumors is that.. She knows Heeseung is protective to her and that’s why he is always with her and they're only friends, well yea something happen between them last night but she still confuse of hee feelings towards him.

Then she heard something of her classmate.

"Did you see the post? Something really happen between them after she rejected a boy.."

"Well if she is a slut, maybe I can give her a good time than her childhood.." one of the boys give her a smirk in which she looks down in her desk, she feels scared of it.

She takes out her phone and saw the post.

The post was about her rejecting one of her boy classmate for her childhood and that something happen between them and even called her a slut for being around him..?! She couldn't believe it maybe that's why everyone was staring at her.

She isn't like that nor even a slut, she just didn't like that boy!

She couldn't take it and took her bag and ran out of the classroom, she didn't know where she was going but she only goes to the gym where it's empty.

This was their quiet place whenever it's empty, they would sleep, play video game and eat a snack, she smiles at it, she sat down on the floor and lean on the wall letting her tears fall. She wipes it but it stills coming. She needed Heeseung so she text him and waited.

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After an hour of waiting, he finally came and saw her teared face. He rushed to her before kneeling down infront of her and hug her.

"Hee.." She was gonna say it but he spoke first. "I know i saw it and it's awful.." He pulls away and wipes her tears. "Some boys didn't do anything to you, right?" She shook her head, a relief came on him.

"What do i do now? If i keep going to school, now that everyone and even the teachers will know it, they will call my parents and they will move me out. I don't want that!" She lets out her frustration and didn't care if she sound pathetic.

Heeseung who was staring at her finally smirk while she looks down not noticing it.

The truth was that Heeseung ask the boy who she rejected to make a fake rumors of her and the boy agree because he wanted revenge of rejecting him.

Heeseung then drop his smirk and caress her cheek, "I may have a plan but you may not like it."

"What is it?"

"Well we can move out where everyone won't know you but I dont have a job nor have money, so I'm asking you if your okay to drop out and stay in my apartment while i finish college so that I can find a job and save enough money to move out, is that okay with you..?" She didn't hesitant and nodded, he smiled and hug her, she was easy to manipulate.

"I will take care of you. I promise."

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Heeseung then took care of her, gave her the love she needs, whenever he goes to school he always lock the door and even left a note written with rules she must follow when he isn't here.

Right now, Heeseung isn't here and was in school while Ashlyn is sitting in his bed, it has been a routine for her but she gotten used to it, Heeseung even told her to delete her parents contact number for 'safety'.

Ashlyn gets up and turn on the lights, Heeseung apartment was simple, it has a bed that fit for two people, a desk with his computer for gaming and a book and other supplies for school, a small kitchen, a couch and a small table with infront is a tv, and lastly a bathroom.

She smiles not because of his apartment but she finally free. Free from her strict parents.

She finally looks the note that was attach on his frigde.

RULES TO FOLLOW WHEN I'M GONE

1. Always keep the windows and curtains closed.

2. Do not open the door and answer for anyone.

3. Always answer my text and calls.

4. Do not leave the apartment.

I left your favorite food and snack in case your hungry :) - From Hee.

She smiled when she read the last part. She then close the windows and curtains, she took out her favorite that Heeseung made for her and heat it up in the oven, as she waits. She turns on the tv.

It was a television report of her being missing.

Female Reporters: A college student who is 18 years old has gone missing in june 28, some of the student said they last seen her run out of classroom and never came back. Her parents are deeply worry and police are doing everything to find her, if anyone of you seen her please contact the police immediately.

She immediately change it to a movie. What a joke. Her parents worried of her? It made her sick in the stomach, they're just acting so that they can only ab*se her again? She would rather die than being with them.

Click.

The sound of the oven made her turn around, her food was ready, she goes to it and take out her food before sitting in the sofa with movie playing.

It hasn't been a minute before a knock came.

Knock. Knock.

"Heeseung, Are you here? You need to pay your rent." It was the landlord of the apartment. Panic rise in her, thinking what to do, she trys to stay quiet but that would raise suspicious.

Just before she could do anything, she saw something in his nightstand, it was a money witj small attach note that says 'Pay for my rent.' it was for his apartment rent.

She takes a deep breath and took the money in the nightstand and opens the door with a extra key he gave to her. She handed it and was gonna close when the landlord stop her.

"Who are you? And why are you in Heeseung apartment?"

Shoot. Think think, self. she thought to herself before answering. "I'm his friend. And was staying here for a while.." Silence before the landlord only answered with 'okay.' and finally left.

She closes the door and lock it before laying down in the sofa and buried her face in the pillow. If Heeseung knew this, he would get mad surely, she thought to herself. She tries not to think of his reaction and just focus on the mvie instead.

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It night and Heeseung isn't still there not even a text or call from him, worry came over her. He didn't mention anything of going home in night and it was strange of him being this late.

She was about to call him when the door unlock.

It was Heeseung. With a one bag of food.

"Hey, I'm sorry i was late. Something caught up in school, you know how the teachers are." He said softly and took off his shoes before she goes to him and hug him which suprise him almost dropping the bag.

"Ashlyn? What's wrong?"

"I was worried... worried that something might happen to you that my parents might saw you.." Her voice was worried and full of concern. He hug her and softly reassure her he was fine and her parents didn't saw him.

He suggest of eating first and she agree. While preparing he suddenly ask, "Did someone came here?" She was startled at his voice. It was not in a softly way but rather in possessive voice. "Actually.. There is one.." Heeseung turn around quickly after hearing it, "Who?"

"It was your landlord that came here for your pay rent, i didn't know what to do and just saw your money in the nightstand and gave it to him but before i could close it, he stop me and ask me who i am and just said I'm your friend and finally left. I'm sorry!" She breath in and out slowly after talking too fast. She was scared of his reaction and look down.

Before she could react, he came to her and hug her, she immediately froze from it but she hug him back.

"Are you not mad at me?" She ask quietly, "No I'm not. I'm just glad he didn't saw you because if he did.." He pause and continue with a low voice, "I wouldn't have done something bad.." She didn't understand and was gonna ask him for it but the warmth of his body, pressed againt to her body, connecting them. It was like the earth just freeze and it was only the two of them.

She let the silence go on and hug him tighter. "Thank you for being with me, and for being my friend." He smiled softly and kiss her cheek before continuing hugging her.

After dinner, Heeseung fell asleep due to his school while Ashlyn was washing the dishes and cleaning the table before going to his bed.

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THE NEXT DAY

Just like everyday, he left for school while she stays in his apartment but today was different.

There weren't any snack to eat, maybe because she eats all of it yesterday and she felt bad if she ask him to go the convince store so she decided to go herself. She sent a text and didn't wait for his reply before putting a pants and a black hoodie to hide her face, she unlock the door and left.

Hee💕: Don't go out, just wait for me and i go there.

──────────

Luckily the cashier didn't recognize her and has bought what she need, she left the convince store and now was walking back to the apartment.

While she was walking a footsteps was walking to her behind and she didn't notice when that someone suddenly pull her hoodie down letting her face shown, she looks at the person and it was her dad but he was different, his face was like beaten?

"You little brat, where you have been?" His voice was rasped more like angry. "Dad. Leave me alone and if your asking for money, i dont have any money." She spat back to him, glaring at him. "You little.. You will come with me." Her dad roughly grab her wrist and drag her to a alley where no can see or hear her.

──────────

She didn't know how she still alive despite getting beaten by her dad when he checks that she doesn't have any money. She stumbled a little while walking barefoot holding the bag she bought from the convince store.

She made it to the apartment and slowly unlock the door, she didn't have time to look when a pair of arms wrapped around her.

It was Heeseung. He was worried where she was.

He took her in and saw her body covered in bruise. Her face was pale due to the trauma she experience getting beaten by her parents. She couldn't look at him nor speak.

Heeseung cupped her cheek and slowly kiss her, gentle and slowly hoping she respond bak to it. She drop the bag and slowly kissed him back while holding in his arm. The two of them pull away.

Before Heeseung could ask, it was Ashlyn who spoke first in a quiet and desperate voice, "Hee, i couldn't take it anymore.. It was my dad who did this, looking for money, i just want them gone and never bother me.." That gone word made him think that she wants them dead. He slowly caress her cheek. "I promise, i will make them gone. Just trust me on this, okay?" She was confuse, "What do you mean? How are you gonna make them gone? We don't ha—" Heeseung cut her off. "You don't have to worry about it, all you have to do is just be here and trust me on everything." He says it in possessive and creepy way.

──────────

Ashlyn was sleeping soundly when she about to reach to Heeseung but his warmth wasn't there, it made her woke up and sit up in panic. "Hee? Where are you?" Silence. Where did he go at this hour at night? As she gets up to find up. The door opens and there is Heeseung but he looks different.

His shirt is bloody as well as his face, everything on him is covered in blood. "Hee? Why are you like that?" she asks in confusion voice. "They're are gone now.." he muttered but it was enough for her to hear it. Ashlyn grab his hand and made him sit on the floor of his bed in silence.

There was no talk only the sound rustle of her finding the towel.

She sat down infront of him and slowly watered the towel and wipe it on his arm, neck and face. Now that she look at him, he looks quiet beautiful and attractive, no wonder every girl like him.

Heeseung who was quiet the whole time only just watch her wiping, after wiping him she was about to stand up to put the towel back but a hand grab her wrist which made her stop and turn to saw Heeseung look at her.

"Stay." It was the only word he said.

For her, she couldn't even refuse coming from her childhood so she sit back again and wait for him to say something.

It hasn't been a minute in silence but he suddenly spoke up, "These might be weird but.. Do you hate me?" The question was off and creepy, it was like he killed someone..

"For what? What am i supposed to even hate you?" It was quiet again, it starting to creep her out. "You know.. Like what if murder someone like your parents..?" He looks at her with a small smile, it was scary for her to seen him like that but she had to get the courage to stay calm.

"I don't know.. I mean I don't know if I should hate you or not, but one thing I know is that I stay with you because your the only person i have."

He didn't answer and stared, just then he holds her both wrist and kiss her, she gasp from it but she respond back by kissing him back.

Heeseung then pin her down while kissing her, his kiss was rough as if she was gonna go, it was the first time someone kissed her and it was her childhood who was always there for her, comfort her, help her and gave her the love her parents never gave her.

His tongue slide in hers, dancing together. The apartment was full of muffled of moan and their breaths and the soft warm of the aircon. "Hey, do you want to do it again?" He asked her not a question but confirmation, she nodded. He smiled and continue kissing her.

──────────

Everything is silence, the neighbor, the outside except for their apartment. Right now, he was inside her, thrusting roughly. "Ngh-!" Ashlyn moaned in pleasure, she never thought sex would be good. At first when he putted in, It was painful giving that she was a virgin but after he thrusted, pleasure came to her.

"Does it feel good?" His voice was hoarse, rough. His hip keep on thrusting determined to cum inside her. "Yes-! Hee! It feels good..!" He smirked on her reply and he eventually reached her cervix which made her cum right before him. "Woah, you even cum right away after i reached your cervix, didn't you?"

She slowly nodded without hesitation, she keep moaning and moaning over and over. His hip keep on thrusting on her determine to cum inside her or maybe.. to impregnate her..

He caress her cheek and said, "Hey, Is it okay if I cum inside you and make you pregnant?" He stop before continuing, "I want us to start a family. You, Me and child. Far away from here, Far from your parents. You want that, right?" Before she could respond, he suddenly slam to her deeper. which made her gasp, "Hee! Ah-! Your too deep.. It's making my mind dizzy!" She moaned, she couldnt keep even speak due to the pleasure.

He looks at her and said, "Then go crazy. Because we be together. Forever."

Then after thrusting, he finally cum inside her. It was warm, thick. He slowly pulls out and made her gasp a little, his semen slowly drip on her thigh but Heeseung was quick and scoop his semen back inside her cunt.

"Don't let it waste, okay?" His voice is rasped, hoarse. Her eyes was in dazzle and it made her feel like sleeping.

Just when she thought it was over, Heeseung suddenly turns her around making her ass infront of him. "What are you doing, Hee? I can't take it, I'm too tired.." She pleaded in desperate eyes but he seemly kiss her to quiet her. "I'm sorry but I had to make sure you be pregnant on my baby. Just behave and you will not get hurt.."

She was scared, It's like this isn't the Heeseung she knows back then, he was a completly different person. She wanted to leave but where else would she go, if she goes back to her parents. It would continue like the same.

She had no choice, "Okay, Hee.. I will, just don't hurt me.." He smiled and continued..

──────────

It wasn't long after he wanted to impregnate her, sometimes she would feel nauseous in morning or night. She hid it from him not because of fear but because of guilt.

Then came one day the thing she fears. She was standing in the sink, looking at her herself in the mirror, she was pale and tired. On her hand is a pregnancy test. A positive one. She was pregnant with Heeseung child.

It was like something broke on her and she fell on the floor, tears start to flow in her eyes. She was scared that he might leave.. So she decided to keep it a secret until she ready, But it wasn't easy to look normal infront of him considering how she wants other food, how her mood swings change and how she touch her stomach.

He did notice it, all of it but he didn't say anything, he knew clearly why she acting like that.

They were having dinner when he suddenly ask her, "Ashlyn, Is there something you want to tell me?" Her hand froze as she grip on her spoon, she shook her head and continue eating, but Heeseung isn't letting it slide when he put a pregnancy test on the table.

It made her turn to look at it to confirm what she saw and it was really a pregnancy test, "Where did you find this..?" She said in a panic voice, she did remember throwing it away to hide it but she didn't expect to find himself.

He looks at her and answered her question, "In the bathroom while you were asleep." He says it casually like it's the normal thing.

"Just tell me, I won’t get mad.." He reassured her with a gentle smile because he didn't want to pressure her now that she pregnant with his own child.

She hesitant but slowly took a deep breath, "You won’t leave me if I say it, right?" He shook his head and she then continue, "Yes.. Yes I'm pregnant."

"That's good." He stand up and goes to her and kneel before kissing her hand. "I won’t leave you, I promise you, you will not go to the same fate your parents did, okay?" His voice was softly spoken, reassured. She only nodded and said 'thank you.'

It work, his plan work. He had been waiting for this. To start a family with her and he will not let anyone steal her away from him.

──────────

It's been a few years, the street and outside was crowded, the wind was blowing as always, people talking but one thing is there is Heeseung, who had finished college and eventually move out country with Ashlyn to start a new life, and even gave birth to a healthy boy.

He just recently pick up Minho, their child who is 5 years old in kindergarten.

"Dad, I'm hungry!" The little boy pout in hungry

"We be at home soon, your mother is making your favorite."

Minho face brightened up as he heard those and became excited, after a long walk. They finally got home.

"Mom! We are home!" Minho rush inside to see her mother, "Welcome back, you two. I made dinner." The little boy run towards her and hug her, Heeseung walk towards her and kiss her. "Were you okay here?" He ask as he pull away, she nodded and he kiss her again which made the boy pout.

"Don't steal mom from me!" Minho pouts in a platonic jealousy, Heeseung only giggle and pick him. "She is my wife and I can do that whenever I want."

"Then I be mom husband too!"

Ashlyn quickly explained it while Heeseung only just laugh, "Minho, that's not how it works. I'm your mom so you can't be my husband.."

But Minho just quickly continue. "No! I want to be mom husband!"

"Your still little to know of these, you find someone for you."

Minho only then nodded as if to understand.

"Let's all eat before the food gets cold." The two boys both nodded and head to the dining room.

Meanwhile Heeseung watch as Ashlyn take care of their child. This is what he wanted and longing for, and finally had it.

She will be his forever even if she had to find out that he murdered people who gets close to her and her parents or maybe.. his parents who was the same as her parents did to her..

Heeseung then holds one of Ashlyn hand as she squeeze back and smiled at him, and he did too.

Fin

© 2026 itzkathysblog. all rights reserved

chapter four: dangerous orbits

by friday morning, the library has become your sanctuary, or maybe your hiding place. you sit at a secluded corner desk on the third floor, hidden behind a fortress of heavy textbooks. Quantum Mechanics: The Theoretical Minimum is open in front of you, but for the last twenty minutes, you’ve been staring at the same paragraph about state vectors, your mind completely unmoored.

every time you close your eyes, you hear his voice. “good girl". “you could never disappoint me, y/n.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, your cheeks burning hot against your palms. "stop it," you whisper to yourself, pressing your knuckles against your forehead. you're a rational person. you chose physics because the universe runs on strict, unyielding laws. cause and effect. action and reaction. but nothing about the way your pulse skyrockets when heeseung fixes his glasses with his index finger feels rational.

your phone buzzes against the wood of the desk, the sudden vibration making you gasp. your heart leaps into your throat as you scramble to grab it, half-terrified and half-hoping it’s his name on the screen.

it isn't. it's just a reminder for your lab quiz on monday.

you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of intense relief and a hollow, disappointing ache settling in your chest. you drop the phone back onto the desk and stare down at your lap. today you wore a simple oversized gray hoodie and regular jeans, consciously choosing the most ordinary, shapeless clothes you owned. after the matching sweater incident on tuesday, you felt exposed, like he could read the deliberate intent behind your outfits. you wanted to look pretty for him—you couldn't even lie to yourself about that anymore—but the realization of what you were doing, of the line you were eagerly dancing on, made your stomach twist with a complicated guilt.

he's married. you saw the ring. you saw the way he gripped it, twisting the silver band like an anchor keeping him tethered to a shore you aren't allowed to touch.

"he's just being a good mentor," you mutter, tracing the edge of the textbook page. "he sees a passionate student, and he's helping. the rest is just in your head."

but a good mentor doesn't tell a student she's captivating. a good mentor's voice doesn't drop into a raspy, low register that makes your thighs press together under the desk.

unable to focus on the formulas any longer, you pack your journal and the heavy textbook into your bag and leave the library. the campus is bustling with students enjoying the afternoon sun, but you walk through the crowd like a ghost, completely absorbed in your own head.

without entirely meaning to, your feet guide you toward the science building. your next lecture isn't for another two hours, and it's not even in this hall, but your eyes automatically track upward to the second-floor windows. that's where his office is. is he in there right now? is he grading papers, or is he looking at the diagram of quantum entanglement, thinking about how two particles can be connected across a room?

you bite your lip—a habit you are now hyper-aware of—and force yourself to turn away, heading toward the campus cafe instead.

by the time tuesday evening rolls around, you are a nervous wreck. you spent a full hour in front of your closet, completely paralyzed by indecision. you wanted to look neat, professional, but your heart ached to see that dark, intense look in his eyes again. in the end, you settled on a polkadot blouse paired with a black skirt that hits just above your knees. it's modest, but the soft fabric hugs your waist just enough to make your skin prickle with anticipation.

the walk to his office feels longer tonight. the hallways of the science building are empty, the quiet echoing with the rhythmic click of your shoes. when you reach his door, you stop, closing your eyes and taking three deep, grounding breaths.

"academic guidance," you whisper to yourself. "just ask about chapter three."

you raise your hand and knock softly.

the door opens almost instantly, as if he had been standing right behind it. heeseung stands in the doorway, and the sight of him makes your breath hitch. he’s back in his formal attire—a crisp, black button-up shirt with the sleeves neatly cuffed at his wrists, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead.

his dark eyes sweep down your skirt, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on your bare knees before traveling back up to your face. a subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurs in his expression, his jaw tightening slightly.

"good evening, y/n," he says, his voice soft, carrying that familiar, heavy resonance that makes your knees feel weak. "come in."

"good evening, heeseung," you murmur, stepping past him into the warm, golden light of his office. the scent of coffee and old paper wraps around you like a familiar blanket, but tonight, there's also the faint, sharp smell of his cologne.

as he closes the door behind you, the heavy click of the lock signals the start of another hour where the rest of the world ceases to exist, and you are entirely at the mercy of his orbit.

you step further into the room, setting your bag down on the edge of the chair. your hands are slightly clammy, so you press them against the fabric of your skirt to dry them before pulling out the heavy textbook.

heeseung walks back around his desk, his eyes tracking your movements with an intensity that makes your breath shallow. he doesn't sit down immediately; instead, he leans against the edge of the wood, crossing his arms over his chest. the fabric of his black button-up stretches across his broad shoulders, and your eyes find their way down to his rolled-up sleeves, catching the slight flex of his forearms.

"did you manage to get through the first three chapters?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. his tone is perfectly professional, but his dark eyes hold a quiet curiosity that makes you feel like you're being tested on something far deeper than physics.

"i did," you say, looking up to meet his gaze. you open the book to your marked pages, your journal sliding out alongside it, filled with pages of your neat handwriting and complex equations. "the math in chapter three got a bit overwhelming, especially when it came to the scalar field representations. i tried to map out the operators, but..."

"but you got stuck?" he guesses softly, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.

"a little," you admit, feeling a sudden flush of heat creep up your neck. "i wanted to understand it perfectly before tonight. i didn't want to disappoint you."

heeseung lets out a quiet, huffed breath, his gaze dropping to your face. the small smile fades, replaced by that intense, serious look that always makes your heart hammer against your ribs. "y/n, i told you before. you could never disappoint me. the fact that you even attempted the derivation on your own is more than what most graduate students can do."

he moves away from the edge of the desk, pulling his chair closer to yours. when he sits, the distance between you shrinks significantly. you can feel the warmth radiating from him, the subtle scent of his clean cologne completely enveloping your senses.

"show me where you got confused," he whispers, leaning over the desk so his shoulder is almost brushing against yours.

you point a trembling index finger toward a complex string of symbols in your journal. "here. the transition from the classical field to the quantum operator. i lost the track of the commutation relations."

"ah." heeseung leans in closer, his dark head hovering just inches from yours as he looks down at your notes. "you missed the spatial dependency. see this term here?" he reaches out, taking the pen from your hand. his fingers brush against yours, a brief, electric spark of contact that makes your stomach flip. he doesn't seem to notice—or maybe he's just better at hiding it than you are—as he circles a variable in your journal. "if you don't account for the delta function, the whole equilibrium collapses."

"oh..." you murmur, staring at the page. but you aren't looking at the math. you're looking at the long, elegant shape of his hand, the way his knuckles look as he writes, and the silver wedding band catching the golden light of the lamp.

the ring feels like a quiet, heavy chaperone sitting on the desk between you, shouting boundaries that your heart keeps trying to ignore.

as if sensing your distraction, heeseung stops writing. the room goes incredibly quiet, save for the hum of the building's air conditioning. he slowly turns his head to look at you, his face so close you can see the dark flecks in his eyes and the small mole on his forehead. his gaze drops down to your mouth, watching the way your lower lip is caught between your teeth.

"y/n," he says, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that sends a violent shiver down your spine. "what did i tell you about that?"

you freeze, your heart slamming so hard against your chest you're entirely certain he can hear it. you slowly release your lower lip, your breathing shallow. "sorry... i told you, it's a habit."

"a dangerous one," he murmurs, his dark eyes fixed entirely on your lips. his hand is still holding your pen, resting on the desk just inches from your skirt. for a split second, the space between you feels completely charged, a magnetic pull so strong that the air feels thick, suffocating. heeseung swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he fights whatever internal battle is raging behind his calm exterior.

he forces his gaze away, staring down at your journal with a sudden, tight focus. "if you apply the operator here," he continues, his voice slightly rougher than before, "the field resolves. do you see it now?"

"yes," you whisper, your voice a little breathy as you try to regain your composure. "i see it."

"good." he sets the pen down with a quiet click, leaning back into his chair. he rubs his temples, letting out a long, slow breath. "you're incredibly smart, y/n. your intuition for the subject is... remarkable. it makes it very easy to teach you."

"thank you," you say softly, a genuine smile breaking through your nervousness. "i really love learning from you, heeseung. i mean it. no one else makes it make sense like this."

heeseung looks at you, his expression softening into something so fond, so heavy with unspoken thoughts, that it catches in your throat. he opens his mouth to say something, but before the words can leave his lips, a sudden, heavy vibration echoes through the quiet room.

your eyes instinctively look down at his desk. his phone is face-up, the screen illuminated in the dim light.

the caller ID reads: Minji—his wife.

the warmth in the room evaporates in an instant, replaced by a cold, sharp reality. heeseung freezes, his eyes locked on the flashing screen. his expression hardens, the soft, intimate look he was just giving you vanishing behind a wall of polite, professional distance.

he clears his throat quickly, his hand reaching out to flip the phone face-down, silencing the vibration. the silver wedding band on his finger catches the light one last time before he slides his hand back into his pocket.

