Taly

He’s posted at the middle of it all, a bottle of expensive liquor in one hand and a girl in the other. She’s whispering in his ear, probably promising him things people only say out loud when their inhibitions have been loosened by alcohol and the hope of being remembered. It’s a practised scene, and you can tell from the way Mingi’s eyes slide from her face to the crowd and back again that he’s already bored. He’s hunting, you realise, and the realisation leaves you faintly amused.

You’ve had classes with him before and found his intellect sharper than his reputation suggests, but he’s never bothered to speak to you directly, which is fine. You prefer it that way. You know exactly what happens to girls who mistake the man for the myth.

But tonight, for whatever reason, he looks right at you.

You don’t realise it at first; you’re half-listening to the rowers behind you, half-calculating the economic impact of the university’s new housing policy for the department group chat. There’s a lull in the noise, a momentary vacuum, and then his gaze lands like a physical thing. It takes you off guard—the pure concentration of it, as if he’s seeing you in high-definition while the rest of the house blurs into obscurity. His attention is so heavy, so absolute, that even the girl on his arm notices and goes rigid with annoyance.

Your instinct is to look away. But for some reason, you don’t. Maybe it’s the alcohol buzzing in your veins, maybe it’s the novelty of being the focal point in a room devoted to him, but you meet his eyes and hold them. Mingi’s mouth quirks, not into a smirk but something strange and speculative, and when he finally looks away, it feels less like defeat and more like a challenge accepted.

Within the hour, he maneuvers his way to your side of the party, the girl from before abandoned to the mercy of the crowd. He props an elbow on the countertop, leans in so dangerously close, “Didn’t think this was your scene.”

You arch an eyebrow, the response easy. “It really isn’t, my roommate dragged me out.”

He grins, all teeth and promise. “I have to thank her for bringing such a pretty girl to my party.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed but not surprised. The rest of the party moves around you in a kind of staccato blur. A game of beer pong erupts into a shouting match in the dining room; someone’s Bluetooth speaker dies mid-chorus, leading to a plaintive chorus of off-key singing. People bump into you, apologise, and then linger a beat longer than necessary to see if you’re still talking to Mingi. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do. He asks what you’re studying, and you answer. You ask him what he wants to do after graduation, and he shrugs, but the gesture is so carefree yet careful.

“If this soccer thing doesn’t work out, I’ll intern at some start-up company,” he explained. “Or I’ll sell feet pics.”

You cringe at the image. The girl from before stalks past, her glare sharp enough to sever arteries. Mingi watches her go but his gaze falls right back to you. 

By midnight, the house dissolves into its constituent parts: the freshies, the clean-up crew, the drunk casualties. Mingi drifts away, then back again—at your side, across the kitchen, never quite out of reach. He offers you a drink at one point; you decline, still nursing the same seltzer. It doesn’t stop him. He keeps finding his way back, as if every conversation eventually leads to you.

You leave before he does. There’s no dramatic goodbye, no exchanged numbers or whispered invitations—just a passing nod, the kind that could mean anything or nothing at all. You don’t look back. By the time you’re out the door (your roommate long gone with a lacrosse player, leaving you to fend for yourself), the night already feels like it’s starting to blur at the edges. Whatever that was, if it was anything, you let it go.

Inside, though, Mingi doesn’t. He’s still watching the spot where you disappeared, gaze fixed a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to reappear. The noise of the party swells back in around him, but he doesn’t move—drink untouched, conversation abandoned mid-thread.

A shoulder bumps into his.

“What’s with that look on your face?”

Mingi blinks, like he’s just been pulled back into the room. “What look?”

Yunho huffs a quiet laugh. “That look. You had heart eyes bro don't even play.”

Mingi scoffs, quick, automatic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His friend raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, following his line of sight to the now-empty doorway before glancing back at him. Mingi exhales through his nose, finally tearing his gaze away, dragging a hand over the back of his neck like he can shake it off. He should've definitely asked for your number.

══════════════════

Monday morning arrives with the kind of headache that has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with three consecutive all-nighters. Professor Kim’s Advanced Macroeconomic Theory is notoriously brutal, and you’ve spent the weekend buried under supply-demand graphs and inflation models. As you slide into your usual seat, you’re already mentally rehearsing your presentation on fiscal policy scheduled for next week.

Which is why, when Mingi strolls through the lecture hall doors at 8:58 AM, you momentarily forget how to function.

He shouldn’t be here. This isn’t his class, or at least it hasn’t been for the past six weeks. You’ve never seen him in this lecture hall before, despite it being nearly midterm. Yet there he is, wearing dark jeans and a simple white button down that somehow looks so irritatingly good on his frame, scanning the room with casual confidence. His eyes find yours immediately, as if it’s magnetised. The smile that follows is different from Friday night’s—smaller, more genuine, it was like he wanted to see you. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s navigating the row of seats, stepping over backpacks and laptops until he’s standing right next to you.

“This seat taken?” he asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.

You blink, thrown by the unexpected proximity. “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“I’m full of surprises.” He drops into the seat, arranging his long legs in the cramped space. “So, how’d you find the party?”

The question is casual, but there’s something careful in his tone, as if your answer matters more than he’s letting on. You notice he pulled out a notebook AND a pen, this was definitely exceeding your expectations of him. Then again, what did you expect anyway? 

“It was... something,” you reply, deliberately vague. “Though I’m surprised to see you conscious before noon, much less in an 8 AM econ lecture.”

He laughs, the sound low enough not to draw attention but warm enough to settle somewhere beneath your ribs. “What, you think I spend all my mornings hungover?”

“The evidence suggested a statistical probability.”

“Maybe I’m an outlier.” He leans closer, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne—smelling faintly of citrus and cedarwood. “Or I just needed the right motivation to show up.”

Thankfully Professor Kim walks in and begins the lecture, leaving you no time to tweak out over whatever the fuck he said. You expect Mingi to lose interest, to pull out his phone, or to doze off, like half the class inevitably does when the professor starts droning on about aggregate demand curves. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes focused on the presentation slides. Ten minutes in, when he introduces a particularly convoluted model, Mingi shifts slightly toward you.

“Hey,” he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “If the Phillips curve is supposed to show the inverse relationship between unemployment and inflation, why is he saying it’s unstable in the long run?”

The question catches you off guard—not because it’s difficult, but because it’s astute. “Because expectations adjust,” you whisper back. “Workers anticipate inflation and demand higher wages, which shifts the curve.”

He nods, considering this. “So it’s only reliable as a short-term predictor?”

“Yeah, you got it.”

Throughout the next hour, Mingi continues to ask questions—thoughtful ones that reveal he’s not just listening but actively processing. Each time he leans in, you feel a strange flutter of... something. Not just attraction, though that’s undeniably there, but surprise. Mingi, the guy who supposedly once turned the campus fountain into a bubble bath during finals week, is engaging with macroeconomic theory like it genuinely interests him.

“The Solow model assumes diminishing returns to capital,” he murmurs at one point, frowning slightly. “Doesn’t that contradict what we’re seeing with tech companies? They seem to get increasing returns the bigger they get.”

You stare at him for a beat too long. “That’s... actually a good point. The model was developed before the rise of digital economies. Network effects change the math.”

A smile spreads across his face, pleased and slightly smug, as if he’s won something. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

The comment should be annoying, but delivered in a whisper while the professor drones on about growth rates, it makes you roll your eyes and bite back a smile instead. By the time class ends, you’ve had to recalibrate your entire perception of him. He’s taken actual notes. He’s asked intelligent questions. He’s made connections between concepts that some of your study group members still struggle with. It’s disorienting, like discovering your cat can suddenly understand what you’re saying. As you pack up your laptop, he lingers, watching you with that same intense focus from the party.

“So,” he says, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I think I deserve some credit for showing up today. Maybe we could grab coffee, and you could explain more about that Phillips curve thing?”

The invitation is transparent—he doesn’t need your help understanding the Phillips curve—but there’s something almost endearing about his attempt.

“Is that your go-to line?” you ask, unable to keep the amusement from your voice. “Pretend to need academic help to get a date?”

“Only with the smart ones.” His grins unapologetically. “Is it working?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you stand. “No. Nice try, though.”

Rather than looking discouraged, his eyes light up with what can only be described as delighted challenge. He falls into step beside you as you head for the door.

“You know what this means, right?” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “Now I have to come up with something better for Wednesday’s class.”

“Wednesday’s class?” You stop at the doorway, genuinely surprised. “You’re coming back?”

Mingi looks at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. “Of course. I paid for this course, didn’t I? Besides,” he adds, his smile turning slightly wicked, “I’ve got a new reason to show up now.”

Before you can protest this presumptuous declaration, he’s backing away, walking backward down the hallway with that infuriating confidence.

“See you Wednesday,” he calls. “Maybe by then you’ll have reconsidered that coffee date.”

You watch him go, torn between irritation and a reluctant spark of interest. The worst part is, you already know you’ll be thinking about him for the rest of the day, analysing his questions, his attention, the way he looked at you like you were a particularly fascinating economic theory he was determined to master. Despite your best intentions, you’re already wondering what he’ll come up with on Wednesday.

══════════════════

True to his word, Mingi shows up to every single class over the next few weeks. Not just Macroeconomic Theory, but your shared Political Science workshop and even the optional Economics Department lectures that most students skip. Each time, he gravitates toward you like you’re the north to his south, sliding into adjacent seats with casual determination.

At first, you’re suspicious—waiting for the punchline, the reveal that this is some elaborate bet or another frat bro prank. The punchline never comes. Instead, he brings you coffee and snacks, asks thoughtful questions about the material, and occasionally makes you laugh with whispered commentary when Professor Kim goes on one of his tangents about his glory days at the Federal Reserve.

You find yourself slipping into a strange routine. He’ll wait for you after class, walking you to your next destination while debating fiscal multipliers or the ethics of quantitative easing. Sometimes his soccer teammates call out to him across the quad, and you watch the transformation—how he shifts into the boisterous, larger-than-life Mingi they expect, before settling back into the more thoughtful version when he returns to your side.

It’s Tuesday afternoon when everything shifts. The library is packed with students cramming for midterms, the air thick with desperation and the smell of overpriced coffee. You’ve claimed your usual table by the economics stacks when Mingi drops into the chair across from you, his expression unusually serious.

“I need to ask you something,” he says, no preamble, no charming smile.

You glance up from your notes, pen hovering. “Okay?”

He runs a hand through his hair—a nervous gesture you’ve never seen from him before. “I need a tutor.”

You stare at him, waiting for the joke. When it doesn’t come, you set down your pen. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve been getting the material just fine.”

“No, I haven’t.” His voice is lower now, stripped of its usual confidence. “I’ve been barely keeping up. The midterm’s in two weeks, and I’m—“ He stops, jaw tightening. “I need to pass this class with at least a B+.”

“You’ve been answering questions in class,” you counter, confused by this sudden admission. “You made that connection about endogenous growth theory that even Professor Kim said was insightful.”

Mingi’s laugh is hollow. “Yeah, after spending six hours the night before trying to understand it. Look—“ He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I’m not as smart as you think I am. Not naturally, anyway. I have to work twice as hard just to keep up.”

You study him, searching for signs of insincerity. “Why are you telling me this now? And why me?”

“You’re the smartest person in this class. I–I don’t know who else to ask…” His eyes meet yours, unusually vulnerable. “I think you might actually help me without making me feel stupid about it.”

Something doesn’t add up. You’ve seen him joke around with teaching assistants, charm his way into deadline extensions. “I don’t understand–”

Mingi glances around, then lowers his voice. “I’m on an athletic scholarship. Full ride, but I have to maintain a 3.5 GPA, or I lose it.” He runs a hand over his face. “My advisor warned me last week. This class is dragging everything down. If I don’t get at least a B+ on this midterm, I’m screwed.”

The admission hangs between you, reshaping your understanding of him. You didn’t expect him to be so honest, let alone be honest with you. You knew you were more than capable of tutoring him, you’ve tutored multiple students and peers in past. A part of you wants to deny him— to encourage him to try the other capable tutors in this course but something about his vulnerability made you hold back on that decision. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you ask, softer now.

“Because it’s embarrassing?” He gives a self-deprecating smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The dumb jock stereotype exists for a reason. I’ve been fighting it since high school.” He hesitates. “And maybe I wanted you to think I was smart enough to keep up with you.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. This is a different man than the one who struts across campus with practised nonchalance, who holds court at parties with effortless charm. This Mingi looks tired and worried, seeing him like this made your heart sink a little.

“I can’t afford a professional tutor,” he continues when you don’t immediately respond. “Most of my scholarship money goes to housing and food. I can pay you a tutor fee if you have one. Please.”

You should say no. You have your own exams to study for, your own GPA to maintain. But there’s something about seeing him like this—defences down, pride set aside—that makes it difficult.

“If I do this,” you say slowly, “there would be conditions.”

Hope flickers across his face. “Name them.”

“First, you pay me. My normal rate is sixty per session but considering your situation, I can lower the cost—this is work, not charity.” You hold up a finger. “Second, you actually put in the effort. No skipping sessions, no half-assing the practice problems I give you.” Another finger joins the first. “And third, no messing around. This isn’t a backdoor way to—I don’t know—whatever it is you might be thinking.”

“You think I’m using this as an excuse to hit on you?” For the first time, genuine amusement crosses his face. “That would be a pretty elaborate scheme, even for me.”

“I’m serious, Mingi.”

“So am I.” The smile fades. “I need this scholarship. Please.”

You sigh, already second-guessing yourself. “Fine. We start tomorrow. Six pm, here. Bring your textbook, all your notes, and any practice exams you can get your hands on.”

The relief that washes over his face is so raw it makes you uncomfortable. He reaches across the table, squeezing your hand briefly. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you warn. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He stands, some of his usual confidence returning.

As you watch him walk away, shoulders straight but tension visible in the line of his neck, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just crossed some invisible boundary. This isn’t just coffee after class or witty banter during lectures. This is entangling yourself in his future, taking partial responsibility for his success or failure. You turn back to your notes, trying to focus, but your mind keeps drifting to the look in his eyes when he admitted he needed help. The vulnerability there was real—you’re almost certain of it. Almost. As you pack up your things hours later, doubt creeps in. You’ve seen how charming he can be, how easily he navigates social situations to get what he wants. What if this is just another performance? What if you’re falling for an act designed to manipulate you into doing his academic heavy lifting? The questions follow you all the way home, lingering as you prepare for bed. You set an alarm for tomorrow and added a reminder to prepare some preliminary materials for your first tutoring session. Despite your misgivings, you’re already mapping out a study plan, identifying the concepts he seemed to struggle with most.

Surely, this little arrangement you have going on won’t be a mistake… Right?

══════════════════

You arrive at the library fifteen minutes early to set up, spreading out practice problems and your own colour-coded notes across the table. You’ve been overthinking this all day—wondering if he’ll even show up, if this whole vulnerable confession was just an elaborate ploy to get you to do his work for him. The clock hits 6:00 PM. Then 6:05. Your suspicions start to crystallise into something like disappointment.

At 6:07, Mingi rushes through the library doors, slightly out of breath. He’s carrying a tray with two coffees and a small paper bag that smells suspiciously of baked goods.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, sliding into the chair across from you. “The line at the café was insane.”

You eye the coffee sceptically. “Is this a bribe?”

He laughs, quieter than his usual boisterous sound, mindful of the library setting. “No, it’s a thank you. Here, try this.” He slides one cup toward you. “Oh, and I got those almond croissants you mentioned the other day. Though honestly, I might have also gotten them because I’m starving.”

The fact that he remembered your drink order is surprising enough. That he recalled an offhand comment you made about pastries during a five-minute conversation between classes is something else entirely.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, but you accept the cup anyway, the warmth seeping into your palms.

“S’alright, I wanted to.” He pulls out his textbook and a surprisingly organised binder of notes. “So, where do we start?”

For the next hour, you walk him through the fundamental concepts of various economic principles, expecting his attention to wander, waiting for the inevitable check of his phone or glance at the clock. It never comes. Instead, Mingi leans forward, brow furrowed in concentration, asking questions that reveal he’s been paying closer attention than you gave him credit for. 

“So if technological progress is exogenous in this model,” he questions, tapping his pencil against the page, “then what actually drives long-term growth? Since capital accumulation alone has diminishing returns, right?”

“Exactly.” You can’t help the surprise in your voice. “That’s one of the model’s main limitations. It doesn’t explain where technological progress comes from.”

He nods, making a note in the margin of his textbook. “Which is why we need endogenous growth theory.”

You stare at him. “You’ve been reading ahead.”

A hint of his usual smirk appears. “Don’t sound so shocked. I told you I’m locked in for our sessions.”

“Reading ahead is a bit more than just locking in,” you point out.

“Maybe I’m trying to impress my tutor.” He winks, but there’s something different about his teasing now—less performative.

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Focus, Mingi.”

“I am focused,” he protests, gesturing to his detailed notes. “See? I’m being a model student.”

“A model student wouldn’t have waited until three weeks before midterms to ask for help,” you counter, but there’s no bite to your words.

“True.” He stretches, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches for another practice problem. The brief contact sends an unexpected jolt through you. “But then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of your company on a Wednesday evening.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach. “Haha. Very funny.”

As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing into a rhythm with him. He’s attentive, asking thoughtful questions and working through problems with determined concentration. When he gets stuck on a particularly tricky concept about crowding-out effects, he doesn’t get frustrated—instead, he listens carefully to your explanation, his eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that makes your cheeks warm.

“Like this?” he asks after reworking the problem, sliding his paper toward you.

Your fingers brush as you take it, and neither of you pulls away immediately. You study his work, acutely aware of how close he’s sitting, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the drinks between you.

“That’s...actually perfect,” you admit, surprised by the clarity of his work. “You got it exactly right.”

His smile is different from any you’ve seen before—not the practiced charm he flashes at parties or the competitive grin on the soccer field. It’s smaller, more genuine, edged with relief.

“I have a good teacher,” he says simply.

You clear your throat, suddenly finding the library too warm. “Let’s try another one.”

Two hours fly by faster than you expected. Mingi works through problem after problem, his understanding visibly improving with each explanation. When he successfully graphs a complex IS-LM model without assistance, the pride on his face is so unguarded it catches you off guard.

“See? Not just another dumb jock,” he says, but the joke doesn’t land quite right. You hear the insecurity beneath it.

“I never thought you were dumb,” you say carefully. “Unmotivated, maybe. But not dumb.”

He looks up from his notes, expression surprisingly vulnerable. “Most people don’t make that distinction.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” he agrees, studying your face. “You’re definitely not.”

The moment stretches between you, taut with something unspoken. You’re the first to break eye contact, shuffling papers with unnecessary focus.

“It’s getting late,” you say, glancing at your watch. “We should probably wrap up.”

Mingi begins gathering his things, but his movements are unhurried. “Same time Friday?”

You hesitate. You hadn’t planned on making this a regular thing, certainly not multiple times a week. But the progress he’s made in just one session is undeniable.

“You don’t have practice on Friday?”

“Not until seven.” He zips up his backpack. “Unless you’re busy.”

“No, I’m not busy.” The admission comes too quickly. “Friday works.”

As you pack up, he helps you organize your notes, handling the color-coded pages with careful precision. His fingers accidentally brush against yours again as he hands you a folder, and this time the contact lingers for a beat longer than necessary.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” he says quietly, shouldering his bag. “Most people would have.”

The sincerity in his voice makes something twist in your chest. “You didn’t give me a reason to.”

You walk together to the library exit, the night air cool against your skin after hours in the stuffy study area. Campus is quiet, most students either out for the evening or locked away studying. Mingi pauses under a lamppost, its glow casting shadows across his features.

“I can walk you home,” he offers. “It’s dark.”

“I live in the opposite direction from you,” you point out. “It’s fine, I’ve been walking home alone for two years now.”

He grins. “Just being a gentleman.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest in mock pain. “You wound me.”

You laugh at his dramatic act. “Goodnight, Mingi.”

“Goodnight, Miss tutor.” He takes a step backward, still facing you. “Dream of fiscal multipliers.”

“That’s your homework, not mine,” you call after him.

His laughter carries on the night air as he walks away, and you stand watching him for a moment longer than necessary. It’s only when you’re halfway home that you realize you’re still smiling, the warmth in your chest having nothing to do with the coffee you shared.

You tell yourself it’s just satisfaction from a productive tutoring session. Nothing more. Certainly not the way his eyes crinkled when he finally understood a difficult concept, or how his hand felt when it accidentally brushed yours, or the genuine gratitude in his voice when he thanked you. Definitely not that.

As you unlock your apartment door, you find yourself already planning Friday’s session in your head, thinking of ways to explain concepts he struggled with, wondering if he’ll bring coffee again, if he’ll sit as close, if he’ll look at you with that same focused intensity. It’s purely academic help, you insist on yourself. Professional concern for a student who needs help. Even if you don’t quite believe it.

Your roommate is waiting when you get home, practically vibrating with curiosity. “So? How was tutoring Mingi? Did he make any moves?”

“It was just tutoring,” you say, setting down your bag. “He’s actually pretty smart, thought nothing was going on upstairs to be honest.”

Her lips thin out into a straight line, looking disappointed by your lack of gossip. “That’s it? No flirting? No rizz? Nothing?”

You think about the moment he challenged your explanation, the genuine satisfaction in his eyes when he understood a complex concept.

“Nope, nothing at all,” you deadpanned at your roommate.

As you lie in bed reviewing your day, you remember the intensity in his eyes when he thanked you. The way his smile changed when he was actually engaged with the material. The surprising depth of his questions. You wonder what other assumptions you’ve made about Song Mingi might be wrong.

══════════════════

The following Friday, you’re setting up the study materials when Mingi arrives five minutes early this time. You almost burst out in laughter seeing the way he was trying to balance two cups of coffee in his hand.

“Okay once you're done clowning me, you have to try this vanilla latte. It's really good.” He sets them down carefully on your side of the table.

You eye the offerings suspiciously. “Are you sure this isn’t supposed to be a bribe?”

“Hm? For what?” He looks genuinely confused as he takes his seat.

“I don’t know. Extra help? A better grade?” You push the coffee slightly away. “I can’t accept this, you’ve already bought me so much stuff the past couple of days.”

Mingi laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm in the sterile study room. “It’s just coffee, don’t sweat it. Consider it a thank you for the last session. I actually understood what Professor Kim was talking about yesterday.”

You hesitate before reluctantly pulling the coffee back. “Fine.”

His smiles. “If I wanted to bribe you, I’d need to do better than a coffee, doll. Consider it fuel for our session today.”

The nickname catches you off guard, heat rising unexpectedly to your cheeks. Mingi’s eyes flicker briefly to the colour spreading across your face, but he simply slides the coffee closer without comment. You accept the cup, fingers brushing his momentarily. It’s still hot, and exactly how you like it. The gesture is small but thoughtful in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

“Thank you,” you hummed, setting up your materials. “Don’t think this earns you any leniency on today’s session.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, already pulling out his completed homework—all of it done correctly, you note with surprise.

Over the next few sessions, a pattern emerges. Mingi has become significantly more punctual as your sessions progress, always bringing you coffee (though sometimes he switches it up with tea when you mention a sore throat), and always has his work prepared. The coffee becomes such a fixture that on the one day he arrives without it, you actually feel slightly disappointed.

“No liquid bribery today?” you quipped, trying to keep your tone light.

His face falls. “The line was insane, and I didn’t want to be late.” He runs a hand through his hair, slightly panicked. “I can go get some if you—“

“I was joking,” you interject quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll make it up to you next week,” he shrugs, as if that helps explains everything.

The following week, he brings not only coffee but also a small paper bag containing a blueberry muffin from your favourite bakery across town.

“Wha— Mingi, this is…” you marvelled, eyeing the bakery logo. “That place is twenty minutes from campus.”

He shrugs, focusing intently on opening his textbook. “My morning run took me that way.”

“Your morning run took you four kilometres out of your way?”

He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping. “I’m an athlete. You could say that I’ve got excellent... endurance. A little detour doesn’t bother me.”

You roll your eyes, you want to press the issue but are distracted when he pulls out the work you assigned him the previous session. He’s not only completed all the assigned questions but has tackled the bonus problems you included as an afterthought. His work shows an elegant approach to the material that makes you pause.

“This solution,” you point to his work on comparative advantage models, “where did you learn this method?”

“Oh,” he looks almost embarrassed. “I was reading this paper by Stiglitz that mentioned a similar approach, so I adapted it. Is it wrong?”

You blink at him. “You’re reading Joseph Stiglitz for fun?”

“God no, not for fun,” he says, looking uncomfortable with your scrutiny. “I was trying to understand why the models in class weren’t clicking for me. Sometimes I need to see the bigger picture.”

“You know,” you say slowly, “you might actually enjoy Behavioural Economics next semester. It challenges a lot of the classical assumptions.”

His eyes light up. “That’s the unit with Professor Ryu, right? I’ve been wanting to take that.”

“Wait, seriously?” You can’t hide your surprise. “That class is notoriously difficult.”

“So am I, apparently,” he scoffed, but there’s no bite to it. “At least according to my tutor.”

The sessions continue, and with each one, your perception of Mingi shifts. When discussing economic inequality, he brings up points about systemic barriers that show he’s thought deeply about privilege—including his own. During a session on game theory, he demonstrates an intuitive understanding of strategic thinking that surpasses most of your other students that you tutor.

“It’s like poker,” he explains when you comment on his grasp of Nash equilibrium. “Everyone thinks it’s about the cards, but it’s really about understanding people’s patterns and incentives.”

“You play?” you ask, imagining loud frat house games with red cups and shouting.

“My grandfather taught me,” he mumbled, something softer in his expression. “He was an economics professor, actually.”

The revelation hangs between you, another piece of the puzzle that is Song Mingi. You want to ask more but sense his reluctance to elaborate. Maybe another day, you hope.

══════════════════

As your midterm approaches, your sessions intensify. You meet three times in the final week, once in the campus coffee shop when the library study rooms are all booked. Mingi still insists on paying for your drinks and snacks.

“Okay hear me out, I’m applying economic concepts for when I order us coffee,” he announced before you can comment. “You’re providing a service, I’m compensating you beyond our agreed terms because the value exceeds the price.”

“That sounds suspiciously like something I said two sessions ago,” you point out.

“I told you, I pay attention,” he corrected, and something in his tone makes you look up from your notes.

He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite decipher—something more complex than what he shows the rest of the world. It makes your heart beat uncontrollably in your chest in a way that has nothing to do with caffeine. The night before the exam, you receive a text from him. Multiple actually.

The night before the exam, you receive a text from him: If monopolistic competition exhibits zero economic profit in the long run, why do firms bother entering the market?

You smile despite yourself and type back: Non-monetary incentives. Brand loyalty, market positioning, the satisfaction of seeing their competitors throw a bitch fit.

His response comes immediately: So spite is an economic motivator? They just like me fr.

You laugh out loud, drawing a curious look from your roommate.

“Is that Mingi?” she asks, eyebrows raised suggestively. “Just a last-minute economics question,” you answered, trying to sound casual.

“Mhmm,” she hums skeptically. “Smiling over econ, right…”

You ignore her, sending Mingi one final message: Get some sleep. Economics rewards the well-rested. His reply makes your heart do something complicated.

I will, doll. Thank you. 

On exam day, you spot him across the lecture hall. He catches your eye and gives you a small nod—no flashy smile, no charming wink, just quiet determination. For some reason, this affects you more than any of his rehearsed moves ever did that you observed in the past.

When Professor Kim calls time, you watch him hand in his exam with confidence in his posture that wasn’t there six weeks ago. As students file out, he makes his way to your seat.

“How’d it go?” you asked as you slowly gathered your things.

“I think,” he hums, “that Professor Kim might actually have to give me an A.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you scoff at his delusion, a small feeling of pride swells in your chest.

“Never,” he agrees solemnly, then ruins it with a grin. “I did crush that section on market failures. Turns out my experience with failed relationships was finally useful for something.”

You roll your eyes, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. “And here I thought we’d made progress beyond that frat boy persona of yours.”

“Old habits,” he nudges you with his elbow, falling into step beside you as you exit the classroom. “Seriously, thank you. I couldn’t have done this without your help.”

You walk in silence for a moment, acutely aware of how his stride has adjusted to match yours. It’s these small, unconscious accommodations that you find yourself noticing more and more lately.

“So,” he clears his throat, breaking the quiet as you cross the quad, “My frat is hosting our end-of-semester bash this weekend.” His tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of something else. “Saturday night, starting around nine.”

You keep your eyes focused ahead. “I’m sure half the campus is already going and planning their outfits.”

“Probably,” he agrees with a light laugh. “But I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to come?”

When you don’t immediately respond, he adds quickly, “As a thank you for helping me ace this exam. I mean, I’m pretty sure I aced it.”

You slow your pace, finally turning to look at him properly. “You’re inviting me to your party? Me?” The disbelief in your voice is unmistakable.

“Is that so hard to believe?” His expression is somewhere between amused and offended.

“Mingi, I don’t do parties.” You adjust your bag strap, uncomfortable with how this conversation is veering into territory you’ve carefully avoided. “You of all people should know that.”

He frowns, “Don’t you want to celebrate? You helped me pull off a minor academic miracle here.”

“I think you’re exaggerating your previous academic despair,” you hesitated. “Besides, I don’t think I’d fit in with your crowd.”

“My crowd?” He scoffs. “You’ve never even met my friends.”

“I’ve seen enough from a distance, I know enough.” You start walking again, faster now. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll pass.”

His long strides enable him to keep up with your pace. “Come on, just for an hour. You can leave if you hate it.”

“Mingi—” 

“One hour, doll” he repeats. “That’s all I’m asking. I’ll personally ensure no one spills anything on you and tries to bother you the whole night.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I know my crowd.” His smile is softer now, more genuine. “Please? I want you to see that there’s more to us—to me—than the stereotypes.”

You study his face, searching for the manipulation, But all you see is sincerity and hope. 

“Fine,” you groaned, not quite believing the words coming out of your mouth. “One hour. That’s it. I’m leaving the second someone tries to get me to play beer pong.”

His face lights up. “Deal. I’ll text you the details.”

As you part ways, you wonder what exactly you’ve just agreed to. You’ve spent nearly three years avoiding exactly this kind of social situation. Loud music, drunk students, the messy intersection of alcohol and attraction. Yet somehow, when Mingi asked, your carefully constructed refusal crumbled. 

Your roommate squeals when you tell her your weekend plans.

“You’re going to the end of sem party? With Mingi?” She clutches your arm dramatically. “This is basically getting an invite from the MET gala!”

“It’s just a thank you for the tutoring,” you explain, trying to sound casual as you sort through your closet. “I’m only staying for an hour.”

“Sure,” she drew out the word with obvious disbelief. “That’s why you’re trying on your fourth outfit.”

You drop the dress you’ve been holding up. “I just want to look appropriate.”

“Appropriate for what? Or is it for making mister Song Mingi realise what he’s been missing?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“For not looking like I’m trying too hard,” you correct her, settling on dark jeans and a simple top that manages to be both casual and flattering. “This isn’t a date.”

“Whatever you say.” She flops back on your bed. “By the way, you should know that Mingi doesn’t personally invite just anyone to these things. Especially not someone he’s been staring at across classrooms for months.”

“He hasn’t been—“ you begin, but stop when you remember all those times you felt his gaze on you in the library and the lecture hall.

“Oh honey,” your roommate giggles, “for someone so smart, you are so stupid.”

══════════════════

On the night of the party, you and your closet have declared war. What began as a gentle sifting through hangers two hours ago has devolved into a cyclone of black crop tops, frayed denim, and shoes you forgot you owned. Your roommate’s voice, pitch-perfect for the college musical she never auditioned for, belts a running commentary from the bed: “You look hot in that, but hotter in the other,” and, later, “If you don’t wear that skirt, I will.” For every option you parade, she offers a one-woman panel’s worth of praise, criticism, and lewd suggestions, but when you finally emerge from the pile in a black singlet and the aforementioned denim mini, she sits up so abruptly the bedsprings squeal.

“Yes,” she hollered, pointing both index fingers at you as if firing a pair of pistols, “That’s the one! Fuck you look good.”

You tug at the hem, self-conscious. The skirt is so short your thighs feel like they might spontaneously combust with the friction of walking, and the top is cut low enough to leave no room . The outfit is, by college standards, conservative. By your standards, the edge of a personal revolution. You pace, boots heavy and loud. You layer on a thrifted blazer, then throw it off, then drape it over one arm for insurance. You sit on the edge of the bed, stand again, cross the room to the mirror, assess your reflection from the most punishing angles. You practice smiling in a way that suggests effortless fun rather than “I’m in hell and wish I were home in the comfort of my bed.”

Your roommate paints your lips red, then wipes it off with a tissue, then reapplies in a shade closer to your natural colour.

“There,” she beams, “like you rolled out of bed looking like this.”

You try not to look at the clock, but it’s everywhere—on your phone, on the microwave, in the stomp of boots hitting the tile as you stalk the kitchenette looking for a cup to fill, then abandon. Your hands shake when you pour yourself a glass of water. You spill some on your wrist, wipe it away, then notice your palms are already slicked with sweat.

“Stop fidgeting.” Your roommate’s tone is gentle, but there’s a note of command you recognize from years of friendship.

She takes your hands in hers, holds them steady, and says, “You’re just going to a party. With a boy. Not even a date.” She squeezes your fingers and grins. “You should be more excited! There might be hook-ups, or at least drama. At the very least, there’ll be free food.”

You want to laugh, but your stomach is a tight fist. You’ve spent the last three years avoiding exactly this scenario—rowdy house parties, the unwritten social contract of collegiate fun, the humiliation of standing awkwardly in a crowd of people who all seem to know exactly how to move, talk, flirt. You’re not anti-social, not truly, but your preferred company is to be alone with your trusted circle of friends. The thought of plunging into a frat house, even for an hour, makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

And yet. There’s Mingi, the wild card. He’s never made you feel like a project, or an obligation, or a checkmark on a list of collegiate experiences. When he smiles at you, it isn’t the rehearsed, camera-ready grin you see him use on campus tour guides or in group photos. It’s something softer, quieter, reserved for moments when he thinks no one else is watching. You remember the way he said “please” when he invited you, the way his eyes didn’t leave yours even after you tried to look away. He made it sound like this party wasn’t just another party, but an extension of the strange, fragile thing growing between the two of you. You’re not sure you trust it, but you want, for once, to try.

You stall in the doorway, hand poised on the knob, running through possible disasters. Your roommate senses your hesitation, materializing at your side with a pep talk worthy of a sports movie.

“Remember,” she says softly, “you’re not obligated to like it. Just survive the hour, and if you hate it, I’ll be waiting with post-party ramen and a debrief.” She presses the blazer into your hands and shoves you gently toward the elevator.

You take the stairs instead, one flight, then another, legs trembling with anticipation. The campus is alive with spring: the air is thick with the cloying perfume of flowering trees, the distant thump of bass from speakers, the migration of students in clusters, each group moving toward its own temporary destiny. You keep your head down, hoping to avoid unnecessary conversation. You  find yourself counting steps, then counting heartbeats, and by the time you reach the block of houses that host the Greek life ecosystem, you’ve rehearsed twenty variations of how to say hello without sounding desperate. You pass a group of girls in matching pastel tank tops, their laughter ricocheting like pinballs off the sidewalk. You duck your head, wondering if they recognize you from Intro to Business Law, but they breeze past without a second glance. In the darkness, your reflection glances back at you from every window: a stranger, confident and composed, even as anxiety gnaws at your insides.

You approach the frat house, the lights already blazing, music leaking from every crack in the siding. In the front yard, a couple makes out with the desperation of people who know they’ll regret it in the morning. A boy in a toga sprints past, pursued by a girl wielding a pool noodle. The porch is a wall of bodies, some familiar, most not, and for a moment you consider walking straight past, circling the block, and returning to your dorm in defeat.

You almost do. You’re on the verge of turning around when your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a text from Mingi: Where are you? I’ll come out front.

Your thumb hovers over the screen. Before you can reply, the front door swings open and there he is—Mingi, framed in the doorway like some ridiculous cologne advertisement. He’s wearing dark jeans and a simple black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms that make your mouth go inexplicably dry. His hair is styled differently tonight, swept back to reveal his forehead in a way that transforms his entire face.

He scans the yard, eyes skipping past you once before snapping back, recognition dawning. When his gaze lands on you properly, something shifts in his expression—his confident smile faltering, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh,” he says, just that one syllable hanging in the air between you. He clears his throat. “I—you—“ He stops again, seemingly unable to form a complete sentence.

You feel heat creeping up your neck, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin. “Is something wrong?” you ask, tugging self-consciously at your skirt.

The question seems to snap him out of his daze. His trademark smile returns, but there’s something different about it—something genuine that settles in your chest in a way you don’t quite name.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he finally blurts out. “You just look... different.” He takes a step closer. “Good different I mean– Like really good different.”

You duck your head, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just a skirt and top. Nothing special.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he murmurs, and the sincerity in his voice makes your blush deepen. His confidence seems to grow in direct proportion to your bashfulness, and he extends his hand to you. “Come on. Let me introduce you to some people who aren’t total disasters.”

You place your hand in his, telling yourself it’s just to be polite, but the warmth of his palm against yours sends a current up your arm. He guides you through the crowded doorway, his body naturally creating a buffer between you and the jostling partygoers. You’re fully aware of his proximity, the cologne he’s wearing, the way his hand occasionally brushes against the small of your back as he leads you deeper into the house.

The living room has been transformed into a makeshift dance floor, furniture pushed against walls to make space. The kitchen beyond is crowded with people mixing drinks and laughing over red cups. Mingi steers you away from both, toward a slightly quieter corner where a group of guys are engaged in animated conversation.

“Hey,” he calls out, and seven heads turn in perfect unison. “This is my econ tutor, the one I’ve been telling you guys about.”

You’re suddenly faced with an assembly of some of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in one place, each with a distinctive style that somehow works in harmony with the others. They regard you with varying expressions of curiosity and amusement.

“So you’re the one who got our Mingi to actually open a textbook,” a guy with sharp features and an even sharper smile walks up to the both of you. “I’m Hongjoong. House president.”

“Co-president,” Mingi corrects, rolling his eyes.

“Pfft whatever dude,” Hongjoong waves dismissively. “This is Seonghwa—“ he gestures to a tall, elegant-looking man who offers you a polite nod, “—Yunho—“ a friendly giant with dark hair raises his cup in greeting, “—Yeosang—“ a guy with delicate features and knowing eyes gives you a small smile, “—San—“ an energetic man with dimples deep enough to drown in waves enthusiastically, “—Wooyoung—“ a mischievous-looking guy with red hair winks at you, “—and Jongho.” The last member, compact but powerful-looking, gives you a respectful bow.

“Nice to finally meet the person who’s been occupying all our friend’s time,” Wooyoung whistles.

“And thoughts,” San adds, earning him a death glare from Mingi.

You shift uncomfortably under their collective gaze, but their smiles are genuine, lacking the judgment you expected from Mingi’s inner circle.

“Don’t believe anything they tell you about me,” Mingi says, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your ear. “Especially Wooyoung. He’s a pathological liar.”

“Nuh uh, that’s just not true!” Wooyoung protests. “I only lie on Tuesdays and public holidays.”

The group erupts in laughter, and to your surprise, you find yourself laughing along. There’s an easy camaraderie among them that feels inclusive rather than exclusive, drawing you in despite your reservations.

“Mingi says you’re top of the econ department,” Seonghwa mentioned, his voice calm and measured. “That’s impressive.”

Before you can respond, Yunho chimes in: “He wouldn’t shut up about how you explained game theory using poker analogies. Said it was ‘revolutionary’ or some shit.”

“I did not say revolutionary,” Mingi denies, but the pink tinging his ears tells a different story.

“You did,” Jongho confirms flatly. “Multiple times. Over breakfast.”

You glance at Mingi, oddly touched that he’s spoken about your tutoring sessions to his friends. “It wasn’t anything special. He’s actually really quick to grasp concepts once they’re explained properly.”

Mingi grins at the group. “See? I told you guys I’m not just a pretty face.” He sticks his tongue out at them, more out of habit than real offence.

“No one said you were just a pretty face,” Hongjoong replies, tone even. “We said you’re a pretty face that just so happened to be a little bit stupid.”

Mingi scoffs under his breath, but he’s smiling anyway. “That’s not better.”

“It’s accurate,” Hongjoong snorted.

The banter continues, and you find yourself relaxing into it, surprised by how comfortable you feel among them. They’re not what you expected—not the stereotypical frat boys you’ve spent years avoiding. They’re smart, funny, and surprisingly thoughtful in their questions to you.

After a while, Mingi leans in again. “How are you feeling? Do you want a drink? Or maybe some air?”

You nod gratefully. “Fresh air would be nice.”

He places his hand lightly on your back again, guiding you toward a set of French doors that lead to a back deck. The night air is cool against your skin, a welcome respite from the heat of bodies packed inside. The deck is strung with fairy lights that cast a soft glow over the wooden boards, and surprisingly, it’s empty except for a few potted plants.

“The secret balcony,” Mingi explains, seeing your questioning look. “Off-limits to regular party guests. One of the perks of being house leadership.”

“So I’m not a regular party guest?” you raise an eyebrow, leaning against the railing.

“Of course not, you are far from it,” he mutters under his breath that makes your breath falter.

You both fall silent for a moment, the bass from inside creating a muted heartbeat beneath your conversation. You can’t quite decide what’s more surprising—that you’re here like this, or that it’s with Mingi of all people. You settle on not thinking too hard about either.

“Your friends are nice,” you finally break the silence. “Not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” He leans next to you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.

“Loud, obnoxious frat bros talking about the typical one night stand and having the collective IQ of a houseplant.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Oh, they can be loud and obnoxious too. But they’re also the best people I know.”

He pauses, looking out over the dimly-lit yard. “We all have our reasons for being here, you know? Hongjoong’s parents expected him to join their firm right after high school, but he wanted to go to college first. Seonghwa supports his younger siblings through school. Jongho’s on a full academic scholarship.”

You turn to look at him, surprised by this glimpse behind the fraternity façade. “And you? What’s your reason?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice has lost its usual confident edge. “My grandfather, the one I told you about, He was the first person in our family to go to college. He wanted to see me graduate more than anything.” His fingers tap against the railing, a nervous gesture you’ve never seen from him before. “He passed away during my senior year of high school.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but...” He went on. “I promised him I’d make the most of college. Not just academically, but the whole experience. The brotherhood, the leadership opportunities, all of it.”

“Is that why you’re so determined to keep your GPA up? For your scholarship?”

“Partly,” he admits. “Mainly because I don’t want to just be the party guy, you know? I want people to realise I’m capable and somewhat intelligent.” 

Without really thinking about it, you close the remaining distance just enough for your hand to brush his. It’s tentative at first, almost accidental. When he doesn’t pull away, your fingers curl lightly around his. Mingi stills. For someone who’s always in motion, always talking, always performing, the sudden quiet in him is striking. His gaze drops to where your hands are joined, like he’s trying to process it, like this—you—is the one thing he never quite learned how to anticipate.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you say softly, your thumb brushing once, unconsciously, over his knuckles. “Wanting people to see more than what meets the eye.”

His hand shifts in yours, not pulling away—settling. Grounding.

“I know what it’s like,” you add, quieter now. “Being reduced to something simple. Convenient. Even if it’s… impressive on paper.”

That earns a small huff of laughter from him, but malice behind it. Just something tired, something honest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Guess we’re both victims of stereotyping huh.”

You smile faintly. “I guess we are.”

And then it hits you. The warmth. The contact. The fact that your hand is still wrapped around his. Your fingers twitch slightly, awareness crashing in all at once, and you pull back—just a little too quickly to be entirely casual. The absence of him is immediate, the cool night air slipping into the space where his warmth had been. Mingi notices. Of course he does. Something flickers across his face, it was subtle but you saw it there momentarily. A small dip at the corner of his mouth, a hesitation like he almost reaches for you again before stopping himself. It’s gone just as quickly, replaced by something lighter, easier, like he’s filing the moment away instead of questioning it. He clears his throat, glancing out in the distance. 

“Careful,” he teases. “Keep doing that and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

You scoff, grateful for the shift. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Tragic,” he sighs dramatically. “Here I was, planning our future.”

“In your dreams.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re not already there.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh escapes you anyway, the tension dissolving into something softer, more familiar. For a moment, you simply stand together in comfortable silence, watching the party unfold below. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the angles you’ve studied during countless tutoring sessions.

“Can I ask you something?” he says finally, turning to face you.

“You just did.”

He rolls his eyes. “Why did you agree to tutor me? I asked some other people in our class and they said you turned them down.”

You consider the question, surprised by his awareness of your other rejections. “Honestly? You seemed desperate. Plus you actually pay me on time.”

“Ouch,” he winces, but his smile remains. “At least you’re honest.”

“Why did you ask me?” you counter. “There are plenty of other tutors on campus.”

He looks down at his hands, suddenly serious. “You were the only one who looked at me and didn’t see what everyone else saw.”

“And what’s that?”

“You know the usual stereotypes,” He shrugs, a gesture that carries more weight than it should. “Everyone thinks they know me because they hear all about my reputation.”

Something in his tone makes you pause, recognizing a sentiment that echoes your own experience. “I get that,” you say quietly. “People are like that with me too. They think what we are at face value is what we truly are.”

“Isn’t it?” His question is gentle, not challenging.

You shake your head. “No more than you’re just a frat boy who happens to look good in a button-down.”

He raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours, “You think I look good?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” you scold as you bite back a smile. “Your ego is big enough already.”

“There you go again, humbling me.” His gaze softens as he steps closer. “I like that about you. You never let me get away with anything.”

You tilt your head, crossing your arms loosely. “Yeah? I know there’s a lot of things you like about me.”

His eyebrows lift, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning nonchalance. “My intelligence. My work ethic. My incredible patience for difficult students—”

“—woah, woah,” he cuts in, laughing. “When did this turn into a self-evaluation?”

“You asked,” you shoot back. “I’m just being thorough.”

He steps closer, close enough now that the teasing edge softens into something warmer. “You missed a few.”

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“The way you pretend not to care,” he responded quietly. “But still show up anyway.”

Your breath catches slightly, but you recover. “That’s not a quality. That’s just… basic decency.”

“Mm,” he hums, unconvinced. “And the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

You freeze. “I do not—”

“You do,” 

You swallow, your voice coming out just above a whisper. “What does that look mean, according to you?”

He studies you for a moment, like he’s debating whether to say it.

“Like you’re trying really hard not to like me.”

Your heart stumbles over itself.

“That’s a bold assumption,” you manage.

“Is it, doll?” 

There’s barely any space left between you now. You’re aware of everything. How close he was to you, the warmth radiating off him, the way his gaze drops briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. Your own breath feels too loud in your chest.

“This feels like you’re fishing for compliments again,” you say, but your voice lacks its usual bite.

“Maybe,” he admits easily. “Only from you, though.”

The honesty of it lands heavier than it should. Your fingers twitch at your side, like they remember what it felt like to hold his hand. Like they want to again.

“Mingi—” you start, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re going to say.

He leans in slightly. Not rushed. Not cocky. Careful. Like he’s giving you time to stop him. You don’t. Your eyes flick down to his lips for just a second—long enough for him to notice—and that’s all it takes. The air shifts, something unspoken settling between you as you both lean in, slow and almost hesitant—

“Yo! Mingi!”

The moment shatters. You both jerk back slightly as the deck door swings open. Wooyoung steps out, slightly breathless, eyes flicking between the two of you with immediate recognition—and absolutely zero subtlety.

“Oh shit,” he says, smirking. “Am I interrupting something?”

“What do you think?,” Mingi says flatly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Tragic,” his red haired friend replies, not looking sorry in the slightest. “Hongjoong’s looking for you. Something about the DJ setup dying and you being ‘useless but still required.’”

Mingi closes his eyes briefly, exhaling. “Of course he is.”

Wooyoung gaze shifts back to you, smile softening. “Hey, you’re staying, right? It’s just getting good.”

You hesitate. And Mingi notices.

His attention snaps back to you, something apologetic in his expression. “I—give me ten minutes? I’ll come find you.”

You glance toward the house, the noise, the crowd, the overwhelming swirl of everything you’ve been holding at bay all night. Then back at him. At the almost-kiss still lingering in the space between you. By the way your chest feels too full, too tight, like you don’t quite know what to do with everything you’re suddenly feeling.

“I think…” you start, then pause, shaking your head slightly. “I should probably head out.”

His expression drops, just a fraction. “Already?”

“I stayed longer than I planned,” you say, offering a small smile. “I have an early morning.”

It’s a weak excuse. You both know it. But he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he nods slowly, stepping back just enough to give you space—even if he doesn’t seem to want t

“Right. Yeah. Of course.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks for coming. I can walk you–”

“No need, I can see myself out,” you reply softly. “Thanks for inviting me, I had a really good time.” 

There’s a beat. Something unfinished is hanging between you.

“Get home safe,” he adds, quieter now.

“I will.”

You turn before you can overthink it. Before you can look at him again and change your mind and make your way back through the house. The music feels louder now, the lights harsher, the press of bodies more suffocating than before. By the time you step outside into the cool night air, your head is spinning. Not from the party. From him. From the way he looked at you like that. You exhale slowly, starting down the path back to your dorm, your fingers curling slightly at your sides.

Your key turns in the lock with a sharp click that echoes through the empty hallway. The walk back to your dorm passed in a blur. Your mind replaying those moments on the deck over and over, his face so close to yours, the almost-kiss that’s now branded into your memory as a question mark.

Your roommate looks up from her laptop, eyes widening when she sees you. “You’re back early! I thought—“ She pauses, taking in your expression. “What happened?”

You drop your bag and collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I think I just made a huge mistake.”

“What did he do? Babe I swear if he tried anything—” She’s immediately on alert, sitting up straighter.

“No,” you shake your head, pressing your palms against your eyes. “The opposite. He was... perfect. His friends were really nice, funny too. The party wasn’t terrible. And we almost kissed, and then I—I ran away.”

“You what?” She scrambles off her bed and sits next to you. “Back up. You almost kissed him and then you left?”

“We got interrupted, and then I just... panicked.” You sit up, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Your roommate studies your face, her expression softening into something you haven’t seen before—concern mixed with understanding. 

“Holy shit,” she mumbled. “You like him.”

“No,” you protest automatically, then trail off. “Maybe. Shit. I don’t know?” Your voice muffles as you bury your face in your hands. “This is so stupid. I’ve spent years avoiding guys exactly like him.”

“Except he’s not exactly like anyone, is he?” She nudges your shoulder gently. “Not if he’s got you this fucked up.”

You groan. “That’s the problem. He’s supposed to be this shallow frat boy who only cares about parties and hookups, but then he goes and talks about his grandfather and his friends and looks at me like—like—“

“Like what?” she prompts.

“Like I matter,” you cried out, wiping away the tears from your face. “Not just as a tutor or someone to boost his grade. Like he actually enjoys my company.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

“That’s because I’ve never felt like this before,” you admit, the words coming out in a rush. “I’ve probably ruined it by running away like some character in a bad rom-com.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she says firmly. “You got scared. Shit happens.”

“You don’t understand.” You get up, pacing the small space between your beds. “I had this whole image of him in my head…this whole narrative about who he was and what he wanted. It was so much easier when I could just dismiss him as just some guy. But he’s not, and now I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Maybe you could try, oh I don’t know, talking to him?” Your roommate suggests, her tone gently teasing you as she hands you a tissue.

“And say what? ‘Sorry I ran away when we were about to kiss, I’m just terrified because I might actually like you’?”

“That sounds like a start.”

You collapse back onto your bed with a groan. “I fucked up so bad.”

“Maybe,” she concedes, “but not irreparably.” She picks up your phone from where you dropped it and holds it out to you. “Text him.”

You stare at the phone like it might bite you. “Like now?”

“Yes, now. Before you overthink it even more than you already have.”

Your fingers hover over the screen, hesitant. “What do I even say?”

“The truth,” she says simply. “Or at least part of it.”

You take a deep breath and start typing, deleting, typing again. After what feels like an eternity, you hit send on a simple message: Sorry for leaving so abruptly. Ty for tonight.

The response comes faster than you expected, your phone buzzing in your hand almost immediately: All good. Did u get home safe?

Something in your chest loosens just slightly. He’s still talking to you, at least. You type back: Yea, made it back like 5 mins ago.

Three dots appear, disappear, appear again: Can I call you tomorrow?

Your heart does a strange little flip. “He wants to call me tomorrow,” you tell your roommate, your voice sounding strange even to your own ears.

She grins. “See? Not ruined.”

You type back a quick ‘Sure’ before you can second-guess yourself.

His response is just as quick: Good. Sleep well, doll.

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling at the nickname. Your roommate peers over your shoulder, reading the exchange.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” she says jokingly. “From the looks of it, so does he.”

“This is such a mess,” you sigh, but there’s less despair in it now. “I’m supposed to be the level-headed one. The one who doesn’t get caught up in... whatever this is.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why you need this,” she suggests, returning to her own bed. “When was the last time you did something just because it made you feel good, not because it was the smart, practical choice?”

You don’t have an answer for that. As you lie in bed, sleep eluding you, you replay the night in your head. The way Mingi looked at you on that deck, the warmth of his hand in yours, the honesty in his voice when he talked about wanting to be seen as more than his reputation. You think about how easily you could have stayed, how different the night might have ended if you had just stayed with him.

══════════════════

Morning arrives with harsh sunlight streaming through half-closed blinds and the persistent buzz of your alarm. The day crawls by in a strange haze. You go through the motions—catch up on any missed lecture notes, meet with your friends, grab lunch at the campus café—but everything feels slightly off-kilter. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket, conspicuously silent.

“He said he’d call,” you mutter to yourself during lunch, checking your notifications for the fifth time in an hour.

By mid-afternoon, anxiety has settled into a knot in your stomach. Was leaving the party abruptly really such a dealbreaker? Or worse—was the almost-kiss just another moment for him, easily forgotten once you walked away?

Your roommate finds you hunched over economics papers in your dorm, highlighter poised but motionless over the same paragraph you’ve been staring at for twenty minutes.

“Still nothing?” 

You shake your head, trying to appear more focused on your work than you actually are. “It’s fine. He’s probably busy with frat stuff.”

“He’s nursing a hangover,” she mused, flopping onto her bed. “Those parties don’t exactly end early.”

“Yeah, probably.” You force your attention back to your notes, determined not to care.

The sun begins to set, casting long shadows across your desk. You’ve moved on to grading papers for the professor you TA for, a task that usually requires your full concentration. Tonight, however, each essay blurs into the next as your mind wanders back to the deck, to Mingi’s face inches from yours. At 7:38 PM, your phone finally rings. You nearly knock over your coffee reaching for it, heart leaping into your throat when you see his name on the screen. Taking a deep breath, you answer with what you hope is casual nonchalance.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice comes through warm and slightly hesitant. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, just grading some papers.” You lean back in your chair, trying to ignore how your pulse has quickened. “How was your day?”

“Long,” he admits with a soft laugh. “Had to deal with some post-party clean up that was... not ideal.”

“Sounds rough,” you say, picturing the chaos that must have followed after you left.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again. “Listen, I was wondering if you’d want to grab some ice cream? There’s this place near the science building that stays open late.”

You glance at your half-finished work, then at the clock. “Now?”

“Yeah, if you’re not too busy. I just...” He hesitates. “I think we should talk. In person.”

Your stomach drops. Those words never precede anything good.

“Oh,” you manage. “Sure. I could use a break anyway.”

“Great.” The relief in his voice is palpable. “Meet you there in twenty?”

“Make it thirty,” you say, already mentally cataloguing what you’re wearing—sweatpants and an oversized university hoodie, not exactly what you’d choose for whatever conversation is coming.

After hanging up, you change quickly into jeans and a sweater that’s slightly more presentable, running a brush through your hair and dabbing on lip balm before you can question why you’re bothering. Your roommate watches with barely concealed amusement.

“Just ice cream, huh?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, grabbing your keys. “He probably just wants to clear the air so tutoring isn’t awkward.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Sure. That’s definitely it.”

The walk to the ice cream shop takes exactly twelve minutes—not that you’re counting. When you arrive, you spot Mingi immediately, leaning against the wall outside. He straightens when he sees you, his expression brightening in a way that makes your heart stutter.

“Hey,” he greets you, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “Thanks for coming.”

“For free ice cream? I’d be an idiot if I refused.” You aim for lightness, but your voice comes out slightly strained.

Inside, the shop is nearly empty, just a couple of students hunched over laptops in the corner. Mingi insists on paying despite your protests, and soon you’re seated at a small table by the window, a scoop of chocolate chip melting slowly in your cup. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You focus intently on your ice cream, hyperaware of his presence across from you.

“So uh,” he finally breaks the tension, setting down his spoon. “About last night.”

You look up to find him watching you, his expression more serious than you’ve ever seen it. “What about it?” you ask, playing for time.

He leans forward slightly. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t... misread things.”

Heat rises to your cheeks. “You didn’t,” you admit quietly.

Relief flickers across his face. “Then why did you leave?”

The directness of the question catches you off guard. You consider deflecting, making a joke, but something in his eyes—an earnestness you’re not used to seeing—makes you opt for honesty.

“I got scared,” you say simply.

His brow furrows. “Of me?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No this. Whatever is happening between us.” You gesture vaguely, as if that could dissolve it. “It wasn’t part of the plan.”

“The plan?” he echoes.

“My plan,” you clarify. “Graduate top of my class, get into a top-tier MBA program, no distractions.” You poke at your melting ice cream.

The words come easier than they should, like you’ve said them enough times to believe they’re ironclad. You scoop a fragile curl of choc chip into your mouth, watching it soften instantly, the chill doing nothing to settle the rest of you.

Mingi doesn’t look away. But something shifts in his expression—subtle, unreadable.

“You think this is a distraction,” he says quietly, like he’s testing the shape of the idea. There’s no bitterness in it, just a blunt apprehension that makes you want to fold in on yourself.

The words thud between you, heavier than any textbook you’ve ever carried. You set your spoon down, forced to confront the truth you’ve been working so hard to avoid: it would be much simpler if you could blame him. If the whole thing could be chalked up to a fluke in your otherwise disciplined trajectory: a blip, a party, a night on a deck that would fade with the semester. However, the real distraction is the way your mind keeps circling back to him even when he’s not there, the way your heart does that ridiculous stutter every time you see his name on your screen, the way—sitting here with him now—you feel some distant tectonic plate in your chest begin to shift. You hesitate. Then, because you’ve already started, you let it spill anyway.

“It’s not just that,” you admit. “I never planned on… this happening at all. And I definitely never thought you’d—” You stop yourself, exhaling a short, humourless breath. “Like, someone like me.”

His brow furrows slightly. “Someone like you?”

You gesture faintly, as if the words make sense on their own. “You know. You. Me. I just— I always assumed you wouldn’t go for someone like me. That you wouldn’t even look twice.”

The admission sits between you, heavier than you intended. Mingi leans back slightly, hands folding together, but not in his usual relaxed way. More like he’s trying to steady something. Then he lets out a breath—half laugh, half disbelief.

“I’ve been trying so hard to get you to notice me.” He says, shaking his head once.

You blink. “What?”

He looks at you properly now, like the answer should’ve been obvious all along. “You think I’m out of your league,” he says, almost incredulous. “I thought you were out of mine.”

That makes you go still. Before you can respond, he continues, voice softer now.

“You’re—” He stops, like the word itself isn’t enough. “You’re genuinely one of the most interesting people I’ve met. And you’re not just smart, you’re…” He exhales through his nose, like he hates how obvious it is. “You’re really fucking beautiful. And your brain? That’s honestly the most attractive part of you. I thought people were dramatic when they said intelligence was sexy, man I was so wrong.”

Your breath catches, and you hate that it does.

“I like what we are,” he adds, a little quieter. “The banter, the way you talk back to me, the way you don’t just—” He gestures vaguely, searching for the word. “Fold. It’s fun. It’s different. It’s… real.”

The honesty lands clumsily, unpolished in a way that feels impossible to fake. You look down at your ice cream before it fully melts.

“That’s… not what I expected you to say,” you admit.

“Yeah,” he says, a small, self-aware smile tugging at his mouth. “Join the club.”

“I know it’s unfair to judge you based on campus gossip, but...” You take a deep breath. “I’m scared of being just another story people whisper about in bathroom stalls.”

Mingi reaches across the table, his fingers hovering near yours without quite touching. “Can I?” he asks quietly.

You nod, and his warm hand covers yours, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

“Listen to me,” he says, voice low and serious. “I won’t pretend I haven’t made mistakes. I have. But I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.” His eyes hold yours, unwavering.

“How can I know that?” you whisper, voicing the fear that’s been lodged in your chest since the moment on the deck.

“Let me prove it to you,” he says with such conviction that your throat tightens. “Not with words or promises, but with time. With consistency.” His grip on your hand tightens slightly. “I’m not asking you to trust me completely right away. I’m asking for a chance to earn that trust.”

You study his face, searching for any sign of the practiced charm you’ve seen him deploy across campus. All you find is raw sincerity that makes your heart race.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Let me show you who I really am,” a small, vulnerable smile touches his lips.  “I promise I’ll put all those stupid rumours to rest. No pressure, no expectations.”

“If it doesn’t work out?” The practical part of your brain needs to know there’s an exit strategy.

“Then we go back to being tutor and student, friends if you want,” he says, though something flickers in his eyes that suggests it wouldn’t be that simple for him. “I think we at least owe ourselves the chance to find out.”

You look down at your joined hands, feeling yourself wavering on the precipice of something that terrifies and thrills you in equal measure.

“Okay,” you find yourself saying, the word slipping out before you can overthink it. “I’ll give us a chance.”

The smile that breaks across his face is nothing like his usual confident grin. It’s wider, brighter, almost boyish in its genuine delight.

“Yeah?” he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it.

“Yeah,” you confirm, a small smile forming on your own lips. “But I have conditions.”

He laughs softly, squeezing your hand. “Of course you do. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t have any.”

“We take it slow,” you say firmly. “For now, this is just between us. I’m not ready to tell everyone about us just yet.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees immediately. “What else?”

“If at any point I feel like this is becoming too much—“

“We reassess,” he finishes for you. “I understand.”

You nod, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. “One more thing.”

“Name it.”

“No more surprise coffees during tutoring,” you let out a laugh, you hope that he doesn’t take this rule too seriously. 

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Wow. Mind you, those were gifts from the heart.”

“The heart doesn’t need caffeine to function properly,” you counter.

“Debatable,” he grins, then grows serious again. “I promise to uphold all the boundaries that you have. If at any point you want outs, just say the word and we can call it off.”

There’s something in his voice—a quiet determination—that makes you believe him, despite all your carefully constructed defences.

“So,” he wonders, leaning forward slightly, “now that we’ve established the ground rules... Can I walk you home?”

“That would be nice,” you smile, finishing the last of your now-soupy ice cream.

Outside, the night air is cool against your skin. Your campus is quiet at this hour, most students either at the library or locked in their rooms studying. Mingi walks beside you, close enough that your arms occasionally brush, sending little sparks of awareness through you each time. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence as you walk side by side through the moonlit campus. Your mind races with everything that’s just happened—the confessions, the promises, the beginning of something neither of you had planned. Mingi’s hand occasionally brushes against yours, each contact sending little jolts through your system, but he doesn’t try to hold it. True to his word, he’s letting you set the pace.

“So,” he says as you approach your dormitory, “I was thinking maybe we could get dinner? Whenever you’re free… O-of course.”

The earnestness in his voice makes your heart flutter. “I’d love to.”

You stop at the entrance to your building, turning to face him. The lamplight catches in his dark eyes, making them shine with something that looks suspiciously like hope.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly.

His brow furrows slightly. “For what?”

“For being patient and understanding.” You shift your weight, suddenly feeling shy. 

A smile curves his lips. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. A breath where you both stand looking at each other, the air between you charged with possibility. You make a decision, stepping forward before you can overthink it. Rising slightly on your toes, you press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Mingi,” you murmur, pulling back to see his eyes wide with surprise.

“Goodnight,” he coughs out, voice slightly rougher than before.

You turn quickly, swiping your keycard and slipping through the door before you can change your mind. Once inside, you can’t resist glancing back through the glass panel. Mingi stands frozen for a moment, hand raised to the spot where your lips touched his skin. Then, when he thinks you’ve gone, a transformation takes place. The cool, confident frat president dissolves into something entirely different. He pumps his fist in the air, does a little spin, and breaks into what can only be described as a victory dance—all limbs and unbridled joy, like a kid who just got exactly what he wanted for his birthday. He runs his hands through his hair, grinning so wide it must hurt, before composing himself and walking away with an extra bounce in his step. You press your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh. Something warm blooms in your chest at the sight of him—campus heartbreaker, fraternity president, supposed player—celebrating a simple kiss on the cheek like it’s the greatest achievement of his life.

Maybe there’s more to him than you ever allowed yourself to see.

══════════════════

The following weeks unfold in a series of moments that feel stolen from someone else’s life. Mingi keeps his promise about taking things slow, but he finds other ways to show you he’s serious.

It starts with little things. A sticky note on your economics textbook when you leave it unattended for two minutes in the library: “Study Well!.” A cup of tea waiting for you before an early morning class, with honey already added the way you mentioned you like it once in passing.

Your tutoring sessions continue, but there’s a new undercurrent to them now. You maintain professionalism—mostly—but sometimes his fingers brush yours when you’re explaining a concept, lingering just a second too long to be accidental. Sometimes you catch him watching you with a softness in his eyes that makes your chest ache in the best way.

“Focus,” you scold during one such session, tapping your pencil against his notebook. “Our midterms are in coming up soon.”

“I am focusing,” he protests, eyes never leaving your face. “Just not on economics.”

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. “Looking at me isn’t going to help boost your GPA.”

“If it means looking at the prettiest girl in the room, it’s worth it,” he shrugs and the sincerity in his voice makes heat rise to your cheeks.

Walking with him after your brain numbing study sessions become so integral to your guys’ routine. It feels a little strange at first but when Mingi’s hand tentatively finds yours, all the stress melts away at his touch.

“You know,” he says during one such walk, “keeping you secret is killing me. The guys think I’ve gone celibate or something.”

You elbow him gently. “Your reputation could use the hit.”

“True,” he laughs, squeezing your hand. “For the record, this is the longest I’ve gone without posting on social media in ages.”

Mingi has been careful about keeping your relationship private. No Instagram stories featuring your coffee dates, no posts of your study sessions that sometimes devolve into conversations about everything and nothing. Just the two of you, learning each other in private moments stolen between classes and responsibilities.

One rainy Tuesday, he shows up at your dorm with takeout from your favorite Thai place and a stack of economics flash cards he made himself.

“I figured we could multitask,” he beams, setting up the food on your desk. 

Your roommate, who’s been watching this unfold with barely concealed delight, grabs her jacket. “And that’s my cue to give you two some privacy,” she announces, winking at you on her way out.

Once she’s gone, Mingi turns to you with a sheepish smile. “Too much?”

You shake your head, oddly touched by the gesture. “No, it’s perfect. I’m just not used to anyone doing this for me.”

His expression softens. “Well that's too bad, doll, start getting used to it.”

The study session is productive—mostly. At first, the two of you really do focus, perched shoulder to shoulder with a blanket across your knees, pencils poised as you quiz each other from the stack of flash cards. For a solid twenty minutes, you run through concepts, definitions, and theoretical graphs, congratulating each other with exaggerated fist bumps for every correct answer. Mingi is sharp, more so than you expected, but he keeps getting tripped up on the same three formulas, and each time he stumbles, you make him recite them from memory until he gets it right. By the fourth round, you’re both dissolving into laughter at his increasingly creative mnemonic devices.

Eventually, the flash cards are abandoned in favor of pad thai and mango sticky rice. You eat cross-legged on the floor, passing the container back and forth, chopsticks clacking as the conversation drifts from academics to childhood memories, to music, to the merits of various ramen brands. Mingi tells you a story about getting locked in a janitor’s closet during a fraternity scavenger hunt, and you laugh so hard you nearly spill sweet chili sauce all over your leggings. He grins, watching you with open affection, and you feel your defenses slipping a little more with each shared story, each easy silence.

You mean to get back to studying, really you do, but by the time your plates are empty, you’re both sprawled out on the rug, heads tipped together, trading lazy jokes and favorite movie quotes. The stack of flash cards lies forgotten somewhere behind you. Mingi stretches his arm behind your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. You’re acutely aware that you said you wanted to take things slow, but now, in the soft glow of your desk lamp, with rain pattering gently against the window, slow feels less like a rule and more like a suggestion.

At some point, you roll onto your side to face him. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you resist the urge to reach over and smooth it down. He catches the look in your eyes and grins, that same vulnerable curve of mouth you saw outside your dorm, and you realize you’re not even sure what you’re waiting for anymore. The next hour is a blur of tangled limbs, whispered jokes, and the kind of laughter that leaves your ribs aching. You don’t kiss—at least, not on the lips—but you end up with your head tucked against his shoulder, his hand tracing idle, feather-light circles on your back as you drift in and out of half-sleep. The textbooks are forgotten, the only thing that matters is the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath and the way it syncs perfectly with yours.

You don’t let him stay the night but you walk him to the door at midnight, both of you lingering in the hallway far longer than necessary.

“Tomorrow again?” he asks, voice low.

“Tomorrow,” you echo, smiling so hard it almost hurts.

You close the door behind him and press your forehead to the wood, equal parts giddy and terrified at how easy this is starting to feel.

That’s how it goes, week after week. Study sessions that turn into late-night conversations, walks that stretch on for hours, endless cups of tea and takeout and inside jokes that no one else would ever find funny. You find yourself looking for him everywhere: in the crowd of the dining hall, in the hush of the library at midnight, in the flicker of lamplight outside your window when you can’t sleep. Every time he appears, it feels like a secret only the two of you share. You start to notice the little ways he tries to care for you. The umbrella he brings when the forecast calls for rain, the pack of your favourite pens he leaves in your backpack before a big test, the playlist he makes for your morning runs, even though he can’t stand three-quarters of your “motivational” music. You tell yourself not to read into any of it, but you do. You’re hopelessly, helplessly reading into every tiny thing.

The night before your economics midterm, you meet up in the library’s quietest corner, both of you vibrating with nerves. He brings snacks and a fresh stack of flash cards, all hand-written in his messy scrawl, and the two of you settle in for a marathon review. For once, you manage to stay on task, quizzing each other with increasing intensity until you’re both exhausted. When the clock chimes one in the morning, you start to pack up, but Mingi hesitates, his hand hovering over the pile of books.

“You’re going to ace it,” he says, voice unexpectedly earnest.

You shake your head, smiling. “Only if you don’t distract me during the exam.”

“That’s going to be impossible,” he laughs, but there’s something softer in his eyes. “I’ll try my best.”

You snort, shouldering your bag. “I sure hope so.”

As you walk him out into the silent quad, he reaches for your hand—not tentative anymore, not asking permission, just doing it. You let him. The campus is empty, the sky ink-black and starless, and it feels like the entire world has narrowed to just the two of you, hands entwined, hearts beating a little too fast. He stops at the steps of your dorm, pulling you in for a hug that lasts a few seconds longer than normal. You memorize the feeling: the way his arms wrap around you, how he smells like detergent and the faintest hint of aftershave, the way his cheek fits perfectly against your temple. He reminds you to get some sleep, even as he lingers like he has no real intention of leaving just yet. You echo the sentiment back to him, a quiet reminder about his final. There’s a brief pause—something unspoken stretching between you—before you part with a soft, almost reluctant goodbye, the kind that feels less like an ending and more like something paused.

══════════════════

The morning of the midterm arrives with an electric tension in the air. You walk into the lecture hall, scanning the rows of nervous students until you spot Mingi. He’s hunched over his notes, frantically reviewing formulas, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. When he sees you, his face brightens momentarily before anxiety clouds his features again.

“Doll, I can’t remember anything,” he whispers as you slide into the seat beside him. “It’s all just... gone.”

You reach over and gently close his textbook. “Hey, breathe. You know this material better than you think.”

“Easy for you to say.” His voice cracks slightly. “What if I blank? What if everything we worked on just disappears the moment I see the test?”

You take his trembling hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Look at me. You’ve put in the work. You understand the concepts. Trust yourself.”

He exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. “I just... I can’t mess this up. Not after everything.”

“You won’t,” you say with such conviction that he almost seems to believe you. “Remember what you told me about game theory? It’s not about the cards, it’s about—“

“—understanding the patterns,” he finishes, a small smile forming. “The incentives.”

“Exactly. And you’ve got this. I know you do.”

Professor Kim enters the room, silencing the anxious chatter. As she distributes the exams, Mingi gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go. You mouth “good luck” to him before turning to your own test.

The exam is challenging, even for you. Two hours of intense concentration, complex problems, and theoretical applications that make your brain ache. Occasionally, you glance at Mingi. His brow is furrowed in concentration, pencil moving steadily across the paper. No panic, no hesitation. Just focused determination that fuels your own.

When time is called, you feel drained but satisfied. Mingi looks up from his paper, meeting your eyes across the room with an expression of cautious optimism.

“How’d it go?” you ask as you both file out of the lecture hall.

“I think... I think it went okay,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “That section on monopolistic competition? I nailed it.”

“See? I told you.”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky just because you were right. Again.”

Three days after the exam, your phone lights up with his name: Grades are posted, lock in.

Your fingers fly across the screen as you log into the portal. There it is: Econ1000 - Final Grade: A+. Not surprising, but satisfying nonetheless. You’re about to text him back when another message comes through: Can we meet? I’m outside your building.

Your heart races as you rush down the stairs. Mingi is pacing outside, face unreadable. When he sees you, he stops, and for a terrible moment, you think he’s failed.

“Mingi? What happened? Are you—“

His face breaks into the widest grin you’ve ever seen. “I got an A, I did it!”

Relief and joy flood through you as he picks you up in a spinning hug that lifts your feet off the ground. “I knew you could do it!” you laugh, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, setting you down but keeping his hands on your waist. 

“Hey give yourself some credit, you did all the work,” you counter, unable to stop smiling. “I just provided occasional guidance—“

“—And motivation, patience, and belief when I had none.” His expression grows serious despite his smile. “Thank you.”

You feel your cheeks warm under his intense gaze. “You’re welcome.”

He takes a deep breath, a flicker of nervousness crossing his features—something you’ve rarely seen from him. “So, I was thinking...” he begins, his hands sliding from your waist but not completely letting go, fingers lightly brushing against yours. “Maybe we could celebrate properly? Tonight?”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

“Dinner,” he says simply. Then adds, with uncharacteristic hesitation, “At an actual restaurant with fancy ass menus and shit.” His eyes meet yours, surprisingly earnest. “A date. Just you and me.”

The word “date” hangs between you, weighted with meaning. These weren't the standard study sessions or casual hangouts anymore. He wanted to take you out to dinner.

“A date,” you repeat, testing how the words feel.

“Yes.” He nods, watching your face carefully. “I want to take you somewhere nice. To celebrate, but also because...” He pauses, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I just want to treat you to a good meal, feels like the right thing to do.”

You laugh, the tension in your chest dissolving into something warm and bright. “In that case, yes. I’d love to go to dinner with you tonight.”

The smile that breaks across his face is incandescent. “Great! I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Seven works,” you nod, already mentally cataloguing your closet, wondering what constitutes appropriate attire for an official date with Song Mingi.

As if reading your mind, he adds, “Wear something nice. I made reservations at Stellina.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Stellina is easily the most upscale restaurant near campus—the kind of place parents take their children when they visit, or where professors celebrate tenure. Definitely not somewhere college students typically go for casual dinners.

“Stellina?” you echo. “That’s... wow.”

“Wait, do you not like Stells?” he asks, suddenly uncertain.

You shake your head quickly. “No, it’s perfect. I’m just surprised.”

“Good surprised?”

“Very good surprised.”

He beams, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you at seven, then.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of anticipation. You text your roommate the news, which results in her immediately abandoning whatever plans she had to help you prepare. By six o’clock, your room looks like a boutique exploded—clothes strewn across both beds, makeup scattered across the desk, and your roommate critically assessing every option.

“This one,” she declares finally, holding up a simple black dress you bought for a cousin’s birthday last year but haven’t worn since. “Classic, elegant, but still says ‘I’m not trying too hard.’” You slip it on, the silky fabric settling against your skin. It’s more fitted than you remembered, hugging your curves before flaring slightly at the hem. Nothing flashy, but undeniably flattering.

“Perfect,” your roommate nods approvingly. “Now, shoes...”

By 6:55, you’re pacing nervously in front of the mirror. The dress looks good, your hair is cooperating for once, and your roommate has worked minor miracles with minimal makeup. Still, anxiety flutters in your stomach like trapped butterflies.

“What if this changes everything?” you ask, chewing your lip. “What if it’s weird or awkward or—“

“Or what if it’s amazing?” your roommate cuts in, adjusting a strand of your hair. “Stop catastrophizing and let yourself enjoy this. The man is taking you to Stellina, for god’s sake. He’s clearly serious about you.”

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes with a text: I’m outside.

Your roommate practically shoves you toward the door. “Go! And I want all the details when you get back!”

You take one last deep breath, grab your small purse, and head downstairs. The moment you step outside, you spot him immediately standing beside his car, looking almost unrecognizable in a tailored navy suit. His hair is styled away from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His eyes widen slightly as they take in your appearance, moving from your face to your dress and back again with an appreciation so obvious it makes your skin warm.

“You look...” he starts, then shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “I had a whole line prepared, but now I can’t remember it. You look incredible.”

“So do you,” you manage, taking in how the suit fits his broad shoulders perfectly. “I didn’t know you owned clothes like this.”

“Special occasions only,” he grins, stepping forward to offer you his arm. “Ready?”

The drive to Stellina is short but charged with a new kind of tension—anticipation mixed with awareness. Mingi keeps glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking, and you catch yourself doing the same. When you arrive, he insists on opening your door, offering his hand to help you out of the car with an old-fashioned gallantry that would seem affected from anyone else.

Inside, the restaurant is everything you expected and more. Soft lighting from crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, the gentle clink of expensive silverware. The hostess greets Mingi by name and leads you to a quiet corner table partially secluded by a decorative screen.

“This is...” you begin, looking around at the elegant surroundings.

“Too much?” he blurted out in a panic, studying your face carefully as he pulls out your chair.

You shake your head, settling into your seat. “No, it’s beautiful. I’m just not used to... all this.”

“Neither am I,” he admits with a small laugh, taking his own seat. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

The waiter appears with menus and a wine list, addressing Mingi with practiced deference. You watch, slightly amused, as he navigates the wine selection with surprising confidence, asking questions about vintages and pairings that you wouldn’t have expected him to know.

“Since when are you a wine expert?” you ask after the waiter leaves to fetch your selection.

He grins, slightly sheepish. “I’m not. I spent an hour yesterday watching YouTube videos about how to order wine without looking like an idiot.”

The admission is so endearingly honest that you can’t help but laugh. “You’re crazy.”

“I wanted to impress you,” he shrugs, no trace of his usual bravado. “Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you concede, smiling.

The wine arrives—a crisp white that pairs perfectly with the appetizers Mingi suggests. As you sip and sample delicate bites of food you can barely pronounce, the initial awkwardness melts away. Conversation flows as easily as it always has between you, ranging from classes to childhood stories to dreams for the future.

“So,” he says as the waiter clears your appetizer plates, “now that we’ve conquered economics, what’s next on your academic hit list?”

“Advanced Econometrics,” you grimace slightly. “Not exactly light reading.”

“Sounds intense,” he nods. “Do you think you’ll need a tutor for that one? If so, I know a guy…”

The teasing question makes you smile. “I think I can manage. What about you? What are you taking next semester?”

He hesitates, something vulnerable flickering across his face. “Actually, I registered for that Behavioural Economics class you mentioned. And...” he pauses, “I’m thinking about adding a minor in Business Analytics.”

“Really?” You can’t hide your surprise. “That’s a pretty intensive program.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, trying to look casual but not quite succeeding, “someone made me realize I might actually be good at this stuff. When I’m not being a, what did you call it? ‘Stereotypical frat boy with the collective IQ of a houseplant?’”

You wince, remembering your harsh assessment from months ago. “I was wrong about that.”

“Not entirely,” he laughs. “I can be that guy sometimes. It’s easier, you know? To be what people expect.”

The honesty in his voice touches something deep in your chest. “You don’t have to be that with me.”

His eyes meet yours across the table, warm and sincere,  “I know.”

The main courses arrive—seared scallops for you, steak for him—momentarily pausing the conversation. As you eat, you notice how Mingi keeps finding excuses to touch you: his fingers brushing yours when reaching for the wine, his knee pressing gently against yours under the table. Each contact sends little sparks along your skin, building a current that hums just below the surface.

“Can I ask you something?” he says after a comfortable lull in conversation.

“Of course.”

“When did you start liking me?” The question is direct, curious rather than cocky. “I mean, I know you couldn’t stand me at first.”

You consider this, taking a sip of wine. “I think... it was during our third tutoring session. You spent twenty minutes arguing with me about income inequality and its effects on consumer behaviour.”

He looks surprised. “That’s what did it? An economics debate?”

“You were passionate,” you explain. “And knowledgeable. And you didn’t back down just because I disagreed. I was impressed.”

His expression softens. “For me, it was the party. That first night. When you looked at me and didn’t seem impressed at all.”

“Really? That early?”

He nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “You have no idea how refreshing that was. Everyone else was... I don’t know, wanting something from me. You just looked annoyed that I existed.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” you correct him. “I was... intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” he repeats, smile widening. “I’ll take it.”

As dinner winds down, the restaurant gradually empties around you. Neither of you seems eager to leave, conversation flowing from topic to topic, punctuated by laughter and moments of surprising vulnerability. When the waiter discreetly brings the check, Mingi insists on paying despite your protests.

“This was my idea,” he says firmly. “My invitation, my treat.”

“At least let me cover the tip,” you argue.

He shakes his head, sliding his card into the leather folder. “Next time. You can plan the whole thing if you want.”

“Next time,” you echo, liking the sound of it more than you expected to.

Outside, the night air is cool and clear, stars visible despite the campus lights. Mingi takes your hand as you walk back to the car, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say quietly. “It was perfect.”

He stops walking, turning to face you under the soft glow of a streetlight. “Thank you for saying yes.”

There’s a moment where neither of you moves. Then, slowly, as if giving you time to pull away, Mingi leans in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. The moment his lips meet yours, everything else fades away—the restaurant, the streetlight, even the nervous flutter in your chest. His kiss is gentle at first, almost reverent, like he’s been waiting for this moment and doesn’t want to rush it. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

You smile, fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket. “What took you so long?”

Instead of answering, he kisses you again, deeper this time. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer until you’re pressed against him, the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Something shifts in the air between you—the careful restraint you’ve both been maintaining giving way to something more urgent, more honest.

Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, messing up his carefully styled look. He makes a soft sound against your mouth that sends heat rushing through you, his fingers digging slightly into your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. The kiss turns hungrier, months of tension finally finding release as his tongue brushes against yours, tentative at first, then with growing confidence when you respond in kind.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, pupils wide as he looks at you with undisguised want.

“I should’ve done this at the party ages ago,” he whispers, voice rough. “That night on the balcony. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

You laugh softly, feeling dizzy and light-headed in the best way. “Better late than never.”

He grins, pressing another quick kiss to your lips like he can’t help himself. “Do you want to go somewhere more... private?” The question is careful, giving you an out if you need it.

The responsible part of your brain reminds you of early classes tomorrow, of the boundaries you set, of taking things slow. But the part of you that’s been dreaming of this moment for longer than you care to admit is already nodding.

“Your place?” you suggest, surprised by the boldness in your own voice.

His eyes widen slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to agree so readily. “You sure?”

In answer, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your actions speak louder than words. When you pull away, his smile is almost dazed.

“My place it is,” he says, taking your hand and leading you back to his car with renewed purpose.

The drive to his fraternity house is charged with anticipation, the air between you electric with possibilities. His hand finds yours across the center console, thumb stroking over your knuckles in a way that seems both soothing and maddening at once. At a red light, he can’t resist leaning over to kiss you again, quick but deep enough to leave you breathless.

“If you keep doing that, we might not make it to your place,” you warn, only half-joking.

His laugh is low and warm. “Worth it.” ══════════════════

When you arrive, the house is mercifully quiet—most of his frat brothers either out or already asleep. He leads you through the common areas with your hand firmly in his, up the stairs to his room on the second floor. Once inside, he closes the door softly behind you, and suddenly the reality of where you are—in Mingi’s bedroom, alone, after the most perfect date—hits you all at once.

His room is larger than you expected, and surprisingly neat. A double bed occupies one corner, made with actual matching sheets and pillows. Bookshelves line one wall, filled not just with textbooks but novels, economics journals, and what looks like a collection of vintage records. A desk sits beneath a large window, offering the promised view of campus, lights twinkling in the distance.

“So,” you say, turning to face him, “this is where the golden boy lives.”

He pushes off from the door, crossing to stand before you. “Disappointed that there's no mattress on the floor and it’s not covered in beer pong trophies?”

“A little,” you admit with a teasing smile. “Though I do see at least one trophy.” You nod toward a shelf where a single golden cup sits next to a framed photo of Mingi with an older man, both smiling widely.

“Economics award from freshman year,” he explains, following your gaze. “That’s my grandfather, the day I got my acceptance letter.”

You move closer to examine the photo, aware of Mingi following you, the space between you shrinking with each step. When you turn to face him again, he’s so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Something shifts in his expression—the playful fraternity president giving way to something more raw, more honest. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your lower lip.

His fingers tremble against your cheek as he exhales shakily. “I’ve never been this terrified of messing something up,” he confesses, voice cracking slightly.

“Every time I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted but never thought I deserved.” His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your knees weak. “I keep pinching myself that you’re actually here, with me. You’re not just another person to me—you’re my person.” His thumb brushes your lower lip, reverent. “I adore everything about you. The way you laugh, how you challenge me, even how you roll your eyes when I’m being ridiculous.” He swallows hard. “I’m serious about us. So serious it scares me.”

The word hangs between you, heavy with meaning. You see it in his eyes, the battle between desire and fear. Fear that he’ll scare you away, that he’ll move too fast, that you’ll retreat behind those walls he’s spent weeks carefully dismantling. Your hands, almost of their own volition, drift upward to press against his chest. Under your palm, you feel the erratic thrum of his heart, each frantic beat echoing your own.

“Mingi,” you whisper, and the sound of his name—so soft, so certain—shatters the fragile barrier he’s been holding between you. For a suspended moment, your gazes lock, electric and trembling, and then he moves with a sudden, desperate clarity.

Mingi’s restraint snaps like brittle glass. He surges forward, kissing you with an intensity that’s as bright and blinding as a detonated star—no preamble, no hesitance, just pure want. His lips crash into yours, hot and hungry, arms banding around your waist so tightly you feel like you might dissolve into him. There’s nothing tentative in the way he holds you; he’s all-in, every muscle taut with reverence and longing. The kiss is a reclamation, a promise, and the culmination of every unspoken thing that’s hung between you for weeks.

You can only cling to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the seismic shift in energy. Your breath is stolen, your senses alight, your mind gone white-noise blank. The room could be on fire and you wouldn’t notice. Mingi kisses like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets up for even a second—like you’re the last oxygen left on earth and he’s learning how to breathe. And yet, underneath the urgency, there’s a trembling tenderness, as though every pass of his mouth is asking, Is this okay? Am I too much? Do you want me, too?

You answer with your body, arching into him, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, jaw tilting to deepen the kiss. His hands slide up your back, mapping the length of your spine; one finds its way into your hair, cradling your head, the other splayed possessively at your hip. He tastes like citrus and hope and the sharp, metallic shimmer of anticipation. There’s nothing careful about it—your teeth clash, your lips bruise, and when you gasp for air, he only uses the opportunity to trail kisses along your jaw, your neck, the delicate hollow at your throat. This is messy, urgent, but it’s also so fiercely sincere you’re left raw by the force of it. When he draws back, just long enough to search your face, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark with wonder and disbelief.

“God, This might be better than the first time we kissed,” he pants, chest heaving as he regains control of his breathing. He brushes your hair away from your face, fingers gentle where his grip had been bruising. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You shake your head, already chasing his mouth again, needing to erase the words and replace them with more—more of him, more of this. He laughs against your lips, the sound reverberating through your bones. You feel untethered, weightless, every nerve ending singing. You’re dimly aware of your back pressing up against the closed door, Mingi pinning you there in a cocoon of warmth and want. Every inch of you is alive, hypersensitive to the slide of his hands, the brush of his breath against your skin.

He kisses you again and again, in greedy, overlapping intervals, his self-control disintegrating the longer you let him. But even as the kiss turns molten, there’s nothing careless in the way he touches you—no sense of entitlement, just awe and gratitude, as though he still can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re choosing him. When he finally slows, his forehead drops to yours, both of you panting, foreheads and noses pressed together, steadying yourselves against the aftershocks.

His lips find the corner of your mouth, then the line of your jaw, then your ear. “Sorry,” he whispers, not sounding sorry at all. “I got carried away for a second.”

You laugh, shaky and breathless. “It's okay, it was kinda cute.”

He smiles, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

He laughs again, quieter this time, and it morphs into something softer, more vulnerable. “The student becomes the master now, huh?”

You step back, just enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies, and meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but there’s hesitation there too—a question. You answer by taking his hand and leading him toward the bed, your heart hammering against your ribs. When his legs hit the edge of the mattress, you place your palms on his chest and gently push. He sits immediately, looking up at you with such reverence that it steals your breath. For a moment, you simply stand between his parted knees, admiring how beautiful he looks like this—waiting, wanting, completely focused on you.

“Can I?” you ask softly, fingers playing with the top button of his shirt.

He nods, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Of course. Whatever you want, doll.”

You take your time undressing him, savouring each new inch of skin revealed. His breathing grows more ragged with each button you slip free, with each brush of your fingertips against his heated skin. Your hands drift lower, finding the buckle of his belt. His eyes never leave yours as you work it loose, the metal clinking softly in the quiet room. There’s something intoxicating about the way he watches you—patient yet desperate, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. When you pop the button of his pants, his hands grip the edge of the mattress, anchoring himself down.