"i think... that's a good stopping point for today," he says, his voice completely steady now, returning to his standard professor tone. "you have a solid grasp on the fundamentals. just finish the exercises at the end of chapter three for next week."

the sudden shift makes your chest ache with a dull, heavy disappointment. you nod quickly, your cheeks burning with a fresh wave of embarrassment as you gather your things. "of course. thank you for your time, mr. lee... heeseung."

"anytime, y/n," he says quietly, watching you pack your bag. he stands up to walk you to the door, his posture rigid and formal once again.

as you step out into the empty hallway, you give him a small, polite smile, but the cool night air hitting your face offers no comfort this time. you turn and walk down the corridor, the rhythmic click of your shoes sounding lonely against the linoleum floors. you can feel his eyes on your back until you turn the corner, but the heavy image of his flashing phone screen stays burned into your mind, a stark reminder of exactly where his gravity truly belongs.

chapter five: broken symmetry

for the next week, you became a ghost in his lectures. you sat in your usual spot—second row to the left—but you kept your eyes fixed firmly on your notebook, your fingers gripping your pen until your knuckles turned white. you didn't look at the way he fixed his glasses. you didn't look at his broad shoulders. and most of all, you didn't look at his hands.

the image of his flashing phone screen—minji—had re-centered your universe with a violent, necessary force. it was the cold, hard boundary you had been foolishly trying to ignore. he was a married man, and you were a student letting a silly crush completely distort reality.

when tuesday evening arrived, you didn't wear a skirt or a coordinated sweater. you wore an oversized black hoodie and baggy sweatpants, your hair pulled back into a messy, unpretentious bun. you walked into his office with your textbook clutched against your chest like a shield.

heeseung was sitting at his desk, his laptop open, looking exhausted. the dark circles under his eyes were prominent under the harsh fluorescent lights he had chosen over his usual soft lamp. when he looked up and saw you, his eyes scanned your casual attire, and a flash of something unreadable—perhaps regret, or maybe relief—passed through his features.

"y/n," he said softly, his voice carrying a raspy edge. "sit, please."

"good evening, heeseung," you said, your tone deliberately polite, devoid of the soft reverence from before. you took your seat, immediately opening chapter four and laying out your completed exercises. "i finished the derivations for the gauge fields. i think i got the matrix transformations right, but i wanted to verify the invariance."

heeseung stared at the notebook you pushed toward him, but he didn't lean in. he remained back in his chair, keeping a strict, painful distance between the two of you. the warm, magnetic bubble from the previous weeks was completely gone, replaced by a tense, sterile atmosphere.

"let's see," he murmured, pulling the notebook closer. he picked up his pen, his fingers moving methodically across your equations. "this is correct... and this is also correct. your math is flawless here, y/n."

"thank you," you said, keeping your eyes on the paper.

silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. the hum of the building's ventilation seemed louder than usual. heeseung set the pen down, his hand resting near the edge of the desk. the silver wedding band on his finger seemed to catch every drop of light in the room.

"you've been quiet in class," he said suddenly, his voice dropping into a lower register that made your chest tighten despite your best efforts. "very focused on your notes."

"i have a lot of exams coming up," you lied smoothly, keeping your gaze fixed on a random variable in your notebook. "i just need to make sure my grades stay perfect."

heeseung let out a long, slow breath. he ran a hand through his dark hair, his jaw clenching. "y/n... about last week—"

"it's fine," you interrupted quickly, finally looking up to meet his eyes. your throat felt dry, but you forced the words out with a steady, resolute strength. "you don't have to explain anything, heeseung. you're my professor, and you're helping me with my degree. that's all this is. i know the boundaries."

heeseung froze, his dark eyes searching your face with an intensity that felt almost predatory, as if he were trying to find a single crack in your armor. but you held his gaze, refusing to let your lower lip tremble, refusing to give in to the dangerous pull.

"right," he whispered, his voice sounding hollow, almost bitter. he looked away, staring down at the complex equations of broken symmetry on the page. "that's... exactly what this is. let's move on to chapter five."

the rest of the session passed in a cold, analytical blur. he explained the concepts with his usual brilliance, but the passion was gone, replaced by a rigid professionalism that made your heart ache with a profound, heavy sorrow. when the clock finally hit five, you packed your things without a word.

"thank you for the session," you said, offering a small, polite nod as you swung your bag over your shoulder.

"have a good night, y/n," he responded, his voice completely flat, his eyes already fixed back on his laptop screen.

as you walked out of the office and into the empty hallway, the cool air felt bitter. you had successfully repaired the symmetry of your academic relationship, but as you walked away, you felt entirely shattered.

chapter six: the perturbation theory

for the rest of the month, the distance between you and heeseung became an unwritten law. in the lecture hall, you remained a model student—attentive, quiet, and completely detached. you no longer lingered after the bell rang, and you stopped looking at his hands. you convinced yourself that the ache in your chest was just the stress of midterms, nothing more.

but laws in physics are meant to be tested, and systems in perfect equilibrium are often the most fragile.

it happened on a rainy thursday afternoon. the campus was drenched in a torrential downpour, turning the sky a heavy, bruised purple. you had spent the last four hours in the basement computer lab typing up a rigorous programming model for your advanced mechanics class. by the time you packed up your laptop and walked up the stairs, the building was nearly deserted, the dim hallways cast in the gray shadow of the storm outside.

as you stepped onto the main floor, a sharp, melodic sound echoed down the corridor, stopping you dead in your tracks.

it was a piano.

the notes were heavy, rich, and deeply melancholic, drifting through the empty hallway from the old auditorium at the end of the hall. the melody was complex—a classical piece that felt restless, full of tension and unexpressed grief. your feet moved before your brain could protest. you walked down the dim corridor, drawn to the music like a moth to a flickering flame.

the auditorium doors were heavy oak, but one of them was propped open just a fraction of an inch. you stepped closer, holding your breath, and peered through the gap.

the stage was mostly dark, save for a single spotlight cutting through the shadows, illuminating the grand piano. and sitting at the keys, his jacket thrown carelessly over a nearby chair, was heeseung.

his black button-up shirt was untucked, the top two buttons undone, and his sleeves were rolled haphazardly up his forearms. his dark hair fell over his eyes as his long, elegant fingers flew across the ivory keys with a raw, breathtaking intensity. he wasn't just playing; he was pouring something volatile into the instrument. you watched, completely mesmerized, as his broad shoulders shifted with every heavy chord, his jaw clenched tight in complete concentration.

this was the man who had told you he was rusty. this was the private concert he had promised you in the quiet safety of his office.

as the piece reached its thundering crescendo, heeseung struck a final, lingering chord that echoed through the vast, empty room. the notes slowly faded into the quiet air, leaving nothing but the sound of the rain heavy against the high windows. he stayed still, his hands resting on the keys, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

unconsciously, you leaned a bit closer to the door, the strap of your heavy bag slipping against your shoulder and hitting the wood with a dull, quiet thud.

heeseung’s head snapped toward the entrance immediately. "who’s there?" he called out, his voice sharp, echoing in the empty space.

your heart stopped. you stepped back, intending to run down the hallway before he could see you, but the heavy oak door creaked loudly as you moved.

"y/n?"

hearing your name, you froze. heeseung stood up from the piano bench, walking down the steps of the stage into the dim seating area. your legs felt like lead, keeping you rooted to the spot as he approached the doors and pulled one wide open.

when his dark eyes met yours, the air between you instantly turned thick, the rigid professionalism of the past two weeks dissolving into nothing. he looked exhausted, his eyes searching your face with a raw, exposed vulnerability that stripped away all his usual academic armor.

"i... i'm sorry," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper against the sound of the rain. "i was just leaving the computer lab. i heard the music, and i didn't mean to intrude."

heeseung didn't answer right away. he just stared at you, his gaze tracking the damp strands of hair framing your face, down to the simple oversized jacket you wore. he let out a slow, shaky breath, running a hand through his dark hair.

"you weren't intruding," he said softly, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that always made your chest ache. he stepped aside, holding the heavy door open wider. "come in out of the hallway, y/n. please."

every rational thought in your head screamed at you to turn around and walk away. but looking at him standing there—unraveled, beautiful, and completely devoid of his usual composure—you found yourself stepping past him into the dim auditorium.

he closed the door behind you, and just like that, the sterile, safe boundaries you had fought so hard to rebuild collapsed under the weight of a single, unpredictable perturbation.

the heavy oak door clicked shut, the sound dampening the distant rumble of the storm outside. you stood just inside the threshold, your fingers tightly gripping the straps of your bag, your knuckles white. the auditorium felt massive, yet the space between the two of you felt incredibly small, charged with a sudden, suffocating gravity.

heeseung turned around, his eyes locking onto yours. without the desk between you, without the textbooks and the structured syllabus, he looked entirely human—and dangerous. the top two buttons of his black shirt were undone, exposing the elegant line of his throat, and his rolled sleeves revealed the tense muscles of his forearms.

"you play beautifully," you whispered, the quiet words costing you a strange amount of bravery. "you lied to me. you aren't rusty at all."

a faint, self-deprecating smile touched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. he walked slowly back toward the stage, his steps unhurried. "i haven't touched a piano in three years, y/n. not until today." he stopped by the edge of the stage, leaning against the wooden apron, looking down at you. "the keys... they don't let you hide what you're thinking. physics is safe because it has rules. music doesn't."

you walked down the sloped aisle, drawn closer despite the warning bells in your head. "what were you thinking about?"

heeseung’s gaze darkened, tracking your progress until you stood just a few feet away from him at the base of the stage. the single spotlight from above caught the silver wedding band on his left hand as he gripped the edge of the wood. tonight, the ring didn't look like a shield; it looked like a handcuff.

"you know what i was thinking about," he said, his voice dropping to that rough, low register that sent a violent tremor straight to your core. "i was thinking about symmetry. and how easily a system collapses when a single variable changes."

you swallowed hard, your throat completely dry. "heeseung, we shouldn't—"

"i tried, y/n," he interrupted, his tone carrying a sudden, raw edge that made your heart hammer against your ribs. he stood up straight, stepping off the low stage platform until he was standing directly in front of you. he was so tall, completely enveloping your field of vision, the scent of his clean cologne mixed with the faint, sharp smell of rain. "the past two weeks... i sat behind that desk and let you treat me like a stranger. i saw you looking away in the lecture hall. i saw the sweatpants, the oversized hoodies. i knew what you were doing. you were trying to build a wall."

your breath hitched. you hated how easily he read you, how easily he dismantled the armor you had spent weeks desperately piecing together. "i had to," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "it was the right thing to do. you have... a life. you have minji."

hearing his wife's name leave your lips made heeseung flinch slightly. his jaw clenched, a muscle working in his cheek. he closed his eyes for a brief second, letting out a ragged breath that sounded like a confession.

"my marriage was over long before you ever walked into my classroom, y/n," he whispered, opening his eyes to look down at you with a vulnerability that completely broke your heart. "it's an arrangement of convenience, a cold routine of two people living separate lives under the same roof. she doesn't care where i am. she doesn't care what i think. and she certainly doesn't look at me the way you do."

he stepped closer, closing the remaining distance until you were mere inches apart. you could feel the heat radiating from his chest, his presence completely overwhelming your senses.

"when you look at me," heeseung murmured, his dark eyes dropping to your mouth, completely transfixed, "i feel like a man who actually exists. not just a professor. not just a name on a legal document. you are a distraction i never anticipated, and no matter how much math i use, i can't calculate my way out of wanting you."

your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could see it pulsing against the fabric of your jacket. you looked into his eyes, seeing the desperate, magnetic pull that had been unravelling him just as much as it had been unravelling you. the symmetry was completely broken now, the boundary shattered beyond repair.

"heeseung..." your voice was barely a breath, your lower lip trembling.

"don't," he rough-whispered, his hands rising instinctively as if to catch you, his fingers hovering just inches from your waist, trembling slightly with the sheer force of his self-control. "don't look at me like that if you're going to tell me to stop."

you look up into his dark eyes, the logic and rules of the universe fading into nothing but the heavy sound of the rain outside. you don't tell him to stop. instead, you take a small, deliberate step forward, closing the final inch between you.

"i'm not telling you to stop," you whisper.

heeseung lets out a low, ragged sound—halfway between a sigh and a groan—and all of his carefully guarded self-control completely fractures. his hands close around your waist, his grip firm and desperate as he pulls you flush against him. the heat of his body hits you like a physical wave, and before you can even catch your breath, his mouth is on yours.

the kiss is nothing like the soft, polite persona he presents to the world. it is intense, unyielding, and heavy with the weeks of suffocating restraint he has been forced to maintain. his lips are warm and demanding, parting yours with a possessive hunger that leaves you completely dizzy. your bag slips from your shoulder, thudding softly against the floor as your hands instinctively fly up to chest, gripping the fabric of his black button-up before tangling into the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

heeseung pulls you even closer, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket, lifting you slightly until you are completely anchored to him. he kisses you like you are the answer to a problem he has been trying to solve his entire life, his breath hot against your skin as his mouth slides down to trace the sharp line of your jaw, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"y/n," he rough-whispers against your skin, his chest rising and falling in heavy, erratic thuds. "you have completely ruined me."

you arch your neck, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as his mouth moves back up to find yours again, softer this time but twice as deep. the silver wedding band on his hand presses cold against your hip, a sharp contrast to the burning heat radiating between your bodies, but for the first time in weeks, the sight of it doesn't make you step back. the boundary hasn't just been crossed—it has been entirely rewritten.

when he finally pulls away, just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against yours. his dark eyes are blown out, staring down at your flushed face and parted, swollen lips. he runs a trembling thumb over your lower lip, tracing the habit he had called dangerous, his expression full of a terrifying, beautiful devotion.

the rain continues to pour over the old auditorium, but inside the dim shadows of the stage, the chaos has finally found its alignment.

heeseung’s thumb lingers on your lower lip, his breathing gradually slowing down, though the grip on your waist remains unyieldingly tight, as if he’s terrified that letting go will cause you to vanish back into the safe reality of the lecture hall.

you rest your forehead against his chest, listening to the rapid, frantic rhythm of his heart underneath the black fabric. it matches yours perfectly—an identical frequency born from the same chaotic collision.

"we can't change the past, heeseung," you whisper softly into the quiet space between you, your fingers gently smoothing the collar of his shirt. "and we can't ignore the outside world forever."

"i know," he murmurs, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. he tilts your chin up with his index finger, forcing you to look into his dark eyes, which are now filled with a quiet, resolute calm. "but i'm not asking for forever right now. i'm just asking for this. for us. let me figure out the rest, y/n. just don't hide from me again."

you look at him—at the brilliant, unraveled professor who had completely rewritten your understanding of gravity—and nod slowly. "i won't."

a small, genuine smile finally breaks through his serious expression, softening his features in a way you've never seen before. he leans down to press one last, lingering kiss to your forehead before reluctantly loosening his grip around your waist.

bending down, he picks up your fallen bag and hands it to you, his fingers intentionally brushing against yours, leaving behind a faint, tingling warmth. he walks you to the heavy oak doors of the auditorium, checking the hallway first to ensure it's completely deserted before letting you step out into the dim corridor.

"go home safe, y/n," he says quietly, his eyes tracking your flushed face one last time. "i'll see you in class tomorrow morning."

"good night, heeseung," you murmur with a soft smile, finally turning to walk down the hallway.

as you step out of the science building and into the cool, damp night air, the torrential downpour has reduced to a gentle, rhythmic drizzle. your face is still burning, and your chest feels lighter than it has in weeks. you finally look down at your hand, your fingers tracing the memory of his touch. the symmetry of your world is completely gone, broken into a million unpredictable pieces, but as you walk toward your dorm under the dark campus sky, you realize you've never felt more alive.

chapter seven: the thermal equilibrium

the next morning, the lecture hall feels different. the air is thick with a tension only two people in the room can detect. you sit in your usual spot—second row to the left—staring down at your notebook, but your fingers are loose around your pen this time, no longer gripping it like a lifeline.

when heeseung walks through the door, a quiet hush falls over the classroom. he looks impeccable, as always. his gray button-up shirt is crisply pressed, his dark hair neatly styled away from his eyes, and his glasses sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose. to anyone else, he is the picture of rigid, academic authority.

but you notice the slight hesitation in his step as he reaches the podium. you notice the way his dark eyes sweep over the lecture hall, bypassing thirty other students before anchoring completely on you for one long, burning second.

"good morning, class," he says, his voice carrying that familiar, commanding warmth. "today we are moving on to thermodynamics and thermal equilibrium."

as he turns to write on the whiteboard, you see his broad shoulders move beneath the fabric of his shirt. the memory of those same shoulders shifting under the spotlight in the auditorium hits you with a sudden, violent wave of heat. your cheeks flush, and you quickly look down at your book, your heart beginning its familiar, erratic dance.

throughout the two-hour lecture, heeseung explains the zeroth law—how two systems in thermal equilibrium with a third system are in equilibrium with each other. it is a lesson about balance, about heat transferring until everything reaches a stable, uniform temperature.

but every time he speaks, his voice seems lower, rougher, directed straight at the second row. when he raises his eyebrows to emphasize a point, his gaze lingers on your face, watching the way you absorb his words. you try your best to look like a diligent student, but your lower lip caught between your teeth betrays your composure.

heeseung’s eyes immediately drop to your mouth. his hand freezes for a fraction of a second against the board, the marker stalling mid-equation, before he forces himself to finish the sentence. the sudden, quiet crack in his professional armor makes a small, secret smile touch the corners of your lips.

when the bell finally rings, signaling the end of the period, the classroom fills with the usual rustle of papers and shuffling feet. you take your time packing your bag, your movements deliberate as the room gradually empties.

"y/n," heeseung’s voice calls out casually from the front of the room, sounding perfectly normal to the few lingering students walking out the door. "a moment, please. i wanted to review your matrix transformations from tuesday."

you look up, your heart skipping a beat. "of course, heeseung."

once the last student steps out and the heavy door clicks shut, the atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. the large lecture hall suddenly feels incredibly small. heeseung sets his marker down and walks around the podium, stopping just a few feet away from your desk.

"you're distracting me," he rough-whispers, his dark eyes searching your face with a quiet, intense fondness. "sitting there, wearing that sweater, biting your lip... i barely made it through the lecture."

you chuckle softly, leaning back against the desk as you look up at him. "i was just taking notes, professor. i was being a model student."

"a model student doesn't look at her professor the way you look at me," he murmurs, stepping closer until he is standing directly over you, completely blocking out the rest of the empty room. he reaches out, his hand hovering for a second before his index finger gently traces the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

the silver wedding band on his hand catches the harsh fluorescent light, but the sight no longer feels like a barrier. it feels like a problem he is actively working to solve.

"are we still on for next tuesday evening?" he asks, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that always makes your knees weak. "there's a lot of advanced material we need to cover. outside of the syllabus."

"yes," you whisper, your breathing turning shallow at his closeness. "i'll be there."

"good." heeseung smiles, a genuine, beautiful expression that changes his entire face, before reluctantly pulling his hand away as footsteps echo in the hallway outside. "go to your next class, y/n. before i forget where we are entirely."

you nod quickly, a small, breathless smile pulling at your lips as you swing your bag over your shoulder. the briefest glance back at him confirms he is still watching you, his expression intense and entirely focused. you slip through the classroom door and merge into the bustling flow of students in the hallway.

the contrast is dizzying. outside, everyone is rushing to their next lecture, completely oblivious to the fact that the universe has completely shifted inside that classroom. your skin still pricksles where his finger traced your jaw.

the days leading up to tuesday pass in a blur of anticipation. you find yourself studying harder than ever, diving deep into the thermodynamic equations, almost as if mastering the physics is your way of proving you belong in his orbit. you want him to see that you aren't just a distraction—that you understand the complexity of what's happening between you, both on the pages and in reality.

when tuesday evening finally arrives, the science building is quiet. you walk up the stairs, your boots making a faint, rhythmic sound against the linoleum. tonight, you chose a simple dark gray knit top and jeans—neat, deliberate, but comfortably yourself.

you stand outside his office door, your heart doing its familiar, erratic dance against your ribs. taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock softly.

the door opens almost immediately. heeseung stands there, the soft, golden light of his desk lamp framing him from behind. he has abandoned his usual formal blazer, wearing just a sharp black button-up shirt with the sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, exposing the strong lines of his forearms.

his dark eyes instantly lock onto yours, sweeping down your frame before returning to meet your gaze. the exhausting weight he usually carries seems to lift the moment he looks at you.

"good evening, y/n," he says softly, his voice carrying that heavy, raspy resonance that immediately makes the outside world fade away. "come in."

"good evening, heeseung," you murmur, stepping into the warm, familiar sanctuary of his office. the scent of old paper, rich coffee, and his clean cologne instantly wraps around you.

as he closes the door behind you, the solid click of the lock signals the start of your private hour. heeseung doesn't move back to his desk right away. instead, he stays close, leaning his back against the closed door, tracking your movements as you set your bag down.

"i missed you this weekend," he confesses quietly, the raw honesty in his voice catching you completely off guard.

your throat goes dry, and you turn around to face him, your notebook clutched against your chest. "i missed you too. i spent the whole weekend reading the thermodynamics chapters."

heeseung lets out a quiet, breathless chuckle, his eyes softening with an overwhelming fondness that makes your chest tight. he steps away from the door, closing the distance between you until he is standing right in front of you, completely enveloping your field of vision.

"only you would try to fight loneliness with thermodynamics, y/n," he whispers, reaching out to gently take the notebook from your hands and setting it on the edge of the desk behind you without ever breaking eye contact.

his hands move smoothly to your waist, his long fingers pressing firmly through the fabric of your knit top, pulling you just an inch closer. the silver band on his left hand catches the golden light of the lamp, but as you look up into his dark, devoted eyes, you know he is already calculating the path toward a completely different future.

before you can even process it, his mouth is already on yours. his lips, soft and plump against yours, feel like kissing a cloud. throughout your short life you have experienced pleasures, but nothing compares to his lips.

his hand reaches to cup your jaw, a silent ask for permission for more access. you open your mouth against his and his tongue slides into your mouth; it's warm and it tastes like coffee. the combination of his deliberately slow movements against your mouth and his hand on your waist steals a soft gasp from you, making him bite your bottom lip softly before pulling back.

“don't make those sounds, y/n. i'm trying to be a gentleman,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers caressing your jaw while looking into your eyes. and you swear you can see everything he is holding back. the combination of his strong gaze, his hold, and his voice sends a shiver down your spine that pools into heat between your legs.

you immediately clear your throat. “the session, heeseung.”

“right, the session,” he mutters before kissing your cheek softly and walking towards his desk. “sit, please.”

you seat yourself in front of him, your cheeks flushing.

he sits back down in his leather chair, the formal professor persona patching itself back together, though his breathing is still a little too shallow to be completely professional. he pulls your notebook toward him, his long fingers tracing the margin of the page where your equations are written. for a few seconds, he just stares at the paper, his jaw clenching as he forces his mind back to the physics.

"thermodynamics," he starts, his voice rougher and lower than usual. he clears his throat, fixing his glasses with his index finger. "it's the study of heat and energy. specifically, how systems interact when they are brought together."

you try to focus on his words, but your eyes keep darting to his mouth, remembering the exact texture of his lips. you pull a strand of hair behind your ear, your hands still trembling slightly. "mhm. the exchange of energy."

"exactly," heeseung says, his dark eyes flicking up from the book to catch your gaze. the intensity in his eyes makes the air in the small office feel thick again. "when two bodies of different temperatures come into contact, they don't stay separate. they change each other. heat flows from the hotter system to the colder one until they reach... a uniform state."

he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, bringing his face closer to yours. the scent of his woodsy cologne drifts across the short distance, mixing with the lingering warmth of the kiss.

"it's an inevitable law of nature, y/n," he whispers, his gaze dropping down to your lower lip before rising back to your eyes. "no matter how much insulation you put between the two systems, if the attraction is there... the energy will always find a way to transfer."

you swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of your seat. "and what happens when they reach that state?"

heeseung's mouth twitches into a faint, devastatingly handsome smile, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the silver wedding band on his finger—a habit that feels less like a shield now and more like a loose thread he's waiting to pull.