“Lift your hips,” you instruct softly, and he complies immediately, allowing you to slide his pants down his thighs. The fabric pools around his ankles, and he kicks them away, leaving him in just his boxers.

You take a moment to admire him like this—the strong lines of his thighs, the subtle definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. Mingi has always seemed larger than life, but here, partially undressed and vulnerable before you, he’s beautifully human. When you trace a finger along the waistband of his underwear, he shivers, a small sound escaping his throat. He tries reaching for you, but you catch his wrists. 

“Not yet,” you murmur, and he immediately stills.

“‘M Sorry,” he breathes, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I’ll be good.”

Something about the way he says it—like he’s never had to wait before, like he’s never been the one following someone else’s lead—makes the heat pool low in your belly. You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, rewarding his patience.

“Lie back, let me take care of you,” you instruct, and he complies without hesitation, shifting up the bed until his head rests on the pillows. 

You take your time undressing yourself, hyperaware of his hungry gaze tracking every movement. When you finally stand before him in nothing but your underwear, he lets out the sweetest whimper that’s graced your ears.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice strained. “You’re so beautiful. I—“

He cuts himself off, holding back a moan as you climb onto the bed, straddling his hips. His hands hover uncertainly at your waist, waiting for permission.

“Go ahead, you can touch me,” you grant, and his hands are on you instantly. Feeling the warmth of his hands as they trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine.

You lean down to kiss him properly, deep and slow, savouring the taste of him. His lips part eagerly beneath yours, letting you set the pace, following your lead with a pliancy that’s intoxicating from someone normally so in control. You begin grinding against him for friction and he reciprocates. He groans into your mouth, mumbling curses under his breath. You felt his boner poking your ass while you both humped each other so so desperately. His bedroom is filled with the harmony of your heavy breathing, his whines, and the wet sounds of your lips crashing.

“Please,” he gasps. “I need—I want—“

“What do you want, Mingi?” you ask, pulling back slightly to watch his face.

“Need to feel you,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “Don’t want to—haah—cum in my pants like a fucking virgin.”

You giggle at his admission, you slowly reach behind you to squeeze his bulge, feeling it twitch in the palm of your hand. Mingi’s head tips back in bliss, growling at the sensation. The rawness in his voice makes your chest tight. You press soft kisses down his throat, across his collarbones, feeling his pulse race beneath your lips. His hands slide up your back, tangling in your hair, but he doesn’t push or pull—just holds on like you’re his anchor in a storm.

When you finally strip away the last barriers between you, his whole body trembles with anticipation. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, feeling the velvet skin slide beneath your touch as you position his flushed tip at your entrance. His eyes lock with yours—dark pools of need and surrender. You lower yourself with deliberate patience, savouring the stretch as his thick length fills you, watching his full lips part and his lashes flutter against flushed cheeks.

Mingi whines the second you ease down on him completely, hips trembling beneath you. His hands fist in the sheets, as if he’s physically restraining himself from thrusting up into you.

“Fuck, baby—“ he gasps, head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat. His jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful as he struggles for control. “Feels so good around my cock, shit—“

You lean down, hushing him gently, both palms cradling his flushed face. You treat him like something precious, something to be cherished as you press your lips to his in a slow, deep kiss. Your tongue curls against his languidly, unhurried, as if you have nowhere else to be but here, joined with him in this perfect moment.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you murmur between kisses, your voice soft and sweet and infinitely patient. Your forehead rests against his, noses brushing, sharing the same heated breath. “You’re doing so good for me.”

He moans at your praise, his entire body shuddering beneath yours. He’s all muscle and barely contained strength under you, his powerful frame completely at your mercy. You can feel how desperately he wants to move, to take control, but he surrenders to your pace instead, letting you have him exactly how you want him.

You remain still, just sitting there with him buried deep inside you, feeling the way your cunt pulses around his length. The sensation must be overwhelming for him because his eyes squeeze shut, his breathing ragged and uneven.

“Is it too much?” you cooed, reaching to brush damp strands of dark hair from his forehead, your touch gentle and soothing

He shakes his head frantically, his grip on your waist tightening. “N-no,” he whines with a soft, shattered sound. “Just—fuck, just need a s-second—feels too fuckin’ good—can’t think—“

Sweat beads at his hairline, eyes squeezed shut in some primal effort to hold himself together, chest heaving under your hands like he’s afraid his ribs will break apart from the force of it. You melt a little at the sight of him—a six foot force of raw sex appeal—now reduced to a mass of shaking limbs and shattered breath, undone and writhing beneath you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he trusts you to see him like this, about the way he lets himself be taken apart so openly, without armour or artifice. You savour it, every trembling, helpless second, and you want to draw it out forever.

You lean down, brushing your lips to his cheek in a soft, featherlight kiss. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t flinch away. Instead, he turns his head, chasing your mouth with a need so naked it nearly undoes you. You let him catch you, let him press his lips to yours—not in a kiss, exactly, but a silent plea, a lifeline. You answer by kissing him deeper, slower, letting your tongue trace the seam of his lips, coaxing him open, coaxing him back to the surface. His hands slide up your back, frantic but reverent, like he’s trying to memorise the shape of you by touch and touch alone. His heart beats wild under your palm, a frantic semaphore that reads: I want you, I want you, I want you. You press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his jaw, then down the delicate line where his pulse hammers beneath thin skin. He shudders, his whole body rigid and shivery. You thread your fingers through his hair, stroking the side of his face 

“Hey,” you murmur, voice as gentle as you know how to make it, “Relax, I’ve got you. Can you do that for me?” 

He nods, so obedient and desperate it makes something deep in your chest ache with tenderness. One breath, then another, and you feel the tightness in his body begin to unravel—incremental, but real. You rock your hips slowly, experimentally, watching his face for every flicker of sensation, every micro-expression. His lips part in a helpless moan, but his eyes finally flutter open, dazed and shining. He tries to say your name but it comes out as a whimper, half-beg, half-blessing.

“That’s it, baby” you praise, kissing him again, softer this time. “You’re doing so well.” 

The words seem to go straight to his core—he clings to them, drinking them down like water in the desert. You keep up a steady stream of encouragement, every whisper and touch meant to anchor him, to let him know you want him just like this: open, needy, trembling with the effort of holding back.

You draw the next movement out deliberately. The slow, aching drag of your hips, the way you squeeze around him with every tiny shift. Mingi’s hands grip your thighs like lifelines, fingers biting into your skin, but he doesn’t dare take back control—the restraint is exquisite, painful to watch. He’s at your mercy and loving it, if the way his eyes keep darting to your mouth, your chest, your hands, is any indication.

“Gonna let me do what I want, yeah?” you crooned, savoring how your voice makes him flinch with anticipation. “Keep being good for me.” 

He nods, lips trembling as he struggles to keep his composure “Fuck. Yes—pl-please, ‘m yours.”

You build your rhythm, slow and steady, each grind calculated to wring the maximum shudder from him. Sometimes you pause, letting him throb helplessly inside you, watching his jaw flex and his throat work as he swallows the urge to move. Sometimes, you bring yourself up just enough that only the tip of him is inside, and let him feel the loss, the emptiness, right before you sink down again in one slow, molten pulse. Every time you do it, Mingi’s head tips back, a sound escaping his throat that’s closer to a sob than a moan. You let the building friction wind both of you higher, but you don’t let yourself get lost in it; you want to see him come apart, to savour every second of his surrender.

You pick up the pace, just enough to make it impossible for him to stay silent. The bed frame squeaks softly beneath you, his hands finally dragging up your ribs, desperate for anything to ground him in this sinful reality. He reaches up and cups one of your tits, rolling and squeezing your nipple until it hardens against his warm touch. Your eyes shut at the sight, your body starts to falter under his grasp. Every inch of him is trembling too, his body strung tight as wire. His thrusts are growing more desperate, cockhead now slamming into your weakest spot, ripping a pornographic moan from you. 

“Please, doll,” he rasps, voice gone rough and wild. “Please, can I—?”

You lean in, your lips at his ear, your breath hot and deliberate. “You want to cum?” you hum, rocking down hard and slow, grinding your hips just the way he likes. “You want to fill me up?”

He makes a strangled sound that could be your name, or a prayer, or both. “Pleasepleaseplease,” he says again, as if the word is being pried out of him, as if he’s never begged for anything in his life.

You decide he’s earned it.

“Do it,” you cooed. “Cum for me, Mingi. Wanna feel you cum inside me.”

The effect is immediate. He bucks up into you, helpless, his face contorting with pure, blissful pleasure. His hands drag you down against him, holding you in place as he comes deep inside you, the force of it making his whole body shudder. Your juices drip down his balls and your gummy walls clamp down hard on his sensitive length, throwing into his orgasm and washing his vision white. You feel his warmth spreading in your insides, creamy ropes of cum making you feel fuller than before. You ride him through it, slow and greedy, squeezing him with your cunt until he’s wrung out and gasping, eyes rolling back as he drowns in sensation. His chest trembles under his shaky breaths as he pulls his half-hard cock out of your sticky heat, looking up at you through dampened lashes. You press your lips to his damp temple, stroking his hair until the aftershocks fade. For a moment, the world goes silent save for the hammering of both your hearts, the heat of your bodies, the sweat cooling on your skin.

All of a sudden, the equilibrium tilts.

Mingi comes back to himself by degrees, eyes still glazed but mouth already curling into a grin that’s all sharp canines and mischief. You’re still trembling, the aftershocks ricocheting through your bones, but the way he’s holding you now—possessive—is different from before. There’s a shift in the air, a gathering of purpose behind the lazy drag of his palm up your spine.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” he rasps, voice rough with spent desire, “my turn.”

Suddenly he’s moving, rolling you onto your back in a single, fluid motion. His hands are everywhere—kneading your ass, your thighs, greedy in their hunger. His body covers yours, heat and weight and muscle, and you realise that he’s been biding his time, letting you have your way only so he could give it back to you tenfold. 

“Did you really think you had all the control, doll?” he drawls, the words fiery and playful at once, goading you with the memory of your earlier dominance—all while letting you know it was only ever on loan.

His hands bracket your hips, fingers splayed and greedy, and you feel the faintest quiver in his arms as he holds himself over you, like a predator savouring the moment before the pounce. His eyes never leave yours as he takes himself in hand, his cock already hardening again. You feel the blunt head of him brushing against your sensitive folds, teasing at your entrance. He drags it slowly up and down your slit, still slick with his cum and your arousal, circling your clit with deliberate pressure that makes your hips buck involuntarily.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as he continues to tease you, tapping his tip against your cunt with feather-light touches. “Look at how eager you are f’me.” You moan as he continues his torturous teasing, rubbing his hardening length against your swollen lips, gathering your shared wetness along his shaft. Your hips buck involuntarily, chasing the fullness you crave. Mingi just chuckles, keeping his movements shallow, the head of his cock just barely dipping inside before retreating. The emptiness is maddening.

“Use your words,” he commands softly, continuing the torturous tapping against your entrance. “Tell me what you need.”

“I— ohmygod... I need—,” you try to answer, but the question melts on your tongue. 

His smile is triumphant as he finally, finally pushes forward, sinking into you with one smooth thrust. He buries himself deeper, hips rolling with a languid, relentless power. Every inch of him fills you, presses you open, makes you ache. He fucks up into you with a slow, devastating grind that leaves your toes curling and your nails digging into his biceps for purchase.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, nipping at your pulse point, tongue flicking over sweat-salted skin. “So wet for me. You like being stuffed by my cock don't you?”

“Oh fuck.. yes!” You whimper, and he grips your jaw, thumb pressing into your lower lip, enticing you to be louder.

“Let me hear you,” he growls, eyes burning into yours. “Fuck—let the whole dorm hear how good I’m making you feel.”

He fucks you like he has nowhere to go and nothing else to do but ruin you, each punishing thrust deliberate and deep, perfectly tuned to hit every trembling, oversensitive sweet spot inside you, drawing out increasingly desperate sounds that seem to fuel his hunger. The room is a riot of sensation: the slap of skin on skin, the obscene squeeelch of your own arousal, the sweat that drips from his brow onto your collarbone as he leans in to bite at your shoulder.

He laces his fingers through yours, pinning your hands above your head, and the new angle is exquisite—he’s so deep you can barely breathe, so intense you can’t manage a sound. He’s watching your face, drinking in every flicker of pleasure and pain, cataloguing the way your body arches and clenches around him.

“Look at you,” he pants, fucking you harder now, the headboard rattling with each thrust. “You look so pretty like this—spread out for me, fuck. This is what you wanted, right?”

You feel the weight of him first, that heavy press of Mingi’s body pinning you down against the sheets, his hips grinding slow and deliberate as he sinks deeper. Every inch of his cock stretches you wide, the burn mixing with that sweet ache that makes your toes curl and your breath hitch. Your hands claw at his back, nails digging into the scarred skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He just growls low in his throat, pushing harder, stuffing himself in until there’s no space left between you. All you can feel is him, that thick length buried deep, pulsing against your walls as he drives in again and again. a whimper escapes your lips, broken and needy, your body arching up to meet him even as the overload makes you want to pull away. Mingi notices immediately. his hand shoots up, fingers tangling rough in your hair, yanking your head forward with just enough force to make you gasp.

“Look at me,” He rasps, voice strained like he’s fighting through something sharp and brutal.

His grip tightens, holding you steady so your eyes lock onto his. Yours are wide now, pupils blowing out wide and dark, swallowing the colour until there’s just that hazy black stare reflecting back at him. He watches it happen, the way they dilate under the dim light, pulling him in like you’re lost in the haze of it all. His sounds get louder, desperate almost, grunts turning into these deep, guttural moans that vibrate through his body into yours.

“Fuck—I'm gonna lose my mind,” he groans, the word dragging out low and pained, like the pleasure is edging on torture. his free hand digs into your hip, bruising as he pulls you closer, slamming in one last time. “Your perfect cunt was made for me wasn't it?”

You nod, frantic, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming fullness. He slows, just enough to let you catch your breath, then leans in, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that’s as much a challenge as comfort. His tongue is rough, demanding, and he swallows every helpless sound you make. 

Then, in a cruel twist of fate, he pulls out entirely, leaving you empty and clenching at nothing. Before you can beg, he’s flipping you onto your stomach, hands manhandling your hips up until you’re on your knees for him, face pressed into the pillows. He lines himself up behind you, the heat of his cock nudging at your entrance, and you whimper in anticipation.

“You're gonna let me fuck you sooo good, right baby?” he promises, voice gone dark and needy, and then he slams back into you in one brutal, beautiful stroke. The sound you make is sweet, involuntary, a sob torn from deep in your chest. He gives you no quarter, hips pistoning relentlessly, the flat of his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends you clenching around him.

“So beautiful,” he purred, running his palm over the stinging flesh.

With every thrust he drives the point home, each one punctuated by a filthy litany—mine—until you can feel the word burning into your skin. He grabs a fistful of your hair, jerks your head back so you’re forced to arch, to present yourself to him, to let him see how utterly, beautifully ruined you are.

“Say it,” he orders, voice raw. “Tell me who you belong to.”

You gasp, barely able to form words. “You! Mingi. I’m all yours—“

He rewards you with devastating thrusts, so deep your vision starts turning white.

“That’s”—thrust!—“right”—thrust!—“all”—thrust!—“mine.”

You can feel yourself unraveling, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. He’s relentless, fucking you through your first orgasm and into a second, not stopping even when you collapse boneless onto the mattress. He kisses your spine, your shoulder blade, every vertebrae, as he keeps you pinned and takes you, over and over, until your vision blurs and you forget your own name. 

“M-mingi! M’ so close, gonna cum—“

“Gonna cum inside you again,” he promises, voice shaking with how close he is, hips stuttering. “You gonna take it for me? Gonna let me breed this perfect pussy?”

“Yesyesyes—fuck!”

The words rip something out of you. You nod, desperate, grinding back against him, greedy for his release.

“That’s my girl, c’mon cum with me baby.”

He bites down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and fucks you through his own climax, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you up again, so much it slicks out around the edges and paints the inside of your thighs, messy and obscene.

You collapse together, his arms locked around your waist, breath ghosting warm across your neck. He stays inside you, softening only a little, like he can’t bear to let you go yet. You lie there, bodies tangled and sticky, sweat cooling on your skin, and you feel the heat of him still throbbing inside you, a silent claim.

Neither of you moves for what feels like hours, your breathing gradually slowing to match each other’s rhythm. Mingi’s weight on top of you is heavy but comforting, his cock still nestled deep inside you despite having softened slightly. The gentle pulsing of him against your walls sends occasional aftershocks through your system, little reminders of the intensity you just shared.

“Stay like this,” you whisper when he finally stirs, your hand reaching back to keep him in place. “Just a little longer.”

He makes a soft sound of agreement, pressing his lips to the nape of your neck. “You like feeling me inside you, don’t you?” His voice is a gentle rumble against your skin. 

You nod, feeling strangely vulnerable in your admission. There’s something deeply intimate about this—more so, somehow, than the passionate sex you just had. Mingi seems to understand, adjusting his position slightly so he’s not crushing you but remains connected, his chest pressed to your back, one arm draped possessively across your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

“Perfect,” you sigh, melting into the mattress beneath his weight.

The room falls quiet except for your mingled breathing and the distant thrum of music from downstairs. The party continues without you, but at this moment, the world outside this room might as well not exist. Mingi nuzzles against your shoulder, pressing lazy kisses to the marks he left earlier.

“I’ve never done this before,” he confesses quietly.

“What, sex?” you tease, knowing full well that’s not what he means.

He laughs softly, the vibration traveling through both your bodies. “No, smartass.” His arm tightens around you. “This,” he clarifies, fingers drawing gentle patterns on your skin. “Having someone stay over.”

You twist your neck to look at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Wait, seriously? But you’re—you’re you. How—”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah I know…I don’t bring people here. Ever.”

“Ever?” You shift slightly to face him better, wincing as you feel him slip out of you. The loss is immediate, leaving you empty in a way that makes you want to chase the connection again. He reaches for tissues from his nightstand, cleaning you both with surprising tenderness before settling back beside you. His eyes meet yours, unusually vulnerable.

“Never,” he confirms, voice soft. “This room is... I don’t know. It’s mine. My space. I don’t share it with just anyone.”

The implication hangs between you, heavy with meaning. You’re not just anyone. You’re someone he wants in his private world, someone he’s letting see parts of himself that others don’t.

“But all those stories about you...” you begin, confused.

He shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. “Not saying I’ve been a saint. But those hookups? They happened elsewhere. Never here. Never in my bed.” His fingers trace your cheekbone with careful precision. “Never like this.”

Something warm blooms in your chest, spreading outward until your whole body feels flushed with it. You’ve been the exception to so many of his rules already—the girl he studied for, the one he took to Stellina, the one he waited patiently for. And now this—being the only person he’s ever brought to his most personal space.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper, because you don’t know what else to say.

“How could you?” His smile is small but genuine. “I’ve spent a lot of time making sure everyone sees exactly what they expect to see.”

You reach up, touching his face with gentle fingers. “And what am I seeing right now?”

“The real me,” he says simply. “The one who’s terrified of messing this up. The one who thinks about you constantly. The one who...” he hesitates, taking a deep breath before continuing, “the one who wants you to be his girlfriend. Officially.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. Despite everything that’s happened between you—the tutoring, the dates, the incredible sex you just had—hearing him say it out loud makes it suddenly, overwhelmingly real.

“Mingi...” you start, uncertain how to respond.

His face falls slightly, but he quickly masks it. “I’m rushing things, aren’t I?”

“No, it’s not that,” you say quickly, not wanting him to misunderstand. “It’s just—this is all happening so fast. A few months ago I couldn’t stand you, and now...”

“And now?” he prompts when you trail off, eyes searching yours.

“Now I can’t imagine not having you in my life,” you admit. The truth of it surprises even you. “I just need a little time to process everything. Can I... can I give you an answer tomorrow?”

Relief washes over his features. “It’s not a no?”

You smile, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Definitely not a no.”

He pulls you closer, wrapping you in his arms like he’s afraid you might disappear. “Tomorrow it is. I can wait.”

You fall asleep like that, tangled together in his sheets, his heartbeat steady against your back, his breath warm on your neck. For the first time in years, you don’t worry about your schedule or your plans or what comes next. You just let yourself exist in this moment, with him.

═══════════════════

Sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed. You stir slowly, your body pleasantly sore as consciousness creeps in. For a moment, disorientation clouds your mind—this isn’t your dorm room. All of a sudden, rapid flashbacks enter your mind from the events of last night. Mingi is gone, the sheets cool where he should be. For one terrible moment, panic seizes your chest—did he regret last night? Did he change his mind about wanting you as his girlfriend?

Then you hear footsteps in the hallway, the door handle turning. You sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest, heart pounding.

Mingi backs into the room, hands full. He’s balancing a tray of coffee cups, a small box of chocolates tucked under his arm, and—your breath catches—a bouquet of lilies and hydrangeas cradled against his chest. He hasn’t noticed you’re awake yet, too focused on not dropping anything as he nudges the door closed with his foot.

When he turns and sees you watching him, his face breaks into a smile so bright it rivals the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Morning,” he says, suddenly looking shy. “I was hoping to be back before you woke up.”

“What’s all this?” you ask, unable to keep the smile from your voice.

He approaches the bed, carefully setting down the coffee cups on the nightstand. “Well, I figured your answer might depend on how convincing my case was.” He hands you the flowers, the stargazer lilies’ pink-speckled petals unfurling beside clusters of blue hydrangeas that catch the morning light. “These reminded me of you.”

You bury your nose in the blooms, inhaling their sweet fragrance. “They’re perfect.”

“There’s more,” he says, offering you the box of chocolates. “Your favourite, right? The ones with the salted caramel centers?”

You blink in surprise. “How did you know?”

“You mentioned it once, when we were studying for the midterm. Said they were your stress food.”

The fact that he remembered such a small detail makes your heart swell. He passes you one of the coffee cups, the rich aroma of your preferred brew wafting up as you take it.

“And this…” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small envelope. “This is the most important part.”

You set the coffee aside and take the card with trembling fingers. The envelope is simple, your name written on the front in his familiar handwriting. Inside is a handmade card, decorated with what appears to be hand-drawn economic graphs and formulas. You open it, and a laugh bubbles up from your chest as you read the message:

According to my cost-benefit analysis, being with you yields the highest returns on investment. Our relationship has increasing marginal utility—the more time I spend with you, the more valuable each moment becomes. Will you be my girlfriend and help me maximize our happiness and love function?

It’s nerdy and sweet and so perfectly him that tears spring to your eyes. When you look up, he’s watching you nervously, waiting for your response.

“Soooo?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You set the card aside carefully and reach for him, pulling him down until he’s sitting beside you on the bed. “You're so stupid,” you say, cupping his face in your hands. “Of course I'll be your girlfriend”

The relief and joy that wash over his features are almost painful to witness. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s somehow both gentle and fierce, like he’s trying to pour every emotion he’s feeling into this one perfect moment.

When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed as if he’s committing this to memory.

“You know,” you say, threading your fingers through his hair, “for someone who was failing economics a few weeks ago, that was a pretty impressive application of the principles.”

He laughs, the sound vibrating through both of you. “What can I say? I had an excellent tutor.”

“Damn right you did,” you tease, pulling him in for another kiss.

Outside, the campus is waking up. Students are heading to class, professors are preparing lectures, life is continuing as it always has. But in this room, wrapped in each other’s arms, you and Mingi have created something new—a world that belongs just to the two of you, built on unexpected connections, shattered assumptions, and the courage to see beyond the surface. As his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, you let yourself sink into the certainty that some economic theories are universal: the most valuable things are often the ones you never saw coming, and the greatest returns come from the investments you make not with your head, but with your heart.

Deep in his thoughts, he returned to the counter to get another drink.

A familiar voice called after him.

‘Oppa!’

He turned around, and someone dressed as a forest nymph almost ran into his chest. He quickly realized that the smaller figure belonged to Ryujin, whom he had known from the dance classes he took back in high school.

‘Cool outfit,’ she praised, biting her lower lip. ‘You look hot, oppa.’ She added, playing coy.

He didn’t have much of an outfit going on, just a pair of black jeans, a loose burgundy shirt he unbuttoned quite generously, some jewelry and red contacts on top of that. He didn’t need much to pull off a vampire look tonight.

‘Thanks,’ he murmured, ignoring her flirtatious presence. ‘What’s up?’

‘Not much,’ she followed him to the bar and made an order. ‘Just trying to have some fun.’

Hyunjin nodded, barely registering her voice.

‘Ah, Ryujin-ah…’ He suddenly jumped out of his thoughts. ‘You’re majoring in psychology, aren’t you?’

‘I am. Why?’ She leaned in, misunderstanding his premise.

‘Do you know that sunbae... the one who used to be in economics?’ He asked, taking his lollipop out of his mouth and rolling the stick between his fingers.

She froze, surprised by his random question.

‘You mean… Y/N eonni?’

Y/N. Hyunjin repeated your name in his mind to commit it to memory.

‘Have you seen her around?’

‘Uh, yeah,’ she replied, still confused. ‘She’s over there.’

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to where she was pointing immediately. He searched the area, taking in the females in his line of vision.

‘The one wearing the crazy ass stilettos?’

‘No… That’s Seoyeon eonni, the friend who probably dragged her here. The other one is Y/N eonni.’

The vampire-like eyes swept across your figure intently.

‘The tiny one wearing platformed sneakers?’

‘She’s not tiny, it’s just ‘cause Seoyeon eonni is super tall in those shoes… Why are you asking about her all of a sudden, oppa?’

‘No reason,’ Hyunjin murmured.

There was something interesting about you, and he could not pin it down. Maybe it was the fact that everyone was so pointedly perplexed by his curiosity about you that was intriguing him even more.

‘See you around,’ he muttered, noticing that you drifted away from your friend group to renew your drink.

It was a great opportunity to see the noona who rejected Changbin so coldly up close.

‘Oppa, wait!’ Ryujin caught him by the sleeve. ‘Weren’t you getting a drink?’

‘You can have it,’ he shrugged, popping his candy back into his mouth before turning around and continuing to stride in the direction where you’d just disappeared.

He soon located you at another bar counter, which looked a bit deserted. Waltzing there as nonchalantly as he could, he took the bar stool right next to you, not caring for a second that there were at least half a dozen empty spots at this counter. You stopped rubbing your ankle and looked up at the person who disturbed you by almost bumping his knees into yours.

‘That must hurt… Mrs Addams?’ He assumed from your black outfit.

You gave him a slow onceover before your eyes reached his face. Hyunjin licked his lips, not seeing the usual spark of interest there at all.

‘Maleficent.’

‘Oh, that’s a nasty one. But you didn’t make it obvious with the lack of horns and wings… Well, horns at least,’ he smirked in the most charming way he could.

But you… rolled your eyes.

‘You’re right. Came in too cheesy.’ He quickly recovered, offering a bashful, ‘Let’s start over. I’m Hyunjin, by the way.’

‘And… who might you be, Hyunjin?’ You asked, looking him straight in his red irises.

‘I, uh- A vampire?’ He replied, sounding a bit less confident than he planned.

‘You don’t seem too sure about that.’

He swallowed, almost panicking at the thought that you might give him the harsh refusal just like you did to Changbin earlier. This was truthfully not part of his plan for tonight.

‘It’s Y/N. And you might want to lay off the candy before your teeth start to rot,’ you chuckled, getting off your chair.

‘It’s nice to meet yo-’

‘Hyunjin? Don’t talk to me.’ You turned away again, walking back to your friends.

He was just kicked to the curb. But why did it feel so exciting?

***

Hyunjin could not stop smirking all night. He wasn’t sure why it was, but he was sure of one thing – he did not repeat his friend’s unfortunate fate. Yes, you sort of turned him down. Yes, you walked away and told him to quit talking to you.

But that was different. The way he saw it, that was just playful banter, some push-and-pull, if you will. He definitely had your attention there, even if for a fleeting moment. And now he was determined to have it again, when the timing was right.

It wasn’t usual for Hyunjin to be so eager though. Yes, he’d had opportunities to put his ‘hunter’ nature to the test when he wanted to woo certain girls. But he clocked his goal from the very beginning and went for it without hesitation, as it was a short-term one anyway. This time… he hadn’t a clue of what his end goal was. But the act of play you only engaged with him in for a minute had him excited for more. All of a sudden, tonight of all nights, you became the most interesting person in his proximity.

So he spent it replaying your dialogue in his head, while rolling the lollipop on his tongue and ditching boring conversations with other fellow students. He wasn’t in the mood for their advances. He was a man on a mission, despite seemingly chilling atop of a bar stool.

‘Y/N-aaaah!’

Hyunjin turned his attention to the source of the obnoxiously loud exclamation.

His eyes slowly glided down a tall figure, which definitely belonged to your friend, Seoyeon, who seemed so drunk that she couldn’t even stand up straight. You held her by the waist, while scolding her. Hyunjin couldn’t hear the words, but your face expression gave it away from afar.

Without thinking for too long, he slipped off of his chair with lazy grace. He caught up with you just in time to grab Seoyeon’s elbow and prevent both of you from toppling over.

‘Let me lend you a hand,’ he offered good-naturedly.

‘It’s okay…’ You tried to refuse, but he already noticed the way you struggled to walk with your much taller friend latched onto you.

‘I’ll grab you a taxi home.’

He helped you get outside from the crowded party hall, and you seemed relieved to finally breathe in some cold night air.

Hyunjin glanced at you as you stretched your neck, looking around. For a moment he lost his train of thought, imagining sketching the lines of your silhouette, but then you pointed at the yellow car parked nearby.

He took a quick look at the driver and decided it would be safer to just get in with you.

‘You don’t have to come with,’ you assured him as soon as he occupied the front seat.

‘It’s no problem. We’ll drop you off first and be on our way.’

You didn’t respond.

The drive wasn’t too long, but Hyunjin was itching to turn his head and see what was up in the back seat. He was cursing himself out for being a decent human being and giving you some space. And still, when you arrived at the apartment you shared with Seoyeon, he got out of the car. As you struggled to drag your intoxicated friend out of the vehicle, he stepped closer.

‘Do you want me to take over?’

You sighed.

‘And what would you do that I can’t?’

‘Hm, let’s see… Carry her on my back? How about that?’

‘Not in this dress.’ You declined, tugging at her short outfit to cover her modesty.

‘I can carry her in my arms too. Or throw her over my shoulder. Something she deserves for getting shitfaced.’

‘You can. If you want her to puke all over you.’

Hyunjin poked his cheek with his tongue. You were right in your sarcasm, and despite being unwilling to do this, he knew this was the only thing he could offer to assist you.

‘Duly noted. Now step aside, please.’

He moved you slightly to the side and got to Seoyeon. The alcohol on her breath almost made him dizzy.

‘Whoa, did she drink half a liquor store?’ He grumbled, struggling to get her out of the car.

You hurried up and fixed her dress after he picked her up. He couldn’t believe that you were so concerned with her flashing her panties to the entire… empty street, while she had zero care in the world judging by her current possum-like state.

‘After you,’ he murmured, urging you to lead the way.

Getting into the building and onto your floor was a breeze. But as you arrived at the doorstep and you started beeping in the passcode, Seoyeon suddenly awakened. She started thrashing in Hyunjin’s arms, almost causing him to drop her while you opened the door.

‘Seoyeon-ah, it’s fine, we’re just helping you get ho-’ You tried to soothe her, but this angry demon wiggled out of Hyunjin’s hold and used you to get away from him.

By throwing you right at him and bolting into the shutting door of your apartment.

‘Helping me? You better help yourself!’ She yelled, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Overcome by the state of shock for a moment, Hyunjin didn’t realize that he was holding you by the shoulders with your back to his chest. You were stunned as well, so you didn’t notice either.

‘Wow… Oh, sorry!’ You finally jumped out of his accidental embrace and bowed. ‘Sorry. And thanks… for the help.’

‘Are you sure you can handle the rest? She seems… a little aggressive?’

‘She… I can deal with her. Thanks anyway.’

You opened the door again.

‘Just “thanks”? After all the trouble?’ He chuckled, drawing your attention again.

‘Is there something else I can do?’ You asked in earnest.

He thought for a moment.

‘You owe me. A wish.’

You huffed.

‘I don’t trust you to make a reasonable wish.’

‘Ouch. I’ll try to make it reasonable, but no promises there,’ he shrugged.

‘Goodnight, Hyunjin,’ you said, and he gathered from your tone that you’d accepted your fate.

‘Night, noona.’

You chewed on your lip for a moment, but did not correct him. A thud from the inside of the bathroom broke the extended silence, and you nodded him a quick goodbye before shutting the door.

Hyunjin sighed. Nothing was going the way he anticipated, yet he didn’t feel disappointed or impatient.

Or maybe he was a little disappointed, but this time, it was because he didn’t want to leave. Not because he wanted to make advances at you; rather, he wanted to be more helpful.

And he wouldn’t usually go out of his way like this.

***

Hyunjin couldn’t handle it.

It had been two weeks since the party, and he hadn’t talked to you since. It bothered him to no end. He was also equally disturbed by the fact that it affected him so much. Yes, he’d experienced this “flirting phase” excitement before. But the stakes were always low for him. They were pretty girls that he wanted to spend some time with, and he was always upfront about it. He wasn’t interested in anything else. He didn’t want to know what their favorite color was, or what they had for breakfast on a particular day, or what was going on in their lives in general. He wasn’t in it to build anything with them, and he made it known right away.

That was also the reason he always ignored any attempts to get closer by someone he considered his friends. He knew there would be no friendship had he crossed that line. Girls always had this idealistic image in their head. They thought they could change his mind. That he’d merely never met the right person, and if they just get to be with him for a short while, he’d know. He’d settle down.

For Hyunjin, it wasn’t the hypothesis that was wrong. He agreed with that notion wholeheartedly. But he also knew that he wouldn’t change for any of them. He knew what he wanted, and even if, for now, he settled for less than that, it couldn’t become something he’d accept as a permanent solution.

He wanted more, even if he had to wait for it. And he was greedy about it too.

That was the first thing everyone got wrong about him. They thought he was all talent, the god-given impeccable physique and a pretty face. That he was soft and mellow, and women just melted in front of him, while he only had to make the minimal effort of eating them with a dessert spoon.

But it wasn’t like that at all. Hyunjin was always very competitive, to his own detriment at times. He built himself up in all aspects he deemed valuable, all by his own hard work. And although he realized that he had to thank his parents for making it a little easier for him to open some doors, he was still the one opening them. No, he was the one barging in through all of them.

This wasn’t the case with whatever he had going on with you though. What started as a little game to him, out of idle curiosity, just to fool around and maybe drive Changbin nuts for a second, quickly morphed into something else. He didn’t follow you around like a puppy, but he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to make a move had it presented itself. He was pensive about what it actually was about you that made him so enthralled, and he didn’t have an answer so far. What he had was confidence and intent.

It didn’t hurt that you were always hot and cold with him either. You didn’t flirt with him openly and didn’t even seem that happy to interact with him. But he could tell that you didn’t dislike his playfulness with you at all. You always drew the line, making it known that you didn’t want to engage in anything, and yet, it always felt like you’d known each other for ages and were on familiar terms. So, he became even more intrigued.

He didn’t anticipate that, although it was hardly surprising, but the feeling became more crystallized the day he stumbled upon you in your natural habitat, otherwise known as the campus library.

Hyunjin hesitated for a moment when he saw you glued to the bookshelf he was looking for. What were the odds? You were skimming through a book, completely unaware of his presence behind your back. But the urge to make it work somehow got the best of him.

‘I had no idea you were into impressionism,’ he muttered, his voice betraying him and sounding a lot hoarser than he intended.

You swirled around to face him, and he cleared his throat.

‘Are you following me?’ Was the first thing you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

He chuckled at your question. Might as well follow you at this point. You were not easy to track down for a casual chat.

‘I got a GPS tracker on you,’ he shrugged, quickly adding after noticing your unamused glare, ‘I’m just kidding! Came here for some books on art, and here you are.’

‘Right,’ you rolled your eyes. ‘What do you know about art?’

Hyunjin huffed, taking this question as a grave insult. He tongued his cheek, the level of sass in his tone spiking in that millisecond.

‘Just that you conveniently have your book open on one of my favorite artists.’

‘You like…’ You looked down at the page. ‘Claude Monet?’

‘Who doesn’t?’ Hyunjin replied, eyebrows raised and arms crossed defensively. ‘He is only one of the most famous artists of all time.’

‘You’re right,’ You suddenly agreed. ‘That doesn’t prove anything.’

Hyunjin hurriedly continued making his point.

‘But I studied him a lot. I like the way he was obsessed with light and played with it in his works. I also use some of his techniques in my paintings, it helps convey the emotions I want t-’

‘You paint??’

His rant came to a hold, and he stared at you for a moment, taking in your genuine surprise and curiosity.

‘Yeah?’ He cleared his throat again, not particularly happy with how unsure he sounded the first time. ‘Yeah, I paint a lot.’

‘That’s… cool,’ you reply, scrutinizing him as if it was the first time you saw him.

Hyunjin didn’t move or breathe for a long moment, observing you as well.

‘Do you know any Dutch artists though?’

‘I, uh- sure. Van Gogh is another favorite of mine. There’s also Rembrandt and Vermeer. Piet Mondrian, if you prefer something more colorful and geometric.’

You nodded.

Then you suddenly shoved the book in his arms.

‘You can, uh- you can have it then.’

Hyunjin gaped at you, startled by the abrupt twist of your conversation.

‘But-’

‘It’s fine. You came here for it, and I got other things to research. Bye, Hyunjin.’

You quickly made yourself scarce, as per usual letting him know that you were not planning to continue interacting with him.

Hyunjin sighed, leaning on the bookshelf with his back. It wasn’t even that crazy of an interaction. You were just having a basic conversation about art he likes and can recommend. What was so burdensome about this discussion that you had decided to flee so hastily?

He picked up another book and walked into the library hall. But instead of leaving, he sat down in the vacant corner, right across from you. He wasn’t trying to be obvious, rather, his ego compelled him to stay and pretend like he didn’t care about another blatant rejection from you. He flipped through the pages of his books, not paying too much attention; then he sighed and got out his sketchbook.

It didn’t take him long to go from random scribbles to sketches of female figures. Hyunjin missed the moment he stopped paying attention to his materials, watching you writing something down in your notebook, and starting using you as reference for his quick drawings. He didn’t catch himself noticing how pouty your lips looked while you concentrated, or how silky your hair seemed even from so far away. His pencil stopped as he grasped that he was sketching your chest, and his eyes kept going back to reconcile the lines on paper with the real deal.

Hyunjin closed his sketchbook and quickly gathered his things, realizing that he was more fucked than he thought.

***

It was an excruciating week of internal turmoil, when his thoughts went back to you whenever he was working out, painting, attending class, going out, staying home… Basically around the clock. And he tried, he really did try to talk himself out of continuing to make a fool out of himself in front of you, but life decided it was time to make your paths cross again.

In a more substantial way this time.

Hyunjin stood there for a moment, watching you destroy your chicken drumstick. He was surprised to see you so passionate about your simple dinner, but it was kinda cute. Up until your eyes languidly swiped across the café and accidentally locked with his. You froze, and Hyunjin started walking towards you, ignoring the way you dropped the bone you cleaned seconds prior and frowned.

‘You seem to have a good appetite at this late hour,’ he teased, reaching your table.

‘I did. Until you decided to spoil it by showing up,’ you grumbled, wiping your fingers with a tissue.

‘Something I… have never been accused of, actually.’ Hyunjin smirked.

‘There’s a first time for everything.’

‘That seat’s not taken, is it?’ He asked, sitting down across from you before you replied.

‘It was.’

‘By?’

‘A friendly ghost.’

Hyunjin chuckled. He found your exaggerated annoyance with him amusing. And maybe a little sexy.

‘Imo, can I have one plain soju here, please?’ You called out to the owner of the joint.

‘Of course,’ the owner replied affably, earning a quick “thank you” from you.

‘Make it two!’ Hyunjin interjected, then turned back to you. ‘Imo? Do you come here often, or is that actually your auntie?’

You rolled your eyes.

‘I’ve been here before. She was nice to me.’

‘Strange how I haven’t bumped into you earlier. I’m a regular. I live just down the street.’

‘TMI.’

He huffed at your disinterested expression as two bottles of soju appeared on the table.

‘Hello! Do you want the usual?’ The owner asked, a lot more pleased to see Hyunjin than you were.

‘No, I’ll help this one with her-’

‘No.’ You raised your palm, looking slightly menacing with that serious face of yours. ‘Don’t even think about it. That’s for me.’

Hyunjin coughed.

‘You cannot possibly finish this alone…’

‘Watch me.’

Half-impressed, half-threatened by you, he turned back to announce his order.

‘Just the usual ramyeon for me. Thanks, imo-nim.’

As the happy owner disappeared to sort out his order, he peered down at you again. You already got back to your chicken, so, the gentleman that he – sometimes – was, he took it upon himself to pour you a shot of soju.

You threw it down before he put down the bottle.

‘Whoa, aren’t you thirsty,’ he huffed, pouring you some more. ‘Not even going to reciprocate?’

Sighing, you took the bottle from his hand and filled up his glass. His beer glass, actually.

‘Haven’t been here for 5 minutes, and you’re already trying to get me drunk. I see what you’re doing, you sly fox.’

‘That’s to avoid serving you a drink every-’

You didn’t finish, as he emptied his glass in one go.

‘Are you kidding me?’

‘The things a man would do to be served by you.’ Hyunjin murmured, feeling the warmth travel down his esophagus and pool in his stomach.

You sighed again, filling up his glass.

‘Don’t,’ you warned as soon as his fingers touched it. ‘I will break this bottle over your head.’

‘You’re vicious.’ Hyunjin smiled, tilting his head to the side. ‘That’s kinda hot.’

‘Stop flirting with me.’ You cut him off, downing your shot of soju. ‘And open the second bottle.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

***

You’d spent the next three hours at the café, and Hyunjin was not tipsy at this point. You were tipsy, and he… He was actually drunk.

So drunk, in fact, that he insisted that he would not go home under any circumstances unless you walked him there. On foot. Which wasn’t the craziest amount of nighttime exercise per se, but a ridiculous demand nevertheless.

But you apparently ruled that it was not the hill to die on as it only took you a 20-something-minute stroll to get to his apartment. And get him in his apartment. And Hyunjin had to be honest… He didn’t even need as much help as he requested. He wasn’t as drunk after breathing some chilly night air, but there was also a strange thrill of having you in his den.

Oh, there was also the fact that he had spilled someone else’s beer all over you. So now you were in his bathroom cleaning up. Right after he used his practical 3-minute shower to sober up enough to feel the weight of his actions.

He recounted all of it again. He was drunk and obnoxious, soiled your clothes, had you walk him home and… Now you were in his bathroom, possibly naked. Why did he allow all this to take place? How? This was not the way to win points with you, and he knew it.

Hyunjin decided to reclaim his status (which wasn’t great to begin with, to be completely honest) and at least make an effort to be a decent host. He busied himself in the kitchen, getting the coffee machine running. His head was still buzzed up from the bottles of soju he had consumed earlier, and it was definitely a good idea to kickstart his brain with caffeine in order to come up with a better strategy.

He did not have time to do so. Somehow you had finished your shower super quickly and walked out of the bathroom, making him jump as you approached him soundlessly.

‘Uh, sorry- I just wanted to ask if you had shorts by any chance? Your pants are way too long for me…’

Hyunjin malfunctioned for a second, taking in the sight of you wearing his baggy clothes. Yes, his sweatpants were pooling at your feet in the most comedic way, but the thought of you wearing shorts at his home nearly drove him nuts. He had to slowly exhale, reminding himself that his shorts would probably be pretty long on you as well, so it was fine. He was fine.

But he wasn’t at all fine.

When you sat across from him, your legs crossed and up on the sofa, he had to remind himself not to stare at you as he set down a mug for you at the coffee table. He tried to control his impulses, but failed spectacularly.

‘You’re so pretty…’ was his only thought.

When you pierced him with your eyes, he realized that he must have said it out loud.

He swallowed, caught off guard by his own lack of game, and suddenly felt a strong urge to be a man and own it. So, he doubled down.

‘You are really pretty.’

You seemed surprised still, then chuckled softly.

‘Thanks?’

He cocked his head to the side, questioning why you replied as if you weren’t sure about his statement. As far as he was concerned, it was an obvious fact that he recited.

‘Are you still drunk?’ You inquired casually, taking a sip of coffee before setting the cup back on the table.

Hyunjin brushed his hair back, clearing his throat to sound more stable.

‘No. I washed up and had coffee. I’m fresh and ready for round two.’ He almost didn’t slur any of his words.

You pursed your lips to contain a smile. Even he was aware that it was not in the cards for him, unless he planned on having a massive hangover for the next three days.

‘Ready for round two?’ You asked, smirking as you nodded. ‘Yours should only be in bed.’

He didn’t know he had enough agility left in him to turn his head as swiftly as he did.

‘I meant sleeping, Hyunjin!’ You quickly clarified.

As he kept staring at you, making you self-conscious, you added another nail in your coffin.

‘Not as in fucking, just plain old sleep-’

‘I see how quickly your mind went there, noona,’ Hyunjin murmured, sliding a bit closer to you on the sofa. ‘Just be real about it.’

‘Real? About what?’

‘Your desire to be fucked. By me.’

His heart raced as the words left his mouth, and he looked down at his knee, which was only an inch away from yours. He was ready for anything, for you laughing, slapping him, storming out…

But not for the silence.

He turned to you again, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Saw you swallow, muttering something nonsensical. His slow brain finally caught up.

‘You do want that, don’t you?’ He pressed, suddenly brave enough to make a bolder move on you. ‘Just say the word, noona…’

He mumbled his last words, too mesmerized by the proximity of your lips. They seemed so soft and inviting that he couldn’t stay away.

As he started to lean in, you suddenly blurted your answer.

‘Let’s do it.’

Hyunjin wanted to be a display of astonishment. He would’ve loved to tease you a bit further if it were any other time. But he was not in his prime tonight, so he couldn’t afford to splurge his energy on taunting you. He just wanted to have you while he could, so he leaned in.

Your mouth was pliant.

He didn’t expect you to allow him passage so easily, but felt a slight shove in the chest as soon as he got too carried away. He smiled at your pushiness, cupping your face to prevent you from even thinking about escaping, and spoke, his lips brushing yours.

‘Stop making me even more excited,’ he scolded you, giving you a peck.

‘Don’t act like your tongue belongs in there,’ you retorted.

‘Don’t act like it doesn’t.’

You didn’t resist when his tongue slipped into your mouth again. His hand left your cheek to rest on the side of your neck before sliding further down your shoulder. He rubbed your arm up and down for a few moments, and you jumped when he suddenly brushed his thumb against your breast.

Hyunjin exhaled, barely pulling back.

‘What?’ He managed to ask, scrambling his muddled thoughts together.

‘On the bed,’ you whispered, and it took him at least three seconds to process your words.

He then got up, putting his all into walking firmly to his bedroom while holding your hand. He ripped the duvet off and threw it to the side of the bed. There was nothing he would’ve loved more than to stop acting like an overexcited teenager, who wanted to bang his girlfriend while his parents were at work.

But he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. His currently lacking impulse control times your hot-and-cold behavior with him in the past weeks divided by your sudden reciprocation of his interest equaled…

‘Fuck, you’re the toughest equation to figure out…’ Hyunjin grumbled, finding your lips again.

The kiss was less one-sided this time, and there was a small battle taking place up until he growled, turning you around and pushing you onto the bed.

‘I’m taking these off,’ he announced, tugging at your pants.

You didn’t protest, only pulled the hem of the shirt down to cover your panties.

Hyunjin found this… extremely adorable? He slowly dragged his fingertips across your bare legs, watching closely as you squirmed. He could swear your cheeks acquired this dusty rose color that every girl tried to achieve with makeup.

‘Are you trying to make me go crazy?’ He asked, pushing you down on your back.

You bit your lower lip, shifting slightly underneath him.

‘What did I do?’

Hyunjin sighed, too buzzed on the remaining alcohol in his system – and you – to muster a coherent answer.

‘You’re doing too much.’ He groaned, noticing the pink of your revealed panties again. ‘Fuck, you’re just cute, aren’t you?’

As he moved your thigh to the side with a gentle push of his palm, he saw it.

‘Shit, and you’re soaking through them…’ He pressed his fingers to the wet patch of cotton.

‘Mm- Jinnie!’ You yelped, causing him to look up. ‘Don’t-’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Stop…’

He squinted his eyes, making a significant effort to interpret what you were saying, because he couldn’t actually move away. Your hand was holding onto his wrist so tightly it was about to cut out circulation.

‘D-don’t stop…’ You repeated, and he finally caught onto your meaning.

‘You don’t want me to stop?’ He asked, confirming his understanding, and you nodded, although your belly shifted with a nervous breath.

Hyunjin pressed his finger a bit harder and moved it in a circular motion, eliciting a delicious little yelp from you. He continued rubbing you through the cotton until you were chasing his fingers with your pelvis yourself.

He wanted desperately to get rid of those and touch you directly, but decided to torment you some more. He quickly took off his own pants and shirt, giving you no time to adjust to it, and sat on top of you, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. As his bulge pressed into your wet spot, you both sighed. Hyunjin skin felt like it was caught on fire, and judging by the peaks of your nipples that were visible through your shirt, you were equally as affected.

Without hesitation, he gently rolled his hips. It was extremely slow in the beginning, as if he was testing the waters. He could feel his cock pulse in his underwear as he grinded it against your pussy. All of this felt like a wet dream that he did not intend to snap out of.

He kept the roll of his hips slow, but the friction was becoming more and more intense with each one. So much so, that you kept making those tiny noises every time he grinded against your nub. He wanted to fuck you so bad.

‘Jinnie… fuck-’

He paused, finally grasping that you’d used this nickname for the second time. Before it was “Hyunjin”, or “Bye, Hyunjin!”, or “Don’t talk to me, Hyunjin!”, or “Get out of my face, Hyunjin!”

And now he was excited from you simply calling his name like that.

He rolled his pelvis deeper into you, causing you to gasp.

‘You like that, noona?’ He asked, already knowing the answer that was a blunt moist stain on his underwear.

‘Feels… good.’ You muttered, watching his hips move.

‘Do you want me to stick it into your panties?’ He asked, feeling numb as the blood rushed away from his head at the mere suggestion.

‘Yes…’

Hyunjin’s vision was a blur after that, and he only grazed reality when his hard length glided smoothly against your slick, sensitive skin. He exhaled, feeling the cotton of your panties against his leaking tip, and repeated his movement. You whimpered, and he did it again, many times over. He carried on until you became so wet that it was clearly audible. He licked his lips, finally focusing his eyes on you. He realized the blurriness of his vision was now caused by the sweat dripping into his eyes and wiped them with the back of his hand.

‘I’ll take them off,’ he stated hoarsely, knowing that you wouldn’t back out now.

He could tell that you were feeling the same craving for him that he did for you. So he closed your knees and rid you easily of your underwear, then fully discarded his own as well, hissing as he squeezed his cock with one hand. It was heavy and covered in your joint lubrication, so he couldn’t refrain from giving it a tight pump or two.

‘Shit…’ Hyunjin closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly, trying to balance out his arousal.

He wanted you, he wanted to be inside you without any more delay, but this desire was just too intense for his already hazy mind. While he tried to compose himself, you sat up on your knees and placed your palms on his shoulders. Hyunjin opened his eyes, flexing his arms instantly, as if he was trying to impress you with his muscles.

You threw your leg over him and straddled his hips. As he used one of his arms to support you with a firm grip on your waist, the other one started tracing patterns on your knee that nearly made you jolt.

‘Give me another moment,’ you muttered, kissing him again.

Hyunjin was confused as to what your request was actually about. But when you gently pushed him to lie on his back and slowly found a comfortable position on top of him, he realized.

‘You want to-’

‘Yes. Don’t slip it inside.’

It was too much for him to watch you adjust your swollen wet folds right above his raging cock.

‘Fu-uck. You’re asking too much of me, noona.’

‘Shut up.’

He chuckled. You somehow sounded gentle even when you told him off.

When you lowered your butt, straddling him fully, he knew it was going to end in something beautiful. He opened his eyes, watching your round hips move, trapping his length between your pussy lips.

‘Fuck.’

You started swaying, slowly, tentatively, like you were also trying to keep your balance while figuring things out. Hyunjin closed his eyes again, holding himself back from taking the lead, and allowing you to do your thing. If you wanted to ride him like this, he wasn’t the one to complain. But he couldn’t hold back for too long, and as soon as he opened his eyes and saw you, disheveled and focused, breathing heavily…

‘You’re fucking cute like this, noona…’ He murmured, rolling his hips slightly.

Your body immediately responded to this, and you frowned, containing your own reaction. Hyunjin swallowed. This was… a lot. For a second, he felt so overwhelmed that he simply did the first thing that appeared in his mind. He wrapped his arm around your waist tighter, seizing you in place, and grinded against you.

The way you moaned had his skin break out in goosebumps.

It felt tight, and he was already covered in slick, so his cock glided between your slippery lips with no effort at all. Hyunjin was becoming frustrated from being in this position. He wanted to go one step further, he wanted to fill you with him. Not just explore, rather, he needed to be inside you and he’d definitely die if he wasn’t allowed to.

As if on cue, you leaned in, pressing kisses against his neck up to his ear. You lifted yourself above him, and latched onto his shoulder with one hand before reaching to the side of the bed to turn off the light completely.

‘No, why?’ Hyunjin protested hoarsely, palms on your waist as you returned to your previous position.

But you simply kissed him.

‘Condom…’ You murmured between kisses, and his hand found the drawer blindly.

Your make-out session continued as he fumbled with the rubber, and he felt almost embarrassed to be so fussy about this. His eagerness and impaired coordination made for a strange combination.

‘Inside,’ you told him as soon as he was done, and his palm was momentarily on his fully hard cock, guiding it inside you.

He must’ve blacked out again after that. Because the only thing that was pulsing in his mind was how tight you were. You trapped him inside and held onto him for dear life. Your movements were hectic, your breaths turned ragged, and Hyunjin could barely keep up with this dynamic.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom, your silhouette became more prominent. His eyes focused on tracing the outline of your body as his hips rolled slowly, reaching just a little deeper inside you. Hyunjin wasn’t sure what was making his mind so jarred, the remaining alcohol in his system, the tight grip you had on him with your entire body, the little sounds you were making… or all of that and everything in between.

‘Noona…’ He gritted his teeth, feeling the dangerous jolt of pleasure with his entire girth.

Hyunjin didn’t plan to finish soon, although he couldn’t be sure how long it had been by now. But he wanted more. He wanted to show you everything he’d got, to impress you, to make it your new craving. And yet, he abandoned his agenda without a second thought when you wrapped your arms around his neck, humming weakly.

‘Please... H-Hyunjin…’

Your voice sounded strained, and he didn’t tease you for using his full name again. His lips found your cheek and slowly made their way to your mouth, his tongue ready to occupy it. You were so enthusiastic that you initiated the kiss before he could, and Hyunjin could only hold you closer to him. This was absolute torture, to be inside you, feel your muscles so incredibly tense around him, and not being in the right state to absolutely ravage you.

He took a second to adjust your hips before he pushed them back slightly, breaking the kiss.

‘Ride me,’ he told you, sounding rough and croaky.

He tugged your pelvis forward, feeling every inch slip back into your depths. He couldn’t breathe properly, yet he didn’t deem it enough of a reason to take a break. You picked up the movement, and his hands on your hips made them smoother. Until you found your flow, slamming yourself onto him.

The room filled with your shaky breaths, soft squelches and whiny moans. And Hyunjin wasn’t certain about anything in his life, save for one thing… He knew for a fact that he was done for. He was so crazy about each of your tiny little whimpers that his whole body shuddered.

At some point he took over, lying flat on his back and holding you close to his chest in a lock of his inescapable arms, fucking into you in deep languid strokes. You were wet, so wet that he didn’t even think to use his hands on you. He focused on increasing his pace gradually, until you reacted to each and every thrust. Hyunjin was in ruin from just hearing you fall apart for him, he wanted to see it, but it seemed like darkness had doubled the input from his other senses, leaving him greedy for release.

His hands took their sweet time roaming around your back and your sides right under your shirt, and then slowly slipped down to your lower back and then your butt. Holding your cheeks firmly in his palms, he growled. His thrusts were shallow now, but faster. Sharper.

‘Jinnie…’ You whined, unable to really move in any other way than the way he directed you to move.

‘Yeah?’

‘I-’

‘You?’ He nudged, knowing already what you were trying to say.

Struggling to make another sound, you opened your mouth and dug your nails into his chest. Hyunjin hissed, finding that he could’ve definitely gone harder on you if he were on top, but he realized one of you was about to get there, so it was too late to switch it up.

‘Wanna race me?’ He grunted, smile turning smug. ‘I bet you’re coming any second now, baby…’

Hyunjin was teasing you, but his own muscles were tense and ready. And it didn’t matter how hard he tried to hold back, it just hit him like a ton of bricks.

‘Fuck-’ he cursed through his teeth, delivering his final thrusts before stilling inside you.

You yelped loudly, jerking away, and he could feel how shaky you became in his hold. He still kept you close, and you rested your forehead against his chest.

‘Did you come?’ He asked, wanting to be completely sure.

You nodded weakly, still pressed against him.

‘Good,’ he muttered, content and satisfied.

He was sure he could get you to loosen up during round two. He just needed five minutes to rest.

Just five minutes.

***

When he woke up, you were long gone.

No trace of you in his apartment, and no cutely scribbled note with your number on his fridge. You were just gone.

It was quiet, and despite still being hungover from the alcohol consumed last night, Hyunjin didn’t welcome the absence of sound at all. He wished that you’d make your presence known by dropping something in the bathroom or stomping in the kitchen. But the hopes of finding another soul in his vicinity crumbled as soon as he threw himself off the bed and walked slowly to the fridge with eyes half-closed to get a sip of cold water.

He did find a note, but there was nothing cute about it. It was just a white napkin on the counter that read “thank you”. What did that even mean? Were you grateful for a good fuck? Was it any good, even? Hyunjin woke up with a giant headache and still couldn’t tell which parts of that night were real and which were mere figments of his imagination.

Still barely functioning, he decided to hop into the shower. He liked to ruminate there. Water helped him structure his thoughts, and now he wanted to regain some of the last night’s memories to understand what was going on. But the more he tried, the more his temples pulsed in pain.

He had to give up. For now.

Tried to, at least. He ordered his favorite hangover soup and crashed on the couch, contemplating whether he should just stalk you online or wait until he saw you around the campus. He decided to try his luck tomorrow, at least by then he’d get back to normal in order to approach you. Hyunjin desperately wanted to know what was happening between the two of you, but he was in no shape to take on this issue at the moment. And he didn’t want to get rejected.

In fact, he wasn’t really sure what he expected to get from you. By now he’d figured out that he wanted you. In a way, he was surprised by the fact that he wanted you even more now that he had a swift taste of what it was like to have you. He couldn’t remember most of it, but somehow it didn’t matter that much. Even now, while splayed out on his couch facing the ceiling, he had a big rush of dopamine as soon as he recalled the multiple grumpy reactions to him you’d displayed in the weeks past.

Hyunjin chuckled, finding it ridiculous how he couldn’t stop thinking about you all day, and you just left like this after your drunk shenanigans last night. Maybe you were embarrassed? In his opinion, you were not the type to be into one-night stands.

Or so he kept telling himself…

The thought of being a one-night stand for you made him uneasy. He’d had his fair share of short-term relations, however, there was never a moment that he longed for more. And he prided himself on always being upfront about his intentions. So, the thought of being left behind without a warning seemed unfair to him.

As his mind spiraled from all the cruel thoughts, he fell into restless sleep on his couch.

Thankfully, sleeping it off, along with breaking down the rest of the alcohol in his bloodstream, made his head clear up as well. He woke up determined to get himself cleaned up and ready to have the talk with you. He didn’t give much thought of what he wanted to say, or even to hear from you, he was just… dying to hear your voice. And to see you. He wanted to know that everything was fine between the two of you, even if you grumble at him in your usual fashion.

His mood was bright as he was getting ready to leave the apartment. Up until the moment he made a strange discovery. For no particular reason, he decided to spare a minute to finally make his bed and noticed that there were stains on the sheets.

‘What the fuck?’ he muttered to himself, taking a closer look.

Upon inspection, he realized that…

It was blood.

His sheets were stained with blood.

Hyunjin’s whole body froze and his mind went blank for a couple long seconds and then started spiraling.

Blood? Why would there be any?

His eyes went wide as a horrifying thought descended upon him.

He… didn’t hurt you like that, did he? What if he couldn’t remember doing something… terrible? What if he was too drunk to understand that you were not-

Hyunjin took a deep breath, trying to think it through logically.

If that were the case, why would you write him a “thank you” note? That didn’t make any sense.

He paced the room now, trying to soothe his instant anxiety. Maybe that was his blood, that was an option. Or maybe… maybe you were on your period? It could be the reason why you chose to leave quietly in the morning, mortified that you’d have to explain that to him? Right?

But what if it was something else?

Hyunjin took a shaky breath and turned around. He needed to see you right now, to get clarity on this, but he had no clue how to contact you. He recalled that one time he helped you get your drunk friend home, and decided to try looking for you at the apartment first.

As he arrived at his destination, all wound up, he sat in his car for at least 20 minutes, mustering up the courage to come up the stairs. There was no telling whether he was going to like what he heard in the conversation pending. He wasn’t feeling great about it at all.

He felt even worse as he rang the doorbell and stood there, anticipating what you would say or what he would say when you opened the door.

But you didn’t. It was Seoyeon.

‘Uh- Hyunjin?’ She asked, obviously surprised by him showing up unannounced. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Y/N-’ He cleared his dry throat to sound less hoarse. ‘Is Y/N home?’

‘Nope.’ She gave him a curious onceover, crossing her arms. ‘Damn, she was really just looking for a stud like you. Unbelievable.’

Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows. His head became tense from the stress of not understanding shit at this point.

‘What?’

‘Don’t act all clueless. Didn’t you just pop her cherry?’

At this, Hyunjin malfunctioned.

Now that, that was not even on his list of versions of what happened last night.

Pop her- what? He did what? That couldn’t have been. She wasn’t- No, for sure, he would’ve noticed.

As he shook his head in disbelief, she asked again.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Seoyeon rolled her eyes. ‘Talk about desperation. I told her to deal with it asap and start having fun in life, but she kept insisting that only “deep relationships” were worth her time. But… sure, you can always find yourself a Hwang Hyunjin to “get deep”, right?’

She smirked at him, crossing her arms, and he still stood there, dumbfounded by this piece of information. He realized she was not playing him as this was consistent with the stained sheets. Probably with your desire to have the lights off as well. It suddenly dawned on him now, with all the details of that night clicking into place.

‘Where… where is she now??’ He blurted out, ready to barge in or get himself anywhere else to find you and settle this with you properly.

Seoyeon was clearly taken aback by his outburst, but Hyunjin didn’t care how he looked right now.

‘What do you mean, where? Of course she’s left already, she’s got a flight to catch.’

‘A flight? Where?’

‘To Amsterdam. Finally off to make her dreams come true.’ She shrugged, as if he’d asked her the silliest thing in the entire universe.

Hyunjin’s heart dropped to his stomach.

‘To… Amsterdam!?’

Masterlist

You broke out of your trance when Yunho looked at you, mumbled something about how you were going to set the table and almost rushed to the kitchen. You took out the hot pot from the oven- a dish you had learned from Seonghwa’s mother-  just in time to save it from burning. Setting the plates, you took a few deep breaths, pushing the thoughts of Seonghwa out of your mind- for now. 

You could never push him out for long. Something always reminded you of him. Byeol was a living reminder of him too- with eyes just like Seonghwa that made you wonder if he saw the world differently. His eyes just had a different sparkle to them, something you hadn’t seen in someone else’s eyes. 

Even Yunho reminded you of Seonghwa at times- especially with his subconscious gestures like patting your back, wiping your mouth if you got something on it, rubbing your hands when it was cold, or just… 

Looking at you like he was now. As if he was trying to read you. You could never meet his gaze when he did that. You used to shy away from Seonghwa when he did that as well. You finally looked up and raised your brows, pointing at his plate where you had put a big chunk of the pasta. Yunho exhaled, pouring himself water and taking a few gulps. 

“Is everything alright at work?” You managed to ask. You weren’t allowed to ask much, and asking wouldn’t get you answers anyway- Yunho wasn’t allowed to say much about work. You knew that from Seonghwa too- you always teased him and pushed him into telling you something, but he would always laugh and shut you up with either a glare (rarely) or a kiss-

“Yep,” he answered, just like Seonghwa would, with a sideways glance that said he definitely was hiding something. Before you could say anything, Byeol pushed her dark hair back and looked at Yunho.

“I made a gift for you, all by myself!”

Yunho smiled warmly, turning away from the food and shifting all of his attention to Byeol. “Really? What did you make?”

“Do you wanna see?” Byeol’s face lit up and Yunho nodded, laughing when she rushed off and you called after her to at least finish her food before running around. You avoided looking at Yunho, playing with your food instead of eating it. Yunho noticed that. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just don’t have an appetite,” you sighed, resuming eating slowly so he wouldn’t ask you to finish your food. Yunho nodded, resuming eating as well until Byeol came back and handed Yunho a drawing she had made.

“This is me,” she pointed at a little girl she had drawn, all colourful. “This is you, and this is mommy!”

“I see I am in my uniform,” Yunho laughed, ruffling Byeol’s hair, “When did you get so good at drawing? Is my little girl all grown up now?”

“I have always been good!” Byeol pouted.

“But why is mommy not smiling here?” Yunho asked and you stopped eating as you peeked at the drawing. Indeed, the drawing, even though only better than stick figures, you could clearly see the big smiles Byeol had drawn on herself and Yunho.

“I don’t remember how she laughs,” Byeol said, “so I gave her a little smile! She always looks pretty when she smiles!”

You went back to memory lane- a brief moment you recalled when Seonghwa had first told you how pretty you looked when you smiled as he handed you a bouquet of red roses- the first thing he’d ever gotten for you.

“She does,” Yunho smiled at Byeol and glanced at you. You really couldn’t take that look in his eyes- the look that said he was being cautious but also taking a step towards you.

You always pushed him back.

You finished eating the last bite and got up, walked to the sink and dumped your plate, telling the two to call you from outside when they finish eating, leaving Yunho’s eyes following you until you disappeared outside the door into the chilly air of winter. You took a few deep breaths, your breath materialising in the air. You were sure Yunho was disappointed once again, as you had disappointed him so many times in the almost two full years of your marriage with him. 

You knew Yunho did not deserve any of this. He had been nothing but a loving father to your daughter, and had tried his best to be a loving husband to you- as far as you’d allow him to go, which wasn’t much. In fact, there wasn’t much ‘love’ in the marriage at all. You two hadn’t even kissed- you refused to count the time you had pecked his lips when you had been in a rather emotional mess. You had asked him to forget about it and he had lived up to the promise, never bringing that moment up again.

Yunho was more of a companion- a friend, if you must. He didn’t come home for long- only on some weekends, and he spent most of that time with Byeol, since you always made sure you were busy doing something when he was here. You were indebted to him though. He was providing you two with a home, with protection from Seonghwa’s enemies who had also taken his life and had threatened to harm his family. In these times, especially with the growing threat on Kingdom of Wonderland, single mothers couldn’t do well on their own, usually taken and sold off to another nation by the enemies that had infiltrated Wonderland in the past decade. The little children met a worse fate. 

One reason or another, your and Yunho’s mutual friends, especially Seonghwa’s mother, insisted you marry Yunho. Apparently, he hadn’t really objected, the reason why, you still couldn’t ask him. Perhaps out of love for his comrade and closest partner at work, perhaps because Seonghwa had died while carrying out an operation with Yunho and had taken his last breaths in Yunho’s arms. Maybe Yunho felt guilty about Seonghwa’s death, wondering if he could have prevented it. Maybe, out of guilt, he offered to be a father to Byeol and a husband to you.

You were still thinking about Seonghwa when you felt a jacket being draped on your shoulders- you hadn’t even heard Yunho approach. He gave you a tight-lipped smile as he stood next to you, and you looked at the jacket- the same as Seonghwa’s- then up at him, so tall as he looked ahead at the stretching farm.

“I won’t be home next week, but I expect to return the week after,” he said, “We have to carry out an operation in the neighbouring nation- code red.”

You gulped- Seonghwa had been in a code red operation when he passed away as well. The most dangerous operations were code red. Plus, Yunho didn’t mention which ‘neighbouring’ nation exactly was he going to- there were 3. “Is the whole team going?”

“Yes,” Yunho nodded, “It’s going to be one week there- we move out in three days.” He glanced down at you, his eyes softening when he saw the worry on your face. It gave him a sense of comfort- that you cared, even if it was just a little. “Don’t worry. We will be… fine.”

“I hope so,” you almost whispered, and Yunho knew then that perhaps it was a night like this when Seonghwa had told you he wasn’t going to be home for a while, only to never return. It wasn’t that code red operations meant casualties- sometimes it only meant trespassing the border and meeting up with the spies for an exchange of information. Sometimes it meant engaging in a fight. No one was allowed to share the details with outsiders, so Yunho couldn’t really assure you that it wasn’t going to be dangerous- even exchanging information could go very wrong.

“It’s… going to be okay,” Yunho said and cringed, wishing he hadn’t said that. You didn’t respond, and he continued. “I need to go to the town tomorrow- do you want to tag along? We could get something for you and Byeol and maybe have dinner?”

“I don’t really need anything, but yeah… Byeol has grown taller so we need more clothes,” you hugged yourself. “Should I not cook dinner tomorrow then?”

“Let’s go have a fancy dinner,” Yunho said with a grin, “I’m going to miss that the next few days.”

You smiled- Yunho always managed to earn a smile when he joked around. You wished you could relax more around him, but somehow whenever you were alone with him, you started feeling vulnerable. You did not want to feel that- not for now.

“Sounds good,” you finally said. “How’s Hongjoong?”

“Finally getting used to how loud Wooyoung and San are,” Yunho laughed, “He’s not used to dealing with kids.”

You stifled a laugh- you knew all of Seonghwa’s friends to some extent, and were very well aware of just how loud San and Wooyoung could be. Even Seonghwa, the oldest of his team, would turn into a loud kid whenever they were over. “You should bring them over some time. It’s been too long.”

Yunho raised a brow- that was new. “I should, huh? Maybe next month?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that,” you nodded. “It’s time I see the team without Seonghwa present.”

Yunho fell silent, looking away. “Even I haven’t gotten used to the absence.”

You looked up at him- he rarely talked about his feelings when it concerned Seonghwa’s absence. Perhaps he, too, was just as traumatised as you, if not more. Perhaps, he had it worse- you wished you had put yourself in his shoes too. You were always so selfish with Seonghwa- as if he had only belonged to you.

“I still feel him,” you whispered. Yunho sighed, putting an arm around your draped shoulder, rubbing. You were stiff for a few moments before you relaxed. 

“I do, too,” Yunho whispered. “I sometimes accidentally call out Seonghwa’s name instead of Yeosang’s- he’s been my partner for three years now, you’d think I would get used to it.”

“You don’t,” you wiped a tear, “you can never get used to it.”

Yunho couldn’t stop you as you handed him the jacket and stepped away from him. He frowned, “So what do we do, y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled sadly as you looked back at him. “We keep pretending we’re okay when we’re not. Just like we have for so long. I do it better now, don’t I?”

Yunho wished he could hug you and tell you you didn’t have to do that. That you were allowed to break down and cry for him for as long as you wanted. But your grief… it was like a part of you now. 

Yunho recalled the time he had returned from the operation that cost Seonghwa’s life. He had fallen to his knees in front of you, held your hands and cried his heart out. You hadn’t moved until he stopped crying and looked at you, to find your eyes filled with anger.

He still couldn’t get that moment out of his head. You had explained later that you hadn’t been angry at him- you could never be- but you were so angry with Seonghwa for leaving you and his daughter behind. For risking his life when he had just become a father a few months ago. You hadn’t cried properly as well- you always held it in, for Byeol. You had no time and luxury to be emotional. Seonghwa had always told you to be strong if something ever happened to him, so you did just that.

You probably sucked at that. You were anything but strong. The littlest things reminded you of him, and the memory of him followed you everywhere. You sometimes wished you hadn’t met him at all, hadn’t known what it was like to love him and be loved by him. You missed being in his arms, you missed his scent, his touch, everything. 

But he had left you with Byeol- a copy of him, both a blessing and a painful reminder of your time with Seonghwa. You sometimes wondered what it would have been like if you didn’t have Byeol- you would have no reason to live.

That’s what you got for loving someone who didn’t know if he would be alive the next moment. Though Seonghwa had taken the initiative in your relationship, he had also given you several chances to back out. He had told you again and again that his work would be a priority. That he would risk his life for Wonderland at any moment. You hadn’t understood the gravity of the situation until it was too late.

And now you were married to practically the same person- Seonghwa’s partner. You couldn’t bring yourself to get attached to him. Not now.

—--------------------

"I really don't think I can wear something like this…"

"You're making it sound like I chose something bad for you," Yunho raised a brow. "Come on, it's just a dress. I'm getting one for our daughter, I'm getting one for you."

Our daughter. Sometimes he said it so spontaneously that for a moment you would forget that Byeol was anything else but his daughter. You looked at Byeol who was pulling at your dress with pleading eyes with hope that you'd agree to buy the emerald green dress Yunho was holding for you.

You supposed Byeol might not be his daughter but Yunho really was her father. She knew none other. It made your heart break-

"Hey? Are you okay?" Yunho asked gently and you blinked, nodding.

"Sorry, just got lost for a second. Now let me see that," you pursed your lips as you held the emerald green gown. It was plain but somehow, the buttons of the same colour running down one sleeve from the neckline gave it an elegant flair. You glanced at Yunho who was looking expectantly at you.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. "Fine. That's the only thing I'm getting."

"Yay!" Byeol immediately held out her hands for Yunho to high-five her and you smiled at their interaction. Yunho took your dress and Byeol's midnight blue dress to get them packed and you looked around, noticing two women, their eyes following Yunho. 

Yunho had that air to him, you supposed. A presence that could fill the room. You recalled the time when you had first met Yunho- the first time Seonghwa introduced you to his group of friends. The tall man had stood out not just because of his handsome height but also his personality. You had immediately liked him and found him easy to talk to.

Why was it so difficult to talk to him now?

You wondered that, especially when you came to your bedroom after wrapping up everything in the kitchen, finding your husband reading a book half-lying on the bed. 

Probably the fact that you now shared a room had created a distance between you two. 

You went to wash up, the memories from 2 years ago making way. After almost a year of grieving, Seonghwa's mother who had spent most of the time with you in his house told you she had to go back now. She had been a great help around, and at times you'd feel like she filled the hole left by your dead mother. She had been no less than a mother to you and had helped you raise Byeol.

It had been a night like this when she had first asked you to move on. You'd looked at her as if she had said something ridiculous, but she sighed.

"I am a soldier's mother, and you are a soldier's wife. We spend most of our lives fearing the worst. When it happens, we don't give in, dear y/n. We grieve but then we stand up, straight. We go along with the flow of life. We keep them in our hearts and we move on."

"But I…" you wiped your tears, "How can I ever move on, mom? How can I stop grieving?"

Seonghwa's mother touched your face gently. "If we actually started grieving… the world would have no more soldiers."

That had made you cry your heart out and then the next day, you were brighter than the day before. The first step you took to move on. For yourself. For your daughter.

And a month later, when his mother packed her bags, promising to visit often, she made you sit with her with a cup of tea.

"I really think you should marry again," she said and the teacup almost fell from your hands. "Byeol needs a father. You need a husband. You cannot do this alone- especially with Wonderland in this state."

"Remarry?" You scoffed. "I'm sorry but I cannot imagine living with someone else, mother. I can't even think of someone else. What gave you this ridiculous idea?"

She gave you a side-eye, but sighed as she began. "I think you should really think this over. You're still so young. And Byeol… if Wonderland was in a better state and we were safe, I would have supported your stance of being independent and single for the rest of your life. I would have let you go at your pace, maybe meet someone and fall in love again and so on. But with our enemies targeting the soldier's families, and especially the circumstances of Seonghwa's death… I can't let you be alone anymore."

"I understand your stance, mom, but I simply cannot imagine myself with anyone else. And I can fend for myself. I can try. I will move somewhere else if I have to-”

"No… stay here. Seonghwa's house is yours now," his mother said. "but… Seonghwa would have wanted you to move on, y/n. And what I have in mind for you… I'm sure he would be happy for you and him."

"Him?" Your heart sank. "Don't tell me I'm the last person learning about this."

"It isn't anything like that-"

"Who did you talk to?"

Seonghwa's mother matched your glare but then gave in, sighing. "I didn't exactly talk, mind you. I was just talking to him about you and your situation and wondered out loud about who you could marry. And then…"

"Who was it?"

"Yunho," she sighed and you exhaled, looking away. "He's always visited in his free time. Byeol is so attached to him- she doesn't recognize anyone else but Yunho, out of all of Seonghwa's friends. He's been a father to her, you have to admit."

"I agree that he's doing his best, but I'm pretty sure part of it is out of his guilt and trauma other than the friendship he had with Seonghwa. And how could you even ask him something like that! What would he think of us!"

"He actually didn't hate the idea," Seonghwa's mother smiled knowingly. "He didn't really give me a reaction-"

"He's a soldier, mother," you rolled your eyes. "He's trained not to give reactions-"

"Shush," she slapped your hand lightly and you gaped at her. "He would have said no if he didn't like the idea- he's known me all his life. But he didn't really say anything. That means he's considering it."

"Pretty sure he's trying to find a way to turn your offer down politely," you muttered, groaning and hiding your face in your hands. "I am mortified. How will I face him when he comes to visit?"

"He said he'll talk to you," she got up, leaving you mortified right then. "He's coming next week."

The whole week had been disastrous for you-, trying to find and memorise the words to politely turn him down if he suggested this as well, trying to be less mortified and humiliated by the whole situation, finding yourself spacing out more often.

And then Yunho finally came. The awkwardness in the air was making you suffocate. Yunho and you used to be comfortable enough that he'd play with Byeol and you'd disappear somewhere in the kitchen or in your room, or sit and watch them with a book in your hand, or you'd hear him tell stories about Seonghwa to Byeol-

Really, he was telling you. You'd silently cry or laugh, and then he'd inquire about your health, tell you that he worries about you two a lot.

That night, when Byeol fell asleep in his arms, you took her to the bed and that's when Yunho finally cleared his throat and asked if Seonghwa's mother had said something about him.

You considered lying but decided to address the elephant in the room. You nodded, and Yunho asked you to take a walk with him. 

"I thought about it, and to be honest, for once I don't know what to do," he laughed a little. "So I just thought I'd talk to you."

"Honestly, I cannot imagine being with anyone else, Yunho," you said.

"Of course," he nodded, understanding.

"But Byeol… she's attached to you. She doesn't know who her father is. She won't understand that she doesn't have a father for a good while. I fear the day that she would start to mourn her father, but I think it would be easier for her if she had someone like you by her side… someone to fill the gap. Even without being my husband, you're doing an exceptional job."

Yunho raised a brow as he smiled. "I never intended to be that for her, but somehow… holding Byeol in my arms makes me feel like I'm making Seonghwa proud."

You smiled at that. Seonghwa would definitely be glad for all the love his friends showered Byeol with- not just Yunho. The others visited every other week as well. "The only reason I'm agreeing to remarry is because of Byeol. I gave it a lot of thought. I don't really need a husband, but Byeol needs a father."

"I understand."

"But Yunho," you paused and finally turned to lock eyes with him. "You're young. You have a whole life ahead of you. I don't want you to be bound by me and Byeol. I can't do this to you. I can remarry, yes, but it doesn't have to be you- I just can't do this to you because I don't think I can give you the love a wife is supposed to give her husband-"

"Hey, hey," Yunho rubbed your shoulders and you looked up at the night sky, tearing up when you saw a single bright star. "I know. I don't expect you to love me. I don't expect anything from you. And if you really don't want me, I won't do this. But I'm so attached to Byeol. Is there anyone else who could love her the way I love her?"

That made you sob harder. It was the first time Yunho hugged you after the day Seonghwa passed away. You let yourself cry in his arms, shaking your head but he held you, firm, secure, and surprisingly but maybe not so, you felt safe in his arms. 

"If you allow me to, I can be a friend to you, nothing more, but a father to Byeol. I'll make sure she learns all about Seonghwa and how brave her father was."

You cried harder again and he laughed a little as he drew you back, shaking his head. "Don't cry. Seonghwa always hated when you'd cry."

You nodded, wiping your face. "You're right- I can't think of anyone else who could do justice to Byeol and be her father. But Yunho… I can't do this to you. You deserve a loving wife. Your own family."

"You are my family, even now," Yunho leaned down and squeezed your shoulder. "It's your decision. Honestly, I was conflicted as well, but now I'm sure I can do this, if you allow me to. I've made my choice."

You looked at him- really looked at him for the first time. "You'll be shackled to me. Why are you doing this to yourself, I'm wondering."

Yunho stood back up, a faint smile on his face. "I think I won't have a problem with that."

2 years passed and you still wondered what exactly he meant by that, because never did he actually make a move on you. He never initiated anything, and neither did you (if we forget about that one time). He had been nothing but patient, especially during the first few months of the marriage. It was just like before- him visiting on weekends-

Except that now, he stayed. And you shared a room with him.

Perhaps, this was something you could never get used to. Him, in the same room as you, the four walls making the room feel smaller than it was whenever he was present. Even now, he was only half lying on the bed and reading a book but you…

You could never get used to this. Especially when he glanced at you and his eyes would stay on you a second longer than usual before going back to whatever he was doing.

You sighed, sitting in front of the mirror and drying your hair, watching him through the mirror, your eyes accidentally meeting once. After spending a few minutes there, you finally came to your side of the bed.

For better or for worse, Yunho was actually aware in his sleep. He'd never invade your space and never make your bed feel small. As if he was trying to make sure you didn't feel his presence when you slept. You used to have Byeol with you both in the middle since Byeol used to wake up at night quite often, and Yunho was a great help. He'd offer to hold Byeol and put her to sleep and do anything to help you. It was the reason why sleeping with him wasn't awkward at first, not that much, since technically, it was just like taking a nap and taking care of Byeol. 

And then Byeol got big enough to have her own room, and you two found yourself alone in your room. Yunho offered to start sleeping on the couch if it was too awkward for you, just like he had when he first got here.

But you stopped him for the same reason you did later. Your terrifying nightmares. The cherry on the top.

All you asked of him was to tell you what was real whenever you woke up unable to breathe. And he did without fail. He would hold your hand, push your hair back and tuck them behind your ears and hold your face if you shook too hard. He'd tell you what was real. And then he'd hold your hand as you cried and went back to sleep, sometimes closer to him than you would actually like.

And you'd always apologise to him. He only came on the weekends and he wouldn't even get to sleep peacefully. 

"I'm never sleeping peacefully, I have to be on my toes even when asleep," he would laugh and dismiss your apology. "I'm okay with this."

You turned off the lamp on your side and Yunho gently asked if you wanted him to turn off his lamp too, but you insisted you were fine, drawing the covers on yourself.

"Thank you for the dress," you finally said, realising you never actually thanked him earlier. "It's beautiful."

Yunho smiled, not looking away from his book. "Thank you for accepting it. I wish you'd accept more."

"I have improved, you have to admit," you said and Yunho raised a brow, surprised to find you teasing him. You kept a straight face but he always saw through you.

"Can you wear it the next time I come home?"

It was your turn to raise a brow and look at him. "I guess I could. Should I expect someone else?"

"Only me," his voice was thick- like it was at nights when you two talked lightly. It overwhelmed you sometimes.

"Uh… yeah. I could. It's only a dress. Let's pray Byeol doesn't decide to improve the dress this time, huh?"

Yunho laughed, recalling the time he'd bought a beige dress for you and showed it to Byeol, planning to gift it to you on your birthday and Byeol had, on her own, decided that the dress missed something, and had sketched flowers with your lipstick. You all had a good laugh over it and thankfully, after two washes the dress was saved.

"How have you been, y/n?" Yunho asked and you knew he was asking about your nightmares and insomnia.

"Better, but they still come sometimes, the nightmares," you sighed. "Last night was the first time I slept properly this whole week."

You didn't know but when you said stuff like this… Yunho felt a sense of pride. Was it his company that made you sleep better? He wished he had contributed to your better quality of sleep in some way. "So no nightmares this week but you stay up late? What do you do?"

"The usual- paint or read or just stay up and think."

Think about Seonghwa. Think about Yunho.

You had been thinking about Yunho a lot too. You wondered if you had made the wrong decision in marrying him sometimes. You looked at Yunho. "Can you tell me something? Truthfully?"

Yunho nodded and you continued. "Do you regret marrying me? Do you regret anything about this… marriage?"

Yunho took a deep breath and looked away, thinking. "If there's one thing I regret… it is that I am unable to make you happy."

Now that was something you did not expect and you found yourself speechless. Yunho smiled sadly, putting the book back on the side table and before he could turn off the lamp, you tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, drawing his attention. 

"You… you've done so much for me that if there's any way to sum it up, I have to say that I am in your debt." Yunho was about to protest when he heard that but you put a finger on your mouth, indicating to him to hear you out. "When I see you interact with Byeol, I am the happiest mother. Whatever you do for me and have done for me… it's more than enough."

Yunho held your hand, caressing it. "I always gave you whatever you wanted. Space. A friend. A father to your daughter- our daughter. And at times, a husband to you. I want you to know that whatever you ask from me… it's never gonna be too much. I haven't done enough for you."

"But you have," you smiled sadly, trying not to cry because how could he be such an angel?

Yunho shook his head furiously. "You can ask anything of me, you know that. And I'll give you all the time in the world to open up to me. We've come a great way these past three years, haven't we?"

You nodded. He continued, "I just wish you'd talk to me more. I'm only here on the weekends and we only get to talk at night time. Even if you miss Seonghwa and want to talk about him, you know I'm here."

"Thank you," you nodded. It was unfair to him when you didn't even talk to him much, you realised. "I'm sorry, I just… his death anniversary is approaching soon. You know how it gets."

He nodded, shifting so he was sitting now. "Will you come here?" He patted the space next to him and you paused for a moment but then figured you needed a shoulder tonight and sat next to him. He put an arm over your shoulders.

"Seonghwa… When he loved someone, he loved them with his entire heart. People like you and me… we think we gave him all our heart too, but really, no one loves like Seonghwa does."

"That's true," you smiled. "He was different."

"He was," Yunho nodded. "He spent all his life giving and receiving love. That's a life well-lived, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

"I never told you, but Seonghwa said something to me right before his last breath," Yunho said and your eyes went wide as you looked at Yunho. "He told me to take care of Byeol and you."

"He did?" You sighed, biting your lip to stifle the emotions making way.

"Actually, he only mentioned Byeol," Yunho said and you looked at him, shaking your head.

"That makes it more believable, yes. He used to tease me about how he forgot all about me after Byeol. In fact, he started calling Byeol his first love."

Yunho laughed lightly. "He mentioned Byeol, but I saw the worry in his eyes was for you."

You took a few deep breaths, finally putting your head on Yunho's shoulder. "Do you feel burdened by it?"

"I think I would have done everything I did either way."

You wiped your eyes and Yunho held you closer, letting the few silent tears drop. "I used to wonder what I did to deserve Seonghwa. Now I wonder if all the good I did is what got me and Seonghwa together. Then what did I do to deserve you, Yunho?"

Yunho only ran his hand through your hair, comforting you, not meeting your eyes when you kept looking at him. You took a deep breath, your hand slowly and hesitantly going to hold his face and turn him to meet your eyes, finding his eyes damp as well. "You probably hate me. I make you feel like we're going somewhere and then I push you away. I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you, I could never," Yunho held your hand that was still on his face. "Don't ever think like that."

You nodded, the two of you staring at each other, the electricity thick between you two. You unconsciously licked your lips, making his eyes fall on your lips and then as if coming out of a trance, he drew your hand down and looked away from you.

You had always suspected somewhere along the way, Yunho had started liking you. Genuinely like you as his partner. Were you ready to return your feelings for him? Would acting impulsively be a mistake? You didn't want to take a step, give him hope and then draw away from him. That would be cruel.

So you only leaned forward and lightly kissed his cheek before drawing back and turning off the lamp. You heard him lightly groan as if it was too much for him.

"I'm sorry- I should have asked."

"It's not that… it's okay, y/n," you heard him shift and turn towards you. "I won't be home for two weeks… can I hold your hand tonight?"

You knew what he meant. He was like Seonghwa, in that sense. 

After your marriage with Seonghwa, when the first time he had to leave for a code red operation, he had held you all night, more closely than you thought possible. You later asked him what happened with a laugh but he shook his head with a sad smile. 

"Before I met you, I had nothing to be afraid of. I would go to sleep like any other night, even before the most dangerous missions. But now… I can't seem to calm myself."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Are you saying you're afraid of me?" 

Seonghwa laughed- he liked it when you made joke of his misery "It's not that, stupid. You know what I mean."

You laughed, spreading your arms and he came to hug you. You rested your head on his shoulder. "Do I finally make you worry about your life?"

"Exactly," he hugged you tighter. "I don't want to lose you."

Perhaps Yunho felt the same way as Seonghwa. Perhaps he too, was scared of losing his life now, not for himself but for you and Byeol. 

"I should have known," you said to Yunho. "You should tell me when you're afraid or scared, Yunho. It's the least you can do for me."

He only held your hand tighter. "I didn't use to be. It wasn't always like this."

"That's exactly what Seonghwa said. You're afraid you'll lose us, isn't that so?"

"Yeah," Yunho sighed.

"Do you want to know what I told him? The same thing I'm telling you now. That if anything happens to you, I'll be the one losing everything. So make sure you return."

Yunho was silent for a few moments and then he brought your hand up to kiss it. "Thank you for telling me that. It means… a lot to me."

Your heart swelled when you heard that. You decided then that what he needed tonight was you, so you shifted closer, burying your head in his chest and he hesitantly hugged you as the two of you tried sleeping.