"they reach equilibrium," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that hypnotic register. "the chaos settles. but the system is permanently altered. it can never go back to how it was before they touched."

the silence hangs between you, heavy and filled with everything left unsaid. he opens the textbook to a page dense with graphs and formulas, turning it toward you, but his fingers linger on the edge of the paper, just inches away from yours.

"let's look at the mathematics behind the transfer," he says, though his eyes tell a completely different story. "show me how you solve for the entropy, y/n.”

you pick up your pen, trying to anchor yourself to the solid reality of the paper. your fingers are still trembling slightly, and when you lean forward to write out the first derivative, your sleeve brushes against his forearm. a tiny, accidental spark of friction that makes your hand stall for a second.

"first, you... you have to isolate the thermal variables," you say, your voice a little breathy as you force yourself to look at the equations instead of the sharp angle of his jaw. "if the system is closed, the total change in entropy has to be greater than or equal to zero."

"correct," heeseung murmurs, his eyes tracking the movement of your pen, but his head is leaning closer, his shoulder almost touching yours as he watches you write. "and what happens to the internal energy during that expansion?"

"it... it changes based on the heat added and the work done," you reply, your heart doing that familiar, erratic dance against your ribs. you write down the formula, but you accidentally mess up a sign, the ink smudging under your finger as you try to fix it. "sorry. my hands are..."

"i see that," he interrupts softly.

before you can draw your hand back, his large, warm hand slides across the desk and covers yours, stopping your pen. his palm is slightly rough, the heat of his skin instantly transferring to yours, exactly like the thermodynamic law he was just explaining. his fingers curl over your knuckles, grounding your shaking hand against the smooth wood of the desk.

the silver band on his finger presses gently against the side of your hand, cold against your burning skin.

"you're skipping steps, y/n," he rough-whispers, his dark head hovering just inches from yours. you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest right beside you. "you're rushing the derivation because you're nervous."

"i'm not nervous," you lie in a whisper, turning your head slightly to look at him.

because of how close he's leaning, your faces are suddenly mere inches apart. your eyes lock onto his dark, blown-out pupils. heeseung doesn't pull his hand away; instead, his thumb begins to trace slow, deliberate circles over the back of your hand, completely erasing any thoughts of physics left in your brain.

"no?" he asks, his eyebrows raising just a fraction, a small, knowing look in his eyes. his gaze drops down to your lips, watching your shallow breaths. "your pulse is racing under my fingers, y/n. a system in perfect equilibrium doesn't fluctuate like this."

"that's because... you're a major perturbation," you murmur, using the physics terminology like a secret language between the two of you.

heeseung lets out a low, ragged huff of laughter that hits your cheek like a warm breeze. his jaw clenches, his eyes darkening as his self-control slips a little more. he slides the pen out of your fingers, letting it roll across the desk, and turns his hand over so his long fingers can interlock with yours, squeezing firmly.

"i told myself i was going to keep my hands to myself for the rest of this hour," he whispers, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that completely melts your resolve. "i told myself one kiss was enough to get me through the week. but you're devastatingly bad for my discipline."

"you can let go if you want to," you tease softly, even though your fingers are clinging to his just as tightly.

"i don't think i can," he admits, his tone suddenly turning incredibly serious, full of that heavy, raw honesty that makes your chest ache. he looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "that's the problem. i don't think i have the variable for walking away from you anymore.”

he looks up from your joined hands, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. the soft, golden light of the lamp reflects in his dark pupils, making the rest of his office look like it's completely fading into the background.

"heeseung," you whisper, the sound of his name breaking the quiet tension hanging in the air. "someone might... the hallway..."

"the door is locked, y/n," he murmurs, his voice incredibly low as he slides his hand up from your fingers, his palm tracking the inside of your wrist, feeling the frantic skip of your pulse. his touch travels up the sleeve of your knit top, his long fingers wrapping around your forearm to gently pull you a fraction of an inch closer across the desk. "there's no one out there. it's just us."

you swallow hard, your eyes dropping to his mouth again. the memory of how he tasted—like warm coffee and something entirely intoxicating—makes your lower lip tremble out of habit.

heeseung’s jaw tightens instantly at the movement. "i told you to stop doing that," he rough-whispers, his eyes burning as they lock onto your lips.

"i can't help it," you breathe out, your cheeks flushing a deeper pink.

he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. before you can even react, he stands up from his leather chair, rounding the edge of the desk in three swift, deliberate steps. he stops right beside your seat, his tall frame completely towering over you, blocking out the light.

his hands come down to rest on the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you between his arms. he leans down until his face is level with yours, the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne enveloping your senses so completely it makes your head spin.

"if you keep looking at me like that, we aren't going to get any work done today," he murmurs, his thumb reaching out to gently trace the apple of your flushed cheek, his touch surprisingly soft for how large his hand is.

"we're supposed to be analyzing the entropy graphs," you say, though your voice lacks any real conviction. your hands rise instinctively, your fingers gently resting against his forearm, feeling the solid, rapid thud of his heart underneath.

"the graphs can wait," heeseung whispers against your lips, his fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your head back slightly. "right now, you're the only system i'm interested in calculating."

and then his mouth is on yours again, deeper this time, his lips parting yours with a possessive, heavy hunger that leaves you completely unmoored from reality.

his mouth moves against yours with a heavy, deliberate slowness that completely detaches you from the passage of time. you grip the soft wool of his dark blue sweater, pulling him closer until the desk behind you is the only thing keeping you upright. every touch from his hands feels like it's carving a permanent mark into your skin, a silent language of missing you that he hadn't been able to say out loud all week.

when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is ragged, his forehead resting heavily against yours. his thumbs gently trace your cheekbones, his long fingers tangled in the loose strands of hair that escaped your bun.

"i'm failing my own test," he rough-whispers, his chest heaving against your hands. his dark eyes are wide, blown out, looking down at you with a terrifying amount of devotion. "i promised myself i would give you a normal lesson today. i practiced the lecture. i organized the slides. and within ten minutes, i have you trapped against my desk."

you let out a soft, breathless laugh, your hands sliding up from his chest to rest against the nape of his neck, your fingers gently playing with the soft hairs there. "maybe some systems aren't meant to be controlled, heeseung."

he lets out a low, vibrating huff against your lips, his jaw clenching as he reluctantly pulls back just an inch, his hands dropping to rest loosely on your waist. he doesn't let go completely—you're beginning to realize he rarely does when you're alone in this room. it's as if he needs the physical touch to convince himself that you're actually here, that this isn't just another daydream born from the quiet isolation of his life.

"you have a dangerous effect on my logic, y/n," he murmurs, his index finger rising to habitually fix his glasses, though his hand shakes slightly.

looking at him like this—completely unraveled, his professional composure lying in pieces on the floor—makes a profound warmth ache deep in your chest. it isn't just the thrill of the secret or the heavy physical pull that makes your knees weak; it's something much deeper, something that has been quietly growing since the first day you sat in his classroom.

you had always felt like an outsider in your own life, moving through the world with a brain that felt too loud, constantly looking at everything through the cold, clinical lens of mathematics and formulas. people always thought you were too detached, too intensely focused on academic metrics. but heeseung was the first person who ever looked at your passion and didn't find it strange. he didn't just tolerate your enthusiasm; he matched it. when he spoke about the universe, he made it sound like poetry, and in doing so, he made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had. your feelings for him weren't just a silly student-teacher crush anymore. they were a total shift in your gravity. you loved the way his brilliant mind worked, the quiet kindness hidden beneath his strict authority, and the heavy, melancholic soul he kept hidden from the rest of the world.

"if i'm such a distraction in your office," you say softly, your voice carrying a sudden, brave confidence that makes his dark eyes flare with curiosity, "maybe we should change the environment."

heeseung tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "change the environment?"

you nod, your cheeks flushing a light pink, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact. "you liked the cookies. and you said you liked my dedication. i was thinking... you should come over to my apartment this Friday. i can make us dinner. I'm just as good at making italian food as i am with baking. we can actually look at the advanced coursework without... the fear of someone knocking on your office door."

the invitation hangs in the warm, golden light of the office, innocent on the surface but deeply intimate underneath. a private space. your space. away from the sterile campus walls and the prying eyes of his colleagues.

heeseung freezes, his long fingers tightening slightly against your waist as he processes your words. for a long moment, he doesn't say anything, his dark eyes searching your face as if trying to calculate the sheer weight of what you're offering. a slow, tired sigh escapes his lips, and he leans his hip back against the edge of the desk, looking down at his hands.

the silver wedding band glints under the lamp, looking entirely out of place against his dark clothes.

"italian food," he repeats softly, a faint, melancholic smile touching his lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "i can't remember the last time someone offered to cook a meal for me, y/n."

he looks up, his expression clouding over with a heavy, quiet sadness that makes your heart ache for him. he runs a hand through his dark hair, his voice dropping into a flat, exhausted register as he finally lets down the wall regarding his personal life.

"my marriage... it isn't just cold, y/n. it's completely hollow," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "it was an arrangement orchestrated by our families years ago. a transaction of social status and academic connections. minji’s father was the dean of the science department at my previous university, and my family... they saw it as the perfect alignment for my career. we never had a foundation. we never had a single conversation that wasn't calculated for an evening gala or a faculty dinner."

he lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, his thumb absentmindedly twisting the ring on his finger. "she lives in the east wing of our house. we haven't shared a meal in two years. she fills her time with high-society charity events and her own social circles, and i fill mine with equations because the numbers don't lie to me. my parents always told me that love was a secondary variable in a successful life—that duty and reputation were the only things that mattered. i believed them. i thought this quiet, freezing routine was all i deserved."

he steps closer to you again, his dark eyes swimming with a raw, exposed vulnerability that strips away every ounce of his thirty-two years.

"and then you walked into my quantum lecture," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly as his hand rises to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. "you sat in the second row, looking at me like i hung the stars in the sky just because i was explaining molecular bonds. you brought homemade cookies into my sterile office. you looked at me like i was a human being, not just a tenured name on a legal document or a trophy husband for a political family."

your chest swells with a profound, overwhelming empathy. you can feel the decades of loneliness radiating from his skin, the heavy burden of a man who had been starved for genuine affection for so long that a simple box of baked goods felt like a miracle. your hand rises to cover his, pressing his warm palm firmer against your cheek.

"you do deserve it, heeseung," you murmur, your eyes shining with a deep, unyielding sincerity. "you deserve to have someone care about your day. you deserve to have someone listen to you play the piano because they love the music, not because it's a status symbol. i don't care about your reputation or your title. i just care about you."

heeseung’s breath hitches at your words. the sheer depth of your feelings hits him like a physical force, dismantling the very last of his internal resistance. he looks at you as if you are the only source of light in a room that has been dark for years.

"friday evening," he says, his voice rough and low, a firm, undeniable resolve finally taking root in his features. he leans down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing as he inhales your vanilla scent. "give me your address, y/n. i'll be there at seven.”

chapter eight: the transition state

the text with your address had been sitting on his phone since wednesday morning, a tiny coordinate of light in the quiet darkness of his routine. you had spent the entire day cleaning your small apartment, organizing the textbooks on your desk three times over, and listening to the steady, rhythmic hum of the rain against your kitchen window.

by six-thirty, the scent of crushed garlic, fresh basil, and simmering tomatoes had completely filled the small space, cutting through the usual scent of laundry detergent and old paper. you wore a soft, cream-colored knitted dress that hit just below your knees, your hair left down in natural waves. you looked neat, but comfortable—a stark contrast to the sterile, buttoned-up world heeseung was forced to live in every day.

at exactly seven o'clock, the soft knock on your door made your heart skip an entire beat.

you smoothed down the front of your dress, taking a deep, stabilizing breath before turning the lock. when you opened the door, heeseung was standing under the dim hallway light. he looked entirely different. he had left his formal overcoat in his car, wearing only a relaxed charcoal gray sweater with the sleeves loosely pushed up his forearms, and dark jeans. his hair was slightly damp from the drizzle outside, a few dark strands falling over his forehead.

for a long moment, he didn't say a word. his dark eyes just swept over your face, taking in the soft flush on your cheeks and the warm, inviting light of your apartment behind you. the exhaustion that usually sat heavy in his shoulders seemed to evaporate the moment his gaze anchored onto yours.

"good evening, y/n," he said, his voice carrying that familiar, low resonance that immediately turned your knees to jelly.

"good evening, heeseung," you murmured, stepping aside to let him in. "come in out of the rain."

as he stepped past you, the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne mixed instantly with the rich, warm aroma of the italian food cooking on the stove. heeseung stopped in the middle of your small living room, looking around the space with a quiet, almost reverent curiosity. your apartment wasn't grand like the cold, historical estate he shared with minji; it was small, cluttered with physics journals, a few house plants on the windowsill, and a soft velvet couch. but it felt alive. it felt warm.

"it smells incredible in here," he said softly, turning around to face you. a genuine, relaxed smile touched his lips—one that didn't carry a single trace of the polite, professional mask he wore at the university. "you weren't exaggerating about your skills."

"i told you, i'm a master of thermal reactions, whether it's molecules or marinara," you teased, the lighthearted joke slipping out easily now that the heavy oak doors of the science building weren't trapping you.

heeseung let out a low, breathless huff of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he walked over to the small kitchen counter, setting down a bottle of red wine he had brought with him. as he set it down, your eyes instinctively flicked to his left hand.

the silver wedding band was gone.

there was only a faint, pale mark on his skin where the metal had rested for years—a lingering ghost of a past constraint, but the hand itself was entirely bare. your chest swelled with a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion. he hadn't just promised to clear the path; he was actively doing it. the sheer depth of what he was risking for you—his career, his family's expectations, the rigid stability of his life—hit you with a profound gravity. you didn't just love him for his brilliant mind anymore; you loved him for the quiet courage he was showing just to stand in your kitchen.

"the wine is an older vintage," heeseung murmured, noticing your gaze but keeping his tone gentle as he closed the distance between you. he stopped just inches away, his tall frame blocking out the rest of the room. "a complex structure, but well-balanced. i thought it would pair well with whatever you were calculating on the stove."

"it's perfect," you whispered, looking up into his dark, devoted eyes.

heeseung didn't hesitate this time. his large, bare hands rose to gently cup your face, his long fingers sliding into your hair to support the back of your head. his palms were warm, his touch so incredibly tender it made your eyes flutter shut for a fraction of a second.

"i spent the entire drive here trying to remember the laws of professional distance," he rough-whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of pure fire against your skin. "but the moment i smelled the basil and saw you standing at the door... every single formula went entirely blank."

"then stop calculating, heeseung," you breathed out, your hands rising instinctively to rest against his chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thud of his heart underneath the soft charcoal wool. "just be here."

"i am here," he murmured against your lips, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that completely melted your final defenses. "i'm entirely yours."

and then his mouth descended onto yours, slow and deeply possessive, sealing the promise in the quiet sanctuary of your home.

the kiss is different from the ones in his office or the dim auditorium. there is no lingering panic of someone rattling the door handle, no cold shadow of a flashing phone screen on a desk. it is slow, heavy, and full of a quiet relief that makes your head spin. his lips press against yours with a deliberate plowness, parting them naturally, tasting faintly of the damp rain from outside and the deep, silent longing he’s been carrying all week.

his hands slide down from your face, his long fingers tracing the slope of your neck before anchoring firmly on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. the soft wool of his sweater presses against the knit of your dress, a perfect, frictionless contact. you let out a quiet sigh into his mouth, your fingers tightening into the fabric at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to his height, his warmth, his absolute gravity.

when he finally pulls back, his breathing is thick and erratic. he doesn't let go of your waist; instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his dark eyes blown out as he looks down at you in the dim light of your kitchen.

"if we keep doing that," he rough-whispers, a small, breathless smile pulling at the corner of his lips, "the thermal reaction on the stove is going to turn into a total system failure."

you chuckle softly, your cheeks burning with a deep, happy flush. "right. the pasta. we need to turn down the heat."

you reluctantly step out of his embrace, though his fingers linger on your hip until the very last second, a silent protest against the distance. you walk over to the stove, stirring the rich, simmering sauce while heeseung moves around the small counter, opening the bottle of wine he brought. you watch him from the corner of your eye—the way his broad shoulders move as he pours the dark liquid into two simple glasses, how relaxed he looks without the sharp, stiff lines of his university blazers.

"sit at the table, heeseung. it's almost ready," you say, draining the pasta and tossing it into the pan with the fresh marinara.

he obeys without a word, taking a seat at your small wooden table. the space is tight, meaning when you bring over the plates and sit across from him, your knees are only inches apart under the wood. you serve the food, suddenly feeling a little shy under the weight of his steady, admiring gaze.

"buon appetito," you murmur, lifting your glass of wine.

heeseung smiles, clinking his glass against yours. "buon appetito, y/n."

he takes a bite, chewing slowly, and for a second, his eyes close. a low, genuine sound of appreciation escapes his throat, making your heart leap with pride. when he opens his eyes, they are shining with a quiet warmth. "this is incredible. the balance of the acidity, the fresh herbs... it’s perfect."

"i told you. i don't mess up my proportions," you say softly, taking a sip of the wine. it's rich, deep, and warm, spreading through your chest and loosening the last of your nervousness.

"clearly," he mutters, his gaze lingering on your mouth before he continues eating.

as the dinner progresses, the conversation flows with an ease that surprises both of you. away from the lecture hall, you don't talk about gauge fields or state vectors. instead, you talk about the music he used to listen to when he lived in germany for his doctorate, the small bakery you want to open after you finish your degree, and the quiet, ordinary things that make up your days. he listens to you with a rapt, undivided attention, his elbows resting on the table as he leans in, hanging on every word that leaves your lips.

"minji and i never sat like this," heeseung says suddenly, his voice dropping into a quiet, reflective tone as he finishes his glass of wine. he stares down at the empty plate, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. the pale, un-tanned line on his ring finger is clearly visible. "even at the very beginning. our dinners were always catered events. we had staff in the house, or we were out at a restaurant with colleagues. everything was a performance. i had to wear a tie just to have breakfast."

he looks up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"coming here tonight... sitting at this table, eating food you made yourself, seeing the flour smudge on your apron earlier... it feels like the first real thing i’ve experienced in a very long time," he whispers, his jaw clenching slightly with the weight of his emotion. "my family always told me that a quiet life was a wasted life. that i needed status. but they were wrong. this... this is the only thing that actually matters."

your throat tightens, a profound, aching tenderness swelling in your chest. you reach across the small table, your fingers sliding over the polished wood until they cover his bare hand. his fingers instantly turn over, interlocking with yours, squeezing with a tight, desperate strength.

"you don't have to perform for me, heeseung," you say softly, your voice carrying the full weight of the love you’ve been keeping hidden. "you never have to wear a mask in this room."

heeseung stares at your joined hands, letting out a long, shaky breath. the quiet in your apartment is absolute, save for the soft patter of the rain against the glass, creating a private, impenetrable bubble around the two of you. the transition state is over; the old system has completely collapsed, and as he looks back up at you with those deep, devoted eyes, you know there is absolutely no going back.

heeseung doesn't say anything for a long moment, but the way his fingers tighten around yours says more than any complex formula ever could. he slowly stands up from his chair, his tall frame stepping around the small wooden table until he is standing right beside you. he reaches down, his large hands gently taking your empty wine glass and setting it aside before pulling you up by your waist to face him.

the warmth of his body hits you instantly, a comforting barrier against the cool rain pressing against the windowpane. his eyes trace every detail of your face—the soft curve of your cheekbones, the slight parting of your lips, the deep, unyielding affection shining in your eyes.

"i want to show you something," he whispers, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register that always makes your pulse spike.

he keeps one hand anchored securely around your waist, guiding you over to the small, cozy corner of your living room where your velvet couch sits. instead of sitting, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. for a second, a small flare of old anxiety rises in your throat, but it vanishes completely when heeseung opens a music app and selects a piece.

the soft, rich notes of a classical piano piece—the exact melancholic melody he had been playing in the empty auditorium—fill the quiet space of your apartment, drifting through the warm, garlic-and-basil-scented air.

"i can't bring a grand piano into your apartment tonight," he murmurs, a beautiful, genuine smile softening the sharp lines of his face as he slips his phone back into his pocket. "but i promised you a private concert, y/n. let me give you this much for now."

your heart swells so intensely it feels almost painful in your chest. you look up at him, completely captivated by the sheer thoughtfulness of the gesture. "heeseung..."

"dance with me," he rough-whispers, not giving you a chance to overthink.

his hands slide smoothly down to your hips, pulling you flush against his chest. your hands rise naturally, your fingers tangling into the soft charcoal wool at his shoulders, your chin resting against his chest as the two of you begin to sway slowly to the rhythm of the recorded piano notes. the movement is unhurried, natural, and deeply intimate.

with every slow step, the rest of the world—the university, the prying eyes of his colleagues, the cold ghost of his past marriage—fades into complete non-existence. there are no laws of professional distance here. there are no parameters to maintain. there is only the steady, synchronized rhythm of your heartbeats meeting through the fabric of your clothes.

heeseung leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he inhales the sweet, lingering scent of your vanilla perfume. a low, contented sigh escapes his lips, his grip on your waist tightening as if he is finally anchoring himself to the only shore that matters.

"this is the equilibrium, y/n," he murmurs against your skin, his voice carrying a profound, heavy peace that strips away the very last of his analytical armor. "no more chaos. no more hiding."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, seeing the terrifying, beautiful devotion written in every sharp feature of his face. you reach up, your thumb gently tracing the small mole on his forehead before sliding down to rest against his cheek.

"i love you, heeseung," the confession slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, quiet and steady, carrying the absolute weight of every silent glance and nervous blush from the past months.

heeseung’s breath hitches. his dark pupils blow out completely, his jaw clenching as the words wash over him. he doesn't respond with equations or logic. instead, he closes the final inch between you, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that is slow, deep, and overflowing with a raw, unspoken promise. it is the final seal on a newly rewritten system.

when the music finally fades into a quiet hum, leaving only the gentle, rhythmic drizzle of the rain outside, heeseung keeps you held tightly against his chest in the dim, golden light of your living room. the old symmetry is completely broken, shattered beyond any hope of repair, but as you close your eyes and let his warmth envelope you, you know that the new balance you've found together is entirely flawless.

chapter nine: the boundary layer

the rain didn't stop. by monday night, the gentle drizzle from the weekend had mutated into a cold, relentless downpour that lashed against the high windows of the science building. in physics, a boundary layer is the thin fluid layer immediately adjacent to a solid surface where friction forces are dominant. it is a place of constant shear stress. a place where the smooth, predictable flow of a system violently breaks apart.

you stood inside the empty computer lab, the cold blue glow of your laptop screen illuminating the dark room. your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but you hadn't typed a single line of code in thirty minutes.

the ghost of his touch was still burning into your skin. the memory of his bare hand interlocking with yours at your kitchen table, the low, gravelly vibration of his voice when he whispered *i'm entirely yours*—it had felt like a permanent shift in reality. but reality has a cruel way of asserting its original parameters.

your phone buzzed against the plastic table. a sharp, violent vibration that made your chest tighten with an immediate, defensive anxiety.

you picked it up, expecting his name, his neat, lowercase texts. instead, your stomach dropped into a freezing void. it was a link to a campus forum post, sent by a classmate with a single sentence: *is this about your mentoring sessions?*

your hands shook so violently you almost dropped the device as you clicked the link. the headline was a blur of hostile, clinical words: **unprofessional conduct in the physics department: anonymous report details inappropriate relationship between tenured faculty and undergraduate student.**

there were no names, but the details were surgical. *tuesday evening office hours.* *one-on-one mentoring outside the standard syllabus.* *frequent private interactions.* the comments underneath were already multiplying like a malignant cell culture, filled with speculation, judgment, and the cold, unyielding disgust of a university community that valued reputation above all else.

the air left your lungs in a ragged gasp. the walls of the computer lab felt like they were actively closing in, suffocating you. *our secret.* *don't mention this arrangement to anyone.* his warning from that very first morning echoed in your ears, no longer a thrilling, forbidden whisper, but a heavy, iron cage slamming shut.

you didn't think. you shoved your laptop into your bag, your breath coming in shallow, frantic hitches as you sprinted out of the lab and up the stairs toward the second floor. your wet boots skidded against the linoleum, the quiet corridors echoing with the panicked rhythm of your escape.

when you reached his office door, you didn't knock softly. you pushed it open, the heavy wood hitting the inner wall with a dull, loud thud.

heeseung was there. but the warm, golden sanctuary of his office was gone. the soft desk lamp was turned off, replaced by the harsh, blinding overhead fluorescents that made his skin look stark, pale, and entirely exhausted. his blazer was back on, tightly buttoned, his tie perfectly straight. the rigid, untouchable professor stood behind the desk, staring down at a formal, cream-colored letter bearing the official seal of the university board.

he looked up when the door slammed, his dark eyes hollow, stripped completely of the beautiful, relaxed warmth from friday night.