—-----------------

It was the next weekend that the knock on your door gave you a little scare- it was almost 8 pm. For a second, your heart jumped, wondering if Yunho got an early leave, but then it followed by fear that it could be someone to deliver bad news or someone else entirely-

You were surprised to open the door to a face you had almost forgotten. You frowned but then you gasped in realisation. “Dani?”

“It’s really you, y/n!” She smiled, stretching her arms and you immediately hugged her. “It’s been years!”

“It has! How come I didn’t hear that you’re back? Come right in-”

“No, my son’s waiting for me, look over there,” she pointed to the carriage across the road. “I’ve only just arrived, I hope to see you at the dinner we’re having soon- we’re inviting all of the neighbourhood on dinner two weeks from now, I came to personally give you this message and ask you to join-”

“Mommy?” Byeol’s voice rang and when she appeared in Dani’s vision, she looked at Byeol in surprise.

“She looks just like Seonghwa! Congratulations! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a daughter!”

“I’m sorry, things had been rough,” you bit your lips, noticing the boy get off the carriage and wave at you. You gestured to Dani and she sighed.

“I have to go. Let’s catch up on dinner. I want all three of you to come, you better bring Seonghwa with you!”

Before you could protest or give her another news, she rushed back with a wave. You laughed at how she was just the same as three years ago- hyper, funny and bright. As soon as you shut the door and looked at Byeol, you realised that the dinner was going to be tough.

Dani was one of your oldest friends, and one of the few people who knew about your marriage with Seonghwa. After a year of your marriage, she moved to another town because of her husband’s job, but you two kept in touch through letters.

A year later, you had Byeol- you had wanted to give her a surprise after your child was born. But only two months later, Seonghwa passed away. You never replied to any of the letters and then you moved here, in Yunho’s house, a year after your marriage with Yunho, telling Seonghwa’s mother to use the house as she pleased- you couldn’t live in Seonghwa’s house with all of the memories and not see him but Yunho instead.

It was a huge coincidence that Dani somehow became your neighbour and found you. You did not know how to explain what happened after she left. You thought about writing her a letter, but that wouldn’t be fair to her.

You spent the next week stressing over it, running across Dani while doing grocery and about to break the news to her, but then she asked if Seonghwa was doing well, and you couldn’t help but nod and leave it at that, regretting it later. But you did not want to break the news to her in public.

It was finally Friday afternoon. You got Byeol ready, having a little fun with her when she took a bath, drying her hair and styling it into two braids which made her look the cutest, letting her run along to her room where she played with her toys. Meanwhile, you stood holding the emerald gown in front of yourself and looking at the mirror.

Was it the first time you were going to dress up for Yunho? 

It wasn’t the first time he had brought you a dress, no. But it had been the first time he asked you to wear it at a specific time- his arrival. It made everything feel different, especially with how the two of you opened up to each other after so long. One step closer.

With a faint smile on your face, you decided this was the least you could do for him. You always wanted to look pretty in front of Seonghwa. With Yunho, you hadn’t really paid much attention to how you looked- but you could start.

Especially because Yunho was, if you were honest, always a sight for sore eyes. He looked incredibly good in his uniform, in all black, just like Seonghwa did. 

After changing, you turned around, admiring how well the dress fit. Yunho had a good eye, it seemed. You pinned your hair back from the front and decided that would do, applying a little makeup like you usually did. You looked much better than usual with just a little effort and that made you wonder if you should put in more effort from now on.

When the knock sounded, Byeol ran to open the door and you called her, laughing at how she rushed. She opened the door after peeking through the window, hugging Yunho immediately and he picked her as he came inside, kissing her cheek repeatedly and tickling her. 

You waited for him to drop her down and when he finally did as he was standing up, he paused for a moment before smiling and walking towards you, stopping in front of you.

“Have you been well?”

“I have,” you nodded. “I hope everything went smoothly?”

“It did,” he nodded, hesitating before cupping your face with one hand and caressing it for a moment. “You look beautiful.”

Your heart did a few jumps and you thanked him. He turned to Byeol, motioning her to come to him and she did, doing a little twirl along the way.

“How do I look?” She asked. 

“Let’s see… the cutest I’ve ever seen,” Yunho announced and she did a little happy dance. You went to the kitchen and called them, serving dinner. Yunho told Byeol the story of his journey- he said he made it up, but you were sure it was some truth mixed with a little imagination. It made Byeol feel very adventurous, as if there was nothing that could stop her from going on the same path as her father-

As Yunho and Seonghwa. Both.

You sometimes wonder if she really would decide to go on the same path. Would you stop her? Would Yunho stop her? You weren’t sure.

After wrapping up the kitchen while Byeol and Yunho sat in front of the fire and played, you noticed Byeol was half asleep in his arms. It always made you smile- how safe Byeol felt in Yunho’s arms when she wasn’t the type to open up to everyone. 

Yunho noticed you and motioned for you to help pick Byeol up and you did, going to her room and tucking her in. Yunho kissed her forehead before turning on a small lamp and leaving the room with you.

“Tea?” You offered.

“I’ll make it,” Yunho said and you sat in front of the fire, recalling the time you had first dressed up for Seonghwa and he had looked at you with such love in his eyes that you had almost cried. And then he had called you beautiful- just like Yunho had tonight.

Yunho cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance and you took the teacup from him, taking a sip while Yunho settled himself on the couch in front of you. 

"The boys are coming over tomorrow," Yunho reminded you and you nodded- you had been making sure everything was perfect for the past two days. 

"Let's see who manages to win Byeol's heart this time," you smiled.

"Is there anything you need for tomorrow? I could get it in the morning-"

"No, it's alright. I’m fully prepared. I didn't have anything to do anyway so I just made sure we had enough food and wine for tomorrow."

"Sounds good," he sighed. "It's really been a while since we all gathered like this, hasn't it?"

You nodded. The boys hadn't paid a visit together, they would come alone or in pairs. You didn't mind either way. You liked having someone who would share Seonghwa's memories with you. In fact, that was the part you liked best.

"Anything happen while I was gone?"

You considered telling him about Dani, but figured you could tell him later and shook your head. "Nothing important. Just some neighbours being nosy, as usual. I shut them up with an apple pie."

"Good move," Yunho laughed, and the two of you drank the rest of your tea in silence, staring at the fire. 

Being with Yunho, sitting in silence like this gave you a sense of comfort but also made you a little nervous. Your eyes trailed from his feet up to his outfit- black pants, black fitted shirt, the half sleeves really proving how well-built he was. You noticed a little scratch that ran down his forearm, and another down his neck-

Yunho caught you looking at him. To save yourself, you pointed at the scratches. Yunho hadn’t even noticed the scratch on his arm. “Would you believe me if I told you it was from a cat?”

You gaped at him. “There’s no way. Cats love you.”

Cats did, in fact, love him. Dogs did as well. It was the reason why there were so many cats and dogs around your house- Byeol would always spend hours in the afternoon playing with them. Sometimes you wonder if everyone but you loved him-

“I got too friendly with a cat, if you can believe me,” he scoffed. “Didn’t go well.”

“That’s unbelievable, actually,” you crossed your legs. “But if that’s true, you might want to get a bit too friendly with the cats outside. Byeol has made it her life’s mission to adopt every cat that even looks this way.”

Yunho laughed. “It keeps her busy, doesn’t it?”

“Keeps me busy too,” you nodded. “We leave the door open so they come and go as please- or I shoo them off.”

“And the dogs? I saw a really large cute one earlier-”

“You’ll instigate a war between cats and dogs at this rate, Yunho,” you gave him a side-eye, “Byeol is always trying to make peace and I get scared sometimes.”

“Oops,” Yunho pretended to look sorry but failed. “I’ll… do something about it.”

“Do tell Byeol whatever you plan to do because if one cat or dog goes missing, she raises hell.”

“That’s very much like Seonghwa,” Yunho laughed. “When we used to camp on the border, he’d share his ration with the animals and then steal food from us.”

You scoffed but smiled. “No wonder. Like father, like daughter. She keeps stealing something from the kitchen if she thinks one of her friends is hungry.”

“Let’s hope she shows the same spirit tomorrow with the animals coming…”

Byeol didn’t, at least for a while.

“She’s so shy and cute, I love it,” Wooyoung said, munching on a piece of garlic bread as he settled back on the sofa in defeat. “Mark my words, she’s gonna get the most friendly with me first.”

“No, it’s gonna be me,” Hongjoong slapped Wooyoung’s hand, drawing Byeol’s attention as he motioned her to come to him but Byeol only hid further in Yunho’s arms, making everyone laugh.

“She’s being mischievous, look at that smile!” Mingi said. Indeed, Byeol was passing sly looks to everyone. 

“Let’s place bets,” San announced. “I’m betting on myself.”

Jongho scoffed. “Wooyoung’s going to win, San.”

San watched in horror as Wooyoung and Jongho clapped. Hongjoong betted on himself out of spite and Yunho betted on Wooyoung as well. Mingi followed, which left Yeosang and you.

“I wish I could not bet on Wooyoung, but it is Wooyoung,” he said and Wooyoung yelled in victory. Everyone looked at you to hear your final verdict as the mother.

“Well,” you scratched your chin, smiling. “It’s hard not to love Wooyoung, isn’t it?”

The silence that drew made you raise your brow. Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Did Seonghwa say that?”

It took you a moment to realise that indeed, you were quoting Seonghwa. You nodded and Wooyoung sighed, looking up, Yeosang rubbing his back. You were scared for a moment but then Wooyoung looked at you.

“He was very right,” Wooyoung grinned. “I am very hard not to love. Which is why… I win! And I’m gonna prove it! Byeol-ah, let’s play with the cats!”

That immediately caught Byeol’s attention and she hesitantly made way to Wooyoung and he took her outside. Hongjoong, who was sitting next to you, patted your shoulder. “You want to take a walk?”

You followed him outside, watching Wooyoung and Byeol play like old friends in the garden for a while and having a laugh over it before resuming walking. Hongjoong glanced at you, watching your feet with every step you took.

“How have you been, y/n?” He asked, and you knew what he meant.

“I’m… better. Sometimes I think I’m better and then something happens and I’m back to where I was.”

“Is it still too hard to think of him?” He asked. 

“I don’t cry every time I think of him, that’s definitely an improvement,” you looked at Hongjoong and he nodded. “But then something reminds me of him so intensely that all of it comes like a crashing wave.”

“I understand,” he sighed. “I’ve gotten better too, especially since San and Wooyoung joined my team. They don’t even let me breathe.”

You laughed. “One thing I know is that you can’t push the memories back and shut them in a box. You… live with them.”

“That’s true,” Hongjoong asked. “And… How's Yunho?”

Hongjoong had never asked anything about you and Yunho before. Even though he was probably your closest friend, he had never done that, perhaps fearing it would be interference since you were a married couple now. So you raised a brow in question. “What exactly do you mean?”

“He’s had it tough too, being Seonghwa’s partner for the longest time. Does he talk about it to you? Because he hasn’t been talking much to us either. I’m actually worried about him.”

You frowned- Yunho always looked so optimistic, so cheerful. His presence could lift your mood, even when you did not want it. You wondered if he hurted more than you- but perhaps, you couldn’t weigh it. What he had with Seonghwa would never be the same as what you had with Seonghwa- they were two different relationships, and you couldn’t say one mattered more.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“No, it’s okay,” you shook your head. “I’m just… surprised, is all. Yunho’s always so bright and cheerful at home, I never noticed that it was because he’s keeping it all in. I thought he talked to one of you.”

“And we were thinking he’d finally talked to you,” Hongjoong smiled. “We were all wrong, eh?”

You sighed, nodding. “I… Yunho and I… we don’t really talk much about Seonghwa. We do talk- we don’t pretend the ghost of his memory is not with us, but… I guess you could say we haven’t really had a heart to heart conversation yet. He’s only home during the weekends and I really don’t wanna spoil the time he gets to rest with me being a mess and whatnot-”

“You both need to talk, dear,” Hongjoong said. “Yunho's been a bit distracted at work recently. You know it could cost his life- being distracted. I thought something happened between you two, maybe a fight or something, but it seems like everything’s just the way it always has been?”

“Yeah, you could say,” you nodded. “I actually asked him if he regretted marrying me.” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you and you slapped his arm. “Just listen. He said he did not. He only regrets that he can’t make me happy. He…”

You recalled what he had said that night-

"I just wish you'd talk to me more. I'm only here on the weekends and we only get to talk at night time. Even if you miss Seonghwa and want to talk about him, you know I'm here."

“I’m realising that maybe I really should talk. I’ve been such a bad person and wife, Hongjoong, I don’t know what to do about it. The shame, the disappointment in my own self, it eats me up sometimes. And everytime Yunho does something that reminds me of Seonghwa, I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay to feel that way,” Hongjoong rubbed your back. “You haven’t been a bad person or wife, you just needed time to heal and so did he. And Seonghwa… he’s always gonna come back in your head. But you don’t cry anymore. You smile when you think of him, okay? Can you do that for him?”

You laughed as you wiped a few tears away. Hongjoong continued, “You also shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything. Just… go along with the flow. It’s been three years since Seonghwa passed away- it’s time you stop crying- it breaks my heart that it still hurts you like it happened yesterday. Think about how sad and sorry Seonghwa would be if he learned you’re in this state even now.”

“I know that,” you stifled your tears. “I just… I’m trying. I’m getting there. I’ll get there.”

“I believe in you. And next time you open up to someone about how you feel and how you miss Seonghwa… it should be Yunho.”

“But you’re my big brother, aren’t you?” You said, laughing because you used to call him that when Seonghwa was alive. Seonghwa called Hongjoong ‘little brother’ and you’d team up with Hongjoong to tease Seonghwa. 

“I still am, and you can still talk to me about anything,” he shook his head, smiling. “But Yunho… he needs that too. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you nodded. “I’ll really try. God, Yunho reminds me so much of Seonghwa, it just gets strange sometimes.”

“But Yunho is very different from Seonghwa too, isn’t he?” Hongjoong smiled.

He is, you knew that. Even though he was much like Seonghwa, he was very different as well. Perhaps it made it harder for you, or perhaps, that was just an excuse to justify the reason you found it hard to open up to him.

But it wasn’t about you anymore. You needed Yunho to open up to you. As a friend, you had to do that. As a wife, you should do that. He needed a shoulder as much as you needed one.

That night, you asked Yunho how it felt to have everyone home but Seonghwa. Yunho raised a brow, as if he should have asked this question. And he said exactly that.

“I’ve been seeing the boys without Seonghwa for a long time now- I guess it was a little different now that they were all here. How do you feel? Are you okay?"

"It was a good idea to have them all over,” you smiled. “It felt like Seonghwa was there too, didn’t it?”

Yunho smiled, looking down and he nodded. You scooted closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Hongjoong tells me you’re distracted at work. What’s the matter, Yunho?”

“Hongjoong said that?” Yunho was surprised. “I’m not exactly distracted. I’m fine-”

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You tugged his sleeve, making him lock eyes with you. “I know I haven’t been the best person ever and I don’t talk about myself much, but I want to start, Yunho. I also want to be someone you can talk to about anything. Can you do that?”

Yunho was confused, if he was honest. He always felt like everytime that you two made a little progress, you’d have some sort of a realisation- or worse, breakdown- when he was away, and you’d turn into the same old person who watched everything but said nothing, who never talked about her feelings, never opened up. He sometimes wondered if you hated him. 

“I can, but… I’m also afraid of being hurt, y/n, by you.”

It felt like a wake-up call that you needed. So that’s how he thinks.

“I- I never thought about it like that…” you admitted, hugging yourself. “I’ve been selfish, haven’t I?”

“You are allowed to be selfish,” Yunho wore a sad smile as he said that. “About Seonghwa, at least. But… I don’t know. I know I said I’ll give you all the time in the world to open up to me, but I… I want to get closer to you because everytime I go on a mission, I realise that I don’t have the luxury of ‘time’.”

You nodded, biting your lips. Seonghwa didn’t have the luxury of time either, which was why whenever he was with you, he always made the most out of every moment. You two never wasted time on useless arguments (unless it was for fun’s sake) or fights. 

“Sometimes I think I have you, y/n,” he tucked the hair that hid your face behind your ear and you felt overwhelmed by the emotions in his eyes. He dropped his hand. “And sometimes… you’re gone, just like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, that’s what’s funny about this situation,” Yunho sighed. “I feel like the bad guy everytime I talk about myself-”

“You’re making me feel like the bad guy now, thank you,” you laughed and Yunho shrugged. You crossed your legs, taking his hands and playing with them in your lap- it was the first time you really looked at his hands- how long his fingers were, how pretty his hands were. The callouses, the toughness of his hands… it was just like Seonghwa’s, yet at that moment, you didn’t really think of Seonghwa. You only saw Yunho- his hands that made you feel so safe these days. 

“Can we put away our past, Yunho? Can we start new? I want to try being your wife, and by that, I mean… an actual wife. I want to be your friend. I want you to open up to me, and I want to open up to you too. I want to cook your favourite food when you come home, I want to take walks with you. I also want you to hold me if sometimes I miss Seonghwa too much and break down. And if I push you away again, I want you to run after me. Can we do that?”

Yunho’s hands trembled a little. He didn’t say anything, just watched you as your small hands held his, caressing them so delicately. 

“You can take your time too,” you said. “But tonight… I want you to talk about Seonghwa. I want you to tell me if it’s hard at work. I want you to tell me if you miss him, because you always listen to me, but you’re keeping it all in, and it’s killing you, I can see it now. Why haven’t you talked to the boys, Yunho?”

“They all miss him too,” Yunho sighed. “But I… I’m burdened by his last moments. I’m burdened by the fact that I was leading the team and Seonghwa died during that mission. I always wonder if I had done one thing different-”

He looked down and his body shook. You pursed your lips to stifle your own tears and pulled him into a hug. “Let it all out. You can cry here.”

Yunho did, and it was the most heartbreaking thing ever. You couldn’t help but cry along with him. You told him again and again that it wasn’t his fault. 

“It’s foolish to think of different scenarios that could have prevented his death. He was a soldier- one day or another, soldiers all meet the same fate. He was one of the King’s most trusted agents. He did his job. And he died a proud soldier, Yunho. Don’t ever think that it was your fault.”

Yunho nodded, breaking the hug and wiping his face. You rubbed his shoulders. “You’ve been so brave, going back to doing the same job again. You’re so strong. You’ve been so strong for me and Byeol too. So when you feel like this again… you talk to me, okay? I’m here for you like you’ve been here for me.”

Yunho nodded, and you leaned forward to kiss his cheek, lingering for a moment and then Yunho scooted to rest his back, holding you in his arms. “Thank you for tonight.”

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “Thank you for everything, Yunho. Let’s be… best friends. That’s the least we can be, isn’t it?”

Yunho chuckled. “What have we been till now?”

“Housemates, I like to think,” you giggled, and Yunho thought it was the loveliest sound he had heard. 

“I love that you tease and joke with me now. Please… let’s stay like this, y/n. At least like this.”

You nodded, and the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms after more teasing.

—----------------

It was the Friday of the next week that you remembered that you had forgotten about Dani and her housewarming dinner. And… you had forgotten to tell Yunho too.

Yunho wasn’t going to be a problem- he would love to visit Dani, you were aware of that. The problem was, Dani still thought Seonghwa was alive. She wasn’t aware of Yunho’s existence. And tomorrow night, when everyone in the neighbourhood will be present… you prayed that Dani could hold herself from a loud reaction, at least. The people who knew about your situation already looked at you funny.

Yunho was going to arrive in a few hours on his weekly break. You contemplated telling him about the situation- maybe you could visit Dani earlier with Yunho and let her know everything, but…

You really couldn’t handle telling Dani everything, was what you were afraid of. 

To be fair, you hadn’t really sat and talked about everything that came to happen in one sitting. And you were afraid you were going to create a scene when you finally did. Just thinking about it made your chest tight and want to break down all over again. 

Your train of thoughts were broken when you heard the kettle boil. You sighed, turning off the stove and staring into space until you felt Byeol tug at your dress. 

“It’s time to feed the cats, mommy.”

You nodded, patting her cheek and she rushed outside with a giggle. You shook your head, smiling faintly as you mixed your tea and followed her outside with the leftovers from last night, asking Byeol to do the deed.

Byeol, happy with the responsibility, took the box from you and gathered the bowls- and the cats- and started putting equal amounts of food in the bowls. You heart swelled with adoration, thanking fates for blessing you with a sensible and lovely daughter, wondering how lucky you had been to have raised her right, but you knew-

The credit… It went to Yunho. If you were honest, the reason Byeol was such a nice daughter and person was because Yunho raised her right, always showering her with love, always being patient with her and you. You knew firsthand how kids felt if their parents weren’t on good terms with each other, and your heart swelled with pride that Yunho had never been frustrated or angry with you- not even in private. If it had just been you, Byeol wouldn’t have been such a pure soul. You didn’t even want to think about the possibility of her having an unloving father.

As if Yunho had heard you thinking about him, he popped in front of you, making you put a hand on your heart as you breathed. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” Yunho grinned. “I didn’t realise you were daydreaming.”

You passed him a sideways glance. “You’re early today. That’s surprising.”

“Got lucky,” Yunho sat down next to you. “When do you think Byeol is going to look away from the cats and notice her poor father came home to see her?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking her head at how Byeol stood with her hands on her hips as she watched the cats, making sure none of them fought over food. “She’s a soldier on duty right now, you of all people should know that look.”

Yunho laughed as he nodded. “I promised to take Byeol with me to the forest, show her some archery and let her try. Do you want to join?”

“Let’s see…” you stifled your smile, deciding it was your turn to surprise him. “Should I? Maybe you could teach me how to shoot as well.”

Yunho glanced at you, narrowing his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I’m in for a surprise?”

He found out he was right soon after. He let Byeol try first, a small bow and arrows made just for her. She wasn’t bad and you both applauded her, and then Yunho handed you his bow, teaching you how to hold it, adjusting your arms and back. You let him, pretending to be totally unaware.

“So you hold the arrow from here,” Yunho folded your fingers around the arrow. “Chin straight, like this-” he adjusted your chin. “And back straight- yes. Now, breathe. Aim. Let go.”

You nodded, aiming for the bullseye. Yunho stood wondering how far you would miss, but you hit only an inch away from the bullseye, making Yunho’s jaw drop. You flipped the stray strands of your hair, grinning shamelessly at him. 

“I knew something was fishy the moment you asked me to teach you!” Yunho laughed in disbelief and Byeol finally let out a wow after having held her breath, looking at you with admiration.

“Seonghwa taught me how to shoot,” you admitted and Yunho laughed, saying of course it was him. “But I have to admit, you’re a better tutor than Seonghwa.”

“Really? How?”

“He just told me to ‘visualise’ when I couldn’t shoot properly the first two times. It didn’t end like it was supposed to,” you laughed, recalling how Seonghwa had been patient at first and then the teasing had started and you two had ended up aiming arrows at each other, betting on who would actually shoot the other. Of course, it ended with Seonghwa giving up first and then doing what he did best- shut you up with a kiss and more.

“That’s funny, since he’s the one who taught us all how to shoot,” Yunho rubbed his chin. “I guess his patience ran out with us.”

“Definitely did,” you muttered and Yunho laughed.

“Let’s go for another round. Let me see how good you are.”

You and Byeol shoot arrow after arrow, Yunho encouraging Byeol after every shot and applauding you. Your shots weren’t hundred percent accurate but they were more than enough. 

That night, after dinner, washing up and putting Byeol to bed, you asked Yunho about the first time Seonghwa had taught him how to shoot.

“We were 10, I think. Seonghwa’s father was an excellent shooter so he followed in his steps. He would steal his father’s bow and come to the forest and teach us all how to use it. Hongjoong has a good eye so all it took was one look at the arrow for him to carve them himself. All we needed was the bow, and he’d bring it every other day, until his father caught him and all of us got an earful and a slap to the butt for thinking we’re better than we actually are.”

You scoffed. “I’m not surprised. How did you continue?”

“Do you think we’re the type to give up just like that?” Yunho raised a brow and you understood, nodding.

“So you continued doing the same thing? No wonder all of your parents decided the military was a good place for you lot.”

Yunho laughed and you joined, shaking your head. “Did he tell you about how we all got recruited as the King’s agents?”

“Yeah- it was you. The King chose you and Wooyoung announced either he hire the whole lot or he give you up,” you smiled. “You’re lucky to have such friends.”

“Incredibly lucky,” Yunho nodded. “Don’t you have some old friends? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned someone-”

“Good heavens, I forgot to tell you,” you sat properly, sighing. “Dani is my old friend and neighbour- Seonghwa knew her. She moved away when Seonghwa was alive and she came back two weeks ago, stopping by shortly to tell me to come to her housewarming which is… tomorrow.”

“We can go,” Yunho nodded.

“The thing is,” you sighed deeply. “She doesn’t know about Seonghwa and… you. It’s gonna be hard for her to digest this, and with everyone being there tomorrow…”

“Are you scared?” Yunho asked and you bit your lips, nodding. Yunho’s fingers brushed yours and when you didn’t pull away, he held your hand, caressing it, urging you to tell him what exactly were you scared of.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna break down when I tell her, because honestly, I haven’t really narrated all of this yet to anyone,” you shrugged, trying not to break down right then as well. “It’s going to be hard for both of us. I’m thinking up excuses to not go-”

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Yunho squeezed your hand. “Dani… she’s going to find out one day. It’s better if she hears it from you, isn’t it? And… I’ll be with you, y/n. You have nothing to be scared of.”

You spent the longest time staring at your intertwined hands, trying to recall what it was like when Seonghwa held your hands. You couldn’t remember how it felt anymore, and it made you cry and take your hand away from Yunho’s grasp, folding in on yourself and hugging yourself as you cried.

You were lying on the bed and Yunho only caressed your head, waiting for you to let it out. You wouldn’t open your eyes and the tears kept falling. When you finally did, you looked guilty.

“I sometimes try to recall how Seonghwa’s hands felt when he held or caressed my hands. When you do that to me, Yunho… for the shortest moment I’m with Seonghwa all over again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Yunho stopped caressing your head as he realised just why it was so hard for you to accept gestures like these from him. He gulped as his heart sank. “Do you think I’m Seonghwa? Do you make yourself think that? Because if you do-”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I got my lesson when I did that- if you remember from the time I kissed you.”

Yunho remembered- oh yes, he did. It was something he had never been able to forget even when you both pretended that never happened, simply because he had never seen someone look at him with such longing and desperation in their eyes. It tore him apart when he realised that you did that while thinking of Seonghwa, letting yourself believe it was Seonghwa in front of you, not Yunho. 

This time, you took Yunho’s hand. “I want to be able to touch you without thinking of Seonghwa. And when I finally kiss you… I want it to be because I want you. Seonghwa was my first love but he is gone now. No one can replace that. But you… you are Yunho, not Seonghwa. And loving you, I’m finding, is very different from loving Seonghwa.”

Yunho squeezed your hand, out of breath because of your admission. You smiled faintly when you looked at him. “I have always loved you, Yunho, from the moment you became a father to Byeol. You have raised her into a beautiful person, and I give you all the credit for who Byeol is today. But now… I want to love you as my husband, not my daughter’s father. And tomorrow, when I tell Dani about you… I don’t want to break down. I want to be proud of you, my husband.”

Yunho couldn’t hold it back anymore. He pulled you in for a hug, your arms looping in his shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you and sighing as he squeezed you. “I’ve always been proud of you, from the moment you put Byeol first and decided to marry me. I would have died happy even if you did not love me, because you gave me a family. I don’t want you to do anything out of obligation-”

“You’ve been so patient with me,” you told him, caressing his head. “I want to return it. It’s not just because we’re married. It’s because I got to know you through the way you raised Byeol. I got to know you when you gave me space. I got to know you when you talk about Seonghwa. And I like that person. I want to get to know you now. Just Yunho, not the husband, not the friend, not the father… just you.” You drew back, holding his face and taking in his features. “Jeong Yunho. I want to get to know you.”

“I didn’t realise you’re so poetic, y/n,” Yunho shook his head, smiling uncontrollably.

“Well, that’s what happens when you spend too much time alone,” you scoffed. “And one thing I’ve got to know about you, Jeong Yunho, is that you really can’t stay serious, can you?”

Yunho laughed, “I was serious!”

“I mean,” you laughed, pinching his cheeks, “you always make a funny comment when you’re shy or embarrassed, when I do something like this. And then you start blushing.”

Yunho frowned, touching his cheeks and finding out he was, indeed, all hot from blushing. You giggled, pinching his flushed cheeks again. “I find it cute, so don’t shy away now.”

Yunho pouted, pushing your hands away and burying his face in the pillows, making you laugh and lie down next to him. “Let’s see how long you can hold your breath.”

Yunho shifted, staring at you, and you found his eyes flash for the briefest seconds. “Do you want me to find out how you blush? Because I don’t think I’ve really seen it, and now I really want to-”

“Okay, okay, Jeong Yunho is also a tease. I should have known,” you muttered, ignoring his question because you could already feel a blush creeping on your cheeks from the way he had looked at you and the way his voice was so low when he said that. You started towards the book at your side table but when you turned, Yunho’s face was inches away from yours and the book fell in your lap out of surprise, Yunho’s gaze making you sink down into the bed until you were lying flat and he was on top of you.

“Yunho,” your voice barely came as a whisper and you marvelled at the effect he had on you just because of his gaze- but to be fair… this gaze was too much. It was hot. He no longer had flushed cheeks, and you were pretty sure your whole face was red as he scanned it. The faint smile on his parted lips didn’t help either. He was on top of you, and you were trapped.

“Revenge is sweet,” he scoffed but his eyes shifted again as he caressed your face once. He leaned forward and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, and perhaps he was. He stopped right when your noses brushed, as if it brought him back to his senses. He drew back, surprised to not see you panicking like you used to whenever he looked at you differently or initiated physical contact. Rather, it looked like you wanted something from him. 

So Yunho only planted one kiss on your cheekbone, letting his lips trail faintly down and planted one final kiss on your jaw, lingering before drawing back and caressing your face. “You’re red as a tomato.”

That did it for you. You pushed him off of you, laughing. It was your turn to hide your face in the pillows.

—----------------

The smell of roasted meat hit you as soon as you saw the bright lights of the outdoor setting Dani had done for the housewarming dinner. Byeol was a little shy as she spotted kids her age all playing together and she hid behind your dress. Yunho pinched her cheek as he chuckled, urging her to go and interact with the kids once they greet everyone.

Dani was busy grilling meat with her son- you greeted the two of them, glad to see how grown up her son was now, already a teenager. Yunho, as planned, had disappeared into the crowd of husbands, waiting for your signal so you could finally introduce him to Dani.

“Seonghwa must already have disappeared over there,” Dani tried to search him in the crowd but you shook your head. 

“He’s not here,” you said and Dani frowned, but you dismissed it as you promised to tell her later about it. “Tell me, how has your life been?”

So Dani told you all about what had happened in the past few years. Some other ladies from the neighbourhood joined as you all ate, sharing stories over drinks. You felt good- you were laughing more than you usually did, you weren’t worried about anything. You decided you would meet up with people in your neighbourhood more- they were all such kind people.

When you all were done eating, you and Dani walked to where the kids all sat, playing with pebbles. Dani sighed happily. “Kids grow up so fast. I can’t believe my Channie is already at the age where we think our parents are our enemies.”

You scoffed. “I fear the possibility of Byeol being that teenager, but I know no matter how good kids are and how good their parents are, they go through that. It’s natural.”

“Yep. I feel sorry for my poor mother who had to deal with hot headed teenage Dani,” she pursed her lips, grinning. “She must have had a blast.”

“Definitely,” you chuckled, watching Byeol play her turn and throw the pebbles in the air and then catching them. “Dani… I have something to tell you.”

Dani raised her brows at your sombre tone. “What?”

You took a deep breath, turning to face her, hugging yourself not because of the chill breeze but because you needed it more. “Seonghwa… passed away two months after Byeol was born.”

The faint smile fell from Dani’s face and her eyes widened in horror. “But- you-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have the strength to tell you,” you smiled sadly. “You came in such a rush, and I was surprised, and honestly… It has been hard even talking about it. But I’m getting better now.”

“I… I am so sorry, y/n,” Dani’s eyes were wet with tears that finally fell when she hugged you and cried. “Seonghwa… He was like a brother to me, you know that. He’s in a better place now, isn’t he?”

“He must be,” you hugged her back. “Watching over Byeol, a star in the sky.” You broke the hug, wiping her tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your letters. It was… really hard.”

“I understand, you have nothing to apologise for,” Dani wiped her face. 

“I also want you to meet someone,” you smiled and Dani frowned in confusion. You looked back at the crowd, finding Yunho already looking in your direction. You nodded and he hesitated before coming forward, joining you. 

“This is Jeong Yunho. Seonghwa’s best friend, my best friend… and my husband. Byeol wouldn’t know the love of a father without him.”

Dani smiled, greeting Yunho. Yunho looked at you, “Y/n’s told me a lot about you, Dani.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“All good things,” Yunho confirmed with a smile. “I hope you’ll come over for tea soon. It’s a lovely dinner party you’ve hosted.”

“Thank you, Yunho, and I… will. Soon. She and I have a lot of catching up to do,” she winked at you.

Yunho nodded, patting your back before leaving you two. Dani wiped her tears, laughing in disbelief and happiness. “I… I’m proud of you, y/n. It must have been such a difficult decision to make. Tell me you’re happy with him.”

“I am,” you admitted, wiping your own tears. “I’m so grateful to him. He’s loved Byeol like a father even before we were married.” 

You told Dani about how you had known Yunho since you met Seonghwa’s group of friends. You told her about how Seonghwa passed away in a mission with Yunho and Yunho blamed himself out of guilt, how he loved Byeol even before your marriage and how it was Seonghwa’s mother, of all the people, who arranged this marriage. You told her about how it was so hard at first but you couldn’t think of a better partner and father of your child. 

“I was so unfair with him, Dani,” you sighed, resting your head on her shoulder. “All he’s done is given me space and love and all I did was push him away. I finally realised how stupid I’ve been.”

“You needed time, don’t beat yourself over it,” Dani patted your shoulder. “And he’s a good man if he gave you all the time and space you needed. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I’m finally moving on with life. Saying that I’m moving on from Seonghwa… that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” You thought. “Seonghwa will always be in my heart. But Yunho… I think I love him too.”

“Seonghwa would be happy for you two, and he would be so proud of his best friend and his wife,” Dani smiled. “See that? The brightest star? That’s definitely Seonghwa, twinkling because he’s pissed at you for thinking all the negative stuff-”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “He’s twinkling because he’s happy for us, and he’s watching Byeol.”

“Definitely,” Dani nodded, noticing the guests calling her over. “Let’s do the rest of catching up later. It’s time to see everyone off.” She got up, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Just for the record… Yunho better be ready to spoil me like Seonghwa did.”

You laughed, letting her know that you’ll have to tell Yunho just what he was in for.

—------------------

Seonghwa’s mother dropped by the following Wednesday. She had informed you by a letter two days before and you had been preparing for her arrival, and Byeol had been the most excited, running around the house because ‘granny’ was finally visiting after months. 

And Granny was pleasantly surprised to see how much brighter the house looked- not just in the decor that had changed a lot since her last visit, but the mood. She was pleased inside to see the positive smile on your face this time as you hugged her.

“It’s been far too long, my daughter, I’m sorry for being late,” she kissed your cheek and smiled before looking at Byeol. “Let me see… who is this kid? I don’t remember Byeol being so big!”

“I’ve grown!” Byeol clung to her grandmothers’ knee and the two of you laughed over the gesture. 

You let the two catch up while you set the table. After dinner and a lot of playing with Byeol, after which she passed out in her grandmother’s arms, you put her to bed and sat by the fireplace with Seonghwa’s mother, a cup of coffee in both your hands.

“Is it time I finally comment on how happier and healthier you look since the last time I saw you?” Seonghwa’s mother smiled knowingly. “For the first time, I feel relieved.”

You looked down, smiling. “I realised a lot of things in the past few months, things I had turned a blind eye to.”

“How did it happen?” She sighed happily. “What changed you, y/n?”

You stared at the fire. “I don’t think there’s one moment that changed it, mother. A lot of small moments collected in my heart, until it was so full of all the love Yunho gave me. Until all the space he gave me… ran out. He made me really look at him.”

“And how do you feel about all of this?” 

“I have finally figured out what to do with my heart,” you laughed. “Seonghwa… he’ll always stay. I had been trying to forget him, but I realised I didn’t have to forget him to move on. I have to remember him. He’ll always be a part of my life. Having Yunho… that won’t change anything.”

“Finally,” Seonghwa’s mother groaned uncharacteristically and you gaped at her as she flipped her hair haughtily. “You’d think me telling you the same thing over and over would have done the trick, but no. I guess it must be Yunho who somehow made you realise that.”

You smiled sheepishly and she gave you a teasing glance. You shook your head, “It’s like you’ve been far too eager for this to happen, haven’t you?”

“I just want to see you all truly happy,” she smiled. “I’m glad you finally understand that you can still be happy, y/n. I’m sure Seonghwa is also as relieved as I am.”

“He must be, right?” You looked up, trying to push back the tears. “I miss him so much, still.”

“I do too,” his mother smiled. “It’s not something we have control over, is it?” 

“Not really,” you wiped your eyes. “How did you… cope with it, mom? After your husband passed away?”

“Ironically, like you,” she laughed and you gave her a sideways glance, smiling. “The first few years were horrible. Seonghwa had a tough time too, he was only 14. It took us both some patience and time because we strayed away from each other too. We realised later that we were on the same boat. Then, we stopped hating each other. We became each other’s comfort.”

“And did you never consider remarrying?”

“I did, actually,” she admitted and you were surprised. “But not because Seonghwa needed a father. No one could replace that anymore. I guess I was lonely. I needed someone to love. I only talked about the possibility once with Seonghwa, and it didn’t end well. He told me I didn’t need anyone as long as he was alive. Well, 14 years old think they have everything, don’t they?”

You scoffed. “I can’t believe Seonghwa said that. I thought he would have encouraged you.”

“The Seonghwa you know would have encouraged this, yes,” she laughed. “But the teenager Seonghwa? I’m glad you didn’t meet him.”

The two of you shared a good laugh. You sighed, “You must have been lonely.”

“In some ways, yes, I was. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she relaxed back. “But I got used to it. And now that Seonghwa is no more… I feel like I’m all alone in this world. Thanks to Byeol and you, I’m not completely hopeless. And Seonghwa’s friends… they all make me forget about Seonghwa’s absence whenever they visit.”

You nodded- having them over really felt like Seonghwa was there too. You told her about their visit and how Hongjoong knocked some sense into you too. 

“Yunho’s my son too,” Seonghwa’s mother finally said when you stopped talking. “And if you two are really going to move forward together… I would be the happiest mother.”

—---------------

“Checkmate.”

“Checkmate to you,” Yunho knocked the very piece you had knocked Yunho’s with, making you gape.

“How!”

Yunho showed you just where you made the mistake. You only shook your head. “It’s your stupid luck that always makes you win. Seonghwa said you’re one lucky bastard.”

“He was right,” Yunho laughed, wrapping up the chessboard and pieces off the bed. “I always win.”

You folded your arms, your jaw tense. Yunho noticed that, snickering to himself. “You want to go again?”

“I’m good,” you huffed, straightening your legs and resting your back, not looking at him. Yunho decided it was a good time to poke your stomach and you jumped more because of the surprise, putting a hand over your mouth as you crawled to the opposite side of the bed.

“Yunho! Mother’s in the next room with Byeol, don’t make me shout at you!”

Yunho laughed, running a hand through his dark locks and you crossed your legs, glaring at him. “You want some snacks? I’m craving something.”

“Mom brought a box of chocolates, it’s in the kitchen.”

Yunho nodded, disappearing out of the room and you leaned back, resting your back against the bed, crossing your legs and smiling to yourself, wiping it immediately when you spotted Yunho coming back, realising that you must look lovesick smiling like that to yourself- but you had been doing that a lot.

“These are good,” Yunho tossed you two and you unwrapped one, popping it in your mouth. “I don’t need to save them for Byeol, do I?”

“She gets a separate box,” you rolled your eyes. “You’d think mother would get me a separate box too- she knows I love chocolates!”

“You’re not her priority anymore,” Yunho teased, sitting in front of you.

“I am no one’s priority, it seems,” you huffed.

Yunho watched you for a moment too long before he put his head in your lap and looked at you, upside down. “You’ve always been my first priority. You’re stupid if you don’t realise that.”

Your heart did a dangerous swoop and you put a chocolate in his mouth to shut him up, which he ate, grinning. You gave in, smiling and running your hands through his hair.

“Thank you, Yunho.”

“For what?” His eyes were shut, relaxed as you caressed his head.

“For being… you,” you laughed. “You know what I mean, right?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think I do. You mind telling me clearly? Just so I can memorise it properly?”

You slapped his cheek lightly, making him smirk harder. “It’s hard to put it in words, you just… you’re…”

So good to me. So lovable. My strength. 

You caressed Yunho’s cheek and he lay there so peacefully, in your lap. He fit right there, as if he was made to. Your heart longed for him even though he was so close to you. Words failed you, so you-

You leaned forward and kissed his lips, a short but sure one so he’d know what you meant without the words. 

When you drew back, his lips were parted and his eyes were still closed, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. For a moment, irrational fear gripped you-

“What are you thinking?” You whispered.

Yunho finally opened his eyes and looked at you- the gaze gripping you. “You know what you did, right?”

You nodded- if he needed any confirmation, you’d give him. You’d clear his doubts. So you pecked his lips again, still upside down. Yunho sighed and then he got up, turning and crawling so painfully slowly on top of you, his gaze pinning you down. He kissed your forehead first, lingering there as his hand cupped your face- so small in his hand. He looked at you each time he kissed your cheeks, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The fact that he asked, it broke your heart. You put your arms around his neck. “You never have to ask again, Yunho. I’m all yours.”

Yunho nodded as if he still couldn’t believe it, caressing your face so lovingly that it made you groan- the longing in his eyes… you couldn’t take it anymore. He finally kissed you then, and it wasn’t an innocent peck. It made you moan into it right away, made you hold him tighter, made him groan into it as well as he kissed you passionately, cupping your face with both his hands now, each kiss deeper than the previous one until you two broke apart, gasping not only because you were out of breath.

You wrapped yourself around him and he pulled you up so you were sitting in his lap and hugging him. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, swaying you back and forth ever so slowly. He breathed once, and then he pecked your neck. You subconsciously tilted your neck, allowing him to draw your hair away and really kiss you on the neck like he had wanted to for so long, planting some everywhere until he found the one spot that made you shift in his hold, and he decided that was where he was going to keep kissing you until you were a mess and your breath hitched.

When you moaned his name, he pushed you back to bed again and kissed you, this time soft and so incredibly slow that it made your legs weak. You lay there, with only the strength to caress his hands that held you. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time,” he laughed a bit, kissing your cheek. “I’m sorry if it was too much-”

“No, it’s perfect, Yunho-” you bit your lips. “Keep going.”

His eyes flashed and he nodded, joining your lips again. The two of you fell in a rhythm, kissing like you two had all the time in the world, and at that moment, you really did. You soon shifted, making him lie down so you could get on top of him and return the favour. 

The two of you fell asleep planting lazy kisses on each other’s faces.

—--------------------

“Hello, Seonghwa.”

The cool breeze blew your hair to one side and you tucked them behind your ears, taking a deep breath. You smiled.

“I hope you’re still watching over me and Byeol. It’s been three years without you, but it feels like yesterday.”

You put the single red rose you had plucked from your garden earlier on his grave and stood back up, looking at the clear evening sky.

“I miss you everyday. I think about you everyday. I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten you- I could never.”

You recalled the time Seonghwa and you had been on the hills right at the outskirts of the town. Seonghwa had been holding you in his arms, half lying down. The two of you were star-gazing. Seonghwa asked you what you would do if he ever died on a mission.

“First of all,” you got up and turned, slapping his arm, “Don’t stay stuff like that!”

“I’m just asking,” Seonghwa laughed, putting his hands in the air, surrendering. “I just… you know how it was a big decision for me to marry you and even be in a relationship with you in the first place. After looking at my mom’s life, I thought I would never do that to someone- never love and leave them hanging. But you, you just…”

“Yeah, am I to blame?” You teased, “I mean… it was the both of us. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes.” You stared at your wedding ring.

“So that’s why I’m asking,” Seonghwa put his hands on your waist and pulled you back in your original position, your head resting on his chest. “If something happened to me, what do you think you would do?”

“Let’s see… move on? I mean, three days of mourning are enough-”

“Can you stop teasing me?” Seonghwa laughed and you sighed, looking up at him. You cupped his face, tracing his cheekbone and taking in how lovely he looked illuminated by the moonlight.

“Do you think I could ever move on? After loving you? After knowing what it feels like to be loved by you? I would break. I would shatter into a million pieces, but yes, I would still have to be strong for you. I would put back all my pieces and glue them, but a broken thing remains broken even when it’s glued back.”

Seonghwa sighed, kissing you deeply and lingering as he drew back. “I wouldn’t want you to give up on life and love.”

“Well, what would you do if I died first?” You raised a brow. “Sure, you knock at death’s door everyday, but I could very well be the first one to die. What would you do?”

That made Seonghwa understand- he wasn’t sure if he could even glue himself back if he broke. Seonghwa nodded, hugging you. You rubbed his back. “I would also want you to move on, to live and love. That’s who we are, Seonghwa. To live and love again wouldn’t mean that our relationship meant nothing.”

How ironic it was that you, who said those words, forgot them altogether- or rather, forcefully shut them away. 

“I’m sorry for being someone you wish I wouldn’t be, for the past three years,” you stared at the rose that lay on the brown dust, a striking contrast. “And also… thank you for giving me Byeol. I don’t think I would be standing here, happy and healthy if it wasn’t for your one last gift.”

Seonghwa didn’t think it was practical to have a child in his field. He had seen so many examples- men leaving their children to their mothers and dying. The children broken, the wives helpless. Especially in this era, with the ever growing threat of war- he thought at least soldiers should be single. 

He didn’t realise how wrong he was, until he encountered you in the hills when some enemies were after him. You were plucking daisies with the most innocent look on your face, and his heart was beating louder than ever in fear that his enemies would take you instead of him if they saw you. So he took your hand and ran, the daisies dropping. The sound of arrows whooshing past you two shut you up when you shouted for help, realising that the man who was running with you wasn’t the threat but the saviour. 

You two hid behind a tree and Seonghwa feared that this would be the end- at least of him. He was defenceless. But you- you looked him in the eyes and knew immediately that you could trust him. You handed him the sharp knife you’d brought with yourself and he frowned- this wasn’t one to cut flowers or fruits.

“You never know what could happen in the forest,” you whispered, shrugging, and bent down to fist some dirt in your hands.

As soon as Seonghwa heard the men, he put himself in action- you were mesmerised by the way he moved. You threw the dirt on the man’s face who thought he got Seonghwa, saving him. In a matter of moments, the three men were dead.

Seonghwa swept his dark hair back and looked at you, shaking his head as he smiled. “Thank you- you saved my life.”

“I’m pretty sure you would have been okay without my help too,” you gulped as you looked at the bodies. “Can you take me back? I don’t know my way around here.”

That was the first time he met you. He searched for you around town for months, hoping to become your friend at least, and finally, he saw you one day in the market and gave you a bouquet of roses as a thank you gift. 

After marriage, it was Seonghwa who asked you if you wanted a child- you knew Seonghwa wasn’t a fan of having children with his job, but when he asked you, you were surprised.

“What changed?” You asked.

“Now that I have you, I finally understand why people have families. They have something to live for, something to fight for. Something to come back home for. And also… you’ll be less lonelier too, isn’t that right?”

You laughed, hugging Seonghwa. “I knew you’d change your mind one day, that’s why I didn’t insist on having children.”

“You know me well,” Seonghwa laughed, hugging you back. “So?”

You drew back, thinking, the smile on your face growing wider. You kissed him long and hard. “I’d be fine either way. It’s up to you.”

And if you ever thought Seonghwa would be an awkward parent, you were so wrong. For the two months that he was with his daughter, you found him to be a natural parent. He made it his life’s mission to not let you even frown or get tired or overwhelmed by the baby. You’d always laugh and ask him to give it a rest, but it was like he knew that he didn’t have much time with the baby.

Byeol was so loved, you realised. So blessed to have Seonghwa as her father. You prayed she’d grow up to be like Seonghwa too. Especially since Seonghwa’s last wish was something along those lines-

“My little star,” Seonghwa kissed Byeol’s forehead, “Don’t make mom too tired, okay? I know you’re going to be a patient and loving daughter. You’re going to be just like me.”

“Come on,” you teased Seonghwa, “Just like you?”

“Just like me,” he smiled and placed Byeol back on the bed, turning to you and spreading his arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist, listening to his heartbeat. He didn’t break the hug for the longest time, his face buried in your neck. 

You were the first to break your hug and you swept his hair back as you held his face, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” he sighed. “I’m scared to go now that I have Byeol to worry about too.”

“You’re so brave, Seonghwa,” you straightened his collar, resting your hands on his chest. “You make Byeol and I proud every time you go to fight for your country- so that your wife and child, so that other mothers and childrens have a safe place to live in. You have nothing to be scared of.”

Seonghwa nodded. “You always know the right thing to say.”

You only smiled, the two of you leaning forward for a kiss- Seonghwa took his time kissing you, and if you had known that was the last time he was going to kiss you, you would have never let him go.

You came back from memory lane, taking a deep breath. “This is the first time I’ve come with Yunho. He loves me, Seonghwa. He loves Byeol like you loved her. And I… I’m doing what you told me to. I’m alive again, Seonghwa.”

You wiped the tears that threatened to roll down your face. You looked back, where Yunho and Byeol waited for you and you motioned them to come. Yunho picked Byeol in her arms and stood by your side. 

“Look at Byeol- how loved she is. You have nothing to worry about, Seonghwa,” you smiled. 

Yunho handed Byeol to you and you were about to give him some space as well but he held your hand, urging you to stay. He sat down beside the grave, rubbing the mud of his grave.

“I’m sorry for blaming myself all these years,” Yunho began, “I know you told me that it’s not my fault, but I know you would have been the same if it was me in your place.”

You sighed internally- Yunho really had it hard, just like you. Yunho placed the pebbles that he held in his hand around the roses.

“We’re soldiers. We live short, meaningful lives- and if we’re lucky, we live long. You lived so well, Seonghwa. I admired you for having the courage to start a family. Then I kind of hated you for leaving them so broken- but now… now that I’ve known the joy of a family… I admire you even more.”

He got up, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I loved Byeol the moment I saw her. I hope I can be a father she can be proud of, and I’ll make sure she’s also proud of you. I’ll tell her about your life, and hope she can get to know who her father really was. And I…”

Yunho looked at you, smiling. “I don’t know when it happened, but I fell in love with her too. I hope we can heal each other and be each other’s comfort for as long as we live. I hope you’ll be proud of us, Seonghwa.”

You smiled back, leaning into him. 

—-----------------

It felt like you were a little teen who was dating again.

It felt stupid- that you cared so much about how you looked, that you blushed again. It was bittersweet, this feeling of getting to know someone more with each passing day and falling deeper in love. Of being anxious- did he love you back? Did he love you like you did?

You never thought you’d be happy again, but you were. Sometimes you got scared- if something happened to Yunho, you wouldn’t make it this time, you didn’t care whether you had a daughter to worry about too. Of course after what happened with Seonghwa, you couldn’t possibly heal if you lost Yunho too. So you only prayed for one thing- to live a long, happy and healthy life with Yunho. 

Yunho was… handsome in every way- in his appearance, in his manners, in the way he talked, the way he laughed. He was heartwarming, a ball of sunshine in your life. Where Seonghwa had been like loving the moon, Yunho was like loving the sun. He made you love things that you once hated, and you couldn’t believe how he did that.

Yunho was someone you hugged more and couldn’t get enough of it. His hugs made you feel safe and warm. His kisses made you feel loved and beautiful. His touch made you feel hopeful.

You wondered if this was fate’s play- what a mysterious thing it was that you were meant to love Seonghwa and Yunho. Everything felt right with Seonghwa, and everything felt right with Yunho too.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Yunho, who held you in his arms in front of the fireplace, whispered in your ear, trailing kisses down your neck.

“If I told you,” you said, smirking, “I’m not sure if you’d blush and leave or take me right here.”

Good thing Byeol went to stay with her grandmother- your grandmother insisted you two needed some time alone now that you were finally moving on and oh, she was right. Byeol was big enough to stay with her grandmother- she loved it there because she had friends her age too, and her grandmother was ‘more fun than mom and dad combined’ according to Byeol. 

“You wanna bet on it?” Yunho challenged, tilting your chin so he could lock eyes with you. You swooned at how hot his gaze was. “What, exactly, are you thinking, my love?”

“Let’s see,” you sighed. “I’m thinking about this,” you kissed the edge of his lips. “And this,” you got on top of him, straddling him and kissing his lips briefly but surely. “And this,” you rolled your hips over him, making him groan. “What do you think?”

Yunho chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine you doing this if Byeol would have been home-”

“There you go. You lost the bet,” you grinned. “You always try to distract me when you feel shy. It’s not gonna work tonight, Jeong Yunho.”

Yunho only did that because he needed a moment. And then he tucked your hair behind your ears, his large hands cupping your face as he kissed you like his entire being urged him to, with a force that made you arch back and back until you were on the floor, and he, on top of you. Where he belonged.

“Should we take this to bed, or is this more thrilling?” Yunho whispered, not even waiting for a response as he started trailing kisses down your neck and unbuttoning whatever prevented him from being skin on skin.

You broke out of your trance when Yunho looked at you, mumbled something about how you were going to set the table and almost rushed to the kitchen. You took out the hot pot from the oven- a dish you had learned from Seonghwa’s mother-  just in time to save it from burning. Setting the plates, you took a few deep breaths, pushing the thoughts of Seonghwa out of your mind- for now. 

You could never push him out for long. Something always reminded you of him. Byeol was a living reminder of him too- with eyes just like Seonghwa that made you wonder if he saw the world differently. His eyes just had a different sparkle to them, something you hadn’t seen in someone else’s eyes. 

Even Yunho reminded you of Seonghwa at times- especially with his subconscious gestures like patting your back, wiping your mouth if you got something on it, rubbing your hands when it was cold, or just… 

Looking at you like he was now. As if he was trying to read you. You could never meet his gaze when he did that. You used to shy away from Seonghwa when he did that as well. You finally looked up and raised your brows, pointing at his plate where you had put a big chunk of the pasta. Yunho exhaled, pouring himself water and taking a few gulps. 

“Is everything alright at work?” You managed to ask. You weren’t allowed to ask much, and asking wouldn’t get you answers anyway- Yunho wasn’t allowed to say much about work. You knew that from Seonghwa too- you always teased him and pushed him into telling you something, but he would always laugh and shut you up with either a glare (rarely) or a kiss-

“Yep,” he answered, just like Seonghwa would, with a sideways glance that said he definitely was hiding something. Before you could say anything, Byeol pushed her dark hair back and looked at Yunho.

“I made a gift for you, all by myself!”

Yunho smiled warmly, turning away from the food and shifting all of his attention to Byeol. “Really? What did you make?”

“Do you wanna see?” Byeol’s face lit up and Yunho nodded, laughing when she rushed off and you called after her to at least finish her food before running around. You avoided looking at Yunho, playing with your food instead of eating it. Yunho noticed that. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just don’t have an appetite,” you sighed, resuming eating slowly so he wouldn’t ask you to finish your food. Yunho nodded, resuming eating as well until Byeol came back and handed Yunho a drawing she had made.

“This is me,” she pointed at a little girl she had drawn, all colourful. “This is you, and this is mommy!”

“I see I am in my uniform,” Yunho laughed, ruffling Byeol’s hair, “When did you get so good at drawing? Is my little girl all grown up now?”

“I have always been good!” Byeol pouted.

“But why is mommy not smiling here?” Yunho asked and you stopped eating as you peeked at the drawing. Indeed, the drawing, even though only better than stick figures, you could clearly see the big smiles Byeol had drawn on herself and Yunho.

“I don’t remember how she laughs,” Byeol said, “so I gave her a little smile! She always looks pretty when she smiles!”

You went back to memory lane- a brief moment you recalled when Seonghwa had first told you how pretty you looked when you smiled as he handed you a bouquet of red roses- the first thing he’d ever gotten for you.

“She does,” Yunho smiled at Byeol and glanced at you. You really couldn’t take that look in his eyes- the look that said he was being cautious but also taking a step towards you.

You always pushed him back.

You finished eating the last bite and got up, walked to the sink and dumped your plate, telling the two to call you from outside when they finish eating, leaving Yunho’s eyes following you until you disappeared outside the door into the chilly air of winter. You took a few deep breaths, your breath materialising in the air. You were sure Yunho was disappointed once again, as you had disappointed him so many times in the almost two full years of your marriage with him. 

You knew Yunho did not deserve any of this. He had been nothing but a loving father to your daughter, and had tried his best to be a loving husband to you- as far as you’d allow him to go, which wasn’t much. In fact, there wasn’t much ‘love’ in the marriage at all. You two hadn’t even kissed- you refused to count the time you had pecked his lips when you had been in a rather emotional mess. You had asked him to forget about it and he had lived up to the promise, never bringing that moment up again.

Yunho was more of a companion- a friend, if you must. He didn’t come home for long- only on some weekends, and he spent most of that time with Byeol, since you always made sure you were busy doing something when he was here. You were indebted to him though. He was providing you two with a home, with protection from Seonghwa’s enemies who had also taken his life and had threatened to harm his family. In these times, especially with the growing threat on Kingdom of Wonderland, single mothers couldn’t do well on their own, usually taken and sold off to another nation by the enemies that had infiltrated Wonderland in the past decade. The little children met a worse fate. 

One reason or another, your and Yunho’s mutual friends, especially Seonghwa’s mother, insisted you marry Yunho. Apparently, he hadn’t really objected, the reason why, you still couldn’t ask him. Perhaps out of love for his comrade and closest partner at work, perhaps because Seonghwa had died while carrying out an operation with Yunho and had taken his last breaths in Yunho’s arms. Maybe Yunho felt guilty about Seonghwa’s death, wondering if he could have prevented it. Maybe, out of guilt, he offered to be a father to Byeol and a husband to you.

You were still thinking about Seonghwa when you felt a jacket being draped on your shoulders- you hadn’t even heard Yunho approach. He gave you a tight-lipped smile as he stood next to you, and you looked at the jacket- the same as Seonghwa’s- then up at him, so tall as he looked ahead at the stretching farm.

“I won’t be home next week, but I expect to return the week after,” he said, “We have to carry out an operation in the neighbouring nation- code red.”

You gulped- Seonghwa had been in a code red operation when he passed away as well. The most dangerous operations were code red. Plus, Yunho didn’t mention which ‘neighbouring’ nation exactly was he going to- there were 3. “Is the whole team going?”

“Yes,” Yunho nodded, “It’s going to be one week there- we move out in three days.” He glanced down at you, his eyes softening when he saw the worry on your face. It gave him a sense of comfort- that you cared, even if it was just a little. “Don’t worry. We will be… fine.”

“I hope so,” you almost whispered, and Yunho knew then that perhaps it was a night like this when Seonghwa had told you he wasn’t going to be home for a while, only to never return. It wasn’t that code red operations meant casualties- sometimes it only meant trespassing the border and meeting up with the spies for an exchange of information. Sometimes it meant engaging in a fight. No one was allowed to share the details with outsiders, so Yunho couldn’t really assure you that it wasn’t going to be dangerous- even exchanging information could go very wrong.

“It’s… going to be okay,” Yunho said and cringed, wishing he hadn’t said that. You didn’t respond, and he continued. “I need to go to the town tomorrow- do you want to tag along? We could get something for you and Byeol and maybe have dinner?”

“I don’t really need anything, but yeah… Byeol has grown taller so we need more clothes,” you hugged yourself. “Should I not cook dinner tomorrow then?”

“Let’s go have a fancy dinner,” Yunho said with a grin, “I’m going to miss that the next few days.”

You smiled- Yunho always managed to earn a smile when he joked around. You wished you could relax more around him, but somehow whenever you were alone with him, you started feeling vulnerable. You did not want to feel that- not for now.

“Sounds good,” you finally said. “How’s Hongjoong?”

“Finally getting used to how loud Wooyoung and San are,” Yunho laughed, “He’s not used to dealing with kids.”

You stifled a laugh- you knew all of Seonghwa’s friends to some extent, and were very well aware of just how loud San and Wooyoung could be. Even Seonghwa, the oldest of his team, would turn into a loud kid whenever they were over. “You should bring them over some time. It’s been too long.”

Yunho raised a brow- that was new. “I should, huh? Maybe next month?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that,” you nodded. “It’s time I see the team without Seonghwa present.”

Yunho fell silent, looking away. “Even I haven’t gotten used to the absence.”

You looked up at him- he rarely talked about his feelings when it concerned Seonghwa’s absence. Perhaps he, too, was just as traumatised as you, if not more. Perhaps, he had it worse- you wished you had put yourself in his shoes too. You were always so selfish with Seonghwa- as if he had only belonged to you.

“I still feel him,” you whispered. Yunho sighed, putting an arm around your draped shoulder, rubbing. You were stiff for a few moments before you relaxed. 

“I do, too,” Yunho whispered. “I sometimes accidentally call out Seonghwa’s name instead of Yeosang’s- he’s been my partner for three years now, you’d think I would get used to it.”

“You don’t,” you wiped a tear, “you can never get used to it.”

Yunho couldn’t stop you as you handed him the jacket and stepped away from him. He frowned, “So what do we do, y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled sadly as you looked back at him. “We keep pretending we’re okay when we’re not. Just like we have for so long. I do it better now, don’t I?”

Yunho wished he could hug you and tell you you didn’t have to do that. That you were allowed to break down and cry for him for as long as you wanted. But your grief… it was like a part of you now. 

Yunho recalled the time he had returned from the operation that cost Seonghwa’s life. He had fallen to his knees in front of you, held your hands and cried his heart out. You hadn’t moved until he stopped crying and looked at you, to find your eyes filled with anger.

He still couldn’t get that moment out of his head. You had explained later that you hadn’t been angry at him- you could never be- but you were so angry with Seonghwa for leaving you and his daughter behind. For risking his life when he had just become a father a few months ago. You hadn’t cried properly as well- you always held it in, for Byeol. You had no time and luxury to be emotional. Seonghwa had always told you to be strong if something ever happened to him, so you did just that.

You probably sucked at that. You were anything but strong. The littlest things reminded you of him, and the memory of him followed you everywhere. You sometimes wished you hadn’t met him at all, hadn’t known what it was like to love him and be loved by him. You missed being in his arms, you missed his scent, his touch, everything. 

But he had left you with Byeol- a copy of him, both a blessing and a painful reminder of your time with Seonghwa. You sometimes wondered what it would have been like if you didn’t have Byeol- you would have no reason to live.

That’s what you got for loving someone who didn’t know if he would be alive the next moment. Though Seonghwa had taken the initiative in your relationship, he had also given you several chances to back out. He had told you again and again that his work would be a priority. That he would risk his life for Wonderland at any moment. You hadn’t understood the gravity of the situation until it was too late.

And now you were married to practically the same person- Seonghwa’s partner. You couldn’t bring yourself to get attached to him. Not now.

—--------------------

"I really don't think I can wear something like this…"

"You're making it sound like I chose something bad for you," Yunho raised a brow. "Come on, it's just a dress. I'm getting one for our daughter, I'm getting one for you."

Our daughter. Sometimes he said it so spontaneously that for a moment you would forget that Byeol was anything else but his daughter. You looked at Byeol who was pulling at your dress with pleading eyes with hope that you'd agree to buy the emerald green dress Yunho was holding for you.

You supposed Byeol might not be his daughter but Yunho really was her father. She knew none other. It made your heart break-

"Hey? Are you okay?" Yunho asked gently and you blinked, nodding.

"Sorry, just got lost for a second. Now let me see that," you pursed your lips as you held the emerald green gown. It was plain but somehow, the buttons of the same colour running down one sleeve from the neckline gave it an elegant flair. You glanced at Yunho who was looking expectantly at you.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. "Fine. That's the only thing I'm getting."

"Yay!" Byeol immediately held out her hands for Yunho to high-five her and you smiled at their interaction. Yunho took your dress and Byeol's midnight blue dress to get them packed and you looked around, noticing two women, their eyes following Yunho. 

Yunho had that air to him, you supposed. A presence that could fill the room. You recalled the time when you had first met Yunho- the first time Seonghwa introduced you to his group of friends. The tall man had stood out not just because of his handsome height but also his personality. You had immediately liked him and found him easy to talk to.

Why was it so difficult to talk to him now?

You wondered that, especially when you came to your bedroom after wrapping up everything in the kitchen, finding your husband reading a book half-lying on the bed. 

Probably the fact that you now shared a room had created a distance between you two. 

You went to wash up, the memories from 2 years ago making way. After almost a year of grieving, Seonghwa's mother who had spent most of the time with you in his house told you she had to go back now. She had been a great help around, and at times you'd feel like she filled the hole left by your dead mother. She had been no less than a mother to you and had helped you raise Byeol.

It had been a night like this when she had first asked you to move on. You'd looked at her as if she had said something ridiculous, but she sighed.

"I am a soldier's mother, and you are a soldier's wife. We spend most of our lives fearing the worst. When it happens, we don't give in, dear y/n. We grieve but then we stand up, straight. We go along with the flow of life. We keep them in our hearts and we move on."

"But I…" you wiped your tears, "How can I ever move on, mom? How can I stop grieving?"

Seonghwa's mother touched your face gently. "If we actually started grieving… the world would have no more soldiers."

That had made you cry your heart out and then the next day, you were brighter than the day before. The first step you took to move on. For yourself. For your daughter.

And a month later, when his mother packed her bags, promising to visit often, she made you sit with her with a cup of tea.

"I really think you should marry again," she said and the teacup almost fell from your hands. "Byeol needs a father. You need a husband. You cannot do this alone- especially with Wonderland in this state."

"Remarry?" You scoffed. "I'm sorry but I cannot imagine living with someone else, mother. I can't even think of someone else. What gave you this ridiculous idea?"

She gave you a side-eye, but sighed as she began. "I think you should really think this over. You're still so young. And Byeol… if Wonderland was in a better state and we were safe, I would have supported your stance of being independent and single for the rest of your life. I would have let you go at your pace, maybe meet someone and fall in love again and so on. But with our enemies targeting the soldier's families, and especially the circumstances of Seonghwa's death… I can't let you be alone anymore."

"I understand your stance, mom, but I simply cannot imagine myself with anyone else. And I can fend for myself. I can try. I will move somewhere else if I have to-”

"No… stay here. Seonghwa's house is yours now," his mother said. "but… Seonghwa would have wanted you to move on, y/n. And what I have in mind for you… I'm sure he would be happy for you and him."

"Him?" Your heart sank. "Don't tell me I'm the last person learning about this."

"It isn't anything like that-"

"Who did you talk to?"

Seonghwa's mother matched your glare but then gave in, sighing. "I didn't exactly talk, mind you. I was just talking to him about you and your situation and wondered out loud about who you could marry. And then…"

"Who was it?"

"Yunho," she sighed and you exhaled, looking away. "He's always visited in his free time. Byeol is so attached to him- she doesn't recognize anyone else but Yunho, out of all of Seonghwa's friends. He's been a father to her, you have to admit."

"I agree that he's doing his best, but I'm pretty sure part of it is out of his guilt and trauma other than the friendship he had with Seonghwa. And how could you even ask him something like that! What would he think of us!"

"He actually didn't hate the idea," Seonghwa's mother smiled knowingly. "He didn't really give me a reaction-"

"He's a soldier, mother," you rolled your eyes. "He's trained not to give reactions-"

"Shush," she slapped your hand lightly and you gaped at her. "He would have said no if he didn't like the idea- he's known me all his life. But he didn't really say anything. That means he's considering it."

"Pretty sure he's trying to find a way to turn your offer down politely," you muttered, groaning and hiding your face in your hands. "I am mortified. How will I face him when he comes to visit?"

"He said he'll talk to you," she got up, leaving you mortified right then. "He's coming next week."

The whole week had been disastrous for you-, trying to find and memorise the words to politely turn him down if he suggested this as well, trying to be less mortified and humiliated by the whole situation, finding yourself spacing out more often.

And then Yunho finally came. The awkwardness in the air was making you suffocate. Yunho and you used to be comfortable enough that he'd play with Byeol and you'd disappear somewhere in the kitchen or in your room, or sit and watch them with a book in your hand, or you'd hear him tell stories about Seonghwa to Byeol-

Really, he was telling you. You'd silently cry or laugh, and then he'd inquire about your health, tell you that he worries about you two a lot.

That night, when Byeol fell asleep in his arms, you took her to the bed and that's when Yunho finally cleared his throat and asked if Seonghwa's mother had said something about him.

You considered lying but decided to address the elephant in the room. You nodded, and Yunho asked you to take a walk with him. 

"I thought about it, and to be honest, for once I don't know what to do," he laughed a little. "So I just thought I'd talk to you."

"Honestly, I cannot imagine being with anyone else, Yunho," you said.

"Of course," he nodded, understanding.

"But Byeol… she's attached to you. She doesn't know who her father is. She won't understand that she doesn't have a father for a good while. I fear the day that she would start to mourn her father, but I think it would be easier for her if she had someone like you by her side… someone to fill the gap. Even without being my husband, you're doing an exceptional job."

Yunho raised a brow as he smiled. "I never intended to be that for her, but somehow… holding Byeol in my arms makes me feel like I'm making Seonghwa proud."

You smiled at that. Seonghwa would definitely be glad for all the love his friends showered Byeol with- not just Yunho. The others visited every other week as well. "The only reason I'm agreeing to remarry is because of Byeol. I gave it a lot of thought. I don't really need a husband, but Byeol needs a father."

"I understand."

"But Yunho," you paused and finally turned to lock eyes with him. "You're young. You have a whole life ahead of you. I don't want you to be bound by me and Byeol. I can't do this to you. I can remarry, yes, but it doesn't have to be you- I just can't do this to you because I don't think I can give you the love a wife is supposed to give her husband-"

"Hey, hey," Yunho rubbed your shoulders and you looked up at the night sky, tearing up when you saw a single bright star. "I know. I don't expect you to love me. I don't expect anything from you. And if you really don't want me, I won't do this. But I'm so attached to Byeol. Is there anyone else who could love her the way I love her?"

That made you sob harder. It was the first time Yunho hugged you after the day Seonghwa passed away. You let yourself cry in his arms, shaking your head but he held you, firm, secure, and surprisingly but maybe not so, you felt safe in his arms. 

"If you allow me to, I can be a friend to you, nothing more, but a father to Byeol. I'll make sure she learns all about Seonghwa and how brave her father was."

You cried harder again and he laughed a little as he drew you back, shaking his head. "Don't cry. Seonghwa always hated when you'd cry."

You nodded, wiping your face. "You're right- I can't think of anyone else who could do justice to Byeol and be her father. But Yunho… I can't do this to you. You deserve a loving wife. Your own family."

"You are my family, even now," Yunho leaned down and squeezed your shoulder. "It's your decision. Honestly, I was conflicted as well, but now I'm sure I can do this, if you allow me to. I've made my choice."

You looked at him- really looked at him for the first time. "You'll be shackled to me. Why are you doing this to yourself, I'm wondering."

Yunho stood back up, a faint smile on his face. "I think I won't have a problem with that."

2 years passed and you still wondered what exactly he meant by that, because never did he actually make a move on you. He never initiated anything, and neither did you (if we forget about that one time). He had been nothing but patient, especially during the first few months of the marriage. It was just like before- him visiting on weekends-

Except that now, he stayed. And you shared a room with him.

Perhaps, this was something you could never get used to. Him, in the same room as you, the four walls making the room feel smaller than it was whenever he was present. Even now, he was only half lying on the bed and reading a book but you…

You could never get used to this. Especially when he glanced at you and his eyes would stay on you a second longer than usual before going back to whatever he was doing.

You sighed, sitting in front of the mirror and drying your hair, watching him through the mirror, your eyes accidentally meeting once. After spending a few minutes there, you finally came to your side of the bed.

For better or for worse, Yunho was actually aware in his sleep. He'd never invade your space and never make your bed feel small. As if he was trying to make sure you didn't feel his presence when you slept. You used to have Byeol with you both in the middle since Byeol used to wake up at night quite often, and Yunho was a great help. He'd offer to hold Byeol and put her to sleep and do anything to help you. It was the reason why sleeping with him wasn't awkward at first, not that much, since technically, it was just like taking a nap and taking care of Byeol. 

And then Byeol got big enough to have her own room, and you two found yourself alone in your room. Yunho offered to start sleeping on the couch if it was too awkward for you, just like he had when he first got here.

But you stopped him for the same reason you did later. Your terrifying nightmares. The cherry on the top.

All you asked of him was to tell you what was real whenever you woke up unable to breathe. And he did without fail. He would hold your hand, push your hair back and tuck them behind your ears and hold your face if you shook too hard. He'd tell you what was real. And then he'd hold your hand as you cried and went back to sleep, sometimes closer to him than you would actually like.

And you'd always apologise to him. He only came on the weekends and he wouldn't even get to sleep peacefully. 

"I'm never sleeping peacefully, I have to be on my toes even when asleep," he would laugh and dismiss your apology. "I'm okay with this."

You turned off the lamp on your side and Yunho gently asked if you wanted him to turn off his lamp too, but you insisted you were fine, drawing the covers on yourself.

"Thank you for the dress," you finally said, realising you never actually thanked him earlier. "It's beautiful."

Yunho smiled, not looking away from his book. "Thank you for accepting it. I wish you'd accept more."

"I have improved, you have to admit," you said and Yunho raised a brow, surprised to find you teasing him. You kept a straight face but he always saw through you.

"Can you wear it the next time I come home?"

It was your turn to raise a brow and look at him. "I guess I could. Should I expect someone else?"

"Only me," his voice was thick- like it was at nights when you two talked lightly. It overwhelmed you sometimes.

"Uh… yeah. I could. It's only a dress. Let's pray Byeol doesn't decide to improve the dress this time, huh?"

Yunho laughed, recalling the time he'd bought a beige dress for you and showed it to Byeol, planning to gift it to you on your birthday and Byeol had, on her own, decided that the dress missed something, and had sketched flowers with your lipstick. You all had a good laugh over it and thankfully, after two washes the dress was saved.

"How have you been, y/n?" Yunho asked and you knew he was asking about your nightmares and insomnia.

"Better, but they still come sometimes, the nightmares," you sighed. "Last night was the first time I slept properly this whole week."

You didn't know but when you said stuff like this… Yunho felt a sense of pride. Was it his company that made you sleep better? He wished he had contributed to your better quality of sleep in some way. "So no nightmares this week but you stay up late? What do you do?"

"The usual- paint or read or just stay up and think."

Think about Seonghwa. Think about Yunho.

You had been thinking about Yunho a lot too. You wondered if you had made the wrong decision in marrying him sometimes. You looked at Yunho. "Can you tell me something? Truthfully?"

Yunho nodded and you continued. "Do you regret marrying me? Do you regret anything about this… marriage?"

Yunho took a deep breath and looked away, thinking. "If there's one thing I regret… it is that I am unable to make you happy."

Now that was something you did not expect and you found yourself speechless. Yunho smiled sadly, putting the book back on the side table and before he could turn off the lamp, you tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, drawing his attention. 

"You… you've done so much for me that if there's any way to sum it up, I have to say that I am in your debt." Yunho was about to protest when he heard that but you put a finger on your mouth, indicating to him to hear you out. "When I see you interact with Byeol, I am the happiest mother. Whatever you do for me and have done for me… it's more than enough."

Yunho held your hand, caressing it. "I always gave you whatever you wanted. Space. A friend. A father to your daughter- our daughter. And at times, a husband to you. I want you to know that whatever you ask from me… it's never gonna be too much. I haven't done enough for you."

"But you have," you smiled sadly, trying not to cry because how could he be such an angel?

Yunho shook his head furiously. "You can ask anything of me, you know that. And I'll give you all the time in the world to open up to me. We've come a great way these past three years, haven't we?"

You nodded. He continued, "I just wish you'd talk to me more. I'm only here on the weekends and we only get to talk at night time. Even if you miss Seonghwa and want to talk about him, you know I'm here."

"Thank you," you nodded. It was unfair to him when you didn't even talk to him much, you realised. "I'm sorry, I just… his death anniversary is approaching soon. You know how it gets."

He nodded, shifting so he was sitting now. "Will you come here?" He patted the space next to him and you paused for a moment but then figured you needed a shoulder tonight and sat next to him. He put an arm over your shoulders.

"Seonghwa… When he loved someone, he loved them with his entire heart. People like you and me… we think we gave him all our heart too, but really, no one loves like Seonghwa does."

"That's true," you smiled. "He was different."

"He was," Yunho nodded. "He spent all his life giving and receiving love. That's a life well-lived, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

"I never told you, but Seonghwa said something to me right before his last breath," Yunho said and your eyes went wide as you looked at Yunho. "He told me to take care of Byeol and you."

"He did?" You sighed, biting your lip to stifle the emotions making way.

"Actually, he only mentioned Byeol," Yunho said and you looked at him, shaking your head.

"That makes it more believable, yes. He used to tease me about how he forgot all about me after Byeol. In fact, he started calling Byeol his first love."

Yunho laughed lightly. "He mentioned Byeol, but I saw the worry in his eyes was for you."

You took a few deep breaths, finally putting your head on Yunho's shoulder. "Do you feel burdened by it?"

"I think I would have done everything I did either way."

You wiped your eyes and Yunho held you closer, letting the few silent tears drop. "I used to wonder what I did to deserve Seonghwa. Now I wonder if all the good I did is what got me and Seonghwa together. Then what did I do to deserve you, Yunho?"

Yunho only ran his hand through your hair, comforting you, not meeting your eyes when you kept looking at him. You took a deep breath, your hand slowly and hesitantly going to hold his face and turn him to meet your eyes, finding his eyes damp as well. "You probably hate me. I make you feel like we're going somewhere and then I push you away. I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you, I could never," Yunho held your hand that was still on his face. "Don't ever think like that."

You nodded, the two of you staring at each other, the electricity thick between you two. You unconsciously licked your lips, making his eyes fall on your lips and then as if coming out of a trance, he drew your hand down and looked away from you.

You had always suspected somewhere along the way, Yunho had started liking you. Genuinely like you as his partner. Were you ready to return your feelings for him? Would acting impulsively be a mistake? You didn't want to take a step, give him hope and then draw away from him. That would be cruel.

So you only leaned forward and lightly kissed his cheek before drawing back and turning off the lamp. You heard him lightly groan as if it was too much for him.

"I'm sorry- I should have asked."

"It's not that… it's okay, y/n," you heard him shift and turn towards you. "I won't be home for two weeks… can I hold your hand tonight?"

You knew what he meant. He was like Seonghwa, in that sense. 

After your marriage with Seonghwa, when the first time he had to leave for a code red operation, he had held you all night, more closely than you thought possible. You later asked him what happened with a laugh but he shook his head with a sad smile. 

"Before I met you, I had nothing to be afraid of. I would go to sleep like any other night, even before the most dangerous missions. But now… I can't seem to calm myself."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Are you saying you're afraid of me?" 

Seonghwa laughed- he liked it when you made joke of his misery "It's not that, stupid. You know what I mean."

You laughed, spreading your arms and he came to hug you. You rested your head on his shoulder. "Do I finally make you worry about your life?"

"Exactly," he hugged you tighter. "I don't want to lose you."

Perhaps Yunho felt the same way as Seonghwa. Perhaps he too, was scared of losing his life now, not for himself but for you and Byeol. 

"I should have known," you said to Yunho. "You should tell me when you're afraid or scared, Yunho. It's the least you can do for me."

He only held your hand tighter. "I didn't use to be. It wasn't always like this."

"That's exactly what Seonghwa said. You're afraid you'll lose us, isn't that so?"

"Yeah," Yunho sighed.

"Do you want to know what I told him? The same thing I'm telling you now. That if anything happens to you, I'll be the one losing everything. So make sure you return."

Yunho was silent for a few moments and then he brought your hand up to kiss it. "Thank you for telling me that. It means… a lot to me."

Your heart swelled when you heard that. You decided then that what he needed tonight was you, so you shifted closer, burying your head in his chest and he hesitantly hugged you as the two of you tried sleeping.

—-----------------

It was the next weekend that the knock on your door gave you a little scare- it was almost 8 pm. For a second, your heart jumped, wondering if Yunho got an early leave, but then it followed by fear that it could be someone to deliver bad news or someone else entirely-

You were surprised to open the door to a face you had almost forgotten. You frowned but then you gasped in realisation. “Dani?”

“It’s really you, y/n!” She smiled, stretching her arms and you immediately hugged her. “It’s been years!”

“It has! How come I didn’t hear that you’re back? Come right in-”

“No, my son’s waiting for me, look over there,” she pointed to the carriage across the road. “I’ve only just arrived, I hope to see you at the dinner we’re having soon- we’re inviting all of the neighbourhood on dinner two weeks from now, I came to personally give you this message and ask you to join-”

“Mommy?” Byeol’s voice rang and when she appeared in Dani’s vision, she looked at Byeol in surprise.

“She looks just like Seonghwa! Congratulations! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a daughter!”

“I’m sorry, things had been rough,” you bit your lips, noticing the boy get off the carriage and wave at you. You gestured to Dani and she sighed.

“I have to go. Let’s catch up on dinner. I want all three of you to come, you better bring Seonghwa with you!”

Before you could protest or give her another news, she rushed back with a wave. You laughed at how she was just the same as three years ago- hyper, funny and bright. As soon as you shut the door and looked at Byeol, you realised that the dinner was going to be tough.

Dani was one of your oldest friends, and one of the few people who knew about your marriage with Seonghwa. After a year of your marriage, she moved to another town because of her husband’s job, but you two kept in touch through letters.

A year later, you had Byeol- you had wanted to give her a surprise after your child was born. But only two months later, Seonghwa passed away. You never replied to any of the letters and then you moved here, in Yunho’s house, a year after your marriage with Yunho, telling Seonghwa’s mother to use the house as she pleased- you couldn’t live in Seonghwa’s house with all of the memories and not see him but Yunho instead.

It was a huge coincidence that Dani somehow became your neighbour and found you. You did not know how to explain what happened after she left. You thought about writing her a letter, but that wouldn’t be fair to her.

You spent the next week stressing over it, running across Dani while doing grocery and about to break the news to her, but then she asked if Seonghwa was doing well, and you couldn’t help but nod and leave it at that, regretting it later. But you did not want to break the news to her in public.

It was finally Friday afternoon. You got Byeol ready, having a little fun with her when she took a bath, drying her hair and styling it into two braids which made her look the cutest, letting her run along to her room where she played with her toys. Meanwhile, you stood holding the emerald gown in front of yourself and looking at the mirror.

Was it the first time you were going to dress up for Yunho? 

It wasn’t the first time he had brought you a dress, no. But it had been the first time he asked you to wear it at a specific time- his arrival. It made everything feel different, especially with how the two of you opened up to each other after so long. One step closer.

With a faint smile on your face, you decided this was the least you could do for him. You always wanted to look pretty in front of Seonghwa. With Yunho, you hadn’t really paid much attention to how you looked- but you could start.

Especially because Yunho was, if you were honest, always a sight for sore eyes. He looked incredibly good in his uniform, in all black, just like Seonghwa did. 

After changing, you turned around, admiring how well the dress fit. Yunho had a good eye, it seemed. You pinned your hair back from the front and decided that would do, applying a little makeup like you usually did. You looked much better than usual with just a little effort and that made you wonder if you should put in more effort from now on.

When the knock sounded, Byeol ran to open the door and you called her, laughing at how she rushed. She opened the door after peeking through the window, hugging Yunho immediately and he picked her as he came inside, kissing her cheek repeatedly and tickling her. 

You waited for him to drop her down and when he finally did as he was standing up, he paused for a moment before smiling and walking towards you, stopping in front of you.

“Have you been well?”

“I have,” you nodded. “I hope everything went smoothly?”

“It did,” he nodded, hesitating before cupping your face with one hand and caressing it for a moment. “You look beautiful.”

Your heart did a few jumps and you thanked him. He turned to Byeol, motioning her to come to him and she did, doing a little twirl along the way.

“How do I look?” She asked. 

“Let’s see… the cutest I’ve ever seen,” Yunho announced and she did a little happy dance. You went to the kitchen and called them, serving dinner. Yunho told Byeol the story of his journey- he said he made it up, but you were sure it was some truth mixed with a little imagination. It made Byeol feel very adventurous, as if there was nothing that could stop her from going on the same path as her father-

As Yunho and Seonghwa. Both.

You sometimes wonder if she really would decide to go on the same path. Would you stop her? Would Yunho stop her? You weren’t sure.

After wrapping up the kitchen while Byeol and Yunho sat in front of the fire and played, you noticed Byeol was half asleep in his arms. It always made you smile- how safe Byeol felt in Yunho’s arms when she wasn’t the type to open up to everyone. 

Yunho noticed you and motioned for you to help pick Byeol up and you did, going to her room and tucking her in. Yunho kissed her forehead before turning on a small lamp and leaving the room with you.

“Tea?” You offered.

“I’ll make it,” Yunho said and you sat in front of the fire, recalling the time you had first dressed up for Seonghwa and he had looked at you with such love in his eyes that you had almost cried. And then he had called you beautiful- just like Yunho had tonight.

Yunho cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance and you took the teacup from him, taking a sip while Yunho settled himself on the couch in front of you. 

"The boys are coming over tomorrow," Yunho reminded you and you nodded- you had been making sure everything was perfect for the past two days. 

"Let's see who manages to win Byeol's heart this time," you smiled.

"Is there anything you need for tomorrow? I could get it in the morning-"

"No, it's alright. I’m fully prepared. I didn't have anything to do anyway so I just made sure we had enough food and wine for tomorrow."

"Sounds good," he sighed. "It's really been a while since we all gathered like this, hasn't it?"

You nodded. The boys hadn't paid a visit together, they would come alone or in pairs. You didn't mind either way. You liked having someone who would share Seonghwa's memories with you. In fact, that was the part you liked best.

"Anything happen while I was gone?"

You considered telling him about Dani, but figured you could tell him later and shook your head. "Nothing important. Just some neighbours being nosy, as usual. I shut them up with an apple pie."

"Good move," Yunho laughed, and the two of you drank the rest of your tea in silence, staring at the fire. 

Being with Yunho, sitting in silence like this gave you a sense of comfort but also made you a little nervous. Your eyes trailed from his feet up to his outfit- black pants, black fitted shirt, the half sleeves really proving how well-built he was. You noticed a little scratch that ran down his forearm, and another down his neck-

Yunho caught you looking at him. To save yourself, you pointed at the scratches. Yunho hadn’t even noticed the scratch on his arm. “Would you believe me if I told you it was from a cat?”

You gaped at him. “There’s no way. Cats love you.”

Cats did, in fact, love him. Dogs did as well. It was the reason why there were so many cats and dogs around your house- Byeol would always spend hours in the afternoon playing with them. Sometimes you wonder if everyone but you loved him-

“I got too friendly with a cat, if you can believe me,” he scoffed. “Didn’t go well.”

“That’s unbelievable, actually,” you crossed your legs. “But if that’s true, you might want to get a bit too friendly with the cats outside. Byeol has made it her life’s mission to adopt every cat that even looks this way.”

Yunho laughed. “It keeps her busy, doesn’t it?”

“Keeps me busy too,” you nodded. “We leave the door open so they come and go as please- or I shoo them off.”

“And the dogs? I saw a really large cute one earlier-”

“You’ll instigate a war between cats and dogs at this rate, Yunho,” you gave him a side-eye, “Byeol is always trying to make peace and I get scared sometimes.”

“Oops,” Yunho pretended to look sorry but failed. “I’ll… do something about it.”

“Do tell Byeol whatever you plan to do because if one cat or dog goes missing, she raises hell.”

“That’s very much like Seonghwa,” Yunho laughed. “When we used to camp on the border, he’d share his ration with the animals and then steal food from us.”

You scoffed but smiled. “No wonder. Like father, like daughter. She keeps stealing something from the kitchen if she thinks one of her friends is hungry.”

“Let’s hope she shows the same spirit tomorrow with the animals coming…”

Byeol didn’t, at least for a while.

“She’s so shy and cute, I love it,” Wooyoung said, munching on a piece of garlic bread as he settled back on the sofa in defeat. “Mark my words, she’s gonna get the most friendly with me first.”

“No, it’s gonna be me,” Hongjoong slapped Wooyoung’s hand, drawing Byeol’s attention as he motioned her to come to him but Byeol only hid further in Yunho’s arms, making everyone laugh.

“She’s being mischievous, look at that smile!” Mingi said. Indeed, Byeol was passing sly looks to everyone. 

“Let’s place bets,” San announced. “I’m betting on myself.”

Jongho scoffed. “Wooyoung’s going to win, San.”

San watched in horror as Wooyoung and Jongho clapped. Hongjoong betted on himself out of spite and Yunho betted on Wooyoung as well. Mingi followed, which left Yeosang and you.

“I wish I could not bet on Wooyoung, but it is Wooyoung,” he said and Wooyoung yelled in victory. Everyone looked at you to hear your final verdict as the mother.

“Well,” you scratched your chin, smiling. “It’s hard not to love Wooyoung, isn’t it?”

The silence that drew made you raise your brow. Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Did Seonghwa say that?”

It took you a moment to realise that indeed, you were quoting Seonghwa. You nodded and Wooyoung sighed, looking up, Yeosang rubbing his back. You were scared for a moment but then Wooyoung looked at you.

“He was very right,” Wooyoung grinned. “I am very hard not to love. Which is why… I win! And I’m gonna prove it! Byeol-ah, let’s play with the cats!”

That immediately caught Byeol’s attention and she hesitantly made way to Wooyoung and he took her outside. Hongjoong, who was sitting next to you, patted your shoulder. “You want to take a walk?”