"y/n," he said, his voice flat, carrying a terrifyingly professional distance that made your heart fracture on impact. "you shouldn't be here."

"is it true?" your voice cracked, a raw, breathy sound against the hum of the overhead lights. you pulled out your phone, your trembling fingers holding up the screen toward him. "the forum... the board. heeseung, someone knows."

heeseung didn't look at the phone. he kept his eyes locked on your face, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle in his cheek flickered violently. he slowly slid the formal letter into his desk drawer, closing it with a quiet, final click.

"the dean called me into his office an hour ago," heeseung whispered, his voice sounding entirely empty, like a machine running out of fuel. "an anonymous report was filed with the ethics committee. they have dates, y/n. they have the log of my office door locks opening after hours on tuesdays."

"who told them?" you stepped closer, your chest heaving, tears finally hot and blurring your vision. "we didn't tell anyone. i kept the secret. i swear i did—"

"it doesn't matter who told them," he interrupted, his tone suddenly turning sharp, cutting through your panic with a cold, clinical precision that made you flinch. he stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest—the exact posture he used when a student failed an exam. "the reality is the same. an investigation has been opened. until it resolves, all private mentoring is suspended. effective immediately."

you froze, the coldness of his demeanor hitting you like a physical wave. you looked down at his left hand.

the silver wedding band was back on his finger.

it glinted stubbornly under the harsh fluorescent light, a cold, metallic shield separating him from you, separating the professor from the man who had danced with you in your living room.

"you put it back on," you whispered, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. you pointed a trembling finger at his hand. "friday night... you said you were starting the paperwork. you said you were fixing the variables. but the second a breeze hits the system, you slide the ring back on?"

heeseung’s composure cracked for a fraction of a second. he closed his eyes, let out a long, ragged breath that sounded like a groan of pure agony, and rubbed his temples. "y/n, you don't understand the logistics of this. a scandal like this doesn't just damage my reputation—it terminates my tenure. it destroys your academic career before it even begins. if they find proof of misconduct, your degree is compromised. your future in this field is over."

"i don't care about the degree!" you yelled, the sob tearing through your throat, loud and unraveled in the quiet office. "i care about you! i told you i loved you, heeseung! and you're standing behind that desk looking at me like i'm a data error you need to delete from your ledger!"

"don't say that," he rough-whispered, his eyes snapping open, suddenly dark and burning with a desperate, suffocating pain. he took a step around the desk, his hands rising instinctively as if to reach for you, but he stopped himself, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides as he stared at the closed door behind you. the invisible boundary between professor and student had instantly turned into a solid brick wall. "god, y/n, don't you think this is killing me? i haven't slept in three days. but i have to protect you. and the only way to protect you right now is to return to the original state."

"the original state," you repeated, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping your lips as the tears ran down your cheeks. "you mean the state where you're a married professor and i'm just a face in the second row? the state where we pretend we never touched?"

heeseung looked away, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, his posture rigid, frozen under the weight of his family's legacy and the university's unyielding laws. "yes," he whispered, the single word sounding like a death sentence. "for now... we have to be strangers."

you stared at him, looking at the long, elegant line of his shoulders, the dark hair falling over his eyes, the absolute brilliance of the man you had given your heart to. and you realized, with a terrifying, absolute certainty, that physics had lied to you.

some systems don't reach equilibrium when they touch. some systems just collide until they completely destroy each other.

"okay," you breathed out, your voice dropping into a dead, flat quiet. you pulled your bag tighter against your shoulder, turning your back on him before he could see your face completely shatter. "goodnight, mr. lee."

you gripped the handle, pulled open the door, and walked out into the freezing, empty corridor, the heavy click of the lock behind you sounding like the final, definitive snap of a broken bond.

the walk back to your apartment was a blur of freezing rain and neon headlights reflecting off the wet asphalt. your clothes were soaked through, the heavy fabric of your coat pressing against your skin like a physical manifestation of the gravity that was currently crushing you. when you finally shut the door behind you, the silence of your living room was deafening. the faint, lingering scent of basil and rosemary from friday night still hung in the air—a cruel, haunting reminder of a system that had been completely dismantled in a matter of minutes.

you dropped your bag onto the floor, not caring as your expensive physics textbooks spilled out onto the hardwood. you sank down against the front door, pulling your knees tightly against your chest, and let the first real sob tear through your throat.

you were entirely alone.

that was the brutal reality of your situation. you had left your hometown—a small, suffocatingly quiet coastal suburb three hundred miles away—specifically to escape the predictable, pre-determined life your family had mapped out for you. they wanted you to stay local, to marry a sensible boy from the neighborhood, and to take an ordinary office job that didn't require you to stay up until three in the morning analyzing the thermodynamic properties of stars. they didn't understand your brain. they looked at your passion for mathematics as an eccentric phase rather than a calling.

moving to this university was supposed to be your great escape, your chance to finally find a community that spoke your language. instead, you had found heeseung—a man who understood your soul so perfectly it terrified you—only for the world to rip him away the second you dared to reach for him. now, the very field of study that had given you a sense of purpose felt like a minefield.

your phone buzzed in your pocket. your heart gave a pathetic, hopeful leap, but when you pulled it out, you saw it wasn't him. it was a video call invitation from an international area code.

jia.

you stared at her name through a screen blurred by tears. jia had been your absolute anchor since the seventh grade. while you were the quiet, analytical girl hiding in the back of the geometry class, jia was the loud, fiercely protective force who refused to let the world ignore you. you had done everything together until university lines drew you apart; she had received a prestigious scholarship to study architecture in milan, italy, leaving you three hundred miles away in your university town. the physical distance was immense, but the emotional matrix between the two of you had never faltered.

with a trembling thumb, you swiped to accept the call.

jia’s face immediately filled the screen. she was sitting in her brightly lit apartment in milan, surrounded by rolled-up drafting paper, a half-empty cup of espresso, and the warm morning light of an italian dawn breaking through her window. but the second her eyes landed on your face—your red eyes, your soaked hair, your unraveled expression—her smile vanished instantly.

"y/n?" jia’s voice came through the speaker, sharp with immediate concern, completely ignoring the thousands of miles between you. "what happened? why are you sitting on the floor? are you hurt?"

hearing her voice—the familiar, steady cadence of home—broke the last of your restraint. another wave of hot tears spilled over your cheeks, a choked sound escaping your lips. "jia... everything is ruined. the whole system... it completely collapsed."

"hey, hey, look at me. take a breath," jia commanded softly, her structural, logical brain instantly kicking into high gear. she set her drafting pen down, leaning close to her camera, her eyes fierce with a protective anger. "is this about the professor? did something happen with heeseung?"

you nodded miserably, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your damp knit dress. you hadn't hidden the relationship from jia. in fact, she was the only person in the entire universe who knew the truth. she was the one you had texted at midnight after the auditorium, the one who had practically screamed over the phone when you told her heeseung took off his ring in his office.

"someone filed a report," you choked out, your voice sounding small and fragile in the empty apartment. "an anonymous report to the ethics committee. it's all over the campus forums. they have dates, jia. they know about the after-hours sessions. heeseung... he called me into his office tonight. or, no, i ran to his office. and he was so cold. he put the ring back on."

jia’s jaw clenched, a low curse word in italian escaping her lips. "he what?"

"he told me we have to be strangers," you whispered, the words physically hurting your chest as you repeated them. "he said it's the only way to protect my degree and his tenure. he looked at me like... like i was just an equation he needed to balance out. jia, i told him i loved him on friday. we danced right here in my kitchen. and tonight, he wouldn't even let me step past his desk. he wouldn't even look at me."

jia let out a long, slow breath, her expression shifting from anger to a deep, profound sadness for you. she knew how hard it was for you to let people in. she knew that your feelings for heeseung weren't a shallow infatuation; they were the first time you had ever felt completely aligned with another human being.

"listen to me, y/n," jia said, her voice dropping into a firm, unyielding tone that brooked no argument. "heeseung isn't acting out of malice. he's a thirty-two-year-old man who has been trapped in a cold, transactional life for a decade. when a man like that gets a taste of actual warmth—of what he has with you—he panics the second the cage doors start rattling. he's terrified. not just for his job, but because he knows what the world does to things that are genuine."

"but it feels like he's abandoning me," you sobbed, hiding your face in your hands. "he's leaving me alone in this city."

"he's trying to build a shield around you the only way his stupid, over-analytical brain knows how," jia said softly, her eyes swimming with empathy across the digital screen. "is it fair? no. it's incredibly messy, and it hurts like hell. but you are not alone. do you hear me? you left that tiny hometown because you were strong enough to seek out your own orbit. you are brilliant, y/n. don't let this university, or his fear, make you feel like you don't belong in that room."

you pulled your hands away from your face, looking at your best friend. the distance between milan and your small apartment felt agonizingly wide, yet her words felt like the only solid thing you could hold onto in the middle of the storm.

"i don't know how to walk into that lecture hall tomorrow, jia," you admitted, your breathing finally starting to slow down. "i don't know how to look at the whiteboard and pretend my heart isn't completely broken."

"you don't look at him," jia said firmly, a small, encouraging smile finally touching her lips. "you look at the physics. you prove to every single person in that room that you belong there because of your mind. let him sit in his cold office and watch you excel from the second row without him. let him see exactly what he's choosing to lock away."

you let out a shaky, breathy sigh, a tiny fraction of the weight in your chest lifting just from her presence. "thank you, jia."

"always, watchmaker," jia used your old childhood nickname, her eyes warm. "now, go take a hot shower, change into dry clothes, and leave the phone on. i'm going to finish my sketches, and i'm staying right here on the screen until you fall asleep. the Atlantic ocean doesn't mean a damn thing when it comes to us."

you offered her a small, fragile smile, nodding as you stood up from the floor. as you walked toward the bathroom, leaving the phone propped up on the kitchen counter where jia’s steady breathing and the scratching of her pencil filled the silence, you realized the boundary layer hadn't destroyed you completely. the flow was turbulent, the friction was agonizing, but you were still moving forward.

chapter ten: the critical point

the next morning, the campus was a study in gray. the rain had finally slowed to a dismal, heavy fog that hung between the brick buildings, swallowing the tops of the faculty towers. you walked up the stone steps of the science building, your knuckles white around the strap of your bag. jia’s words from the night before were an explicit boundary layer in your mind, keeping the panic from completely taking over your nervous system. *look at the physics. let him see exactly what he's choosing to lock away.*

when you pushed open the heavy double doors of the main lecture hall, the atmosphere was thick. the room was already half-full, the low hum of student gossip dropping by a noticeable fraction the second you stepped into the aisle.

you felt the weight of a hundred glances. the anonymous forum post had done its work; the parameters of your presence had been altered. people weren't looking at your high test scores or your neat notebook anymore. they were looking for a symptom. they were looking for a crack in the armor.

your lower lip trembled out of habit, but you caught it between your teeth, forcing your expression into a neutral, clinical mask. you didn't look left or right. you walked straight down the steps, past the third row, and took your exact seat in the middle of the second row. you pulled out your notebook, aligned your pen with the edge of the desk, and stared directly at the blank whiteboard.

at exactly eight o'clock, the side door opened.

heeseung stepped into the room. the sight of him sent a sharp, violent spike of heat straight through your chest, followed immediately by an icy chill. he was impeccably put together—the dark gray blazer was buttoned, his tie a sharp, flawless knot, his hair combed back neatly from his face. he looked exactly like the tenured, unyielding professor the university paid him to be.

but as he set his leather briefcase on the podium, his hand froze for a fraction of a second. the silver wedding band on his left ring finger caught the fluorescent light, practically blinding you from where you sat.

heeseung didn't look at the class. he turned directly to the board, picking up a fresh piece of chalk, and began to write with a rigid, mechanical speed.

"today, we are discussing phase transitions," his voice boomed through the lecture hall, carrying that deep, resonant authority. but to your ears, it sounded completely hollow—a recorded tape running on a loop. "specifically, the critical point. the precise temperature and pressure at which the boundaries between liquid and gas cease to exist. the system becomes a single, indistinguishable phase."

the lecture was a brutal exercise in endurance. every time heeseung spoke, the low, gravelly undertone that used to feel like a private wire connected directly to your soul was gone, replaced by a cold, academic distance. he kept his gaze strictly focused on the back rows, his eyes sweeping across the theater but completely leaping over the second row, as if you were nothing more than an empty desk. a statistical outlier. a variable that had been successfully eliminated from the calculation.

the deliberate erasure hurt worse than his anger would have. it made the warmth of your apartment, the taste of the coffee on his tongue, and the soft melody of the piano feel like a collective hallucination.

"at the critical point, the density of both phases becomes identical," heeseung explained, his broad shoulders moving beneath his blazer as he drew a phase diagram on the board. "there is no longer a distinct interface. the system loses its structure. it becomes turbulent."

you didn't let your hand shake. you forced your pen to trace the curves of the graph exactly as he drew them, your jaw clenched so tight the muscle ached. you were going to be the model student jia told you to be. you wouldn't give the lingering whispers in the room the satisfaction of seeing you break.

when the two-hour bell finally rang, the relief in your chest was immense. the classroom immediately filled with the chaotic rush of students packing up, eager to escape the heavy, tense air of the lecture hall.

you didn't linger this time. you didn't slow your movements. you packed your notebook and your pen into your bag within thirty seconds, determined to be the first one out the door, to prove to him that you could return to being a stranger just as easily as he could.

"mr. lee," a voice called out from the front of the room just as you stood up.

it wasn't your name. it was professor harris, the head of the physics department, standing by the stage doors with two members of the university's administrative board. they were holding formal folders, their expressions grim and entirely devoid of academic pleasantry.

you froze in the aisle, your bag slung over your shoulder.

heeseung stopped what he was doing. he set the chalk down, his broad shoulders turning rigid as he looked at the senior faculty members waiting for him. the untouchable, professional mask he had worn for the last two hours didn't fail him, but his jaw clenched so hard a small vein pulsed at his temple.

"we need to discuss the formal audit of your laboratory allocations and private instruction hours, heeseung," professor harris said, his voice carrying clearly across the emptying room. "the committee is waiting in the dean's office."

heeseung didn't argue. he didn't offer an excuse. "of course. let me grab my briefcase."

as he reached down to pick up his bag, his dark eyes finally did what they had resisted doing all morning. they flicked up, cutting through the remaining students in the aisle, and locked directly onto yours.

the distance between the stage and the second row felt like a vast, uncrossable canyon, but for three seconds, the professional armor vanished entirely. his dark pupils were wide, swimming with a raw, suffocating panic and a desperate, unspoken warning. *don't look. don't stop. stay away from the blast radius.*

he was drowning under the weight of the system he had tried so hard to maintain, yet his eyes were still trying to build a shield around you.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag until your knuckles turned white. you didn't offer him a smile, and you didn't let a single tear fall. you simply turned your back on the stage, walking up the concrete steps toward the double doors, leaving him to face the committee alone under the harsh, unyielding glare of the lights.

you stepped out into the hallway, the heavy doors closing behind you with a loud thud. the air in the corridor felt cold, but your face was burning. you could hear the quiet whispers of a few students lingering near the water fountain, their eyes darting to you before quickly looking away. you kept your head down, walking past them as fast as you could until you reached the exit of the science building.

the cold fog hit you the moment you stepped outside. you pulled your coat tighter around yourself and walked toward the small campus library, looking for a place where nobody would recognize you.

you found an empty desk in the very back of the basement level, hidden behind rows of old, dusty textbooks that nobody had touched in years. you pulled out your phone and immediately opened the chat with jia.

*they just took him,* you typed, your fingers trembling over the screen. *the head of the department and two board members were waiting for him right after class. they took him to the dean's office for a formal audit. jia, he looked so scared.*

a few seconds later, jia's response popped up. *are you somewhere safe? did they say anything to you?*

*no,* you texted back. *they only spoke to him. but he looked at me before he left. it was like he was begging me to run away so i wouldn't get caught in the middle of it. i hate this. i hate pretending i don't care.*

*you're doing exactly what you need to do,* jia replied quickly. *he is the professor, y/n. it is his job to handle the board, not yours. keep your head down and stay out of that office. let him protect you.*

you stared at the screen, letting out a long, shaky breath. you knew jia was right, but the logic didn't stop the ache in your chest. you kept picturing the look in heeseung's eyes—that tiny crack in his untouchable mask right before they led him away. he spent his whole life trying to be the perfect son, the perfect husband, and the perfect professor, all to satisfy a family that never actually cared about him. and now, the first time he tried to choose something for himself, his whole world was crashing down.

you tried to study, but the hours passed in a miserable blur. every time you closed your eyes, you saw the silver ring back on his finger.

by four o'clock in the afternoon, the basement library was completely dark outside the small window wells. you couldn't sit still anymore. your legs felt restless, and your brain was fried from trying to read the same page of physics over and over again.

you packed your bag and walked back toward the main campus square. without even realizing it, your feet led you back toward the science building. the lights in the windows were starting to turn on as the evening settled in. you stood across the street, hiding under the shadow of a large oak tree, looking up at the second floor.

the light in heeseung's office was on.

your breath caught in your throat. you looked around the campus square; it was mostly empty because of the thick fog and the cold air. nobody was watching.

ignoring the voice in your head telling you to walk away, you crossed the street and entered the building. the hallways were completely silent now, the evening classes not starting for another hour. you walked up the stairs, your heart hammering a wild, chaotic rhythm against your ribs.

when you reached his door, you saw a small sliver of yellow light leaking out from the bottom. you stood there for a long moment, your hand hovering over the wood. you knew it was dangerous. you knew it could ruin everything. but the need to know if he was okay was stronger than any rule the university had ever written.

you knocked softly, three times.

the door opened almost instantly. heeseung stood in the doorway, and the sight of him made your stomach twist. his tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and his hair was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it for hours. he looked completely drained, the dark circles under his eyes deeper than they had been that morning.

when his eyes found yours, he didn't look angry. he just looked incredibly tired.

"y/n," he breathed out, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sounded completely broken. "i told you to stay away."

"i couldn't," you whispered back, your eyes immediately filling with tears. "i saw them take you. heeseung, please tell me what happened."

heeseung looked down the empty hallway, checking both directions before he grabbed your forearm and pulled you quickly into the room, locking the door behind you with a sharp click. the moment the lock snapped into place, he didn't step back. instead, he leaned his forehead against the heavy wood of the door, letting out a ragged, trembling sigh that seemed to shake his entire body.

"they know about the separation," he said, his voice muffled against the door. "minji's father called the dean this morning. it wasn't a student who filed the report, y/n. it was her family. they found out about the divorce papers, and they're using the university to ruin me.”

the room went completely cold. you stood frozen in the middle of the small office, the words echoing in your ears until your brain could finally process them.

it wasn't a classmate. it wasn't someone passing by the office door at night or a lingering student in the hallway. it was his family. it was the massive, clinical machine of his marriage, reaching out from three hundred miles away to wrap its fingers around his throat.

"minji's father," you whispered, the name tasting like lead on your tongue. "they're doing this on purpose?"

heeseung slowly lifted his head from the door, turning around to face you. he looked completely stripped of his academic authority. he leaned his lower back against the heavy wood, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his fingers twitching.

"it's a warning," he rough-whispered, a bitter, humorless smile twisting his lips. "in my family, you don't just walk away from an alliance. you don't break a contract without consequences. her father told the dean that i’ve been showing 'unstable behavior' and neglecting my departmental duties. they used the anonymous report about our private hours as the weapon to prove it."

he took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. without the frames, his face looked younger, more vulnerable, and completely exhausted.

"the board is launching a full investigation into my scheduling logs," he continued, his voice dropping into a flat, dead tone. "they're reviewing my grading metrics for the second-row students. they want to see if there's any statistical bias. if they find anything they can label as misconduct, they won't just suspend me, y/n. they will revoke my tenure, blackball me from every research institution in the country, and cancel your scholarship for 'collusion' with faculty."

your breath caught in your throat. a sudden, sharp panic flared in your chest. "my scholarship? but i didn't do anything wrong! i just—i studied. i earned every single mark."

"i know that," heeseung said quickly, stepping forward. for a split second, he looked like he wanted to reach out and grab your hands, but he stopped himself, his bare right hand clenching into a fist. "i told them that. i spent three hours in that room taking total responsibility for the scheduling. i told them the extra hours were entirely my decision to push you toward the advanced doctoral track. i lied to them, y/n. i looked the dean in the eye and told him there was absolutely nothing personal between us."

he looked down, his gaze landing on his left hand. the silver wedding band was still there, a bright, mocking circle under the white lights.

"i put it back on before the meeting," he whispered, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle leaped. "because if i'm a happily married man facing a bitter family dispute, the board views it as a private matter. but if i'm a man mid-divorce who is spending his Tuesday nights locked in an office with an undergraduate... they destroy us both. i had to become the professor again. i had to pretend friday night never happened."

the weight of his words pressed down on your chest until it physically hurt to breathe. you looked at him—at the messy hair, the unbuttoned collar, the sheer desperation rolling off his skin—and the anger you had felt that morning completely melted into a profound, aching sorrow.

he wasn't acting like a coward. he was acting like a shield. he was standing in front of the blast radius, letting the shrapnel hit his own career just to keep your future completely clean.

"heeseung," you murmured, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him, ignoring the imaginary line between the desk and the door. "you can't keep lying for me. if they find out you lied to the board, it's worse."

"i don't care about the board," he rough-whispered, his dark eyes snapping up to meet yours, burning with a sudden, fierce intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs. "i care about you. do you understand me? i have lived thirty-two years in a frozen system, y/n. i have lived a life where nothing belonged to me, where every choice was made by someone else. friday night... when i was sitting in your kitchen, eating the food you made, listening to you talk about your dreams... that was the first time i ever felt alive."

he took one final, heavy step, closing the remaining distance between you until his broad chest was almost touching your shoulder. the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne was faint now, replaced by the sharp scent of stress and coffee, but he still felt like home.

"they can take my tenure," he whispered, his voice cracking with an emotion so raw it made your tears finally spill over your lashes. "they can take the lab allocations. they can take my family's name. i don't care. but i will not let them touch your future. i will not let them ruin the one beautiful thing i have ever found."

your hand rose instinctively, your fingers pressing against the soft fabric of his gray blazer, feeling the erratic, terrified rhythm of his heart. "we can't just pretend we're strangers, heeseung. it's killing me. i sat in that lecture today and you didn't even look at my row."

"it killed me too," he murmured, his large hand finally rising, his long fingers hovering just a millimeter away from your wet cheek, desperately wanting to wipe the tear away but forcing himself not to make physical contact. the discipline was tearing him apart from the inside out. "but we have to play their game for a little while longer. until the audit clears. until the divorce papers are legally processed and her father loses his leverage."

"how long?" you breathed, your voice small and trembling.

"a few weeks," heeseung said, his dark pupils searching your face with a quiet, devastating devotion. "just a few weeks of absolute distance. no office hours. no private texts. nothing they can track."

he slowly lowered his hand, his chin tilting up as he looked at the closed door, his expression hardening into something unyielding.

"let them investigate," he whispered, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that made your skin prickle. "let them check the equations. they won't find a single error. and once the system settles... i am coming back for you, y/n. and nothing will be able to stop the transfer.”

you stared up at him, your fingers still clutching the fabric of his blazer. the reality of the situation settled into your chest like a heavy stone. a few weeks. it sounded like an eternity to keep your heart under lock and key, to sit in the second row every single morning and look at him like he was just a stranger with a piece of chalk.

but seeing the raw determination in his eyes, you knew you didn't have a choice. you had to be strong, not just for your own scholarship, but for him.

"okay," you whispered, your voice small but steady against the quiet hum of the room. "a few weeks. no texts. no office hours."

heeseung let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders dropping as if a massive pressure had been relieved. a small, incredibly tender smile touched his lips, though his dark eyes remained filled with a deep, aching sadness.

"thank you, y/n," he rough-whispered.

he slowly reached down, his large, warm hand covering yours where it still rested against his chest. his long fingers squeezed your knuckles with a tight, desperate strength, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. the silver wedding band pressed cold against your skin, but you didn't look at it this time. you only looked at him.

"when this is over," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before rising back to meet your eyes. "i’m going to take you out to a real dinner. no secret locations, no locked doors. i want to walk down the street holding your hand without looking over my shoulder."

"i'd like that," you breathed, a tiny, fragile smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

heeseung’s jaw tightened, his self-control clearly reaching its absolute limit. he reluctantly let go of your hand, stepping back a full pace until the professional distance was restored between you. the space felt cold immediately, but the invisible heat of his promise still flickered in the air.

"you should go now, before the evening classes start filtering into the building," he said softly, his voice returning to that low, careful register. he walked over to his desk, picking up his glasses and sliding them back onto his face, the professional armor clicking perfectly back into place. "the hallway should be clear."

you nodded quickly, wiping the last of the dampness from your cheeks with your sleeve. you adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder and walked toward the door. your hand gripped the brass handle, but before you turned it, you paused, looking back over your shoulder one last time.

heeseung was standing behind his podium, his hands resting flat against the polished wood as he stared at you. under the bright overhead lights, he looked every bit the serious, untouchable professor. but the fierce, devoted look in his dark pupils belonged entirely to the man who had danced with you in the rain.

"goodnight, professor lee," you murmured, the words heavy with a secret meaning meant only for him.

"goodnight, y/n," he replied quietly.

you turned the handle, unlocked the door, and stepped out into the quiet, dim corridor. the heavy wood clicked shut behind you, the solid sound echoing down the empty hall. as you walked down the stairs and out into the cool evening fog, the air felt crisp against your skin. the turbulence was here, and the system was completely unstable, but as you pulled your coat tight and walked into the dark, you knew the critical point wouldn't break you. you were just waiting for the equilibrium.

chapter eleven: the separation variable

in the weeks that followed, the university campus became a massive exercise in thermal isolation. in physics, an adiabatic wall is a boundary that allows no heat or matter to pass through it. it is a perfect insulator. for twenty-one days, you and heeseung lived on opposite sides of that invisible, crushing wall, pretending the energy between you hadn't already changed the entire layout of your lives.

from your perspective, the second row of the lecture hall had turned into a testing ground for your emotional endurance.

every morning at eight o'clock, you sat at your exact desk, your notebook open, your pen held tightly between your fingers. you watched him walk into the room. you watched the fluid movement of his broad shoulders under his dark coats, the sharp line of his jaw when he turned to the board, and the way his long fingers held the chalk. but his eyes never dropped down to yours. he kept his gaze locked on the upper tiers, his voice carrying that steady, clinical professor tone that felt like a slap to your face every time he spoke.

the lack of contact was a physical ache. you found yourself staring at his left hand, counting the days, wondering if the silver band was still suffocating him as much as it was suffocating you. every evening, you would sit on your velvet couch, the silence of your apartment so loud it made your head spin. you would stare at your phone, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts list, desperately wanting to type a single line: *are you okay?*

but you didn't. you kept your promise. instead, you would call jia in milan, letting the sound of her voice and the scratching of her drafting pens ground you while you forced yourself to solve pages of advanced statistical mechanics. you poured all your frustration, all your missing him, into the numbers. you became the top student in the class, your exam scores so flawlessly high that no ethics committee could ever claim you were receiving unfair favoritism. you were surviving, but your heart felt like it was operating in a vacuum.

from heeseung’s perspective, the distance was a completely different kind of torture.

every morning, before he even opened the door to the lecture hall, he had to stand in the hallway and take three deep breaths, forcing his facial muscles into a rigid, untouchable mask. he had to consciously brace himself for the sight of you.

because the second he stepped onto that stage, his body automatically looked for you. even without looking directly at the second row, he knew exactly where you were. he could feel your presence like a localized pocket of heat in a freezing room. out of the corner of his eye, he noticed every tiny detail—the soft knit sweaters you wore to shield yourself from the autumn chill, the way you bit your lower lip when you were concentrating on a difficult graph, and the fierce, brilliant determination in your eyes as you took your notes.

and it was killing him not to step down from the stage and walk to your desk.

when he returned to his office after lectures, the room felt like a tomb. the scent of your vanilla perfume had long faded, replaced by the dry, sterile smell of the official audit folders piled on his desk. minji’s father was still pushing the committee, demanding a full review of his research funding, trying to find any loose thread to pull. heeseung spent his nights sitting under the harsh overhead lights, signing legal documents, reviewing schedule logs, and speaking with his divorce lawyer.

his family called him twice a week, their voices cold and full of warnings about his reputation, but heeseung barely listened to them anymore. their threats had lost all their density. every time he felt like giving up, every time the exhaustion threatened to crush him, he would look at his bare left ring finger—the silver band currently locked away in his desk drawer, only taken out when he had to step into a formal faculty meeting.

he wasn't fighting for his tenure anymore. he was fighting for the right to exist in the same space as you without a lie between you.

on the third Tuesday evening of the isolation, heeseung sat alone at his desk. it was four o'clock—the exact hour your mentoring sessions used to begin. the office was completely silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of the radiator against the wall.

he leaned back in his leather chair, running a hand through his dark hair, disrupting the neat style. his eyes drifted to the edge of the smooth wood desk where you had sat three weeks ago, where your fingers had interlocked with his, where he had promised you that he would come back.

"just a little longer, y/n," he rough-whispered into the empty room, his jaw clenching as he stared at the closed oak door. "just stay in orbit a little longer.”

that friday morning, the first snow of the season began to fall, turning the campus into a quiet, white landscape. inside the lecture hall, the radiator hummed loudly, trying to fight the frost pressing against the glass.

you sat in the second row, pulling the sleeves of your dark green sweater over your knuckles. it was the final lecture before the mid-term break, and the air in the room was restless. students were already talking about packing their bags and catching trains home. but for you, the break didn't feel like a relief—it felt like a wider gulf, a longer stretch of time where you wouldn't even be able to see his face.

when heeseung walked in, a collective quiet settled over the room. he wasn't wearing his usual gray or blue blazer today. he wore a simple, sharp black turtleneck underneath a dark coat, looking striking against the pale light coming from the windows.

he set his briefcase down, and for the first time in three weeks, he didn't immediately turn to the whiteboard.

he stood behind the podium and looked straight out at the rows of students. his eyes moved slowly across the theater, passing the back rows, sliding down the center aisle, until they finally stopped.

directly on you.

your breath caught in your throat. your fingers froze over your notebook.

he didn't look away. for five long, uninterrupted seconds, heeseung maintained absolute eye contact with you in front of the entire class. there was no professional distance in his dark pupils anymore. the cold, mechanical mask he had worn for twenty-one days was completely gone, replaced by a deep, burning intensity that made your heart do a violent, erratic dance against your ribs. his jaw was set, his expression carrying a quiet, triumphant clarity.

he slowly lifted his left hand to fix his glasses.

your eyes immediately dropped to his ring finger.

the silver wedding band was gone. and this time, there was no faculty meeting, no audit folder, and no hesitation. his hand was completely bare, the pale mark on his skin finally fading away, leaving him entirely exposed. entirely free.

"good morning," heeseung said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that vibrated straight through the floorboards to the soles of your boots. it was rougher than usual, carrying the heavy weight of a man who had finally finished a long, exhausting battle. "today, we are concluding our unit on statistical mechanics. we will be looking at how a system finally stabilizes after a period of intense external pressure."

the two hours passed like a dream. heeseung didn't avoid the second row anymore. every time he made a point, his eyes anchored onto your face, watching the way your lower lip parted in surprise, watching the soft color return to your cheeks. it felt like the air in the room was warming up, the adiabatic wall between you violently cracking open with every word he spoke.

when the final bell rang, signaling the start of the holiday break, the classroom erupted into chaos. students stood up, laughing and talking about their holiday plans, rushing for the exit to catch their rides.

you packed your bag with trembling hands, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure the people next to you could hear it. you took your time, waiting as the sea of students slowly filtered out of the heavy double doors.

heeseung stood behind his podium, packing his papers into his leather briefcase. his movements were calm, deliberate, and entirely unhurried.

finally, the heavy doors clicked shut. the lecture hall fell into an absolute, beautiful silence.

you stood up from the second row, holding the strap of your bag, your legs feeling weak as you looked down at the stage. heeseung snapped his briefcase shut, set it on the desk, and slowly looked up.

"the audit is clear, y/n," he rough-whispered, the formal 'professor' tone vanishing into the empty theater. he stepped out from behind the podium, walking to the very edge of the stage until he was looking down at you, his dark eyes wide and swimming with an overwhelming fondness. "the separation is legally finalized. her family has no more leverage over this department. it's over."

a breathless, choked laugh escaped your lips, the relief hitting you so hard a tear finally slipped over your lashes. "heeseung..."

"i told you i was coming back for you," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. he didn't care about the windows, the stage, or the empty desks anymore. he took the steps down from the stage in two swift strides, closing the distance between you until he was standing directly in front of your row.

his large, bare hands rose instantly, his long fingers cupping your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tear on your cheek. his palms were burning hot against your skin, a perfect, beautiful thermal reaction.

"twenty-one days," he whisper-groaned, leaning his forehead down until it rested firmly against yours, his eyes closing as he took a deep, shaky breath of your vanilla scent. "twenty-one days of sitting in this room and pretending you were just a face in the crowd. it was the hardest calculation i’ve ever had to make."

"you did it," you whispered back, your hands rising to grip his forearms, feeling the solid, unyielding strength of the man who had protected you through the storm. "we did it."

"now," heeseung murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, a genuine, breathtaking smile fully transforming his sharp face. his hands slid down to wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "my car is parked outside. the snow is falling, the keys to my office are locked away for the holidays, and i believe i owe a model student a very long, very public dinner.”

chapter twelve: the permanent state

the restaurant heeseung took you to was a small, warm bistro hidden down a cobblestone side street, away from the bustling campus center. it was the kind of place that felt completely detached from the academic world—no bright fluorescent lights, no heavy oak desks, and no whispering students. instead, there were flickering candles in glass jars, the soft murmur of couples laughing over jazz music, and the gentle patter of the snow melting against the windowpanes.

for the first time since you had met him, heeseung didn't look for a hidden corner booth.

when the host led you to a table right in the center of the room, next to a large window overlooking the snow-covered street, heeseung simply smiled, thanking the man politely. he pulled out your chair for you, his large hand lingering gently on your shoulder for a second, his thumb rubbing through the fabric of your green sweater before he took his own seat across from you.

"you're staring," heeseung murmured, a beautiful, relaxed hum in his voice as he opened his menu. a small, teasing smile played at the corner of his lips.

"i can't help it," you whispered, your cheeks flushing a happy, deep pink under the warm candlelight. "you look different."

he looked up from the menu, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners behind his glasses. "different how?"

"relaxed," you said, your eyes dropping to his left hand resting flat on the white tablecloth. his long fingers were bare, the pale mark on his skin completely gone now, replaced only by the warm, healthy glow of his skin. "you don't look like you're trying to solve a crisis anymore."

heeseung’s expression softened completely, a profound, heavy tenderness filling his eyes. he reached across the small table, his large palm turning upward in an open invitation. you didn't hesitate; you slid your hand into his, your fingers instantly interlocking, squeezing tightly.

"that's because the crisis is over, y/n," he rough-whispered, his thumb tracing the back of your knuckles over and over again. "for the last three years, every time i sat in a restaurant, i felt like i was on display. i had to watch what i said, how i sat, who was looking at me. but sitting here with you... looking at the snow outside... i don't feel any pressure at all. i just feel incredibly lucky."

the dinner was filled with a light, easy joy that you hadn't experienced in months. there was no talk of audits, faculty boards, or bitter family disputes. instead, you laughed over the shared dessert—a rich chocolate torta that heeseung insisted on feeding you a bite of himself, his eyes dark and full of a playful, devoted heat as he watched your lips part for the fork. you talked about the upcoming holidays, the books you wanted to read for fun instead of class, and how jia had practically screamed over the phone when you texted her the news that morning.

"she told me to tell you that if you ever make me sit through another twenty-one days of silence, she’s flying back from Milan to build a brick wall between us himself," you teased, taking a sip of your red wine.

heeseung let out a loud, rich laugh that vibrated deep in his chest—a sound so full of genuine happiness it made your heart swell until it almost ached. "please tell jia i have absolutely no intention of testing her structural skills. one separation variable was more than enough for a lifetime."

by the time you left the restaurant, the snow had stopped, leaving the city quiet, clean, and completely still under the winter night sky. the air was freezing, but as heeseung wrapped his arm securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his side as you walked back toward his car, you didn't feel the cold at all.

when he pulled up to the curb outside your apartment building, he didn't just unlock the doors and wait for you to step out. he turned off the engine, pulled the keys from the ignition, and looked over at you in the dim, shadowy light of the car's interior.

"can i come up?" he whispered, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always made your pulse spike. "i don't want to say goodnight to you yet."

"you never have to ask," you murmured, your hand reaching over to rest against his cheek.

the moment the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you, the coat you were wearing was gently pulled from your shoulders. heeseung dropped his own jacket onto the floor, his hands immediately finding your waist in the dark, pulling you back against his broad, solid chest. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm lips pressing a sequence of slow, heavy kisses along your jawline that made a quiet, breathless gasp escape your throat.

"heeseung," you breathed out, turning around in his embrace until you were facing him, your hands rising to tangle into the soft dark hair at the nape of his neck.

"i missed you so much," he rough-whispered against your lips, his voice thick with weeks of buried emotion. "every single morning. every single lecture. i just wanted to hold you like this."

and then his mouth found yours, deeper and more passionate than ever before, but entirely devoid of the old panic. it was a kiss full of pure, unadulterated joy—a celebration of a battle won, a system stabilized, and a future that belonged completely to the two of you. his long fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back slightly as he drank you in, his heart thudding a wild, triumphant rhythm against your chest.

when he finally pulled back, just an inch, his dark eyes were shining with a terrifyingly beautiful devotion in the dim light of your living room. he gently reached out, his bare ring finger tracing the soft line of your lower lip.

"no more hiding, y/n," he murmured, his voice full of a profound, permanent peace. "from now on, this is our equilibrium.”

you rest your hands flat against his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic thud of his heart through his black turtleneck. the relief in the room is so thick it feels like a physical blanket, keeping the winter chill completely outside the glass.

"no more hiding," you repeat softly, a brilliant smile finally breaking across your face.

heeseung lets out a soft, contented sigh, his large hands sliding down from your waist to take your hands. he leads you over to the velvet couch, pulling you down right next to him. the moment you sit, he shifts, lifting his arm to invite you in. you slide instantly into his side, tucking your knees up onto the cushions and resting your head against his broad shoulder.

his arm wraps securely around you, his long fingers gently stroking your upper arm in a slow, soothing pattern. for a long time, neither of you says anything. you just sit in the quiet, golden light of your small living room, watching the faint reflection of the streetlamps on the snow-covered windowsill.

"i kept the box," heeseung says suddenly, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

you tilt your head up to look at his sharp profile. "the box?"

"the tin box you brought the cookies in," he clarifies, turning his head to look down at you, his dark eyes soft and incredibly tender behind his glasses. "the first day you came to my office hours. when the board was auditing my office logs and going through my desk drawers last week, they asked what was inside it. professor harris thought it might contain off-syllabus research materials."

you let out a soft, breathless laugh. "what did you tell them?"

"i told them it contained vital fuel for my thermodynamic research," heeseung teases, a quiet, playful spark in his eyes. "they looked very confused, but they left it alone. it's still sitting on the top shelf of my bookcase. i look at it every time i start to lose my patience with a departmental memo."

you lean up, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his jawline, making him close his eyes for a brief second as his grip on your waist tightly cinches. "you're a terrible liar, mr. lee."

"only when it comes to you," he murmurs, turning his head to catch your lips in another slow, warm kiss. it's completely different from the desperate, frantic kisses of the past—this one tastes like quiet mornings, shared coffee, and a future that is entirely open.

when he pulls back, he gently slides his glasses off his face, setting them onto the small coffee table beside the couch. without the frames, his dark eyes look incredibly deep, holding a vulnerability that he only ever shows within these four walls. he leans down, burying his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar, sweet scent of your vanilla perfume.

"tomorrow," heeseung whispers against your skin, his voice thick with a sleepy, profound happiness, "we don't have to go to campus. we don't have to check the logs. i can make us breakfast. i'm not as good at baking as you are, but i can manage an omelet if the variables are right."

"i'd love that," you whisper back, your fingers lightly tracing the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling completely safe, completely cherished, and entirely at peace.

as the minutes tick by, the heavy exhaustion of the last three weeks finally catches up to both of you. the constant baseline of stress, the sleepless nights, and the sheer emotional weight of the day begin to take their toll. heeseung’s long fingers slow their movement against your arm, his breathing deepening into a slow, heavy rhythm. he shifts slightly, sliding lower onto the cushions and pulling you right along with him until his back is propped up against the padded armrest of the couch.

"stay right here," he rough-whispers, his eyes already half-closed as he tucks your head securely under his chin. his large arm stays firmly looped around your waist, locking you against his side.

"i'm not going anywhere," you murmur, adjusting the soft knit of your sweater against his chest.

you reach over to grab a thick plush blanket resting on the back of the sofa, pulling it up over both of your shoulders. heeseung lets out a low, deeply contented rumble at the added warmth, his long legs stretching out along the length of the cushions, tangling naturally with yours. the velvet couch is small, forcing the two of you into a completely seamless, breathless fit.

with his heart beating a steady, soothing lullaby against your cheek and his warm breath fanning across your hair, your own eyelids begin to feel impossibly heavy. the system had been turbulent, the forces had been violent, but as you finally close your eyes and let his massive warmth envelope you in the quiet dark, you fall into the deepest, safest sleep you've had in months, completely anchored to each other on the small sofa.

the morning sun breaks through the frost on the windowpane, casting long, pale lines of light across the hardwood floor of your apartment. for the first time in months, there is no jarring sound of an alarm clock at six o'clock, no sudden bolt of panic about getting to the lecture hall before the front rows fill up.

you slowly blink your eyes open, your cheek still pressed against his solid chest.

heeseung is still sound asleep beside you, his long frame perfectly filling the space of the couch. his profile looks completely soft in the daylight, the usual serious line of his forehead totally relaxed. his large, bare hand is still draped securely over your hip, his long fingers subconsciously twitching to pull you even closer the moment you stir. the pale morning light catches the dark strands of his hair falling messily over his eyes, making him look younger, gentler, and entirely yours.

you lie perfectly still for a few minutes, just listening to the steady, deep rhythm of his breathing, watching the faint dust motes dance in the golden sunlight. it feels like a miracle. after weeks of staring at him from thirty feet away, being able to count the dark lashes on his eyelids feels like a luxury you never want to give up.

as you shift slightly to look up at him, heeseung stirs. a low, gravelly hum vibrates in his chest as his eyelids flutter open. his dark eyes are blurry with sleep, but the exact second they focus on your face, a beautiful, lazy smile spreads across his lips.

"good morning," he rough-whispers, his voice thick and deep from sleep. he slides his hand up from your hip to cup the back of your neck, his thumb gently brushing over your skin.

"good morning," you murmur, leaning into his touch. "how did you sleep?"

"perfectly," he sighs, pulling you up until your chin is resting on his chest. he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his chest expanding with a long, contented breath. "i can't remember the last time i didn't wake up with a headache about a faculty meeting. the variables of this couch are highly underrated."

you chuckle softly, resting your forearm against his collarbone. "i believe someone promised me an omelet last night. or was that just a theory?"

heeseung’s eyes spark with a playful, amused light. "a theory? y/n, i am a man of science. i do not make hypotheses i cannot prove."

he reluctantly shifts, letting you go as he sits up and stretches his broad shoulders. he slides his glasses back onto his face, the sharp, intelligent look returning to his eyes, though the warmth remains entirely intact. he stands up, wearing only his dark jeans and the black turtleneck from the night before, his feet bare as he walks into your small kitchen corner.

you pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping the soft blanket around your shoulders as you watch him move. he opens your refrigerator, inspecting the eggs and vegetables with the same intense, calculated focus he usually reserves for a quantum mechanics graph.

"the thermal distribution of your stove is slightly uneven," heeseung comments, a teasing lilt in his voice as he cracks an egg into a bowl. "but i will adjust the pan coordinates to ensure a flawless structural integrity."

"just don't burn the butter, professor," you laugh, the old title slipping out like an inside joke now.

heeseung stops, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder. the bright morning sun catches the absolute devotion written in his eyes. he sets the fork down, walking back over to the couch in three long strides. he leans down, his large hands resting on the back of the sofa on either side of your head, trapping you in his warm, familiar scent.

"that title doesn't work in this room anymore, y/n," he rough-whispers, his mouth hovering just an inch from yours, his dark eyes burning with a deep, happy heat. "in this apartment, i'm just a man who is incredibly in love with you."

and before you can answer, he closes the distance, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss that tastes like coffee, fresh snow, and the beautiful, permanent beginning of the rest of your lives.

the kiss slows down, deepening into something thick, warm, and sweet, until heeseung finally pulls back with a soft, breathless chuckle. his forehead rests against yours for a second, his thumbs lightly stroking your jawline before he lets out a quiet sigh of pure contentment.

"if i stay right here," he murmurs, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he glances toward the counter, "the eggs are going to experience a tragic phase change. stay put."

he gives your lips one last, gentle peck before turning back to the stove. you pull the plush blanket tighter around your shoulders, your heart feeling completely full as you watch him. heeseung moves around your small kitchen with an easy confidence, his tall frame blocking the morning light as he skillfully folds the omelet in the pan. it’s a beautifully ordinary sight—the brilliant, tenured physics professor, bare-footed on your linoleum floor, completely dedicated to making you breakfast.

within a few minutes, he walks back over to the small wooden table, setting down two plates of perfectly golden omelets alongside two mugs of hot coffee.

"proportions are flawless, y/n," he says proudly, pulling out his chair and looking over at you with a bright, inviting smile. "come eat."

you drop the blanket onto the couch and walk over, sliding into the seat across from him. the space under the table is just as tight as it was during your rainy dinner weeks ago, and the moment your knees bump against his under the wood, heeseung doesn't move away. instead, he hooks his foot gently around your ankle, anchoring you to him.

the conversation flows without effort, filled with quiet laughter, small pieces of egg shared from across the table, and the comforting warmth of the coffee. you talk about what to pack for the mid-term break, the record store he wants to visit down the street, and how strange—yet incredibly freeing—it will be to walk back onto campus in a week without a single secret to keep.

when the breakfast is finished, heeseung reaches across the table, his long fingers gently catching your chin. his thumb brushes a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth, his gaze dropping to your lips with that familiar, heavy devotion.