You followed him outside, watching Wooyoung and Byeol play like old friends in the garden for a while and having a laugh over it before resuming walking. Hongjoong glanced at you, watching your feet with every step you took.

“How have you been, y/n?” He asked, and you knew what he meant.

“I’m… better. Sometimes I think I’m better and then something happens and I’m back to where I was.”

“Is it still too hard to think of him?” He asked. 

“I don’t cry every time I think of him, that’s definitely an improvement,” you looked at Hongjoong and he nodded. “But then something reminds me of him so intensely that all of it comes like a crashing wave.”

“I understand,” he sighed. “I’ve gotten better too, especially since San and Wooyoung joined my team. They don’t even let me breathe.”

You laughed. “One thing I know is that you can’t push the memories back and shut them in a box. You… live with them.”

“That’s true,” Hongjoong asked. “And… How's Yunho?”

Hongjoong had never asked anything about you and Yunho before. Even though he was probably your closest friend, he had never done that, perhaps fearing it would be interference since you were a married couple now. So you raised a brow in question. “What exactly do you mean?”

“He’s had it tough too, being Seonghwa’s partner for the longest time. Does he talk about it to you? Because he hasn’t been talking much to us either. I’m actually worried about him.”

You frowned- Yunho always looked so optimistic, so cheerful. His presence could lift your mood, even when you did not want it. You wondered if he hurted more than you- but perhaps, you couldn’t weigh it. What he had with Seonghwa would never be the same as what you had with Seonghwa- they were two different relationships, and you couldn’t say one mattered more.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“No, it’s okay,” you shook your head. “I’m just… surprised, is all. Yunho’s always so bright and cheerful at home, I never noticed that it was because he’s keeping it all in. I thought he talked to one of you.”

“And we were thinking he’d finally talked to you,” Hongjoong smiled. “We were all wrong, eh?”

You sighed, nodding. “I… Yunho and I… we don’t really talk much about Seonghwa. We do talk- we don’t pretend the ghost of his memory is not with us, but… I guess you could say we haven’t really had a heart to heart conversation yet. He’s only home during the weekends and I really don’t wanna spoil the time he gets to rest with me being a mess and whatnot-”

“You both need to talk, dear,” Hongjoong said. “Yunho's been a bit distracted at work recently. You know it could cost his life- being distracted. I thought something happened between you two, maybe a fight or something, but it seems like everything’s just the way it always has been?”

“Yeah, you could say,” you nodded. “I actually asked him if he regretted marrying me.” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you and you slapped his arm. “Just listen. He said he did not. He only regrets that he can’t make me happy. He…”

You recalled what he had said that night-

"I just wish you'd talk to me more. I'm only here on the weekends and we only get to talk at night time. Even if you miss Seonghwa and want to talk about him, you know I'm here."

“I’m realising that maybe I really should talk. I’ve been such a bad person and wife, Hongjoong, I don’t know what to do about it. The shame, the disappointment in my own self, it eats me up sometimes. And everytime Yunho does something that reminds me of Seonghwa, I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay to feel that way,” Hongjoong rubbed your back. “You haven’t been a bad person or wife, you just needed time to heal and so did he. And Seonghwa… he’s always gonna come back in your head. But you don’t cry anymore. You smile when you think of him, okay? Can you do that for him?”

You laughed as you wiped a few tears away. Hongjoong continued, “You also shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything. Just… go along with the flow. It’s been three years since Seonghwa passed away- it’s time you stop crying- it breaks my heart that it still hurts you like it happened yesterday. Think about how sad and sorry Seonghwa would be if he learned you’re in this state even now.”

“I know that,” you stifled your tears. “I just… I’m trying. I’m getting there. I’ll get there.”

“I believe in you. And next time you open up to someone about how you feel and how you miss Seonghwa… it should be Yunho.”

“But you’re my big brother, aren’t you?” You said, laughing because you used to call him that when Seonghwa was alive. Seonghwa called Hongjoong ‘little brother’ and you’d team up with Hongjoong to tease Seonghwa. 

“I still am, and you can still talk to me about anything,” he shook his head, smiling. “But Yunho… he needs that too. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you nodded. “I’ll really try. God, Yunho reminds me so much of Seonghwa, it just gets strange sometimes.”

“But Yunho is very different from Seonghwa too, isn’t he?” Hongjoong smiled.

He is, you knew that. Even though he was much like Seonghwa, he was very different as well. Perhaps it made it harder for you, or perhaps, that was just an excuse to justify the reason you found it hard to open up to him.

But it wasn’t about you anymore. You needed Yunho to open up to you. As a friend, you had to do that. As a wife, you should do that. He needed a shoulder as much as you needed one.

That night, you asked Yunho how it felt to have everyone home but Seonghwa. Yunho raised a brow, as if he should have asked this question. And he said exactly that.

“I’ve been seeing the boys without Seonghwa for a long time now- I guess it was a little different now that they were all here. How do you feel? Are you okay?"

"It was a good idea to have them all over,” you smiled. “It felt like Seonghwa was there too, didn’t it?”

Yunho smiled, looking down and he nodded. You scooted closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Hongjoong tells me you’re distracted at work. What’s the matter, Yunho?”

“Hongjoong said that?” Yunho was surprised. “I’m not exactly distracted. I’m fine-”

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You tugged his sleeve, making him lock eyes with you. “I know I haven’t been the best person ever and I don’t talk about myself much, but I want to start, Yunho. I also want to be someone you can talk to about anything. Can you do that?”

Yunho was confused, if he was honest. He always felt like everytime that you two made a little progress, you’d have some sort of a realisation- or worse, breakdown- when he was away, and you’d turn into the same old person who watched everything but said nothing, who never talked about her feelings, never opened up. He sometimes wondered if you hated him. 

“I can, but… I’m also afraid of being hurt, y/n, by you.”

It felt like a wake-up call that you needed. So that’s how he thinks.

“I- I never thought about it like that…” you admitted, hugging yourself. “I’ve been selfish, haven’t I?”

“You are allowed to be selfish,” Yunho wore a sad smile as he said that. “About Seonghwa, at least. But… I don’t know. I know I said I’ll give you all the time in the world to open up to me, but I… I want to get closer to you because everytime I go on a mission, I realise that I don’t have the luxury of ‘time’.”

You nodded, biting your lips. Seonghwa didn’t have the luxury of time either, which was why whenever he was with you, he always made the most out of every moment. You two never wasted time on useless arguments (unless it was for fun’s sake) or fights. 

“Sometimes I think I have you, y/n,” he tucked the hair that hid your face behind your ear and you felt overwhelmed by the emotions in his eyes. He dropped his hand. “And sometimes… you’re gone, just like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, that’s what’s funny about this situation,” Yunho sighed. “I feel like the bad guy everytime I talk about myself-”

“You’re making me feel like the bad guy now, thank you,” you laughed and Yunho shrugged. You crossed your legs, taking his hands and playing with them in your lap- it was the first time you really looked at his hands- how long his fingers were, how pretty his hands were. The callouses, the toughness of his hands… it was just like Seonghwa’s, yet at that moment, you didn’t really think of Seonghwa. You only saw Yunho- his hands that made you feel so safe these days. 

“Can we put away our past, Yunho? Can we start new? I want to try being your wife, and by that, I mean… an actual wife. I want to be your friend. I want you to open up to me, and I want to open up to you too. I want to cook your favourite food when you come home, I want to take walks with you. I also want you to hold me if sometimes I miss Seonghwa too much and break down. And if I push you away again, I want you to run after me. Can we do that?”

Yunho’s hands trembled a little. He didn’t say anything, just watched you as your small hands held his, caressing them so delicately. 

“You can take your time too,” you said. “But tonight… I want you to talk about Seonghwa. I want you to tell me if it’s hard at work. I want you to tell me if you miss him, because you always listen to me, but you’re keeping it all in, and it’s killing you, I can see it now. Why haven’t you talked to the boys, Yunho?”

“They all miss him too,” Yunho sighed. “But I… I’m burdened by his last moments. I’m burdened by the fact that I was leading the team and Seonghwa died during that mission. I always wonder if I had done one thing different-”

He looked down and his body shook. You pursed your lips to stifle your own tears and pulled him into a hug. “Let it all out. You can cry here.”

Yunho did, and it was the most heartbreaking thing ever. You couldn’t help but cry along with him. You told him again and again that it wasn’t his fault. 

“It’s foolish to think of different scenarios that could have prevented his death. He was a soldier- one day or another, soldiers all meet the same fate. He was one of the King’s most trusted agents. He did his job. And he died a proud soldier, Yunho. Don’t ever think that it was your fault.”

Yunho nodded, breaking the hug and wiping his face. You rubbed his shoulders. “You’ve been so brave, going back to doing the same job again. You’re so strong. You’ve been so strong for me and Byeol too. So when you feel like this again… you talk to me, okay? I’m here for you like you’ve been here for me.”

Yunho nodded, and you leaned forward to kiss his cheek, lingering for a moment and then Yunho scooted to rest his back, holding you in his arms. “Thank you for tonight.”

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “Thank you for everything, Yunho. Let’s be… best friends. That’s the least we can be, isn’t it?”

Yunho chuckled. “What have we been till now?”

“Housemates, I like to think,” you giggled, and Yunho thought it was the loveliest sound he had heard. 

“I love that you tease and joke with me now. Please… let’s stay like this, y/n. At least like this.”

You nodded, and the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms after more teasing.

—----------------

It was the Friday of the next week that you remembered that you had forgotten about Dani and her housewarming dinner. And… you had forgotten to tell Yunho too.

Yunho wasn’t going to be a problem- he would love to visit Dani, you were aware of that. The problem was, Dani still thought Seonghwa was alive. She wasn’t aware of Yunho’s existence. And tomorrow night, when everyone in the neighbourhood will be present… you prayed that Dani could hold herself from a loud reaction, at least. The people who knew about your situation already looked at you funny.

Yunho was going to arrive in a few hours on his weekly break. You contemplated telling him about the situation- maybe you could visit Dani earlier with Yunho and let her know everything, but…

You really couldn’t handle telling Dani everything, was what you were afraid of. 

To be fair, you hadn’t really sat and talked about everything that came to happen in one sitting. And you were afraid you were going to create a scene when you finally did. Just thinking about it made your chest tight and want to break down all over again. 

Your train of thoughts were broken when you heard the kettle boil. You sighed, turning off the stove and staring into space until you felt Byeol tug at your dress. 

“It’s time to feed the cats, mommy.”

You nodded, patting her cheek and she rushed outside with a giggle. You shook your head, smiling faintly as you mixed your tea and followed her outside with the leftovers from last night, asking Byeol to do the deed.

Byeol, happy with the responsibility, took the box from you and gathered the bowls- and the cats- and started putting equal amounts of food in the bowls. You heart swelled with adoration, thanking fates for blessing you with a sensible and lovely daughter, wondering how lucky you had been to have raised her right, but you knew-

The credit… It went to Yunho. If you were honest, the reason Byeol was such a nice daughter and person was because Yunho raised her right, always showering her with love, always being patient with her and you. You knew firsthand how kids felt if their parents weren’t on good terms with each other, and your heart swelled with pride that Yunho had never been frustrated or angry with you- not even in private. If it had just been you, Byeol wouldn’t have been such a pure soul. You didn’t even want to think about the possibility of her having an unloving father.

As if Yunho had heard you thinking about him, he popped in front of you, making you put a hand on your heart as you breathed. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” Yunho grinned. “I didn’t realise you were daydreaming.”

You passed him a sideways glance. “You’re early today. That’s surprising.”

“Got lucky,” Yunho sat down next to you. “When do you think Byeol is going to look away from the cats and notice her poor father came home to see her?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking her head at how Byeol stood with her hands on her hips as she watched the cats, making sure none of them fought over food. “She’s a soldier on duty right now, you of all people should know that look.”

Yunho laughed as he nodded. “I promised to take Byeol with me to the forest, show her some archery and let her try. Do you want to join?”

“Let’s see…” you stifled your smile, deciding it was your turn to surprise him. “Should I? Maybe you could teach me how to shoot as well.”

Yunho glanced at you, narrowing his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I’m in for a surprise?”

He found out he was right soon after. He let Byeol try first, a small bow and arrows made just for her. She wasn’t bad and you both applauded her, and then Yunho handed you his bow, teaching you how to hold it, adjusting your arms and back. You let him, pretending to be totally unaware.

“So you hold the arrow from here,” Yunho folded your fingers around the arrow. “Chin straight, like this-” he adjusted your chin. “And back straight- yes. Now, breathe. Aim. Let go.”

You nodded, aiming for the bullseye. Yunho stood wondering how far you would miss, but you hit only an inch away from the bullseye, making Yunho’s jaw drop. You flipped the stray strands of your hair, grinning shamelessly at him. 

“I knew something was fishy the moment you asked me to teach you!” Yunho laughed in disbelief and Byeol finally let out a wow after having held her breath, looking at you with admiration.

“Seonghwa taught me how to shoot,” you admitted and Yunho laughed, saying of course it was him. “But I have to admit, you’re a better tutor than Seonghwa.”

“Really? How?”

“He just told me to ‘visualise’ when I couldn’t shoot properly the first two times. It didn’t end like it was supposed to,” you laughed, recalling how Seonghwa had been patient at first and then the teasing had started and you two had ended up aiming arrows at each other, betting on who would actually shoot the other. Of course, it ended with Seonghwa giving up first and then doing what he did best- shut you up with a kiss and more.

“That’s funny, since he’s the one who taught us all how to shoot,” Yunho rubbed his chin. “I guess his patience ran out with us.”

“Definitely did,” you muttered and Yunho laughed.

“Let’s go for another round. Let me see how good you are.”

You and Byeol shoot arrow after arrow, Yunho encouraging Byeol after every shot and applauding you. Your shots weren’t hundred percent accurate but they were more than enough. 

That night, after dinner, washing up and putting Byeol to bed, you asked Yunho about the first time Seonghwa had taught him how to shoot.

“We were 10, I think. Seonghwa’s father was an excellent shooter so he followed in his steps. He would steal his father’s bow and come to the forest and teach us all how to use it. Hongjoong has a good eye so all it took was one look at the arrow for him to carve them himself. All we needed was the bow, and he’d bring it every other day, until his father caught him and all of us got an earful and a slap to the butt for thinking we’re better than we actually are.”

You scoffed. “I’m not surprised. How did you continue?”

“Do you think we’re the type to give up just like that?” Yunho raised a brow and you understood, nodding.

“So you continued doing the same thing? No wonder all of your parents decided the military was a good place for you lot.”

Yunho laughed and you joined, shaking your head. “Did he tell you about how we all got recruited as the King’s agents?”

“Yeah- it was you. The King chose you and Wooyoung announced either he hire the whole lot or he give you up,” you smiled. “You’re lucky to have such friends.”

“Incredibly lucky,” Yunho nodded. “Don’t you have some old friends? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned someone-”

“Good heavens, I forgot to tell you,” you sat properly, sighing. “Dani is my old friend and neighbour- Seonghwa knew her. She moved away when Seonghwa was alive and she came back two weeks ago, stopping by shortly to tell me to come to her housewarming which is… tomorrow.”

“We can go,” Yunho nodded.

“The thing is,” you sighed deeply. “She doesn’t know about Seonghwa and… you. It’s gonna be hard for her to digest this, and with everyone being there tomorrow…”

“Are you scared?” Yunho asked and you bit your lips, nodding. Yunho’s fingers brushed yours and when you didn’t pull away, he held your hand, caressing it, urging you to tell him what exactly were you scared of.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna break down when I tell her, because honestly, I haven’t really narrated all of this yet to anyone,” you shrugged, trying not to break down right then as well. “It’s going to be hard for both of us. I’m thinking up excuses to not go-”

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Yunho squeezed your hand. “Dani… she’s going to find out one day. It’s better if she hears it from you, isn’t it? And… I’ll be with you, y/n. You have nothing to be scared of.”

You spent the longest time staring at your intertwined hands, trying to recall what it was like when Seonghwa held your hands. You couldn’t remember how it felt anymore, and it made you cry and take your hand away from Yunho’s grasp, folding in on yourself and hugging yourself as you cried.

You were lying on the bed and Yunho only caressed your head, waiting for you to let it out. You wouldn’t open your eyes and the tears kept falling. When you finally did, you looked guilty.

“I sometimes try to recall how Seonghwa’s hands felt when he held or caressed my hands. When you do that to me, Yunho… for the shortest moment I’m with Seonghwa all over again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Yunho stopped caressing your head as he realised just why it was so hard for you to accept gestures like these from him. He gulped as his heart sank. “Do you think I’m Seonghwa? Do you make yourself think that? Because if you do-”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I got my lesson when I did that- if you remember from the time I kissed you.”

Yunho remembered- oh yes, he did. It was something he had never been able to forget even when you both pretended that never happened, simply because he had never seen someone look at him with such longing and desperation in their eyes. It tore him apart when he realised that you did that while thinking of Seonghwa, letting yourself believe it was Seonghwa in front of you, not Yunho. 

This time, you took Yunho’s hand. “I want to be able to touch you without thinking of Seonghwa. And when I finally kiss you… I want it to be because I want you. Seonghwa was my first love but he is gone now. No one can replace that. But you… you are Yunho, not Seonghwa. And loving you, I’m finding, is very different from loving Seonghwa.”

Yunho squeezed your hand, out of breath because of your admission. You smiled faintly when you looked at him. “I have always loved you, Yunho, from the moment you became a father to Byeol. You have raised her into a beautiful person, and I give you all the credit for who Byeol is today. But now… I want to love you as my husband, not my daughter’s father. And tomorrow, when I tell Dani about you… I don’t want to break down. I want to be proud of you, my husband.”

Yunho couldn’t hold it back anymore. He pulled you in for a hug, your arms looping in his shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you and sighing as he squeezed you. “I’ve always been proud of you, from the moment you put Byeol first and decided to marry me. I would have died happy even if you did not love me, because you gave me a family. I don’t want you to do anything out of obligation-”

“You’ve been so patient with me,” you told him, caressing his head. “I want to return it. It’s not just because we’re married. It’s because I got to know you through the way you raised Byeol. I got to know you when you gave me space. I got to know you when you talk about Seonghwa. And I like that person. I want to get to know you now. Just Yunho, not the husband, not the friend, not the father… just you.” You drew back, holding his face and taking in his features. “Jeong Yunho. I want to get to know you.”

“I didn’t realise you’re so poetic, y/n,” Yunho shook his head, smiling uncontrollably.

“Well, that’s what happens when you spend too much time alone,” you scoffed. “And one thing I’ve got to know about you, Jeong Yunho, is that you really can’t stay serious, can you?”

Yunho laughed, “I was serious!”

“I mean,” you laughed, pinching his cheeks, “you always make a funny comment when you’re shy or embarrassed, when I do something like this. And then you start blushing.”

Yunho frowned, touching his cheeks and finding out he was, indeed, all hot from blushing. You giggled, pinching his flushed cheeks again. “I find it cute, so don’t shy away now.”

Yunho pouted, pushing your hands away and burying his face in the pillows, making you laugh and lie down next to him. “Let’s see how long you can hold your breath.”

Yunho shifted, staring at you, and you found his eyes flash for the briefest seconds. “Do you want me to find out how you blush? Because I don’t think I’ve really seen it, and now I really want to-”

“Okay, okay, Jeong Yunho is also a tease. I should have known,” you muttered, ignoring his question because you could already feel a blush creeping on your cheeks from the way he had looked at you and the way his voice was so low when he said that. You started towards the book at your side table but when you turned, Yunho’s face was inches away from yours and the book fell in your lap out of surprise, Yunho’s gaze making you sink down into the bed until you were lying flat and he was on top of you.

“Yunho,” your voice barely came as a whisper and you marvelled at the effect he had on you just because of his gaze- but to be fair… this gaze was too much. It was hot. He no longer had flushed cheeks, and you were pretty sure your whole face was red as he scanned it. The faint smile on his parted lips didn’t help either. He was on top of you, and you were trapped.

“Revenge is sweet,” he scoffed but his eyes shifted again as he caressed your face once. He leaned forward and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, and perhaps he was. He stopped right when your noses brushed, as if it brought him back to his senses. He drew back, surprised to not see you panicking like you used to whenever he looked at you differently or initiated physical contact. Rather, it looked like you wanted something from him. 

So Yunho only planted one kiss on your cheekbone, letting his lips trail faintly down and planted one final kiss on your jaw, lingering before drawing back and caressing your face. “You’re red as a tomato.”

That did it for you. You pushed him off of you, laughing. It was your turn to hide your face in the pillows.

—----------------

The smell of roasted meat hit you as soon as you saw the bright lights of the outdoor setting Dani had done for the housewarming dinner. Byeol was a little shy as she spotted kids her age all playing together and she hid behind your dress. Yunho pinched her cheek as he chuckled, urging her to go and interact with the kids once they greet everyone.

Dani was busy grilling meat with her son- you greeted the two of them, glad to see how grown up her son was now, already a teenager. Yunho, as planned, had disappeared into the crowd of husbands, waiting for your signal so you could finally introduce him to Dani.

“Seonghwa must already have disappeared over there,” Dani tried to search him in the crowd but you shook your head. 

“He’s not here,” you said and Dani frowned, but you dismissed it as you promised to tell her later about it. “Tell me, how has your life been?”

So Dani told you all about what had happened in the past few years. Some other ladies from the neighbourhood joined as you all ate, sharing stories over drinks. You felt good- you were laughing more than you usually did, you weren’t worried about anything. You decided you would meet up with people in your neighbourhood more- they were all such kind people.

When you all were done eating, you and Dani walked to where the kids all sat, playing with pebbles. Dani sighed happily. “Kids grow up so fast. I can’t believe my Channie is already at the age where we think our parents are our enemies.”

You scoffed. “I fear the possibility of Byeol being that teenager, but I know no matter how good kids are and how good their parents are, they go through that. It’s natural.”

“Yep. I feel sorry for my poor mother who had to deal with hot headed teenage Dani,” she pursed her lips, grinning. “She must have had a blast.”

“Definitely,” you chuckled, watching Byeol play her turn and throw the pebbles in the air and then catching them. “Dani… I have something to tell you.”

Dani raised her brows at your sombre tone. “What?”

You took a deep breath, turning to face her, hugging yourself not because of the chill breeze but because you needed it more. “Seonghwa… passed away two months after Byeol was born.”

The faint smile fell from Dani’s face and her eyes widened in horror. “But- you-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have the strength to tell you,” you smiled sadly. “You came in such a rush, and I was surprised, and honestly… It has been hard even talking about it. But I’m getting better now.”

“I… I am so sorry, y/n,” Dani’s eyes were wet with tears that finally fell when she hugged you and cried. “Seonghwa… He was like a brother to me, you know that. He’s in a better place now, isn’t he?”

“He must be,” you hugged her back. “Watching over Byeol, a star in the sky.” You broke the hug, wiping her tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your letters. It was… really hard.”

“I understand, you have nothing to apologise for,” Dani wiped her face. 

“I also want you to meet someone,” you smiled and Dani frowned in confusion. You looked back at the crowd, finding Yunho already looking in your direction. You nodded and he hesitated before coming forward, joining you. 

“This is Jeong Yunho. Seonghwa’s best friend, my best friend… and my husband. Byeol wouldn’t know the love of a father without him.”

Dani smiled, greeting Yunho. Yunho looked at you, “Y/n’s told me a lot about you, Dani.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“All good things,” Yunho confirmed with a smile. “I hope you’ll come over for tea soon. It’s a lovely dinner party you’ve hosted.”

“Thank you, Yunho, and I… will. Soon. She and I have a lot of catching up to do,” she winked at you.

Yunho nodded, patting your back before leaving you two. Dani wiped her tears, laughing in disbelief and happiness. “I… I’m proud of you, y/n. It must have been such a difficult decision to make. Tell me you’re happy with him.”

“I am,” you admitted, wiping your own tears. “I’m so grateful to him. He’s loved Byeol like a father even before we were married.” 

You told Dani about how you had known Yunho since you met Seonghwa’s group of friends. You told her about how Seonghwa passed away in a mission with Yunho and Yunho blamed himself out of guilt, how he loved Byeol even before your marriage and how it was Seonghwa’s mother, of all the people, who arranged this marriage. You told her about how it was so hard at first but you couldn’t think of a better partner and father of your child. 

“I was so unfair with him, Dani,” you sighed, resting your head on her shoulder. “All he’s done is given me space and love and all I did was push him away. I finally realised how stupid I’ve been.”

“You needed time, don’t beat yourself over it,” Dani patted your shoulder. “And he’s a good man if he gave you all the time and space you needed. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I’m finally moving on with life. Saying that I’m moving on from Seonghwa… that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” You thought. “Seonghwa will always be in my heart. But Yunho… I think I love him too.”

“Seonghwa would be happy for you two, and he would be so proud of his best friend and his wife,” Dani smiled. “See that? The brightest star? That’s definitely Seonghwa, twinkling because he’s pissed at you for thinking all the negative stuff-”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “He’s twinkling because he’s happy for us, and he’s watching Byeol.”

“Definitely,” Dani nodded, noticing the guests calling her over. “Let’s do the rest of catching up later. It’s time to see everyone off.” She got up, taking your hand and squeezing it. “Just for the record… Yunho better be ready to spoil me like Seonghwa did.”

You laughed, letting her know that you’ll have to tell Yunho just what he was in for.

—------------------

Seonghwa’s mother dropped by the following Wednesday. She had informed you by a letter two days before and you had been preparing for her arrival, and Byeol had been the most excited, running around the house because ‘granny’ was finally visiting after months. 

And Granny was pleasantly surprised to see how much brighter the house looked- not just in the decor that had changed a lot since her last visit, but the mood. She was pleased inside to see the positive smile on your face this time as you hugged her.

“It’s been far too long, my daughter, I’m sorry for being late,” she kissed your cheek and smiled before looking at Byeol. “Let me see… who is this kid? I don’t remember Byeol being so big!”

“I’ve grown!” Byeol clung to her grandmothers’ knee and the two of you laughed over the gesture. 

You let the two catch up while you set the table. After dinner and a lot of playing with Byeol, after which she passed out in her grandmother’s arms, you put her to bed and sat by the fireplace with Seonghwa’s mother, a cup of coffee in both your hands.

“Is it time I finally comment on how happier and healthier you look since the last time I saw you?” Seonghwa’s mother smiled knowingly. “For the first time, I feel relieved.”

You looked down, smiling. “I realised a lot of things in the past few months, things I had turned a blind eye to.”

“How did it happen?” She sighed happily. “What changed you, y/n?”

You stared at the fire. “I don’t think there’s one moment that changed it, mother. A lot of small moments collected in my heart, until it was so full of all the love Yunho gave me. Until all the space he gave me… ran out. He made me really look at him.”

“And how do you feel about all of this?” 

“I have finally figured out what to do with my heart,” you laughed. “Seonghwa… he’ll always stay. I had been trying to forget him, but I realised I didn’t have to forget him to move on. I have to remember him. He’ll always be a part of my life. Having Yunho… that won’t change anything.”

“Finally,” Seonghwa’s mother groaned uncharacteristically and you gaped at her as she flipped her hair haughtily. “You’d think me telling you the same thing over and over would have done the trick, but no. I guess it must be Yunho who somehow made you realise that.”

You smiled sheepishly and she gave you a teasing glance. You shook your head, “It’s like you’ve been far too eager for this to happen, haven’t you?”

“I just want to see you all truly happy,” she smiled. “I’m glad you finally understand that you can still be happy, y/n. I’m sure Seonghwa is also as relieved as I am.”

“He must be, right?” You looked up, trying to push back the tears. “I miss him so much, still.”

“I do too,” his mother smiled. “It’s not something we have control over, is it?” 

“Not really,” you wiped your eyes. “How did you… cope with it, mom? After your husband passed away?”

“Ironically, like you,” she laughed and you gave her a sideways glance, smiling. “The first few years were horrible. Seonghwa had a tough time too, he was only 14. It took us both some patience and time because we strayed away from each other too. We realised later that we were on the same boat. Then, we stopped hating each other. We became each other’s comfort.”

“And did you never consider remarrying?”

“I did, actually,” she admitted and you were surprised. “But not because Seonghwa needed a father. No one could replace that anymore. I guess I was lonely. I needed someone to love. I only talked about the possibility once with Seonghwa, and it didn’t end well. He told me I didn’t need anyone as long as he was alive. Well, 14 years old think they have everything, don’t they?”

You scoffed. “I can’t believe Seonghwa said that. I thought he would have encouraged you.”

“The Seonghwa you know would have encouraged this, yes,” she laughed. “But the teenager Seonghwa? I’m glad you didn’t meet him.”

The two of you shared a good laugh. You sighed, “You must have been lonely.”

“In some ways, yes, I was. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she relaxed back. “But I got used to it. And now that Seonghwa is no more… I feel like I’m all alone in this world. Thanks to Byeol and you, I’m not completely hopeless. And Seonghwa’s friends… they all make me forget about Seonghwa’s absence whenever they visit.”

You nodded- having them over really felt like Seonghwa was there too. You told her about their visit and how Hongjoong knocked some sense into you too. 

“Yunho’s my son too,” Seonghwa’s mother finally said when you stopped talking. “And if you two are really going to move forward together… I would be the happiest mother.”

—---------------

“Checkmate.”

“Checkmate to you,” Yunho knocked the very piece you had knocked Yunho’s with, making you gape.

“How!”

Yunho showed you just where you made the mistake. You only shook your head. “It’s your stupid luck that always makes you win. Seonghwa said you’re one lucky bastard.”

“He was right,” Yunho laughed, wrapping up the chessboard and pieces off the bed. “I always win.”

You folded your arms, your jaw tense. Yunho noticed that, snickering to himself. “You want to go again?”

“I’m good,” you huffed, straightening your legs and resting your back, not looking at him. Yunho decided it was a good time to poke your stomach and you jumped more because of the surprise, putting a hand over your mouth as you crawled to the opposite side of the bed.

“Yunho! Mother’s in the next room with Byeol, don’t make me shout at you!”

Yunho laughed, running a hand through his dark locks and you crossed your legs, glaring at him. “You want some snacks? I’m craving something.”

“Mom brought a box of chocolates, it’s in the kitchen.”

Yunho nodded, disappearing out of the room and you leaned back, resting your back against the bed, crossing your legs and smiling to yourself, wiping it immediately when you spotted Yunho coming back, realising that you must look lovesick smiling like that to yourself- but you had been doing that a lot.

“These are good,” Yunho tossed you two and you unwrapped one, popping it in your mouth. “I don’t need to save them for Byeol, do I?”

“She gets a separate box,” you rolled your eyes. “You’d think mother would get me a separate box too- she knows I love chocolates!”

“You’re not her priority anymore,” Yunho teased, sitting in front of you.

“I am no one’s priority, it seems,” you huffed.

Yunho watched you for a moment too long before he put his head in your lap and looked at you, upside down. “You’ve always been my first priority. You’re stupid if you don’t realise that.”

Your heart did a dangerous swoop and you put a chocolate in his mouth to shut him up, which he ate, grinning. You gave in, smiling and running your hands through his hair.

“Thank you, Yunho.”

“For what?” His eyes were shut, relaxed as you caressed his head.

“For being… you,” you laughed. “You know what I mean, right?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think I do. You mind telling me clearly? Just so I can memorise it properly?”

You slapped his cheek lightly, making him smirk harder. “It’s hard to put it in words, you just… you’re…”

So good to me. So lovable. My strength. 

You caressed Yunho’s cheek and he lay there so peacefully, in your lap. He fit right there, as if he was made to. Your heart longed for him even though he was so close to you. Words failed you, so you-

You leaned forward and kissed his lips, a short but sure one so he’d know what you meant without the words. 

When you drew back, his lips were parted and his eyes were still closed, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. For a moment, irrational fear gripped you-

“What are you thinking?” You whispered.

Yunho finally opened his eyes and looked at you- the gaze gripping you. “You know what you did, right?”

You nodded- if he needed any confirmation, you’d give him. You’d clear his doubts. So you pecked his lips again, still upside down. Yunho sighed and then he got up, turning and crawling so painfully slowly on top of you, his gaze pinning you down. He kissed your forehead first, lingering there as his hand cupped your face- so small in his hand. He looked at you each time he kissed your cheeks, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The fact that he asked, it broke your heart. You put your arms around his neck. “You never have to ask again, Yunho. I’m all yours.”

Yunho nodded as if he still couldn’t believe it, caressing your face so lovingly that it made you groan- the longing in his eyes… you couldn’t take it anymore. He finally kissed you then, and it wasn’t an innocent peck. It made you moan into it right away, made you hold him tighter, made him groan into it as well as he kissed you passionately, cupping your face with both his hands now, each kiss deeper than the previous one until you two broke apart, gasping not only because you were out of breath.

You wrapped yourself around him and he pulled you up so you were sitting in his lap and hugging him. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, swaying you back and forth ever so slowly. He breathed once, and then he pecked your neck. You subconsciously tilted your neck, allowing him to draw your hair away and really kiss you on the neck like he had wanted to for so long, planting some everywhere until he found the one spot that made you shift in his hold, and he decided that was where he was going to keep kissing you until you were a mess and your breath hitched.

When you moaned his name, he pushed you back to bed again and kissed you, this time soft and so incredibly slow that it made your legs weak. You lay there, with only the strength to caress his hands that held you. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time,” he laughed a bit, kissing your cheek. “I’m sorry if it was too much-”

“No, it’s perfect, Yunho-” you bit your lips. “Keep going.”

His eyes flashed and he nodded, joining your lips again. The two of you fell in a rhythm, kissing like you two had all the time in the world, and at that moment, you really did. You soon shifted, making him lie down so you could get on top of him and return the favour. 

The two of you fell asleep planting lazy kisses on each other’s faces.

—--------------------

“Hello, Seonghwa.”

The cool breeze blew your hair to one side and you tucked them behind your ears, taking a deep breath. You smiled.

“I hope you’re still watching over me and Byeol. It’s been three years without you, but it feels like yesterday.”

You put the single red rose you had plucked from your garden earlier on his grave and stood back up, looking at the clear evening sky.

“I miss you everyday. I think about you everyday. I hope you don’t think I’ve forgotten you- I could never.”

You recalled the time Seonghwa and you had been on the hills right at the outskirts of the town. Seonghwa had been holding you in his arms, half lying down. The two of you were star-gazing. Seonghwa asked you what you would do if he ever died on a mission.

“First of all,” you got up and turned, slapping his arm, “Don’t stay stuff like that!”

“I’m just asking,” Seonghwa laughed, putting his hands in the air, surrendering. “I just… you know how it was a big decision for me to marry you and even be in a relationship with you in the first place. After looking at my mom’s life, I thought I would never do that to someone- never love and leave them hanging. But you, you just…”

“Yeah, am I to blame?” You teased, “I mean… it was the both of us. I knew what I was getting into when I said yes.” You stared at your wedding ring.

“So that’s why I’m asking,” Seonghwa put his hands on your waist and pulled you back in your original position, your head resting on his chest. “If something happened to me, what do you think you would do?”

“Let’s see… move on? I mean, three days of mourning are enough-”

“Can you stop teasing me?” Seonghwa laughed and you sighed, looking up at him. You cupped his face, tracing his cheekbone and taking in how lovely he looked illuminated by the moonlight.

“Do you think I could ever move on? After loving you? After knowing what it feels like to be loved by you? I would break. I would shatter into a million pieces, but yes, I would still have to be strong for you. I would put back all my pieces and glue them, but a broken thing remains broken even when it’s glued back.”

Seonghwa sighed, kissing you deeply and lingering as he drew back. “I wouldn’t want you to give up on life and love.”

“Well, what would you do if I died first?” You raised a brow. “Sure, you knock at death’s door everyday, but I could very well be the first one to die. What would you do?”

That made Seonghwa understand- he wasn’t sure if he could even glue himself back if he broke. Seonghwa nodded, hugging you. You rubbed his back. “I would also want you to move on, to live and love. That’s who we are, Seonghwa. To live and love again wouldn’t mean that our relationship meant nothing.”

How ironic it was that you, who said those words, forgot them altogether- or rather, forcefully shut them away. 

“I’m sorry for being someone you wish I wouldn’t be, for the past three years,” you stared at the rose that lay on the brown dust, a striking contrast. “And also… thank you for giving me Byeol. I don’t think I would be standing here, happy and healthy if it wasn’t for your one last gift.”

Seonghwa didn’t think it was practical to have a child in his field. He had seen so many examples- men leaving their children to their mothers and dying. The children broken, the wives helpless. Especially in this era, with the ever growing threat of war- he thought at least soldiers should be single. 

He didn’t realise how wrong he was, until he encountered you in the hills when some enemies were after him. You were plucking daisies with the most innocent look on your face, and his heart was beating louder than ever in fear that his enemies would take you instead of him if they saw you. So he took your hand and ran, the daisies dropping. The sound of arrows whooshing past you two shut you up when you shouted for help, realising that the man who was running with you wasn’t the threat but the saviour. 

You two hid behind a tree and Seonghwa feared that this would be the end- at least of him. He was defenceless. But you- you looked him in the eyes and knew immediately that you could trust him. You handed him the sharp knife you’d brought with yourself and he frowned- this wasn’t one to cut flowers or fruits.

“You never know what could happen in the forest,” you whispered, shrugging, and bent down to fist some dirt in your hands.

As soon as Seonghwa heard the men, he put himself in action- you were mesmerised by the way he moved. You threw the dirt on the man’s face who thought he got Seonghwa, saving him. In a matter of moments, the three men were dead.

Seonghwa swept his dark hair back and looked at you, shaking his head as he smiled. “Thank you- you saved my life.”

“I’m pretty sure you would have been okay without my help too,” you gulped as you looked at the bodies. “Can you take me back? I don’t know my way around here.”

That was the first time he met you. He searched for you around town for months, hoping to become your friend at least, and finally, he saw you one day in the market and gave you a bouquet of roses as a thank you gift. 

After marriage, it was Seonghwa who asked you if you wanted a child- you knew Seonghwa wasn’t a fan of having children with his job, but when he asked you, you were surprised.

“What changed?” You asked.

“Now that I have you, I finally understand why people have families. They have something to live for, something to fight for. Something to come back home for. And also… you’ll be less lonelier too, isn’t that right?”

You laughed, hugging Seonghwa. “I knew you’d change your mind one day, that’s why I didn’t insist on having children.”

“You know me well,” Seonghwa laughed, hugging you back. “So?”

You drew back, thinking, the smile on your face growing wider. You kissed him long and hard. “I’d be fine either way. It’s up to you.”

And if you ever thought Seonghwa would be an awkward parent, you were so wrong. For the two months that he was with his daughter, you found him to be a natural parent. He made it his life’s mission to not let you even frown or get tired or overwhelmed by the baby. You’d always laugh and ask him to give it a rest, but it was like he knew that he didn’t have much time with the baby.

Byeol was so loved, you realised. So blessed to have Seonghwa as her father. You prayed she’d grow up to be like Seonghwa too. Especially since Seonghwa’s last wish was something along those lines-

“My little star,” Seonghwa kissed Byeol’s forehead, “Don’t make mom too tired, okay? I know you’re going to be a patient and loving daughter. You’re going to be just like me.”

“Come on,” you teased Seonghwa, “Just like you?”

“Just like me,” he smiled and placed Byeol back on the bed, turning to you and spreading his arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist, listening to his heartbeat. He didn’t break the hug for the longest time, his face buried in your neck. 

You were the first to break your hug and you swept his hair back as you held his face, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” he sighed. “I’m scared to go now that I have Byeol to worry about too.”

“You’re so brave, Seonghwa,” you straightened his collar, resting your hands on his chest. “You make Byeol and I proud every time you go to fight for your country- so that your wife and child, so that other mothers and childrens have a safe place to live in. You have nothing to be scared of.”

Seonghwa nodded. “You always know the right thing to say.”

You only smiled, the two of you leaning forward for a kiss- Seonghwa took his time kissing you, and if you had known that was the last time he was going to kiss you, you would have never let him go.

You came back from memory lane, taking a deep breath. “This is the first time I’ve come with Yunho. He loves me, Seonghwa. He loves Byeol like you loved her. And I… I’m doing what you told me to. I’m alive again, Seonghwa.”

You wiped the tears that threatened to roll down your face. You looked back, where Yunho and Byeol waited for you and you motioned them to come. Yunho picked Byeol in her arms and stood by your side. 

“Look at Byeol- how loved she is. You have nothing to worry about, Seonghwa,” you smiled. 

Yunho handed Byeol to you and you were about to give him some space as well but he held your hand, urging you to stay. He sat down beside the grave, rubbing the mud of his grave.

“I’m sorry for blaming myself all these years,” Yunho began, “I know you told me that it’s not my fault, but I know you would have been the same if it was me in your place.”

You sighed internally- Yunho really had it hard, just like you. Yunho placed the pebbles that he held in his hand around the roses.

“We’re soldiers. We live short, meaningful lives- and if we’re lucky, we live long. You lived so well, Seonghwa. I admired you for having the courage to start a family. Then I kind of hated you for leaving them so broken- but now… now that I’ve known the joy of a family… I admire you even more.”

He got up, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I loved Byeol the moment I saw her. I hope I can be a father she can be proud of, and I’ll make sure she’s also proud of you. I’ll tell her about your life, and hope she can get to know who her father really was. And I…”

Yunho looked at you, smiling. “I don’t know when it happened, but I fell in love with her too. I hope we can heal each other and be each other’s comfort for as long as we live. I hope you’ll be proud of us, Seonghwa.”

You smiled back, leaning into him. 

—-----------------

It felt like you were a little teen who was dating again.

It felt stupid- that you cared so much about how you looked, that you blushed again. It was bittersweet, this feeling of getting to know someone more with each passing day and falling deeper in love. Of being anxious- did he love you back? Did he love you like you did?

You never thought you’d be happy again, but you were. Sometimes you got scared- if something happened to Yunho, you wouldn’t make it this time, you didn’t care whether you had a daughter to worry about too. Of course after what happened with Seonghwa, you couldn’t possibly heal if you lost Yunho too. So you only prayed for one thing- to live a long, happy and healthy life with Yunho. 

Yunho was… handsome in every way- in his appearance, in his manners, in the way he talked, the way he laughed. He was heartwarming, a ball of sunshine in your life. Where Seonghwa had been like loving the moon, Yunho was like loving the sun. He made you love things that you once hated, and you couldn’t believe how he did that.

Yunho was someone you hugged more and couldn’t get enough of it. His hugs made you feel safe and warm. His kisses made you feel loved and beautiful. His touch made you feel hopeful.

You wondered if this was fate’s play- what a mysterious thing it was that you were meant to love Seonghwa and Yunho. Everything felt right with Seonghwa, and everything felt right with Yunho too.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Yunho, who held you in his arms in front of the fireplace, whispered in your ear, trailing kisses down your neck.

“If I told you,” you said, smirking, “I’m not sure if you’d blush and leave or take me right here.”

Good thing Byeol went to stay with her grandmother- your grandmother insisted you two needed some time alone now that you were finally moving on and oh, she was right. Byeol was big enough to stay with her grandmother- she loved it there because she had friends her age too, and her grandmother was ‘more fun than mom and dad combined’ according to Byeol. 

“You wanna bet on it?” Yunho challenged, tilting your chin so he could lock eyes with you. You swooned at how hot his gaze was. “What, exactly, are you thinking, my love?”

“Let’s see,” you sighed. “I’m thinking about this,” you kissed the edge of his lips. “And this,” you got on top of him, straddling him and kissing his lips briefly but surely. “And this,” you rolled your hips over him, making him groan. “What do you think?”

Yunho chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine you doing this if Byeol would have been home-”

“There you go. You lost the bet,” you grinned. “You always try to distract me when you feel shy. It’s not gonna work tonight, Jeong Yunho.”

Yunho only did that because he needed a moment. And then he tucked your hair behind your ears, his large hands cupping your face as he kissed you like his entire being urged him to, with a force that made you arch back and back until you were on the floor, and he, on top of you. Where he belonged.

“Should we take this to bed, or is this more thrilling?” Yunho whispered, not even waiting for a response as he started trailing kisses down your neck and unbuttoning whatever prevented him from being skin on skin.

It was your daughters 3rd birthday, a day filled with toddlers screaming, giggling and just as much fun. Family, friends gathered around in your backyard, decorated in pink, hand painted decorations because Hyewon deserved nothing but the best.

Hyewon, your pride and joy, carried her for 9 long, painful months.

Just for her to be a mini Hyunjin.

The same dramatic flare even at three, the same soft look when they want something, the same mole under their eyes.

Hyunjin was made to be a dad, his soft presence, his caring nature; that belief has only been solidified after Hyewon.

Despite his hectic schedule he never missed anything, every appointment, every milestone he was there. He says its because she knew he'd be sad and she definitely didn't want her appa to be sad.

The suns long set, the pink and orange in the sky fading to blue and black. The chaotic day of constant sound and chaos settling to the distant sounds of dogs barking and contentment.

Inside its similar, the faint humming of the washing machine, Hyewon's sleeping mumbles through the baby monitor.

Your humming along to whatever songs auto playing on your phone, cleaning up the mountain of dishes from today, swapping with Hyunjin — leaving him to wrangle your hyperactive daughter who consumed nearly her body weight in sugar to bed.