"no more turbulence, y/n," he rough-whispers, his voice full of an absolute, unbreakable certainty. "we survived the critical point."

you smile, leaning into his touch, your hand rising to cover his bare knuckles. "we did."

he stands up, pulling you with him until you are pressed firmly against his chest in the bright, sunlit kitchen. the snow outside continues to fall silently against the glass, but inside, the temperature is absolutely perfect. the old, rigid system has completely dissolved, and as heeseung holds you tight, his chin resting on your head as you look out at the white landscape together, you know that the new equilibrium you’ve found is entirely permanent.

chapter thirteen: the final equation

six months later, the spring breeze was warm as it blew through the open windows of the lecture hall. the harsh, freezing rain of the winter was completely gone, replaced by the bright afternoon sun that lit up the entire room.

the university was still the same. the wooden desks were still scratched, the whiteboards were still covered in complex formulas, and students were still rushing down the aisles to find their seats. but for you, everything had changed.

you sat in the middle of the second row, your notebook open to a fresh page. you weren't hiding your face behind your hair anymore. you weren't gripping your pen until your knuckles turned white with anxiety. you just sat comfortably, a soft smile on your face as you chatted with a classmate sitting next to you.

at exactly two o'clock, the side door opened.

heeseung stepped into the room. he looked as sharp and handsome as ever, wearing a light gray blazer over a white button-down shirt, his dark hair falling softly over his forehead. he set his leather briefcase on the podium, and as he adjusted his glasses, the sunlight caught his left hand.

it was completely bare.

he didn't look at the back rows today. the very first thing he did was look down at the second row, his dark pupils immediately locking onto yours. a genuine, beautiful warmth flooded his eyes, and he gave you a tiny, private nod before turning to the board.

"today is our final lecture of the semester," heeseung’s deep, gravelly voice echoed through the hall, but it didn't sound cold anymore. it sounded alive. "we are going to conclude with the law of conservation of energy. it states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. it can only be transformed from one form to another."

as he spoke, you looked down at your notebook, your fingers smoothly tracing his words. you felt a familiar vibration in your pocket. you pulled out your phone under the desk, keeping it hidden from the rest of the class.

it was a text from jia.

*i just landed at the airport!* the text read, filled with little airplane emojis. *i’m taking a cab straight to your apartment. the architecture internship in milan is officially over, and i expect a full dinner with the famous professor tonight. he better be ready to cook.*

you let out a quiet, happy laugh, your thumb quickly typing back: *he already bought the ingredients. we're waiting for you.*

you slid the phone back into your bag and looked up at the front of the room. heeseung was drawing a final, simple graph on the board. as he explained the transfer of force, his eyes drifted back to you, watching the way the sunlight hit your face. there were no board members waiting in the hallway. there were no anonymous reports or bitter threats hanging over your heads. the system was completely clear.

when the final bell of the semester rang, the room erupted into loud cheers and the chaotic sound of packing bags. students stood up, waving goodbye to each other and rushing out the doors to start their summer vacation.

you took your time, packing your notebook and pen into your bag. you stood up from the second row and walked down the concrete steps, waiting until the very last student left the room.

the heavy double doors clicked shut, leaving the lecture hall in a peaceful, quiet stillness.

heeseung snapped his briefcase shut and stepped out from behind the podium. he didn't wait. he walked straight up to you, his large hands reaching out to grab your waist and pull you flush against his chest. the familiar, clean scent of his woodsy cologne and warm skin enveloped you instantly.

"congratulations on finishing the semester, y/n," he rough-whispered, his eyes full of a deep, endless fondness as he looked down at your face.

"thank you, professor," you teased, reaching up to gently slide his glasses off his face and setting them on the podium behind him.

heeseung let out a soft, rich laugh, his broad shoulders shaking against your chest. he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his thumbs tracing the soft line of your hips.

"jia texted," you murmured, a bright smile on your lips. "she's on her way to the apartment right now."

"good," heeseung whispered, his voice dropping into that low, heavy register that always made your heart skip a beat. "the variables for dinner are already set. but before we go..."

he didn't finish the sentence. he closed the final inch between you, his lips finding yours in a slow, deep, and incredibly sweet kiss. it was a kiss that held no more fear, no more parameters, and no more hidden spaces. it was just the two of you, completely open to the world, standing in the bright afternoon light.

the old symmetry was gone, the chaos had settled, and as heeseung held you tight against his heart, you knew that the final equation was complete. you had found your permanent equilibrium, and nothing would ever change the system again.

you pull back from the kiss just an inch, your fingers sliding down his arms to link with his large, warm hands. the silence of the empty lecture hall feels gentle now, a far cry from the suffocating quiet it held months ago.

"are you nervous?" you ask softly, tilting your head up to look at him. "about meeting jia? she can be pretty intense when she's protecting the people she cares about."

heeseung lets out a soft chuckle, his long fingers squeezing yours tightly as he guides you toward the side exit, picking up his briefcase with his free hand.

"i have defended my research in front of the strictest academic boards in the country, y/n," he murmurs, a playful, relaxed smirk touching his lips as you both step out into the sunlit hallway. "but yes, i am slightly terrified of your best friend. i've made sure to buy the exact brand of coffee she likes just in case I need to negotiate."

you laugh, the sound echoing lightly against the lockers. it feels incredible to walk by his side down the main corridor, your hands joined openly, without a single person staring or whispering. the campus is empty and peaceful, the summer breeze carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers through the open glass doors of the building.

by the time you drive back to your apartment, the afternoon sun is starting to sink, casting a warm, orange glow over the brick streets. the moment heeseung unlocks your front door, a loud, familiar voice rings out from the kitchen.

"it's about time!" jia yells, popping her head around the corner. she's wearing a comfortable oversized sweater, her hair tied up in a messy bun, holding a wooden spoon in one hand.

she stops dead in her tracks when her eyes land on heeseung. she looks him up and down, her sharp eyes taking in his tall frame, his casual gray blazer, and the completely bare fingers of his left hand. heeseung stands perfectly still, offering her a polite, slightly nervous smile.

"you must be jia," heeseung says, his voice deep and respectful. "it’s a pleasure to finally meet you."

jia stares for two more seconds before a huge, triumphant grin breaks across her face. she drops the spoon onto the counter and walks over, completely bypassing you to pat heeseung firmly on the shoulder.

"alright, lee," jia says, her voice full of approval. "you passed the first test. you didn't run away when i pointed a spoon at you. now come inside, the pasta water is boiling and you're in charge of the sauce."

heeseung lets out a relieved breath, his shoulders dropping as he looks over at you with a bright, happy smile. he cuts a glance back to jia and nods. "understood. i'll make sure the temperature is precise."

"oh god, he really is a physicist," jia laughs, turning back toward the kitchen.

the rest of the evening passes in a beautiful blur of warmth, loud laughter, and incredible food. you sit at the small wooden table, watching heeseung and jia debate architectural design versus structural physics, their voices filling the apartment with a lively energy that you haven't felt in a long time. heeseung sits close to you, his thigh pressed warmly against yours under the table, his hand occasionally reaching over to rest on your knee.

later, after dinner is finished and jia leaves to check into her hotel down the street, the apartment falls back into a quiet, peaceful stillness. the moon is bright outside, shining down on the calm streets below.

you stand by the large window, looking out at the city light. heeseung walks up behind you, his broad chest pressing against your back as his long arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he buries his face in your neck, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of your hair.

"she likes you," you whisper, leaning back into his solid warmth.

"i'm glad," heeseung rough-whispers, his lips brushing against your skin. "because i don't ever plan on letting you go, y/n. this is where i belong."

you turn around in his arms, looping your hands around his neck as you look up into his dark, devoted eyes. the journey had been full of heavy friction and painful boundaries, but as his mouth gently finds yours in the quiet dark of your living room, you know the calculation is finally done. you are safe, you are loved, and the equilibrium is completely yours to keep.

heeseung pulls back from the kiss, his eyes searching your face with a quiet, happy look that makes your chest feel warm. he lifts one of his large hands, his thumb softly tracing the curve of your cheek, before he slides his fingers into your hair, holding you close.

"let's sit down," he rough-whispers, his voice deep and relaxed in the quiet room.

he takes your hand and leads you over to the velvet couch. it is the same couch where you both slept weeks ago when everything felt like it was breaking apart. but tonight, there is no stress, no cold rain, and no fear. you sit down together, and you instantly lean into his side, tucking your legs up and resting your head right on his shoulder.

heeseung loops his long arm around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest. he reaches for the soft plush blanket on the back of the sofa and drapes it over your laps, tucking the edges around your feet. the apartment is quiet, save for the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing by on the street below.

"i was thinking about the summer," heeseung says after a long moment, his voice a low rumble against your ear. his fingers gently stroke your arm in a slow, steady pattern.

"what about it?" you ask, looking up at his sharp profile in the moonlight.

"i want to take you to the coast," he murmurs, turning his head to look down at you. his dark eyes are incredibly soft. "i want to see the town where you grew up. i want to walk on the beach with you, away from the university, away from everything. just you and me."

a small, breathless smile breaks across your face. the thought of walking through your hometown with heeseung—not as a secret, but as the man who loves you—makes a knot of old tension completely dissolve in your heart.

"i would love that," you whisper, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his jawline.

heeseung lets out a low, contented sound, his arm tightening around your waist to pull you even closer, until there is absolutely no space between you. he rests his chin on the top of your head, his breathing slowing down as the peaceful energy of the night takes over.

you close your eyes, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart under his shirt. the journey had been full of heavy friction, cold distance, and rules that tried to tear you apart. but you had survived the turbulence. you had stood by each other through the storm, and now, the air was completely still.

epilogue: the coast

heeseung’s fingers stay laced with yours the entire drive down the coast, his thumb brushing slow circles over your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand. the windows are rolled down, letting the warm summer air and the sharp scent of salt water fill the car. there is no talk of physics, no academic schedules, and no heavy expectations. it is just the hum of the engine and the quiet rhythm of his breathing next to you.

when the car finally stops at the quiet stretch of beach just outside your old town, the world feels completely still. heeseung turns off the ignition, looks over at you, and leans over to kiss you once, soft and unhurried, before he walks around to open your door.

the sun is low in the sky, painting everything in a deep, beautiful gold. you take off your shoes and walk barefoot along the shoreline, the cool water lapping at your ankles while he keeps you tucked securely against his broad side. his arm is wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. every few steps he stops to press his lips to your temple, to your hair, to the corner of your mouth, whispering how beautiful you look with the wind in your hair and the salt on your skin.

there are no secret glances or worries about who might see you here. the vast ocean stretches out in front of you, a perfect, open space where you finally belong entirely to each other.

eventually the path curves behind a tall line of dunes and you’re completely hidden from the road. the only sound is the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the sand. heeseung guides you down onto the large blanket he spread out earlier, pulling you right into his lap so your back rests against his solid chest.

his large hands slide under the hem of your sundress, his palms burning hot against your skin as they travel up your thighs. a quiet, breathless gasp escapes your lips as you lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at his dark, devoted eyes.

"twenty-one days of distance," heeseung rough-whispers against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight through you. "and months of hiding in the dark. i spent every single day dreaming of holding you in the light like this."

"we're finally here," you murmur, turning your head to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his jawline.

"yes," heeseung whispers, his long fingers tightening against your skin, anchoring you to him completely. "we're exactly where we're supposed to be."

he leans down and catches your lips in a slow, deep kiss that tastes like salt, summer warmth, and permanent peace. he keeps you in his lap a little longer, the blanket soft beneath you both and the sound of the waves filling the quiet space behind the dunes. his hands move slowly, tracing the hem of your sundress before he lifts it inch by inch, letting the fabric bunch at your waist. he touches the newly exposed skin of your stomach, then lower, his fingers stroking the inside of your thighs in long, patient lines.

"been thinking about touching you like this all day," he murmurs against your ear. "my good girl, letting me have you out here where anyone could walk by."

he shifts you gently onto your back, settling between your legs but not rushing. instead he starts at your knees, kissing upward one leg at a time. his breath is warm, his mouth unhurried, and every touch makes your pulse skip.

heeseung looks up at you once, his eyes dark and soft. he presses the pads of his fingers to your clothed clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles, building the heat gradually until your hips start to rock toward his hand. when he reaches the edge of your panties he doesn’t pull them off right away. he mouths over the thin fabric, letting you feel the heat of his tongue through the cotton. his fingers hook into the waistband, dragging them down so slowly you feel every brush of fabric against your skin.

once they’re gone he spreads your thighs wider, settling in close so his shoulders keep you open. the first slow drag of his tongue makes your hips twitch. he hums in approval and keeps going, licking broad and steady, savoring every taste. one hand stays on your thigh, holding you open, while the other slips two fingers inside you, curling gently as his tongue focuses on your clit.

you bite your lip to stay quiet, but little sounds still escape. heeseung glances up again, his lips shiny in the fading light. "that’s it. let me hear how good it feels."

he sucks softly, then presses his tongue flat and drags it again, his fingers moving in the same perfect rhythm. your thighs start to shake around his head. he doesn’t rush. he takes his time, worshiping every inch of you with his mouth until your breathing turns ragged and your fingers twist in his dark hair.

when you come the first time it’s with a broken moan, your pussy clenching tightly around his fingers while he keeps licking you through the waves of it. he only pulls back when your hips stop twitching, pressing one last, wet kiss to your inner thigh before he crawls up your body.

heeseung kisses you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue, then sits back on his heels to strip off his shirt and push his shorts down. his cock is already hard, flushed at the tip. he lines himself up and sinks into you slowly, watching your face the whole time.

"fuck, you feel perfect," he breathes, his voice rougher than usual. "so warm and wet for me."

he rolls his hips in deep, unhurried strokes, one hand sliding under your dress to cup your breast. his thumb circles your nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak before he leans down to suck it through the fabric. you arch into his mouth with a whimper. heeseung groans around your nipple, sucking harder, then switches to the other one while his cock keeps thrusting steadily.

he pulls the neckline of your dress down so he can see both breasts, using his fingers to pinch and roll your nipples while he fucks you. every time you clench around him he praises you in that low, reverent voice. "good girl. taking me so well. my pretty girl, letting me have all of you."

the angle changes when he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and suddenly every thrust hits deeper, striking the very core of you. your moans grow louder against the sound of the ocean. heeseung watches your face, his eyes soft even as his pace picks up. "come for me again. want to feel you squeeze my cock while i fill you up."

your second orgasm hits harder, a sudden violent rush of heat. your pussy flutters and gushes around him, wetness soaking the blanket beneath you. heeseung groans at the sight and the feel of it, his hips stuttering as the tight friction completely breaks his control. he buries himself to the hilt and comes with a low, broken sound, pulsing deep inside you until you’re both trembling in the sand.

he stays there for a long moment, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in. when he finally pulls out, he watches his cum slowly drip from your swollen pussy with something close to awe. then he gathers you tightly into his arms, pulling the edges of the blanket around both of you.

heeseung kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, murmuring how proud he is of you, how beautiful you looked coming for him, how much he loves taking care of you. his hands stroke your back in long, soothing lines while he tells you how perfect you are, how safe you are with him. the ocean keeps rolling in behind you, and he holds you close until your breathing evens out and the afterglow settles warm and heavy between you both.

you rest your head under his chin, listening to the deep, slow beat of his heart. the warm breeze from the sea blows over the blanket, but tucked against his chest, you only feel his heat.

heeseung wraps his long arms even tighter around you, pulling the edge of the blanket over your shoulders as the sky shifts from gold to a deep, quiet purple. he presses one last, lingering kiss to the top of your head, letting out a long, happy breath that catches in the quiet air.

‎‎He looked exactly like someone who belonged there.

‎‎The type of student professors used as an example during lectures and somehow managed to make intelligence look effortless.

‎‎It was deeply unfair that someone could also be that attractive.

‎‎Your advisor had practically cornered you after class the previous week.

‎‎"Your literature grade isn't impossible to save," she insisted while handing you a small slip of paper with a name and phone number scribbled across it. "But only if you let someone help you."

‎‎You'd stared at the name.

‎‎Lee Heeseung.

‎‎Top student in the department.

‎‎Highest GPA.

‎‎Recommended tutor.

‎‎You had imagined someone intimidating before you ever met him.

‎‎Someone who would make you feel stupid for confusing symbolism with foreshadowing or forgetting literary terms halfway through discussions. Maybe someone overly serious with an ego inflated by perfect grades.

‎‎Instead...

‎‎The boy sitting across from you looked up the moment he heard your hesitant footsteps.

‎‎His eyes met yours, soft brown and startlingly warm.

‎‎For a second, he simply blinked.

‎‎Then he smiled.

‎‎It wasn't forced.

‎‎It was the kind of smile that reached his eyes first, gentle enough to loosen something in your chest before either of you had even spoken.

‎‎"You must be..." He glanced briefly at the notebook beside him before saying your name with surprising confidence. "Hi."

‎‎His voice was quieter than you expected.

‎‎You nodded awkwardly.

‎‎"Sorry I'm late."

‎‎"You're exactly two minutes early."

‎‎You frowned.

‎‎"...What?"

‎‎He looked down at the watch on his wrist before smiling again.

‎‎"Our session starts at three."

‎You checked your phone.

‎2:58 PM.

‎"...Oh."

‎"I like getting here early."

‎Of course he did.

‎For some reason, that tiny detail made you laugh.

‎Heeseung laughed too.

‎The nervous knot sitting in your stomach loosened instantly.

‎He gestured toward the empty chair across from him.

‎"Sit."

‎You settled into the chair, quietly pulling your notebook from your bag while trying not to notice how neat everything around him looked compared to the complete disaster living inside your backpack.

‎"You said you've been struggling with Romantic poetry?"

‎You groaned dramatically.

‎"I think Wordsworth personally hates me."

‎A tiny laugh escaped him.

‎"I don't think he's ever met you."

‎"It feels personal."

‎His shoulders shook with another quiet laugh.

‎Cute.

‎He slid one of his annotated pages toward you.

‎Instead of immediately explaining the poem like every tutor you'd ever had, he simply waited.

‎"What do you think it's trying to say?"

‎You stared blankly at the page.

‎"...That nature exists?"

‎He chuckled.

‎"Technically... yes."

‎"I knew it."

‎"But there's more."

‎He never interrupted when you spoke.

‎When you stumbled over your explanation, he simply tilted his head, listened until you finished, and asked another question instead of telling you that you were wrong.

‎Slowly...

‎Piece by piece...

‎He guided you toward the answer without making you feel like you'd failed.

‎It was strangely comforting.

‎"You don't have to rush," he murmured after noticing you growing frustrated.

‎His voice was low enough that it barely carried beyond your table.

‎He turned the book around so you could see the highlighted lines.

‎"Literature isn't about finding the fastest answer."

‎His fingertip traced beneath a sentence.

‎"It's about sitting with the words."

‎His eyes lifted to yours.

‎‎"Sometimes the best interpretations come after you've let them settle in your chest for a while."

‎‎You weren't entirely sure whether he was still talking about poetry.

‎‎By the end of that first session, you'd understood the chapter better than you had after three weeks of lectures.

‎‎By the time you walked back to your dorm that evening, you found yourself smiling for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with literary analysis.

‎—

‎‎You hadn't expected Tuesdays and Thursdays to become your favorite days of the week.

‎‎At first, you told yourself it was because your grades were finally improving.

‎‎Then you convinced yourself it was because studying felt easier with someone patient sitting across from you.

‎‎Eventually...

‎‎You stopped lying to yourself.

‎‎The sessions became something you looked forward to long before they actually happened.

‎‎Heeseung was always there first.

‎‎But it was the small things that started to undo you.

‎‎The way his fingers would brush yours when he passed you a pen. The way he’d lean in close to point at a line in your notebook, his breath warm against your ear as he explained a metaphor. The way his glasses would slip slightly down his nose when he was focused, and how he’d push them back up with his middle finger in that unconsciously attractive gesture.

‎‎By the sixth session, you were completely distracted.

‎‎Heeseung was explaining a particularly difficult passage when his hand rested on the back of your chair, leaning in so close you could smell his clean, woody cologne. His voice was low and steady as always, but your mind kept wandering to how his fingers would feel somewhere else.

‎You shifted in your seat, pressing your thighs together under the table.

‎‎Heeseung paused mid-sentence. His eyes flicked down for the briefest moment, then back to your face. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he said nothing. He simply continued explaining the text as if he hadn’t noticed how affected you were.

‎You were mortified.

‎But you were also so needy it was becoming impossible to hide.

‎‎The seventh session, the library was nearly empty. Finals week was approaching, and you had stayed late for an extra session. The overhead lights had been dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of the desk lamp between you.

‎Heeseung was sitting closer than usual, his chair pulled up right beside yours. His hand rested casually on the back of your chair, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder as he pointed at your notes.

‎You were trying — really trying — to focus on the passage he was explaining. But his cologne, the warmth of his body so close, and the way his glasses sat on his nose were making it impossible.

‎Your thighs pressed together again, a soft, involuntary sound escaping your lips.

‎Heeseung stopped talking.

‎For a long moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning.

‎Then his hand moved.

‎It slid slowly from the back of your chair to rest on your thigh, fingers warm through the fabric of your skirt. He didn’t say anything. He simply watched you, calm and controlled, thumb stroking a slow circle against your skin.

‎‎Your breath hitched.

‎Heeseung’s voice was low when he finally spoke.

‎“You’ve been distracted for weeks,” he murmured, eyes dark behind his glasses. “Tell me what you need.”

‎You couldn’t answer. Your face burned with embarrassment.

‎His hand slid higher, pushing your skirt up slowly.

‎“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Use your words, like I taught you.”

‎“I… I can’t focus,” you whispered, voice shaky. “Not when you’re this close.”

‎A small, satisfied smile curved his lips.

‎“Then stop pretending,” he said, voice dropping. “His fingers finally slipped beneath the fabric, gliding through your slick folds. “So wet already. Just from sitting here pretending to study while I talked.”

‎You whimpered as he circled your clit with deliberate slowness, applying just enough pressure to make your hips twitch.

‎“Stay still,” he ordered, voice dropping. “You don’t get to move until I say so.”

‎He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them perfectly against that spot that made your toes curl. You bit your lip hard to stifle a moan. His fingers moved faster, deeper, thumb pressing firm circles on your clit while his other hand held your thigh open.

‎“Look at you,” he murmured, eyes fixed on where his hand disappeared between your legs. “So pretty when you’re falling apart for your tutor. Does this feel better than studying, princess?”

‎“Yes— fuck— yes,” you gasped, head falling back.

‎He curled his fingers harder, hitting that perfect spot repeatedly until your legs started shaking.

‎“Don’t cum yet,” he commanded, voice rough but controlled. “Hold it for me.”

‎You whined in protest, but obeyed, muscles trembling with the effort. Heeseung watched you with dark fascination, fingers never stopping their relentless rhythm.

‎When you were right on the edge,he finally pulled his fingers out.

‎You cried out at the loss, but heeseung’s eyes darkened.

‎“Not yet.”

‎Your hands moved to his belt with trembling fingers, unbuckling it as he watched you with that steady, observing gaze.

‎He didn’t help.

‎He simply sat there, letting you pull his pants down yourself, revealing how hard he already was.

‎Heeseung leaned back slightly, one hand resting on your thigh as you freed him. His cock was thick and flushed, the tip already glistening.

‎“Look at you,” he murmured, voice calm but rough around the edges. “So eager for your tutor’s cock.”

‎He took your hand and wrapped it around him, guiding you to stroke him slowly.

‎“That’s it,” he praised quietly. “Nice and slow. Feel how hard you make me.”

‎You stroked him for what felt like forever, your own arousal dripping down your thighs as he watched you with dark, controlled eyes. Heeseung was breathing heavier now, but he never lost that calm dominance.

‎Finally, he pulled your hand away.

‎“Enough teasing,” he said. “Sit on my lap.”

‎You straddled him on the chair, skirt bunched around your waist. He rubbed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, teasing your clit with slow, deliberate movements for a long, torturous minute.

‎You whimpered, hips trying to sink down, but he held you in place with a firm grip on your waist. He didn’t push inside. Instead, he gripped your hips and guided you to grind against him, sliding your wetness along his entire length.

‎“Grind on me,” he ordered, voice rough. “Use my cock like a good girl. Let me feel how desperate you are.”

‎You obeyed immediately, rolling your hips desperately, the pressure of his thick cock rubbing against your clit driving you insane. The friction was perfect but not enough. You were so needy, so impatient, that your movements became frantic, chasing more.

‎Heeseung watched you with dark, controlled eyes, hands gripping your hips to guide your rhythm.

‎“Look at you,” he murmured, voice calm even as his cock throbbed beneath you. “So impatient. Grinding on your tutor’s cock like you can’t control yourself.”

‎You whimpered, grinding harder, the head of his cock catching against your entrance with every roll of your hips. The teasing pressure was driving you crazy.

‎Then it happened.

‎You moved too eagerly, too desperately, and the head of his cock slipped inside you — just the tip, stretching you open.

‎You gasped sharply, freezing at the sudden fullness.

‎Heeseung’s grip on your hips tightened, a low groan escaping him.

‎“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes fluttering for a second. “Look what you did, princess.”

‎He didn’t push deeper. He simply held you there, the head of his cock nestled just inside you, throbbing with the effort of staying still.

‎“You wanted it so badly you couldn’t even wait,” he said, voice dark and teasing. “Such a needy little thing.”

‎You whimpered, trying to sink down further, but his hands held you firmly in place.

‎“Not yet,” he commanded, eyes locked on where you were barely connected. “Stay right there. Feel how much you need me.” You were so wet, so desperate, that even just the tip of him felt overwhelming. Your hips twitched involuntarily, trying to take more, but Heeseung’s grip was unyielding.

‎“Please,” you begged, voice breaking. “Please, Heeseung—”

‎He finally gave in with a low groan, pulling you down onto him in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

‎You moaned loudly at the sudden fullness, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely.

‎Heeseung’s hands gripped your hips harder, holding you still for a moment as he savored the feeling.

‎“Fuck,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “So tight. So perfect for me.”

‎Then he started moving — deep, steady thrusts that made the chair creak beneath you.

‎“Ride me,” he ordered, voice rough but controlled. “Show me how much you’ve been needing this.”

‎You obeyed, rolling your hips desperately, chasing the pleasure only he could give you. Heeseung watched you the entire time, eyes dark and focused behind his slightly fogged glasses, taking in every moan, every tremble, every desperate movement.

‎When you were right on the edge, shaking and whimpering, he gripped your hips harder and thrust up into you with more force.

‎“Cum for me,” he commanded. “Right now.”

‎You shattered around him with a broken cry, clenching hard as waves of pleasure ripped through you. Heeseung followed moments later, burying himself deep and groaning your name as he came inside you, hips stuttering with the force of it.

‎‎ For a long moment, the only sounds were your shared heavy breathing.

‎Heeseung stayed inside you, forehead pressed to yours, one hand gently stroking your thigh as you both came down.

‎“Good girl,” he whispered tenderly. “You did so well for me.”

8 Days. 8 Whole days since he’s last spoken to you. Heeseung feels as though he might just die. He’s in complete and utter agony without you. Yet, here you were, having the time of your life in Miami. The situation would have been funny under literally any other circumstance, but right now, he’s not in the state of mind to find anything comedic.

How did the two of you end up in this situation, you may ask? Well, it all started when a certain someone hadn’t met a certain compromise.

You’d originally agreed to go on a girls trip, you and 3 other friends on a week-long getaway. In theory, it sounded amazing. The only issue was the “no boyfriends” rule. Now, it wasn’t that you were overly clingy or obsessive. No, never that. Any sane person would miss their boyfriend after a week of being apart!

This is when said compromise came into play. You and Heeseung had agreed to spend as much time together before you had to leave. However, that all went to the dump when he also agreed to spend the rest of the week in the studio. But, in his “defense”, he invited you!

Naturally, you tagged along, trying to make the best of it. But as the week dragged on, your patience wore thin.

It was on the last day that you finally snapped, silently calling an uber and leaving without a word. To say he was dumbfounded was an understatement.

He came home to you packing your luggage, mid squeezing your skincare products into smaller, travel-sized containers and tossing them into your toiletry bag.

“Baby? Do you want any help?” he asked curiously, to which you just walked past him. You were acting as if he wasn’t even there.

“I’m sleeping over at my friends house. We’re going to the airport together in the morning.” you finally spoke, zipping up your suitcase and grabbing your backpack. With that being said, you’re quick to gather the last of your things and exit your shared apartment, leaving him standing there in shock.

And so it goes... the start to his week in hell. He starts off annoyed, finding your avoidant antics a bit childish.

It’s at the 4 day mark that his annoyance simmers into worry. He’s worried sick. You’re in another country and you won’t answer your phone? No yeah, he’s practically spiraling, and he makes that apparent to you. 45 missed calls and god knows how many texts in just an hour.

It’s not until day 5, when you post on your instagram that he realizes everything is just fine.

He instantly clicks on the notification, anxiously tapping his foot as his phone loads. Suddenly, he’s faced with several photos of you having, what seems to be, the time of your life. Photos of you partying, drinking, dancing, swimming, you name it. Not to mention the occasional photos of your pretty face that he wishes you would have sent him first.

It’s when he reaches the second-to-last picture that his heart drops.

To anyone else's endless scrolling, it’d seem like a regular fit check. But the more he analyzes it, the more he notices. The way your tits are practically spilling out your shirt, the way your ass hangs out of your mini-skirt. And if they really looked close enough, anyone could notice the peeking pink lace of your panties. A very petty move on your part, if I may add.

He honestly thinks a photo of you in a string bikini would’ve been better. But he’s not mad, of course not. He could never be mad at you. So why are you still mad at him? And more importantly, why are you torturing him like this?

He manages to survive two more days of agony until you arrive. He’d promised to pick you up from your friend’s place. So, you have to talk to him, he thinks.

Wrong! Your silence doesn’t even resume in the car. You’re too stubborn for that.

The minute he sends a sweet text, a simple “hi baby i hope u had fun. can u send me the address? :)” all you reply with is a pinged address. Not even bothering to greet him back!

Next, he’s pulling up and getting out the car to greet you. Instead, he’s greeted by the sight of your suitcase on the sidewalk while you’re already hopping into the passenger seat. He groans internally, popping the heavy baggage into his trunk and sulking his way back into the car.

You’re focused on the view outside, resting your head against the window as you both drive in silence, when his hand slides over your lap and onto your thigh. You glance down for a split second before rolling your eyes and returning your gaze to the road outside.

He’s insistent, though. Rubbing and kneading at your plush skin the rest of the way home. You try to stay distant but you can’t help the way your thighs clench a few times.

It’s when you both get home that he realizes something. It’s his turn to stay quiet, in order to get what he wants. So, that’s what he does.

Everything he does from now on is calculated. Bringing your stuff down, opening the door for you, letting you walk into the apartment first. He even goes out of his way to put your luggage away and make you something to eat.

With each act of service, you loosen up. The time and distance between the both of you slowly starting to catch up.

You’re sat at the counter, thoroughly enjoying the ramyeon he made you, when he heads to the living area. You watch with wide eyes as he sits, spreading his legs and adjusting his hips. And if that wasn’t enough to get you going, he leans his head back against the couch with a small groan. Your eyes zero-in on the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and every ounce of self-restraint drains from your body. He knows exactly how to turn you to putty in his hands.

Having had enough, you near stomp over to the living room, stopping in front of him.

He looks up at you with a puzzled expression before raising an eyebrow. "Yes?" he asks casually. Wayyy too casually.

You feel your eye twitch at his audacity but shake your head nonetheless. And to make matters worse, he decides to ask “Was the food okay?”

“It was good, thank you” you answer, taking a seat beside him. He nods and turns his attention back to his phone. A good two minutes of him scrolling passes before you decide to stoop back down to his level.

You move to lay down, opting to rest your head on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his sweats. He lets out a shaky breath and drops his phone beside him to be able to rake his fingers through your hair.

It should be ridiculous, how you go out of your way to make exaggerated hums and mewls of satisfaction. Instead, it just sends blood rushing to his cock. Oh how he’s missed the sounds you make for him.

“Fuck,” he breathes in frustration. “Do you know what it’s been like without you? Not being able to see you? To touch you?”

It’s so sudden, the way his hand tightens in your hair and pulls you up. A pained gasp falls from your lips that he’s quick to swallow, his lips crashing yours. He laps at your mouth, sucking at your tongue and biting your bottom lip.

God, it’s filthy. Saliva, from both your mouths, leaking down your chin and onto your shirt. You’re struggling to catch your breath when he pulls back, collecting a glob of spit on his fingers and shoving them into your mouth.

Your whines of protest are quickly shut down when he uses his free hand to squish your cheeks, giving him more leverage over your face. Or more specifically, your mouth. His fingers push down and back on your tongue, forcing a choked gag out of you.

You whimper as he drags his fingers out your mouth and you can feel him throbbing beneath you. He must be aching after so long, you think. Poor thing. With a gentle hand, you toy with the waistband of his grey sweats. Your nails graze his lower tummy a few times, making him shiver and twitch under you.

“Baby, f—fuck, please stop teasing” he rasps, looking down at you with those perfect, pleading doe eyes. And you comply. How could you not? Especially when he looks at you like that.

He lifts his hips as you lower his pants, just enough to pull him out. You give him a few, experimental pumps but his cock is so wet and sticky with pre that you’re struggling to get a good grasp on him. You tighten your hold—making a tight, makeshift hole for him to fuck.

Your hand feels like heaven to him. His head is tossed back as strings of loud whines and groans leave his pretty lips. You watch in awe for a second; offering the tip a sticky kiss and smearing his arousal over your lips before taking him in your mouth.

Now, he’s fucking into your mouth, making you gag every time he hits the back of your throat. Your mouth is just so wet and warm that he can’t help it. He’s missed this, missed you.

The sounds he’s making above you have your mind reeling. And before you know it, you’re moving a hand down to play with your achey clit.

“That’s it, s—shit. Play with your pretty pussy just like that.” he urges, twitching in your mouth. You continue to rub tight circles on the sensitive bud, moaning around him and sending vibrations around his length. The feeling leaves him spilling in your mouth with a hand tangled in your hair and a drawn out moan.

You feel your own heat pool in your tummy, the band of your orgasm pulling taut before he pushes you onto your back. Gently, of course!

“Sorry, baby. Need to be inside you,” he huffs, hiking your leg up and lining himself up with your needy cunt. He’s lost all composure, fucking into you with lust-driven thrusts. This must be what it means to be pussy drunk.

He thumbs at your clit, opening you up further to reach deeper. You swear you feel him in your stomach as you’re reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath him.

“Hee—! S’too much!” you whine, clawing at his back. He dismisses your concern, licking and nipping at your neck in a way that’s sure to leave marks. Your orgasm washes over you before you can even process. His cock drilling against your cervix leaves you breathless and gushing around him. That’s all it takes for him to finish inside you. It’s not often that you squirt, after all.

The slick squelches and plaps of your mixed arousal should make you cringe. But you’re so drunk off his cock, you can’t bring yourself to think of anything else. And Heeseung? He’s not any better. He’s already came twice. Yet, he’s still fucking into you like there’s no tomorrow. It’s then that you realize you’re in for a looong night.

He didn't wait for an answer. He lifted his hand, fingers tangling firmly in your wet hair, tilting your head back with a sharp tug that forced a gasp from your lips.

With a sudden motion, he stepped back just enough to free his heavy, throbbing cock, which was already leaking pre-cum, glistening under the water. He didn't ask; he told. Pushing you to your knees, he guided your head, his grip on your hair tightening as he pushed his thick head against your lips.

"Open," he muttered, the word a low vibration. You obeyed instantly, your mouth stretching wide for him. As you took him in, the sensation of his hot length sliding past your teeth and hitting the back of your throat made your eyes flutter.

Heeseung groaned, a guttural sound of satisfaction, as he began to thrust his hips forward, pumping into your mouth, using you as a toy while the water sprayed on you both.

You sucked the head—the action causing a moment of weakness from him as he suddenly let go and freed his cum into your mouth—the arousal coating your tongue and mouth.

He pulled you up abruptly, the sudden movement leaving you breathless and dizzy. He spun you around, pressing your chest flat against the tiles. You let out a loud, echoing moan, your knees trembling as you felt his large hand slide between your thighs.

He didn't go straight in as you wanted him to; instead, he teased you, his fingers circling your clit, rubbing the swollen folds through the slickness of the water and arousal. Your pussy was dripping, a mess that smeared across his fingers, making you whimper and beg for more.

"You're so fucking wet for me, aren't you?" he whispered harshly into your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe.

"Yes," you breathed heavily, eyes screwed shut as you tried to respond normally.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"That's right, princess," he didn't give you time to answer before he spun you around again—hoisting your leg up to wrap around his waist.

He positioned himself at your entrance, still teasing you as he rubbed the head of his cock against your wet cunt.

"Please, daddy," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face at the unbearable pressure.

With one powerful push, Heeseung buried himself inside you.

The impact was enough to send you over the edge, biting down on your hand to stop from screaming. He filled you completely, stretching your tight walls to their limit.

The water only made it slicker, making every thrust a sliding, wet friction that felt electric for the both of you. Heeseung was relentless, his movements raw and urgent. He gripped your hips, his knuckles white, and hammered into you with a punishing force.

Each slam of his hips against yours sounded like a wet clap, echoing in the bathroom.

"Look at me," he commanded, grabbing your chin so he could see the sheer desperation in your eyes. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You daddy, please..." you sobbed, your voice breaking as the pleasure peaked.

Heeseung increased the pace until it was a blur of friction and heat. He was overpowering your every move, controlling the angle, the depth, and the speed, driving you deeper into a state of mindless submission.

After a while, you both reached your breaking points, coming all over each other as you rode out your highs.

Your bodies were slick, sliding against one another in a frantic movement of skin on skin. The tension in the room climbed to a breaking point, the air thick with the scent of sex and steam, leaving you breathless and aching.

"That's my girl," Heeseung whispered, lifting you up and stepping out of the shower to wrap you in a towel.

You could barely respond, completely spent and too tired to move as Heeseung ran a bath for you both, "Mmm, I love you, Hee..."

Heeseung smiled gently, the power gone and replaced with a sweetness only he could have. Carefully, he tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, "I love you too, angel."

this work is mind do not steal

then as the semester progressed, your grades began to slip slowly, leaving you to attend his one on one tutoring sessions. heeseung would tower over you, silently watching you as you complete your assignment. soon he’d use these opportunities, to watch your tits from above.

low groans escaped from under his lips as your tits bounced with every move of your pencil, writing away on the paper. you begin teasing him on purpose, erasing “mistakes” off your paper harshly, causing your tits to jiggle faster.

heeseung catches on, waiting for the right moment to get behind you and bend you over his desk. instead of examining your work answers, his eyes flicker to your lacy panties beneath your skirt.

“you wore these for me?” he asks, dragging the fabric down your thighs.

heeseung picks your panties up, bunching the material in his hand and bringing it to his nose. he inhales your natural scents, before fucking you roughly against his desk.

it starts from behind, brutal slaps against your ass—the desk shaking beneath you. then he pushes you onto his desk, stepping in between your legs as he fucks your tight, virgin pussy. his pile of graded papers creating a mess on the ground.

Heeseung, your cold and hardworking roommate, had just gotten home from work. Without even taking a proper break, he settled into the apartment’s small office room and turned on his computer. He was dressed in his usual sleepwear—black sweatpants, a plain white t-shirt, and his white Birkenstocks.

As soon as the screen lit up, he frowned. Multiple unfamiliar browser tabs and Word documents were open—none of which belonged to him. His jaw tightened.

“Y/N?” he called out.

You didn’t hear him the first time, too focused on stirring the pot in the kitchen. A few seconds later, his voice rang out again, this time urgent.

“Y/N. Were you using my computer for your work project?”

You froze for a second before hurrying over, wiping your hands nervously on your clothes. You entered the office shyly, cheeks already burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry… yeah, I was. I’ll delete everything right now,” you mumbled.

Heeseung sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair as you stepped in front of him. Your back faced him while you leaned slightly over the desk to reach the monitor. The satin nightdress you were wearing rode up your thighs as you moved, the soft fabric brushing against his leg. You were practically hovering over his lap at this point.

You quickly tried to save the files and email them to yourself, fingers flying across the mouse. Heeseung rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted.

“Am I going to wait all day?” he asked, voice low and irritated.

“Sorry, I’m almost done,” you replied, heart racing as you hurried.

“Y/N, I have work to do,” he said, watching you struggle with the upload.

“I know, I know—just give me a sec,” you muttered, still bent over the desk. As you reached for the final file, your hips brushed against his thigh again. Without looking back, you added, “Hold up, Heeseung. Don’t worry, you’ll have your laptop back in a minute. Just let me finish.”

You bit your bottom lip in relief as you finally finished saving the last file. “All good,” you said softly, eyes still fixed on the monitor.

You released your hands from the keyboard and started to straighten up—except your palm accidentally brushed against the keyboard again. A loud error sound chimed from the speakers, and several windows suddenly popped up and then vanished.

“Eh… wait, what happened?” you panicked, quickly leaning forward again.

Thankfully, you were able to resolve it right away. After a few frantic clicks, everything went back to normal.

“Ah, okay… now it’s good. Sorry about that,” you mumbled, voice small.

You didn’t turn around. Instead, you stepped forward slightly, trying to put some distance between you and Heeseung. But because you were still standing right in front of his chair, the movement only made your satin nightdress shift higher up your thighs. Your hips brushed against him one last time before you managed to create a tiny bit of space.

The room felt unbearably awkward. Heeseung stayed silent for a moment, his body still tense beneath you. You could feel the heat of his stare on your back.

“…Are you done?” he finally asked, his voice low and edged with exhaustion. He didn’t sound angry exactly—just extremely done with the entire situation.

You awkwardly scratched the back of your head, forcing a nervous smile even though he couldn’t see your face.

“Yup, thanks… Again, next time I’ll make sure to delete everything when I’m done so I don’t have to bother you,” you said, voice trailing off awkwardly. “Yeah…”

The silence that followed was heavy. You could practically feel Heeseung’s tired stare burning into your back. He let out a slow breath, clearly trying to keep his patience.

“…Just get off my lap, Y/N,” he muttered.

Your cheeks burned instantly. Only then did you realize how close you still were—practically perched between his legs the entire time.

You quickly got off him and turned around, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Right… shit, sorry,” you stammered, unable to meet his eyes.

Heeseung just stared at you for a second, his expression unreadable. He was still seated in the chair, legs slightly spread from where you had been standing between them. The silence made the moment feel ten times more awkward.

He rubbed his temple again, letting out a long sigh.

“You’re really something else,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. His gaze flicked down to your short satin nightdress for a brief moment before he looked back at the monitor, clearly trying to move on.

You stood there fidgeting, the air thick with tension.

You finally looked at him, your face full of embarrassment. “Sorry about that,” you mumbled one last time.

Not knowing what else to say, you turned around and started walking out of the office, the hem of your satin nightdress swaying against your thighs with every step. You could still feel his gaze on your back as you left the room.

Just as you reached the doorway, Heeseung’s low voice stopped you.

“y/n.”

Though you had just turned away, you spun around right away.

“Yeah?” you answered, voice soft and hesitant.

Heeseung leaned back in the chair, one arm resting on the desk as he looked at you. His eyes slowly trailed over your figure for a moment before returning to your face.

“Next time you need to use the computer,” he said, tone flat but firm, “just ask me first. Don’t go through my stuff.”

Geez, I thought it was something else…*The thought flashed through your mind. For a split second you had hoped he would say something more—something that acknowledged the tension between you two. You couldn’t completely deny that you felt something every time you got this close to him, even if you didn’t want to name it. But of course he didn’t notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

You forced a small smile and nodded.

“Yeah… of course,” you replied.

You turned around again, but your feet didn’t move right away. You stayed there for a few long seconds, frozen in the doorway, Heeseung didn’t say anything else though.

Finally, you turned back one more time, letting out a heavy sigh. A small part of you hoped Heeseung would call your name again. But he stayed silent.

Never mind… it’s just the body talking, you thought, trying to brush it off. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just physical. That’s all.

You continued walking out of the office slowly, one hand rubbing the back of your head as you tried to shake off the lingering embarrassment and weird flutter in your chest. Your bare feet padded softly against the floor as the satin nightdress swayed with each step.

Behind you, the quiet click of Heeseung’s keyboard finally resumed.

Before you fully disappeared down the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. Heeseung was already focused on his screen, the soft glow lighting up his sharp features. Something about the way his shoulders looked in that plain t-shirt made your stomach twist.

You knew you should just go back to the kitchen, but out of nowhere, you called his name.

“Heeseung?”

He paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, and slowly turned his head toward you. His dark eyes met yours with a mix of mild annoyance and confusion.

“…What?” he asked, voice low.

You froze. What am I even doing? You had no idea what to say. Maybe it was the memory of those accidental touches—your hips brushing against his thigh, the warmth of his body so close—that made you act without thinking.

“I… uh…” you stammered, brain suddenly blank. “Never mind. Sorry.”

But then, out of nowhere, boldness surged through you and the words just slipped out.

“…Do you ever get tired of pretending nothing’s there?” you asked softly.

The moment the words left your mouth, your heart slammed against your ribs. Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard. The silence between you stretched uncomfortably.

Before he could even respond, the sound of heavy rain suddenly started pouring outside. It drummed loudly against the windows, filling the quiet apartment with a steady, rhythmic noise.

Heeseung stared at you for a long second, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the office. The rain only made the tension in the room feel heavier.

“Ah—shit! I mean—nothing! Never mind!” you blurted out, voice cracking with panic. “I’ll just finish what I have left in the kitchen!”

You felt like an absolute idiot. Your face burned as you realized your body was clearly craving something else—something you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about with your cold, hardworking roommate.

You turned to escape as fast as possible, but Heeseung’s voice stopped you again.

“Wait.”

His tone was dangerously calm. The rain continued pouring hard outside, thunder rumbling faintly in the distance.

Heeseung slowly pushed his chair back and stood up. He was taller than you remembered in that moment. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at you, like he was trying to read your face.

“What did you just say?” he asked, taking one step closer. His gaze was intense, no longer just tired. “Don’t start something and then run away, y/n.”

You closed your eyes tightly, your fists clenched at your sides. Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely think straight. Then, the words just tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I… I feel horny and shit so sudden,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the rain outside seemed louder. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Your cheeks burned with mortification as you realized what you had just admitted.

Heeseung didn’t speak right away. He just stared at you, eyes darkening as he processed your words. The air between you suddenly felt electric.

After a long moment, his voice came out low and rough.

“…You’re serious right now?”

“I’m dead serious,” you whispered, though you couldn’t look him in the eyes. The embarrassment was overwhelming. Your gaze stayed glued to the floor, cheeks burning hot as you stood there in your short satin nightdress, fists still clenched.

Heeseung took another slow step toward you. The sound of his Birkenstocks against the floor felt louder than it should have. He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Look at me,” he said quietly.

When you hesitated, he gently tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his. His expression had changed — the tiredness was still there, but now it was mixed with something darker, something hungry.

“You’re really standing here telling me you’re horny… after rubbing your ass on me for the past ten minutes?” His voice dropped even lower. “You have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”

You blinked rapidly, heart racing out of control.

“Sh-shit… I-I just want to feel something,” you stammered, voice shaky. “I know it’s weird to ask for something like this… I know you’re working and—”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence. The embarrassment was eating you alive, but the ache between your thighs and the way your body was reacting to his closeness made it impossible to take it back.

Heeseung stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. The rain kept pouring outside, filling the silence between your shaky breaths.

Then, he let out a slow, frustrated breath.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

Before you could process what was happening, his hand slid to the back of your neck and he pulled you into a rough kiss. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the thin satin of your nightdress as he pressed your body against his.

Before you could process what was happening, his hand slid to the back of your neck and he pulled you into a rough kiss. His other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the thin satin of your nightdress as he pressed your body against his.

You held onto his forearm tightly and kissed him back, pouring all the sudden desperation into it. The kiss was messy, hungry, and heated. Maybe this moment was just physical. Maybe it had no deeper meaning. But right now, you really wanted it — and it didn’t seem to bother him either.

Heeseung groaned softly against your lips, the sound low and rough. He pushed you back until your back gently hit the wall beside the doorway, his body pinning yours as the rain continued pouring hard outside.

His hand slid down from your waist to your thigh, slowly pushing the hem of your short satin nightdress higher up. He broke the kiss for a second, breathing heavily against your mouth.

“You sure about this?” he asked, His forehead rested against yours, eyes dark with want.

You whispered against his lips, voice trembling with need.

“Yes… please, I want it, Heeseung.”

You looked up at him, eyes hazy, as your fingers held tightly onto his wrist. That was all it took.

Everything escalated quickly.

Heeseung kissed you again, deeper and more urgent this time. His hands moved fast, sliding under your satin nightdress and pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you bare in front of him. You did the same, tugging at his t-shirt until he helped you pull it off, revealing his toned upper body.

Your hands roamed over his chest as he pushed his sweatpants down, stepping out of them.The two of you barely made it a few steps before clothes were scattered across the office floor.

He lifted you effortlessly, your back pressing against the wall again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The rain outside grew louder, almost matching the frantic beating of your heart.

Heeseung’s lips moved down to your neck, sucking and biting lightly as he pressed his hard length against you, teasing.

“Fuck… you’re really driving me crazy,” he growled against your skin.

You looked at him, eyes heavy with desire, silently encouraging him to go for it. You bit your lower lip hard as he finally pushed into you in one slow, deep thrust.

A gasp escaped your lips. You held tightly onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming — intense and exactly what your body had been craving.

Heeseung let out a low groan, forehead pressed against yours as he gave you a moment to adjust. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, holding you up against the wall.

“Shit… you feel too good,” he breathed, voice strained.

Then he started moving — deep, steady thrusts that made your back arch against the wall with every roll of his hips. The sound of rain pouring outside mixed with your soft moans and his heavy breathing, filling the small office.

Your fingers dug deeper into his shoulders as the pleasure built quickly, your body trembling against his.

You moaned loudly, the sound breaking into shaky words as another deep thrust rocked through you. “I— ah! I want this,” you gasped, nodding frantically with every roll of his hips, your head bumping lightly against the wall. Your legs tightened around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him even closer. “Heeseung— fuck, I want this so bad…”

He cursed under his breath, his grip on your thighs turning almost bruising as he picked up the pace. Each powerful thrust made your body jolt, your breasts brushing against his bare chest with every movement. all that existed now was the slick heat of him moving inside you, the way your walls clenched around his thick length.

“Shit… you’re so fucking tight,” he growled against your ear, voice rough and wrecked. He angled his hips slightly, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. You cried out, nodding desperately again as another thrust drove into you. “Yeah? This what you needed?” His lips crashed back onto yours in a messy kiss, swallowing your moans while his hips kept that relentless rhythm.

You could only whimper and nod against his mouth, fingers clawing at his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter in your core. Every thrust dragged a broken I want this or a needy moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively—hips trying to meet his as best you could while pinned to the wall.

Heeseung’s breathing grew harsher, forehead pressed to yours as sweat started to slick his skin. One hand slid up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple while he kept fucking you deep and steady, watching your face the entire time with those dark, hungry eyes.

“Don’t hold back,” he muttered, voice low and commanding between thrusts. “Let me hear how much you want it.”

Your head fell back against the wall as another wave of pleasure hit you,Heeseung groaned your name like a curse, slamming into you harder as the storm outside raged on.

Heeseung was mid-thrust, buried deep inside you, when your voice broke through the haze of pleasure.

“Wa—wait…” you gasped, your other hand quickly moving to cover his on your breast, fingers pressing over his. Your chest heaved against his palm as you tried to catch your breath. “Can you pull out… I want to lead, please.”

Your voice came out breathy and desperate, almost a beg.

Heeseung stilled instantly, hips pressed flush against yours. His dark eyes searched your face for a second, breathing hard through parted lips. The rain continued pouring heavily outside, drumming against the windows as thunder rumbled low.

He let out a shaky exhale, clearly fighting the urge to keep moving. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment before he slowly pulled out of you with a low groan. The sudden emptiness made you whimper.

“Fuck… alright,” he muttered, voice rough and low, a hint of surprise mixed with arousal. He carefully lowered you back down onto your feet, his hands steady on your waist to keep you from stumbling. His hard cock brushed against your stomach, slick and throbbing, as he stepped back just enough to give you space.

Heeseung’s gaze never left you — intense, hooded, and burning with barely contained hunger. He rubbed his thumb over your nipple one last time before letting his hand fall away, giving you control like you asked.

“Go on then,” he said quietly, voice edged with challenge and want. He leaned back slightly against the desk behind him, toned chest rising and falling. His eyes raked over your naked body. “Show me how you want it, Y/N.”

You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped the edge of the desk like he was holding himself back from taking over again.

Your heart raced as you stepped closer, the power shift making your thighs press together with fresh need. Heeseung waited, watching you with that unreadable but clearly affected expression, ready for you to take the lead.

You turned around slowly, your back now facing him. Still breathing heavily, you bent forward slightly at the waist, placing your hands on the desk for support as you arched your back. The position pushed your ass out toward Heeseung, the cool office air brushing against your soaked core.

Heeseung’s breath hitched audibly behind you. “Shit…” he muttered, voice low and strained.

You reached back with one hand, wrapping your fingers around his thick, throbbing length. It was hot and slick from being inside you earlier. You stroked him slowly, teasingly, feeling him twitch hard in your grip as you guided the tip toward your entrance.

With a soft, needy whimper, you slowly pushed back, sliding him inside you inch by inch. The angle made him feel even deeper. Your walls stretched around his cock as you took him in, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

“Ahh… fuck,” you gasped, nodding to yourself as you sank down further until your ass pressed flush against his hips. Heeseung groaned deeply, his hands instinctively moving to grip your waist, but he didn’t thrust — he was letting you lead like you wanted.

You started moving, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles at first, then gradually bouncing back onto him. Each time you pushed back, taking him fully, The wet sounds of your bodies.

Heeseung’s fingers dug into your hips, his breathing ragged. “That’s it… just like that,” he growled, voice rough with restraint. His grip tightened but he stayed still, letting you control the pace even though you could feel how badly he wanted to pound into you.

You bent lower over the desk, changing the angle so he hit even deeper, and started moving faster, fucking yourself on his cock with needy, desperate rolls of your hips.

You kept moving on him for a few more moments, rolling your hips in deep, sensual waves, before you slowly leaned back against his chest. Your back pressed flush to his front, your head tilting to rest against his shoulder as your bodies stayed connected.

“Push it more deeper…” you whispered breathlessly, voice trembling with need. “Please, Heeseung… I want you deeper.”

Heeseung’s breath caught in his throat. One of his hands slid up your stomach and wrapped around your chest, pulling you tighter against him, while the other gripped your hip firmly.

“Fuck… you’re going to kill me,” he groaned lowly against your ear, the sound rough and hungry.

He didn’t hesitate. Holding you securely, he thrust up into you hard and deep, burying himself completely with a powerful snap of his hips. The new angle made him reach even further inside, pressing against that sensitive spot with every thrust.

You moaned loudly, your body jolting forward slightly with the force, but his strong arm around you kept you pinned back against him. He started fucking you deeper just like you asked — long, heavy strokes that made your toes curl and your walls clench around him.

“That deep enough for you?” he rasped against your neck, biting down lightly as he drove into you again and again, harder now that you’d given him permission. His hand on your breast squeezed, fingers rolling your nipple while the wet, filthy sounds of him pounding into your soaked pussy filled the small office.

The rain outside was relentless, almost drowning out your broken moans and his low grunts. Every deep thrust made your body tremble against his as you leaned back into him, completely lost in the feeling.

Heeseung’s free hand slid down between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.

“Tell me if you want it harder,” he growled, voice dark and strained near your ear.

You weren’t able to answer him.

The moment his fingers found your clit and started rubbing those tight, relentless circles, your whole body jerked violently. The pleasure slammed into you too hard, too fast.

“It’s too much— wa-wait, ahh!” you moaned, voice pitching higher as you squirmed against him. Your hand flew down, desperately trying to pull his wrist away, fingers wrapping around his forearm and tugging weakly.

But Heeseung didn’t stop.

He kept thrusting deep into you from behind, hips snapping up with steady, powerful strokes while his fingers continued working your swollen clit. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, the overwhelming sensation making your legs shake.

“Hee—!” you cried out, half moan, half whimper. Your back arched hard against his chest, hips still instinctively pushing back to meet every deep thrust even as you tried to squirm away from his hand.

“Too much… ahh— Heeseung!”

Heeseung’s grip on you only tightened. His arm around your chest held you firmly in place while his lips brushed against your ear, voice low and husky.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he growled, not slowing down at all. “You say it’s too much but your pussy keeps sucking me in deeper.”

He rubbed your clit faster, pressing harder as he buried himself to the hilt with every thrust. Your body trembled uncontrollably, torn between trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure and desperately chasing more.

Tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as you moaned brokenly, still weakly tugging at his wrist while your hips rolled back to meet him again and again.

Heeseung’s breathing was ragged against your neck. “You want me to stop?” he asked, voice dark, though his fingers and cock never slowed. “Tell me properly, Y/N.”

But the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him made it very clear how close you already were.

You could barely form the words, but they spilled out desperately between broken moans.

“No… no… don’t stop… even if I tell you— ahh!”

Your voice cracked as another powerful thrust punched the air out of your lungs. Your hand was still weakly gripping his wrist, trying to pull him away from your overstimulated clit, but your hips kept pushing back greedily to meet every deep stroke of his cock.

Heeseung let out a low, dark chuckle against your ear, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah?” His voice was rough, dripping with lust. “You want me to keep going even when you’re begging me to stop?”

Without waiting for another answer, he pressed his fingers harder against your clit, rubbing in fast, messy circles while his hips snapped up into you with renewed intensity. The wet, filthy sound of him fucking you filled the room, louder than the pouring rain outside.

You cried out sharply, body jerking and squirming in his hold as the overwhelming pleasure bordered on too much. Tears slipped down your cheeks, but your walls clenched tightly around him, pulling him even deeper.

“Heeseung— fuck—!” you moaned, head falling back against his shoulder. Your legs trembled violently, barely able to hold you up anymore.

Heeseung’s arm around your chest kept you pinned firmly against him, his other hand never leaving your clit as he drove into you harder, deeper, faster. His lips brushed your ear again, voice low and commanding.

“Then take it,” he growled, biting down on your shoulder. “I won’t stop until you cum all over my cock.”

Every brutal thrust and relentless stroke on your clit pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans turned into high-pitched, broken whimpers as your body tensed, the pressure inside you building unbearably fast.

You were shaking, sobbing with pleasure, still weakly tugging at his wrist even as you begged him not to stop.

You finally gave up fighting it.

Your hand slipped weakly from his wrist, falling limp as your knees buckled completely. A broken, high-pitched cry tore from your throat as the orgasm crashed over you violently.

“Ahh—! Heeseung—!”

Your whole body seized up, thighs shaking uncontrollably as intense waves of pleasure ripped through you. You came hard around his cock, walls pulsing and fluttering wildly, soaking him as your juices dripped down your thighs. Your back arched sharply against his chest, head thrown back as you moaned and trembled through the release.

Heeseung didn’t stop.

He kept thrusting deep into your clenching heat, fucking you through your orgasm while his fingers kept rubbing your oversensitive clit in tight circles. The overstimulation made your climax drag on endlessly, turning your moans into desperate, sobbing whimpers.

“That’s it… cum for me,” he groaned hotly against your ear, voice strained. His arm around your chest was the only thing keeping you upright as your knees completely gave out.

He held you tightly against him, pounding into you a little slower but still so deep, drawing out every last pulse of your orgasm. Your vision blurred with tears of pleasure, body twitching and jerking in his strong hold as the rain continued pouring heavily outside.

Only when your moans started turning into weak, overwhelmed little cries did Heeseung finally slow his fingers on your clit, though he kept himself buried deep inside you, letting you feel every throb of his still-hard cock.

He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and neck while you trembled in his arms, breathing heavily, completely spent.

“…You okay?” he murmured, voice low and rough, but with a hint of concern beneath the lust. His hips gave one last slow, deep roll inside you as he held you close.

You nodded weakly, still trembling in his arms as you slowly turned your head to look at him. Your eyes were glassy and wet with tears. With a shaky hand, you wiped at your cheeks, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck…” you whispered breathlessly, voice hoarse.

Heeseung was still buried deep inside you, his cock twitching occasionally against your sensitive walls. You glanced down between your legs, cheeks burning as you saw the mess — your thighs glistening, drops of your arousal steadily dripping onto the floor beneath you.

The sight made you clench around him involuntarily, earning a low groan from Heeseung.

He kept one arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you up since your legs were still too weak to stand properly. His other hand gently brushed some hair away from your flushed face as he looked down at you, eyes dark but softer now.

“Look at the mess you made,” he murmured, voice low and teasing against your ear. He gave a slow, shallow thrust, pushing his cock a little deeper just to make you feel it again. “All that just from cumming on me…”

You shivered, another soft whimper escaping your lips. Heeseung pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, then gently pulled out of you. A thick trickle of your cum followed, running down your inner thighs as you let out a small, embarrassed sound.

He turned you around to face him, his hands steady on your hips. His cock was still rock hard, glistening with your wetness, pressing against your stomach as he pulled you close.

“You came so hard,” he said quietly, studying your face. One of his thumbs gently wiped away another stray tear from your cheek. “Can you keep going?”

His voice was calm, but the heat in his eyes told you he was far from done with you. The rain continued pouring outside, filling the heavy silence between you two.

You blinked, eyes widening at his question. The surprise lasted only a second before you nodded right away, almost eagerly.

Your cheeks were still flushed, tears drying on your lashes, but the heat in your belly hadn’t faded at all. You wanted more.

Heeseung’s lips curved into a small, dark smirk at your quick nod. He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your ass, pulling you flush against his still-hard cock.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your mouth, voice low and rough.

Without breaking the kiss, he suddenly lifted you up again. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively as he carried you the few steps to the desk and sat you on the edge. Papers and the keyboard got pushed aside carelessly.

Heeseung stood between your spread thighs, looking down at you with that intense gaze. His cock rested heavy and slick against your soaked folds, teasingly rubbing up and down your slit.

“You sure?” he asked once more, even as he slowly pushed the tip back inside you, stretching you open again.

You nodded again, biting your lip as you felt him sink in deeper.

Heeseung groaned softly, gripping your thighs as he bottomed out in one smooth thrust. This time he didn’t hold back — he started fucking you with deep, steady strokes, the desk creaking beneath you with every thrust.

“Fuck… you feel even wetter now,” he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. His hips rolled perfectly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you over and over while the rain kept pouring hard outside.

You moaned loudly, arms wrapping around his neck as you held onto him, letting him take control again. Every thrust drew fresh, needy sounds from your throat as your body quickly started building toward another peak.

You kept moaning softly with every deep thrust, your eyes locked onto Heeseung’s face the entire time. Your gaze occasionally dropped down between your bodies, watching intently as his thick cock pulled out glistening with your wetness, only to push back inside you slowly and fully. The sight made you tremble harder.

Your legs tightened around his waist as another moan slipped out.

“This… this is only sex, right?” you managed to say between shaky breaths, voice trembling and barely coherent. “It feels so good…”

The words came out broken, struggling past your lips as pleasure clouded your mind. Heeseung’s hips stuttered for a moment, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. He stayed buried deep inside you, rolling his hips in slow, grinding circles instead of thrusting hard.

Heeseung’s hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he stared at you intently.

“…Yeah,” he breathed, voice low and rough. “Just sex.”

But even as he said it, his thrusts grew deeper, more possessive, like the words didn’t quite match the way he was fucking you. He leaned in closer, forehead pressed to yours, breathing heavily against your lips.

“You feel too fucking good to stop now,” he growled, picking up the pace again. The desk creaked louder under you as he drove into you with long, powerful strokes.

You moaned louder, nails digging into his shoulders while your body trembled with every thrust. Deep down, a small part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the only time. The thought of doing this again — feeling him like this, so deep and intense — made your walls clench tightly around him.

Heeseung noticed, letting out a low groan as he felt you squeeze him.

“Keep looking at me,” he ordered softly, eyes never leaving yours. “I want to see your face when you cum again.”

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers returning to your sensitive clit as he fucked you harder, chasing both of your pleasures while the storm raged on outside.

You kept your eyes locked on his, even as the pleasure became almost unbearable again.

Heeseung’s fingers worked your clit relentlessly while his cock drove into you with deep, steady thrusts. Your body betrayed you completely — hips jerking and thighs trembling uncontrollably around his waist as you tried to handle the overwhelming sensation.

“Hee— please… ahh!” you moaned desperately, voice pitching higher.

You squirmed hard against him, hips moving on their own, trying to both escape and chase the pleasure at the same time. Your thighs shook violently around him, clenching and unclenching as another powerful orgasm threatened to crash over you.

But you tried to hold back.

You bit your lip hard, eyes still glued to his face, breathing in short, desperate gasps. Your walls fluttered and squeezed tightly around his thick length, making him groan deeply. Heeseung’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes burning into yours as he watched you struggle.

“Don’t hold back,” he rasped, voice strained. He pressed his fingers harder against your clit, rubbing faster while slamming into you deeper. “Let me feel you cum again.”

You shook your head weakly, trying so hard to hold on just a little longer, but it was useless. Your body was already tipping over the edge. Every thrust and every circle of his fingers pushed you closer until you couldn’t fight it anymore.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Your entire body convulsed, thighs clamping tightly around him as you came hard, soaking his cock and the desk beneath you. Your eyes stayed on his the whole time, tears slipping down your cheeks again from the intensity.

Heeseung cursed under his breath, fucking you through it with slower, deeper strokes, savoring every pulse and flutter of your pussy around him.

“Fuck… that’s it, baby,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you messily as you trembled and moaned through your climax.

He didn’t stop moving, still buried deep inside your spasming heat, clearly not finished with you yet.

You were still catching your breath, chest heaving as you slowly came down from your second orgasm. Your body felt boneless, trembling with aftershocks.

Your gaze drifted downward, locking onto the sight where your bodies were joined. You watched, almost hypnotized, as Heeseung’s thick cock slowly pulled out of you — glistening with your cum — before sliding back inside with a wet, obscene sound. Every thrust made your puffy, sensitive folds stretch around him, and more of your arousal leaked out with each movement, dripping down onto the desk.

The sight was so lewd it made your stomach flutter.

Heeseung noticed where your eyes were focused. He let out a low, breathy groan and slowed his pace deliberately, making each stroke long and deep so you could watch every inch of him disappear inside you.

“Like what you see?” he murmured, voice husky. One of his hands gripped your thigh, spreading you wider so the view was even clearer.

You could only nod weakly, lips parted in a soft, dazed moan as he continued fucking you slowly. The wet sounds of him sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room, mixing with the heavy rain still pouring outside.

Even though you had just cum twice, the sight of him moving inside you was making heat pool in your belly again. Your walls fluttered around him with every thrust, still incredibly sensitive.

Heeseung leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours as he kept that slow, deep rhythm.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” he whispered hotly against your lips, eyes also flicking down to watch himself disappear inside you. “So fucking messy for me…”

He rolled his hips a little harder, making sure you felt every inch as you continued staring, mesmerized by the sight. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, breathing still shaky as pleasure started building again.

You kept watching the way his cock slid in and out of you, mesmerized, before the words slipped out in a soft, breathless moan.

“You’re so good, Heeseung…”

Heeseung’s hips stuttered for a moment, a low groan rumbling in his chest at your praise. His grip on your thighs tightened as he pushed back in deeper, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you slowly.

“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes darkening even more. “Say that again.”

He pulled out almost all the way, letting you see how soaked and shiny his length was, before sliding back in with one long, smooth thrust. You moaned softly, still trying to catch your breath as you repeated.

“You’re so good… Heeseung…”

Heeseung cursed under his breath and leaned down to kiss you hungrily, swallowing your moans as he started moving a little faster. His strokes were still deep and deliberate, but now carried more urgency.

The praise seemed to affect him more than you expected. His breathing grew heavier, forehead pressed against yours as he fucked you steadily on the desk, the wet sounds between your bodies growing louder.

“Yeah?” he rasped against your lips, voice rough with arousal. “Then take it. Take all of me.”

He angled his hips and hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, making your eyes flutter. One of his hands moved back between your legs, fingers gently circling your oversensitive clit again while he kept fucking you, clearly determined to pull even more sounds and praises from your lips.

You were still trembling, body overly sensitive, but the way he moved inside you felt too good to want him to stop.

You were still staring down at where your bodies connected when the pressure started building again, fast and overwhelming.

“Heeseung…” you moaned shakily, voice breaking.

He kept thrusting deep and steady, his cock dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you with every move. Your body jolted.

“Heeseung— it’s too much…” you whimpered after a few more powerful thrusts, your thighs shaking hard around his waist.

But he didn’t slow down. If anything, your words seemed to spur him on. He leaned over you, one hand braced on the desk beside your head as he fucked you harder, deeper, the desk creaking loudly beneath you.

“Heeseung—!” you cried out again, feeling the familiar coil tightening rapidly in your core. You were so close already, dangerously close.

Your walls clenched tightly around him as you looked up at him with teary, desperate eyes.

“Come… come with me…” you begged breathlessly, voice trembling. “Please— Heeseung, cum with me…”

Heeseung groaned deeply, his rhythm turning rough and urgent. His hand moved back to your clit, rubbing fast circles as he pounded into you.

“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, eyes locked on your face. “Cum for me again. Let me feel you.”

His thrusts became erratic, harder, chasing his own release while pushing you right over the edge with him. The wet, filthy sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the office as the rain continued pouring outside.

You were right there — trembling violently, nails digging into his back as you felt yourself about to come undone once more.

You cried out sharply as the third orgasm crashed over you without mercy.

“Heeseung—!”

Your back arched hard off the desk, body convulsing violently as intense pleasure ripped through you. Your walls clenched and pulsed wildly around his cock, gushing around him as you came even harder than before. Tears streamed down your cheeks while broken, high-pitched moans spilled from your lips.

Heeseung groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you.

“Fuck— Y/N…!”

He came hard right after you, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your spasming pussy. His cock throbbed with every pulse, filling you up as he pressed his hips flush against yours, grinding slowly to ride out both of your orgasms.

You trembled uncontrollably beneath him, sobbing softly from the overwhelming pleasure as wave after wave washed over you. Heeseung’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against his chest while he stayed buried to the hilt, letting you feel every twitch of his cock as he emptied himself inside you.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the never-ending rain outside.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Heeseung stayed leaning over you, both of you trying to catch your breath. His cum slowly leaked out around his cock, mixing with your own mess on the desk.

He finally pressed a slow, tired kiss to your lips, voice low and hoarse.

“…You okay?” he whispered, gently brushing damp strands of hair away from your flushed face. His body was still pressed against yours, still deep inside you.

You nodded weakly, still trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell rapidly against his as you slowly came down from the overwhelming high.

Without thinking, you leaned up and kissed him softly, your lips lingering on his. The kiss was gentler this time — tired, but full of warmth and lingering desire. Heeseung hummed against your mouth, kissing you back slowly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other stayed on your waist, holding you close.

You stayed like that for a while, his cock still buried deep inside you, soft and warm. The kiss gradually slowed until your lips barely brushed together, sharing the same breath.

Heeseung pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again, eyes half-lidded and tired, but still looking at you intently.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered quietly, voice rough and low. A small, rare smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he gently brushed his thumb across your cheek.

He stayed inside you a little longer, enjoying the warmth and closeness while both of you caught your breath. The rain outside had eased up slightly, now a steady, soothing rhythm against the windows.

After a moment, he finally pulled out of you slowly, a thick mix of both your releases dripping down your thighs. Heeseung glanced down at the messy sight, then back up at your face with a dark, satisfied look in his eyes.

“Think you can stand?” he asked softly, his hands still supporting your waist.

You shook your head weakly, a tired smile on your lips.

“Ah… no,” you admitted, voice soft and hoarse. Your legs were still trembling too much to support your own weight.

Heeseung let out a quiet chuckle, the sound surprisingly warm. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the desk effortlessly, carrying you bridal-style out of the small office.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as he walked down the hallway toward the living room.

“After everything… I feel hungry,” you mumbled sleepily against his skin. “I think I just wish we could eat…”

Heeseung glanced down at you, one eyebrow slightly raised, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

“Yeah?” he said, voice low. “You work up quite an appetite, huh?”

He gently set you down on the couch, grabbing a soft blanket and draping it over your naked body before disappearing into the kitchen for a moment. A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses of water and some leftover snacks he found in the fridge.

He sat beside you, pulling you into his side without a word. You leaned against him, munching quietly while the rain continued falling softly outside.

Heeseung eventually glanced at you, his hand resting lazily on your thigh under the blanket.

“…Next time you need the computer,” he said quietly, almost casually, “just tell me. I’ll help.”