You're off in your own thoughts when you suddenly feel Hyunjin's familiar arms wrap around you, halting your cleaning. Feeling Hyunjin relax into you, conditions you to do the same.

Hyunjin's hands roaming over you, holding onto your stomach keeping you in place for him, feeling his forehead resting on your shoulder.

"Little miss is all asleep." His voice quiet, muffled against your skin. You hum slightly, a small smile on your lips, not yet turning to look back at him.

"How'd you manage that?" In response he simply laughs a little bit, the laugh vibrating against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Bribery, told her we'd take her to the park tomorrow with Siwoo." He presses a soft kiss to the exposed skin of your shoulder blade.

"Is Chan aware of this play date yet?" You hum in amusement awaiting his answer.

He simply mumbles something incoherent into your shirt, tightening his hold on you.

Putting down whatever plate you were washing, focusing off to the side, the small photo on the window sill; You, Hyunjin and Hyewon when she was first brought home.

Hyunjin's eyes following yours, his whole body softening at the memory.

"She was so small.." His voice almost unsteady, the memories flooding back, only feeling like yesterday his family was started.

"Can't believe shes three, soon shes gonna start school, then high school then college —" Your teasing words causing Hyunjin to groan against you.

"Don't start, shes not even out of preschool yet." His words make you soften, knowing he hates the fact shes growing up, his little girl growing up, growing out of being his mini me. (You doubt the dramatic-ness will fade)

"Maybe its time we think about a little sibling for Hyewon, hm? maybe being a big sister will teach her some responsibility." Teasing him even further, though your words lighthearted it sparks something in him. Expecting a witty response about Hyewon not needing to be responsible yet.

When it doesn't come you don't push, instead he turns you around, hands settling on your hips, taking in your slightly dishevelled appearance from the day, makeup slightly smudged around the eyes, lip gloss long gone — still looking utterly ethereal.

"What?" You say slightly amused, biting back a small smile as you look at him. He doesn't respond with words, his fingers moving to trace over your jawline, captivated by you.

You immediately soften under his touch, your hands holding into his shirt, your thumbs running over the fabric.

He leans over, his lips brushing over yours, not capturing them yet, just settling there, enjoying the ghost of you against him.

Your breath hitches slightly, letting him guide you, not pushing forward, just enjoying him in the moment.

When he finally presses his lips on yours its perfect.

Its not fireworks, its consuming.

Your lips move against each others perfectly, knowing each others rhythm, not rushing to anything, just taking in the moment — the rare moments of tranquility, of quiet.

Enjoying the tender moments, melting into his touch, your fingers moving to thread into his hair, not pulling on it just grounding you to him.

When it breaks its only because you cant breathe, both of you catching your breathes, not daring to part further than necessary. Opening your eyes you meet his, already looking at you.

"You're so beautiful." Its a whisper, it would be inaudible to anyone but you — and that's the point, he doesn't need to flash his love for you, shout words from the rooftop, if you wanted him too he would but he doesn't need to.

His love for you is fierce, all consuming and heavy, its presence its him.

His lips catch on yours again, pulling you into another kiss, this time the kiss deepens, lips moving against each others naturally, holding onto each other, trying to pull each other impossibly closer.

Hyunjin guides you instinctively through the house, carefully avoiding furniture and misplaced toys. Pushing through doors until your in your shared room. Guiding you to the bed, breaking the kiss to help you lay down on the bed.

Settling on your elbows, looking up at him, His white shirt stained with paint from the party, his hair slightly messed up from your hold on it.

Quickly he leans over you, effectively caging you on the bed. Pressing sweet kisses over your face with a smile, one to your cheek, your forehead, your nose, your chin then finally a kiss to your lips.

Its all smiles from both of you, as you cup his jaw as his hands hold himself up above you, falling over ontop of you when you shift under him slightly, breaking the kiss with laughter.

"You're an idiot, Hyune." Your words lacking any malice, smiling against his plush lips. Your fingers carding through his hair, just enjoying him in the moment.

"M'your idiot though.." He mutters against your lips, cradling your face then pressing a soft kiss against your lips, then pressing a kiss to your cheek then to your jaw, peppering soft kisses down the curve.

You cant help but scrunch your nose a little but laughing at his comment, instinctively tilting your head back to give him more room, your fingers massaging his scalp slightly, pulling on the lengths when he nips at your neck.

"Cheesy.." you mumble teasing him, you feel him nip at your neck making you yelp a bit pulling him off your neck to meet your eyes.

There's not an ounce of regret in his eyes, smiling wide looking at you, taking you all in.

"You love me for it." He hums, his fingers tracing down your side before dipping under your shirt, his cold fingers against your warm skin making you shiver under his touch.

"I love you despite it, there's a difference." You sigh dramatically, your cheeks hurting from smiling. He watches as you roll your eyes at him huffing in amusement.

Before you can make another snide comment hes moving, moving away from you only to settle above your stomach, pushing his head under your shirt causing you to make a strained yelp or laugh.

"Careful, gonna wake up the princess if you're not quiet." his words muffled from him muttering against your skin. Hyunjin, whos pressing open mouth kisses against your stomach. Your hands move you hold onto his shoulders.

After hes decided hes too impatient he slips out from under your shirt, he grabs your hands pulling you up to your knees with him. That dopey smile adorn on his lips you cant help smile back at him, your arms settling around his neck, your thumb brushing against the skin of his neck.

"You're so beautiful.." He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear it, your expression quickly softens, your movements halting temporarily.

"Always saying saying that, Hyunnie" You tease softly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Always mean it too, so pretty for me even when you don't think so." His words sharp and honest, the air shifting, the tension growing thicker, more intense.

You cant help but moan slightly at his words, which immediately makes him smile wide, teasingly.

His hold on you is tight but not painful, you can tell you'll be bruised on your hips tomorrow but its worth it.

Hyunjin guides you back down till your head hits the pillows, your chest rising from your uneven breathing. Hyunjin cant help but admire you, the way your hair fans out around you, the way your pupils dilate, how you look at him like he hangs stars.

"You're staring." Your soft voice brings him out of his daze, he doesn't respond verbally not trusting his voice to not break, instead he smiles at you.

His fingers trace the hem of your his shirt, you get the memo, lifting yourself up a bit to help remove your shirt, letting it fall to the other side of the bed.

No matter how many times he's seen you like this his eyes never waver. Looking a you like you were sculpted just for him, like you're the most beautiful being created, and to Hyunjin you are.

He takes a deep breath, taking in the sight of you, his fingers stationary on your stomach.

Only when you mutter his name he comes back to reality, smiling sweetly at you before he leans down and presses a kiss to your stomach.

"Remember how beautiful you looked pregnant?" He whispers against your skin, not yet meeting your eyes, fingers grazing the band of your shorts.

"I could barely get my shoes on in the morning, Hyune." you hum in amusement.

"Doesn't mean you weren't gorgeous — god you were glowing, you always have been breathtaking but seeing you carrying my daughter, you looked divine." His words honest, you know that, hes told you hundreds of times — but this time its different, looking at you with something darker in his eyes.

"Whenever i see you with Hyewon all i can think about is how good you are with her, how amazing of a mother you are — how fucking perfect you'd look pregnant again." You cant help the way your breath hitches at his words, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, which of course he notices.

He finally shuts up, deciding you've been teased enough for now.

He kisses down your stomach, putting extra attention on every stretch mark, every freckle and mole. His fingers hook on your waistband, pulling them down torturously slow, kissing every inch of you.

Your skin tingles everywhere he kisses, your fingers lacing in his hair tugging gently, pulling a groan from him which only makes you bite your lip holding back a laugh.

Hyunjin whos less amused, nips the sensitive skin of your thigh, which makes you smack his head slightly, the vibrations of his laugh making you shiver slightly, Hyunjin's hands holding you firmly in place.

"You're such a tease." He sighs dramatically lifting his head from between your thighs to rest his cheek on one of them, his hand soothing the skin of your other thigh, drawing small shapes on it as he looks up at you with a grin.

"Oh I'm the tease? What am i doing?" You huff in amusement, your fingers running through his hair, not able to take your eyes off his.

"Existing." He says simply, dead serious in his accusation.

"My existence is enough to test your sanity?" You cant help but smile at him, enjoying the way his touch feels against your skin.

He simply hums in agreement his movements stopping suddenly. "Can barely contain myself half the time."

"Only half? — id say its more like 25 —" You're words quickly die on the tip of your tongue when you feel his warm breath against your heat.

Hyunjin's nose ghosts you, taking in all of you.

He stills in front of you, you feel his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, faintly hearing him take a deep breath against you. His tongue suddenly swipes up your slit, you can barely process the sudden pleasure before hes diving against your pussy.

Hyunjin's lips attach your clit, sucking on your aching bud with devotion. His tongue darting around, putting pressure on your clit, you cant help the whimpers that flea your lips, holding onto anything you can, one hand settling in his hair pulling on the dark locks, the other scrunching the silk sheets below you.

"Gotta be quiet, baby — don't wanna wake the princess hm?" he murmurs low against your bundle of nerves, his voice creating vibrations against your clit pulling a choked compliant moan from you, biting your lower lip so hard you might break skin.

Taking a sharp breath as his tongue dips from your clit, running through your folds, lapping up all your slick, his nose nudging against your clit with every lick.

You could swear he was enjoying this just as much — if not more than you, moaning desperately into your pussy despite warning you to be quiet. His moans only escalate when you tug on his scalp, groaning into your cunt.

The quiet night interrupted by your joint moans and mindless whispers echoing through the walls, — thankful you don't live close enough to anyone to be bothered.

"Hyunjin —" your breathed moans only fuelling him further, one of his hands snaking across your thigh, his thumb nudging against your sore clit.

Only for him to pull his face away from your cunt to look at you, forcing you to look back down at him — instantly throwing your head back at the sight.

His hair a mess, a sheen of sweat coating his hairline — the bottom half of his face coated in a mix of your slick and his spit, a stupid sly grin plastered with it.

"Missed her so much — been so focused on planning the perfect party for the princess forgot to take care of my girl ~" Fuck hes not even talking to you, you cant help but try and press your thighs together at him talking to your pussy.

His thumb leaves your clit much to your displeasure — whining as you buck your hips up to try and chase his touch. He simply coos at you pressing a soft hiss to your inner thigh, his fingers parting you with a V taking in the sight of you soaked in front of him.

"Gonna stretch you out so good, baby gotta get you nice and ready f'me" Hyunjin presses a final kiss to your clit before you can feel one of his thick fingers prodding your entrance. He's still at your hole, enamoured with how how your clenching around nothing, how you try bucking up to somehow slip his finger in you, pointless but he admires your efforts none the less.

You can barely hold back your moans, your lip sore from biting back. All you can think about is how good he feels — how you desperately crave more.

Hyunjin's eyes darken as he takes you in, the view of your tight cunt sucking in only one of his fingers, letting out a hum in amusement.

You moan as you feel his finger press into you, the slight fullness barely satiating your need for him. Almost like he can tell his finger curls slightly into you, clenching around his digit.

"S'good for me, baby — gonna take another f'me? Hyunjin coos at you, phrasing it like a question knowing damn well you're desperate for more.

You nod vigorously, breathless moans filling the room, fuelling Hyunjin's motivation — eager to please you above his want to tease you endlessly.

You feel a second finger nudge your entrance — clenching around his other finger — soft whimpers, pleading him for more.

You immediately arch at the feeling of his fingers filling you up so good — fingers curling into his hair and the sheets next to you. Breathless moans escaping you, barely able to be mindful of your volume the feeling of him inside you satisfying your need to be close to him.

"Hyune.." You whine quietly, pleading for him to move, your pleas are short lived when you feel him pull out, thrusting his fingers into your tight hole.

His movements are fast but precise, knowing exactly where to angle his fingers to have you wrecked under him.

"Please — ple-please!! — f-fuck Hyunnie t-much..!!" Your words falling short on any meaning, your hips bucking down to meet his thrusts, moaning helplessly around his fingers as the press against that spot only he can reach.

"Taking me so well — fuck,, clenching me so tight even after all this time." he lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes focused on your cunt, how it sucks him in so well.

You can barely process his words — feeling your orgasm approach quickly — the constant thrusts of his long thick fingers, prodding at your gummy spot — his dishevelled appearance — fuck its too much for any sane person.

"Gonna cum over my fingers, muse — god, you're unreal.." Mumbling to himself at this point — you're barely able to contain yourself, your lips bruised from you biting to try and fail holding back your moans.

Hyunjin dips down, lips lips latching onto your aching clit — the final nail pulling your orgasm from you.

His movements only slow, helping you ride out your orgasm, his lips sucking on your slit softly, tongue flicking it pulling strained whines from you.

When he notices your haze fading he parts from your bud, his fingers slowing its thrusts to a halt completely.

you immediately whine, trying with all your strength to try and thrust up to have any sort of friction. Hyunjin simply holds onto your hips, keeping you in place.

Pulling his fingers from your aching cunt, you whine at the loss of him, quickly silencing yourself when you see him put his fingers in his mouth, sucking the digits. Hyunjin moans at the taste of you, his grip on your hip tightening, his eyes never leave yours.

His fingers pull out with a pop, a small devilish smile gracing his lips as he leans over your body, his hand grazing up your side, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss.

Your hands settle on the back of his neck, pulling him down closer, deepening the kiss. Hyunjin nipping at your bottom lip causing you to moan, taking the chance sticking his tongue in your month, his tongue pressing against yours in a heated kiss.

When you part its for a need for oxygen, neither of you wanting it to end, chasing his lips as he presses a faint kiss to you cheek before pulling back completely.

Quickly you forget how to breathe when he reaches for the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, throwing it to the side. Your breath hitching at the sight of his bare torso, His honey skin adorned with soft freckles from countless trips to the beach with Hyewon — faint marks from previous night, your gaze dropping lower and lower till it focus on the defined 'V' leading to his sweatpants.

"You're staring." He teases barely affecting you, looking up and meeting his eyes finally.

"A lot to stare at, Mr Hwang." You quip back with a smile, a small laugh escaping him as he leans back down, mimicking his actions leaning back down against the mattress.

"Flattery will get you everything Mrs Hwang." He whispers in your ear, a small huff in amusement leaving you.

Pushing him back up, sitting yourself up, your fingers skirting over the waist band of his sweats, his boxers peaking through, smiling to yourself as you look up at him with feigning innocence.

Hyunjin looks away from you, a shakey laugh escaping him as he looks back at you, full of love. "You're unreal."

"You've told me once or twice." you hum, your fingers hooking at the band, slipping both his boxers and sweatpants down enough for him to pull them off, ending up at the foot of the bed.

"Only once or twice? Maybe i need to tell you more." He smiles at you.

He leans back over you, his nose touching yours slightly as his fingers tuck some hair behind your ear, his eyes full and never leaving yours.

"I love you." He whispers softly against your lips, causing you to smile against his.

'Love you more." You whisper teasingly back against his lips.

Hyunjin only pulls back to dramatically sigh, his smile never fading, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Unlikely, muse." He grabs your hands pulling you up to him, his lips attaching to yours instantly.

You melt into the kiss with a sigh, enjoying the quiet intimacy's with him.

Pulling away from the kiss only to press your lips on the slope of his jaw, nibbling at his skin, your fingers squeezing at his biceps.

Pushing him gently against the mattress, falling down with a small huff, a smile still spread on his lips.

Straddling his thighs you take him in under you, the roles reversed.

Noticing immediately his hardened cock twitching against his stomach, your nails dragging along his thigh, Hyunjin letting out small strained sounds, barely holding onto his composure.

Your fingers continue trailing him, scratching down his toned stomach across the small trail of hair leading to his length. Nearly salivating at the sight of his thick cock heavy against his stomach.

Feeling your focused eyes on him he cant help but laugh humorlessly. "Way to make a guy feel nervous, muse."

You hum in response, your hand wrapping around his length, pulling a choked moan from him.

Tightening your grip slightly as your hand moves up and down his cock, your thumb pressing on the sensitive slit of his tip. Pathetic moans leaving his lips, unable to look away from the sight of you with his cock.

Dipping your head to his length, your tongue dips out from your lips, making small kitten like licks on his tip just how he likes it.

Before you can get any further he pulls you off, pushing you back against the pillows, his legs caging your hips.

"What —" You're about to tease him when you notice the flushed look on his face, serious while his eats tinge pink.

'If you went any further i would have been gone before we even started." He says breathlessly, your teasing smile fading as your heart hammers in your chest.

His eyes trained on your chest, your nipples perked from the cold chill in the room, Brainlessly his hands quickly move, his thumb swiping over the sensitive bud.

Your body changed after Hyewon, all parts looking different even years after, but to Hyunjin you've never looked better.

He pulls on your nipple with his thumb and index finger, twisting the sensitive bud, making you whimper. Not leaving the other one aching and unattended he bends down capturing it between his teeth, moaning against the mound.

"Hyune —" you tilt your head back against the pillows, your hand holding onto the back of his head holding him in place against your boob. His fingers halting against your other bud, his full attention on the nipple in his mouth.

His hips grind against your thigh, barely missing your cunt, feeling the heat of him so close but unobtainable, whining from the brushes of pleasure you pull him off your chest, with a groan.

Hyunjin quickly looks up to meet your eyes about to say something that quickly dies on the tip of his tongue when he sees your helpless glossy eyes.

He smiles softly, pressing a quick kiss to your chest before kissing the tip of your nose.

Pulling your thighs apart, settling between them, your legs naturally hooking over his hips.

His hand trails down your side, almost trying to memorised every bit of you, his finger brush over your thigh, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

Hyunjin leans over you, effectively caging you in, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping his length a few times — soft groans falling from his lips.

He pulls you closer, lining up with your sopping hole, taking in the sight of you wrecked under him.

Desperate pleas fall from your lips, you try rutting your hips to push him in, only forcing his tip to up against your clit — strained moans leaving both your lips.

Hyunjin cant help but exhale, his restraint slowly fading, feeling your slick coat his cock. One of his hands hold onto your hip, the other resting by you.

Slowly his tip breaches your entrance, immediately whimpering at the weight of him pressing into you. Squeezing around his tip — nearly pushing him out, despite the prep you'll never get used to the size of him.

"Pushing me out, mama, fuck — s'tight for me hm?" his tone trying to sooth you despite his teasing words.

You cant help but moan — squirming around under him as you feel his cock going deeper and deeper.

Feeling so full of him — taking over all of your senses, the taste of his cock — his lips lingering, the scent of his cologne on his pillows the faint pants and moans fleeing from his lips.

The room echos every small sound — from Hyunjin's breathed moans, your sweet whines and the wet slicked sound of him in you.

Your hands grip at his shoulders, nails scratching against his skin — a small hiss escaping his lips. Feeling his hips meet yours when hes fully pressed into is a sensation you'll never grow tired of, the pleasureful stretch of him, unable to tell where he ends and you start.

Faint moans slip from Hyunjin's lips at you squeezing him, moving closer you you, leaning on his elbows for support.

"Not g-gonna last, muse — fuck." His voice breaks, ragged from pleasure — your tight warm walls feeling like heaven around him.

His head dips to lean against your shoulder, leaving wet kisses against your skin. You pull him off your shoulder, capturing his lips in a heated kiss with no rhythm, sucking on his bottom lip.

Hyunjin pulls back with a heavy breath, his adjusting so he can run his fingers through your hair.

When you open your eyes, they immediately meet his dark ones, the small moan that slips out is involuntary as he takes a sharp breath, looking back in your eyes asking if your ready.

When he pulls back you miss the heavy feeling of him in you — instantly taking it back when you feel him thrust deeply back into you. The slow drag of his hips only to thrust into you hard.

The slick sounds of his cock pushing into your tight cunt, the feeling of your walls fluttering around him with every mean thrust. His tip intentionally grazing that sweet spot with every thrust.

"H-hyunnie — fuck!" Your moans raising slightly as the pleasure becomes unbearable, feeling sensitive from your previous orgasms. Hyunjin shushes you with a quick kiss, his lips stationary on yours as his trusts grown less strategic and needier.

"Need you to be quiet f'me, yeah muse? — gonna wake our princess if you're not careful. He smiles against your lips. Despite his words it only urges him to fuck you harder into the mattress. Pulling back from you, his hands sliding down you hips, holding you in place his thrusts quickening.

"J-Just as good as when i had you the first time — fuck maybe even better, so perfect for me yeah? my perfect girl." His praise barely registering to either of you, Hyunjin murmuring incoherently completely overtaken by the feeling of you.

Hyunjin only pushes your body further, hooking your leg over his arm, his thrusts going deeper and rougher — your sobbed moans only serving as encouragements.

"S-so good for me, can feel you everywhere, yeah? Look at you, muse." His breathing even as his cock drills into your pussy.

When you manage to open your eyes you expect to find his meeting yours but no — their focused on your stomach, the small bump of him in you, stretching you out so good. You cant help but squeeze your eyes shut tilting your eyes back as you mewl biting your lip.

The sound Hyunjin makes when you see the bulge hes making in your stomach teeters on a growl.

"Taking me so good, baby ~ fuck look at you —" His hand moves to your stomach — pushing down on the bulge, pulling senseless moans from you.

"Can feel me everywhere, huh baby? — gonna fill you so good, its gonna take, yeah?" You can tell hes getting close, his rough thrusts growing sloppier.

Feeling you clench at the thought makes him laugh breathlessly, sucking air through his teeth, the rough thrusts now with purpose.

"Ohhh~ you like that, hm? Filling you up over and over again till it takes? Have everyone know who you belong to — reminding e-everyone only i can make you feel this good, yeah?" Your moans only fuelling his impending orgasm, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing harsh figure 8s on the oversensitive bud.

The duel sensation of his mean sloppy thrusts and the sweet relief of your aching clit getting attention makes your orgasm build quickly, Hyunjin mumbling barely audible sweet nothings in your ear pushing you to the break, shaking and clenching hard around him as your orgasms bursts.

Hyunjin follows instantly after you, the feeling of you squeezing him and you moaning his name as you cum.

His movements only slow, helping you both ride out your orgasms together, the intensity of them fading into bliss.

Hyunjin's small thrusts into you only stop when you wince in overstimulation, quickly apologising with a small kiss to your shoulder. Both of you catching your breath trying to calm yourselves.

Hyunjin collapses onto you with a dramatic huff, burying his face into your neck.

You can help but laugh, the air being forced out of you as your husband lands on you. Your shaking hands run through his hair, the roots damp with sweat, humming as you feel his heart beat against yours.

"You're gonna crush me." you tease, your throat sore from your endless moans from earlier.

"You'll be fine." His words muffled against your hair, only for him to sigh sitting up slightly to lean his chin against your chest looking up at you with his signature grin.

"You're ridiculous." Smiling wide at him, your fingers massaging his scalp.

He hums slightly, enjoying the feelings of your fingers in his hair. "You enjoy my ridiculousness." He says matter of factly.

Your smile only softens in response, only then realising that hes still inside you, the feeling not unpleasant at all, comforting almost.

"Get up, need to clean up." you sigh dramatically, Hyunjin only groaning in response, neither of you making any effort to move.

"Keeping you all to myself, just a bit longer." Burying his face into your chest making you laugh.

You smile wide, enjoying the moment; no work, no members screaming, no crying child — just you and him enjoying the small window of alone time.

"I meant it, by the way." He says after a moment looking at you.

You hum absent minded, fingers drawing shapes on his back. "What?"

"Wanting another kid, giving Hyewon a sibling." His words stopping your movements on his back, looking back at him, his eyes already on you, serious.

"Yeah?" You cant help the smile that breaks out on your face, one quickly spreading on Hyunjin's face.

He only nods, confirming. "I think we're ready — plus Won would make a good sister."

You hum, "You mean teaching them how to have you wrapped around your finger and how to milk all their uncles for everything a child could want?"

"Exactly that." His fingers tuck some hair behind your ear.

You take a deep breath, not believing what you're gonna say. "Okay."

Hyunjin perks up at your confirmation. "Okay?" His voice full of excitement.

You nod, the smile making your cheeks hurt but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"I guess its time to get to work." He says with a cheshire grin, before you can even say anything his lips move down your body. Making quick work on his earlier promise.

Y/N smirked, turning her head to face him, still side-eying the shit out of her. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re thumping your fingers to each singular beat and singing it like your entire life depends on it?”

“Doesn’t mean I like Hannah Montana,” He huffed out, and Y/N’s smirk only widened, “You forced me to watch that shit. And all you kept yapping about was if she was going to pick Jessie or Jake. Jake was the better choice, obviously.”

It seemed like Hyunjin knew what he said, as he let out a loud groan, dramatically throwing his head back on the seat behind him. “Don’t you start,” He grumbled out in fake annoyance as Y/N started to laugh at him. She knew he was invested.

“Shall I turn it up a little for you?” She let out teasingly, giggling even louder once he glared at her. Before she could turn the volume up, she felt his hand leave her thigh, seeing that he had annoyingly moved it to rest on the steering wheel. Y/N decided she didn’t like that.

“Why’d you move your hand?” She let out without thinking.

He glanced at her, smirking slightly, “Because you’re being annoying.”

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms across her chest as she glared at him. Her thigh felt cold, and she didn’t like it. “Put it back.”

“No.”

“Yes.” She raised her voice slightly, feeling even more annoyed once she saw how smug he looked.

“No.”

“Jinnie,” She whined his name out, lightly stomping her foot on the floorboard, “I said, put it back!”

She froze once she realized what she said, body going stiff in the seat. Why is she acting like this in front of him? And over his hand on her thigh?

Maybe it was the way the drive didn’t even feel awkward when it should have. They’ve been through so much together, had so much distance and unspoken feelings between them, that the ride to wherever Hyunjin was taking her should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It felt easy, and it felt like them. She was acting how she did when they were in high school, and she suddenly felt embarrassed at that fact. That can’t be appealing when she’s a grown-ass woman now. Right?

Y/N glanced at Hyunjin nervously, cheeks heating up when she saw him starring at her, a cocky grin on his face, eyebrows raised in amusement. For a second, she caught a glimpse of the seventeen year old he once was, looking at her the exact same way whenever she threw a fit in his car. The striking resemblance had her heart stuttering in her chest in a way that felt overwhelmingly familiar.

His hand on her thigh made her jump slightly, not expecting him to listen to her and definitely not expecting him to place it right back where it was before. “There, you big baby,” He said teasingly, fingers brushing against the skin there, “Happy now?”

Y/N huffed, pretending to be annoyed, when they both knew she was anything but that.

“You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?” She spoke again before he could, desperately trying to redirect the attention and embarrassment off of her.

His lips quirked, and he looked like he wanted to tease her further, but thankfully decided against it. “You’ll know when we get there.”

“That sounds awfully sus.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

Y/N leaned back in her seat, her thighs shifting. Hyunjin’s hand tightened around her at the movement, and she tried to ignore it. “If I get kidnapped after six years of you being gone, I’m going to be really offended.”

He laughed under his breath, “That would be a terrible comeback plan.”

It would, but Y/N wouldn’t mind it.

The car finally slowed a quiet pull-off area surrounded by open land. A small, wooden sign marked the edge of a trail, and beyond it, nothing but darkness and sky. They had made it just outside Angeles National Forest.

Before she could even say anything, Hyunjin was already parking the car, un-buckling his seatbelt as he stepped out. The door closed with a quiet bang, and Y/N was in the middle of un-bucking her own seatbelt, when the passenger door opened. Hyunjin was standing there, smiling, holding his hand out for her to take.

“Shall we?” He wiggled his fingers, and Y/N couldn’t stop the deep blush that rose on her cheeks as she took his hand.

“Since when have you become so gentlemanly?” She asked once he closed her side of the door, their hands still intertwined.

“Since I’ve realized you deserve more than what I’ve been giving.”

His words hung in the air for a minute, the silence hitting almost immediately.

“Plus, I’ve always been a gentleman when it came to you.” He continued in a lighter tone, leading her over towards the back of the car. He opened the trunk, a bunch of blankets and a basket coming into view. Y/N could see that there was a bouquet of red roses sitting in there, smaller than the large bouquet he had gotten her awhile back, and a bottle of red wine with two glasses.

He turned towards her, his gaze making her shiver, “I have to let go of your hand so I can grab everything, petal. Promise you won’t be fussy when I do?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting go first so he couldn’t beat her to it, “Shut up.”

He chuckled lightly, slinging the basket over one shoulder, the two blankets on his other. Y/N asked if she could carry something, but he wouldn’t let her, insisting he had this, closing the trunk back.

He was struggling a little as he started to walk, Y/N following behind. “You’re so stubborn,” She let out, folding her arms across her chest as the wind blew, “You look like you’re about to drop everything.”

“I got this, baby. I have muscle now, you know?”

Oh she knows. She knows very well.

They walked a short distance, their footsteps crunching lightly against the dirt and gravel. Y/N stifled a laugh every time Hyunjin almost tripped over a twig on the ground, hearing him cursing to himself each time.

The trees finally opened up to a wide clearing, and Y/N let out a short gasp at the view. The sky stretched endlessly above them, deep and clear, scattered with stars so bright that it almost didn’t feel real. She was able to see the stars in the city, but the constant haze the sky gave off prevented her from seeing them this clear. Here, the city glow was nowhere in sight, and it looked just how she used to remember when they stargazed together back home.

“Jinnie…” She said his name, in awe, eyes dancing across each and every star that laid in the darkness, “I’ve never seen it like this. I haven’t seen it like this in so long it feels like.”

Hyunjin watched her instead of the sky, letting out a pleased hum, “I was hoping you would say that.”

He placed the basket down, beginning to lay out one of the giant fluffy blankets on the dirt and grass. “I know weren’t not supposed to talk when we watch the stars, but that rule’s already been broken, so it’s okay now, right?”

She hummed in response, taking a small step forward, like she might somehow disturb it. “How did you find this place?”

“Chan showed it to me awhile ago,” He replied, sitting crisscrossed on the blanket, placing the bottle of wine and the two glasses in front of him, “I came here sometimes when I couldn’t sleep, or when I just needed silence. It felt like something you would’ve liked.”

This made her glance over at him, “You thought about me out here?”

“All the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never stopped thinking about you, petal.”

She stood there for a second, the weight of that settling in. She let out a breath, slowly walking over towards him, toeing off her shoes before sitting down on the blanket beside him.

He had started opening the bottle of wine, tongue lightly sticking out as he concentrated on popping the cork out. He always did that when he focused on something. He did it whenever they made up dance routines to show her mom, whenever he painted, whenever he stood on the soccer field debating his next move. It made her smile as she scooted a little closer to him.

“You’re doing that thing with your tongue again.”

The cork came off with a soft pop, and he reached down to start filling up the wine glasses in front of him, side-eying her. “I can do a lot of things with my tongue, wouldn’t you agree?”

Y/N shoved him lightly, thankful that it was dark so he couldn’t see how red her entire face was. She jerked the wine glass out of his grip, taking a sip of the wine, ignoring the giant smirk on his lips. “Idiot.” She smiled into the glass.

Hyunjin took a sip of his own glass, his gaze never wavering on her. Y/N could feel the intensity of it, and it made her shift a little, a shiver running through her once the wind blew a little stronger than before.

“Here,” He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, careful not to knock over the glass in her hand, “I brought this for you. I knew you’d be cold. I told you to change but of course, you never listen to me.”

“I put a sweatshirt on,” She defended herself, fingers curling around the blanket as she covered her shoulders up more.

“Like a sweatshirt will keep you warm enough out here. Should’ve put on pants, too.”

“Maybe I knew you would keep me warm enough,” She cheekily smiled at him as he rolled his eyes teasingly. She moved a little closer to him, his cologne flooding her senses, and her eyes softened as she studied him, “You’ve always taken care of me, haven’t you?”

“I guess I have.” He whispered back.

Y/N never had much money growing up. Her mother worked night shifts, picking up extra shifts as a waitress in nearby restaurants just so they could get extra money for necessities. When she got older, she worked at a small little café down the street in attempts to help out in every way she could. The shifts and added stress only got worse once her nana became sick, but Hyunjin helped out every way he could. Her father left them when she was young, so it was only Y/N and her mother for the longest time. Well, that’s until Hyunjin came into the picture, and was immediately treated like he was a part of their family.

Hyunjin knew they didn’t have much. Play dates mainly occurred at his house, as it was much bigger and offered way more space than Y/N could ever imagine. Hyunjin’s nanny was always understanding, cooking extra food for lunch or dinner so she’d be able to take some home. Sooyong had the same kind of heart as Hyunjin did. Y/N knows he had gotten it from her.

As they got older, Hyunjin helped out a lot more. He would buy them things they needed, pay their heating bill, sometimes even paying off rent when it was late. Y/N’s mother always appreciated the gestures and took it without hesitation, but Y/N hated it. She knew Hyunjin had come from money, and he used it towards them more times than she could count. It made her feel worthless, in a way, as she knew she’d never be able to pay him back for everything he’s done for them. Although Y/N is much more financially stable now with a secure job that pays her well, she still has that same guilt of paying him back sitting over her shoulders, but she knows that she’d probably never be able to. He wouldn’t let her, anyway.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked softly, another gust of wind blowing her hair in her face. She didn’t move it.

“Just how much you’ve done for me and my family, and that I’ll never be able to re-pay you for all you’ve done, as much as I want to.”

The words felt heavy coming out of her mouth. She jumped slightly when his fingers brushed against her cheek as he tucked her hair behind her ear. He kept it there for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about that, petal,” He spoke gently, fingers slowly moving down her arm to her hand as he intertwined their hands together, “I’ve told you this before, and it’s the same now. I wanted to help you and your family. It was a choice I made.”

“But why?” She asked, unable to hide the slight vulnerability in her question, eyes focused on their hands resting in her lap, “You know how I feel about it, and you know you didn’t have to do any of that. I just don’t understand why.”

“Because I loved you.” His response was immediate, rolling off his tongue like it meant nothing and everything at the same time. Y/N jerked her head over towards him, goosebumps forming on her skin not from the slight chill, but from what he just said.

“You… loved me?” She emphasized the word, trying not to cry from how he said it in past-tense. Hyunjin loved her? As in, he used to, but not anymore? And what did he even mean by that? Did he love her as a friend, or something more?

I guess it doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel it right now.

Y/N looked away from him, tears brimming her eyes. Her hand loosened under his, and she suddenly felt sick.

“Wait, shit, that didn’t come out right,” He spoke again, frantic, hand gripping onto hers a little tighter when he noticed her trying to let go, “Fuck, I’m not good at this shit. I’m not good at this at all.”

Y/N was a little confused now, chewing on her bottom lip nervously, eyes focused on the glass in her free hand. She heard him cursing silently, shifting his body a couple times before he readjusted himself beside her, now sitting on his knees.

“Can you look at me?” He strained out, and Y/N tried to blink away her tears before turning towards him. His face was so close to her now, and she could feel him breathing against her skin.

“That’s not… this is not how I wanted to tell you,” He ran his right hand through his hair, and Y/N could tell he was frustrated with himself. He let out a loud sigh, moving their hands to lay on his lap, fingers softly tracing the back of her hand.

“Six years ago, you asked me if I loved you,” He started, licking his lips nervously, “I hesitated. And then I panicked. And then I… I ran off, because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

The moonlight was casting a glow between them, igniting just enough light to where she could see him. “I still don’t think I’m good enough for you, but I’m going to be the man that you deserve, whatever the fuck that takes.”

He sighed again, clearing his throat, shifting their hands on his thighs. “What I said was true. I loved you. I loved you when you shared your lunch with me the first day I met you. I loved you when you called me Jinnie for the first time. I loved you when you forced me to play Barbies every single weekend and dress up in your god-awful princess dresses that I’m still surprised fit me as good as they did. I loved you whenever I went to bed, whenever I woke up, and in every fucking way that you can love someone. I loved you so much that it physically hurt, because I knew I could never have you in that way.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the singular tear from falling down her face, gripping his hand harder, holding it like she never wanted to let go.

“And I still love you, Y/N. In every fucked up way, I love you,” He breathed out, and Y/N felt like it was getting difficult to breathe, “Being away from you all these years only intensified the feeling. I love you, I’m in love with you, and I will spend every fucking second of the rest of my pathetic, fucking life telling you that.”

He lifted his hand up, delicately caressing the side of her face, and she melted into him immediately. “My life is anything but normal now, and there’s going to be some barriers we’ll have to get through, but I want to get through them with you, because I want to be with you, in every way. I want to wake up every morning to see you lying beside me with your hair all tangled up and poofy like you’ve been electrocuted a dozen times throughout the night, I want to grow old with you and get arthritis with you, I want to see you in the crowd at my shows and fuck you backstage, I want to kiss you and touch you every second of every fucking day, and I want to love you, just how I should have all these years.”

She couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped her mouth at his words, his lips brushing against hers ever so slightly as he looked at her like she was everything, like she was the only girl in the world. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much.”

Y/N leaned in to kiss him, unable to stop herself, not that she wanted to, anyway. He tasted like red wine and all things Hyunjin—he tasted like home.

They both smiled into the kiss, giggles escaping both of their mouths in-between soft kisses, and Y/N felt this overcoming sense of euphoria travel through her.

Hyunjin loves her. The same Hyunjin that hates eggplants, that spends over an hour in the bathroom getting ready for bed, that can quote every line from SpongeBob—the same Hyunjin that she’s always known and loved.

Her Hyunjin.

“I swear I had a better way to tell you, but of course I had to ruin my plan by being a fucking idiot.” He mumbled into her mouth.

“Yeah, but you’re my fucking idiot.” She smiled at him, reaching over to sit her wine glass down in the grass away from them. Before he could say anything else, she was already back on him, kissing him with more force than before, her tongue immediately slipping into his mouth.

He let out a soft groan against her, hands coming up to rest on her hips as he leaned back, legs out in front of him. She plopped herself down on his lap with enough force to make them both moan, hands tangling through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

Her hips moved against him, feeling him hardening beneath her, and she bit his bottom lip, tugging at the lip ring that sat there. “You love doing that,” He breathed out before leaning back in.

“Doing what?”

She bit his lip ring again, and he groaned out, gripping her hips harder. “That. Biting my lip ring.”

“Yeah, so what?” She let out, hips speeding up against him, his cock straining against his jeans, “It’s hot. You’re so fucking hot, Jinnie. Can’t control myself.”

“Oh, fuck,” He moaned out roughly, her shorts riding up her asscheeks with each movement. He slipped his hands underneath the fabric, groaning once he didn’t feel any underwear. “Fuck, you’re not wearing panties?”

Instead of answering him, she smirked, grinding against his dick so hard that it had him leaning his head back, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. “Fuck,” He strained out, her face leaning down to kiss the side of his neck, biting and sucking at the skin there. He tilted his head back more to give her more access, hips jerking up when she bit down just right below his ear. He could feel her smirking against him.

He turned his head so he could kiss her again, a pout forming on his lips as he she pulled back, getting off of his lap to stand up in front of him. Her legs were a little shaky, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“Take your clothes off,” Y/N demanded, tone wavering slightly. Her pussy was throbbing in her shorts, but she wanted to do something first.

“What…” His voice cracked slightly before he quickly cleared his throat, attempting to sit up. Without thinking, she raised her foot, placing it against his chest as she held him back.

“I said… take your clothes off, Jinnie. Now.”

Hyunjin smirked at her in amusement, falling back down on the ground with a soft plop. Her foot stayed on his chest as he un-buttoned his jeans, maintaining eye contact as he slowly slid them down. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the large bulge in his briefs, straining deliciously against the fabric, begging for attention. She found herself starring at it a little too long, a smug expression on Hyunjin’s face once she finally looked back at him.

She took her foot off his chest, but not before pressing down on him with a little force. The smirk on his face only widened. “Keep going,” She continued, sounding a little breathless despite her act of trying to appear un-fazed.

He cocked an eyebrow, sitting up a little to pull the hoodie off of his head, tossing it carelessly behind him. He trailed his hands down his torso slowly, watching her with a gaze so sensual it almost made her fall to her knees.

“Want this off, too?” He asked lowly, fingers teasing at the waistband of his briefs. Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“What? Sorry, I can’t hear you. You’re going to have to speak louder if you want me to take my cock out for you.”

His words had her face flushing and pussy dripping, having the urge to just rip them off herself, but she couldn’t do that. She wanted him to do something else first.

“Stop being a brat,” She spat out, breathing a little heavier, “You heard me the first time. I said, take off your fucking clothes. I want to see your cock.”

Really, Y/N doesn’t know what exactly has come over her. All she knew was that Hyunjin loves her, and she loves him, and she’s going to relish in this moment in every way possible.

Hyunjin looked like he was on cloud-nine, starring at her with that same blissful expression, biting his lip as he grinned at her cheekily. He slipped his fingers in his briefs, tugging them down and quickly kicking them off his legs, slinging the rest of his clothes to the side. His cock sprang up immediately, sitting so perfect and so hard and so thick that Y/N felt her mouth watering.

His hand was lazily trailing up his torso, stopping up at his nipple, slowly circling the bud there as he cocked his head to the side, starring at her expectantly. The sight was so mesmerizing that it had her at a complete loss of words. But only for a moment.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The words came out in a whine, breathless, eager.

His gaze darkened, lip ring catching in the moonlight. “You want me to show you how I touch myself to the thought of you?”

“Yes,” She whimpered out, feeling like her heart was about to beat out of her chest, “Please.” God, that’s all she wants.

He hummed, licking his lips once as he spat in his hand before lazily stroking himself, coating his dick in the wetness of his saliva. He let out a soft moan, hips jerking once he reached the tip, circling his fingers around his slit, almost like he was teasing himself.

“Is this how you like it?” Y/N asked, clenching her thighs together at the sight of him. He nodded his head rapidly, a low whine escaping his mouth as he picked up his pace, tugging his dick a little faster, gripping it a little harder. His other hand came back up to circle at his nipple, pinching it lightly, a low moan falling from his lips.

“You like that, too?” She breathed out, the urge to touch herself growing stronger each second that passes, “You like playing with your nipples like that?”

“Hm, yeah,” He smirked out, fingers dancing across his chest as he did the same with his other, “Think about you biting and sucking on them all the time. Think you’d like to do that for me? Be a good girl and make me feel good?”

Y/N nodded, feeling like she was in some sort of a trance. His smirk widened once he realized she wasn’t saying anything.

His hand trailed up, fingers lightly gripping his throat, applying enough pressure to elicit a small gasp from his mouth, his hips thrusting more sloppily into his hand. Y/N’s knees buckled then, feeling like she was really about to pass out, because when did Hyunjin become so kinky? He was watching her with hooded eyes, a throaty moan escaping his mouth once he applied a little more pressure. He looked like a fucking porn star.

Y/N swallowed down a moan, feeling hot all of a sudden. She reached down to tug her sweatshirt over her head, fumbling with her shorts before slinging them off too. She was wet as fuck, her entire body felt like it was on fire, and she needed him. She needed him now.

She didn’t even care how desperate she looked when she quite literally pounced on top of him, her pussy gliding against his dick so deliciously. His hands came back up to grip at her ass, loudly groaning into her mouth as she kept rocking her hips into him. Her hands were on his face, slowly sliding back to the back of his head as she tugged at his hair, kissing him deeper.

“Jinnie,” She loudly gasped out, throwing her head back as he bent down to suck her nipple into his mouth. He bit at it lightly, leaving a trail of spit with his tongue as he moved to the other side, “Jinnie… p-please…”

A hard smack on her ass had her back arching into him, her pussy gliding against him even harder. “You gonna fuck me, petal?” He breathed out heavily, massaging both of her asscheeks in his hands as he kept rocking her hips forward, “Gonna ride me? Gonna show me how much you love me?”

Y/N nodded her head eagerly, mind clouded with Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. “Do I need a condom?”

“N-no,” She breathed out, “I have an IUD.”

“Fucking perfect.”

She felt him reach down to grip his dick, and she lifted her body up just enough to where the tip was grazing over her pussy lips. They both moaned at the feeling, and Y/N watched as he kept sliding it up and down her folds, tapping her clit with the head of his dick.

Y/N had never been on top before. Well, she was on top when her and Felix briefly hooked-up years ago, but never with Hyunjin.

Felix. The thought of them sleeping together suddenly crossed her mind, and it didn’t feel right to do this without him knowing.

“Hyunjin,” She let out his name, a little urgent, hands coming up to rest against his chest. He hummed in response, not really paying attention, eyes focused on his dick continuously sliding in-between her wet folds.

She said his name again, louder, strained. He looked up then, a look of confusion on his face once he saw how nervous she suddenly looked. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just…” She trailed off, trying to figure out how to say this. God, this was the most awful time to break the news, but the guilt would have weighed heavy on her shoulders if she didn’t tell him, “I slept with Felix.”

Y/N cringed once the words left her mouth. She probably could have worded that a little better.

Hyunjin grew stiff beneath her, eyes darkening as he glared up at her, “The fuck?”

Okay, she definitely could have worded that a little better.

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck did you just say?” He spat out, and Y/N gulped nervously, “You fucked Felix?”

“Y-yes. Well, kind of,” She replied, not helping the situation at all, “It was a long time ago. My freshman year at university. We were both drunk, and it only lasted like fifteen seconds because I started crying because I missed you and it didn’t feel right.”

This was definitely not how she was expecting this to go.

His dick was still grazing her pussy, a particular shift against her clit causing her to let out a small whimper. Hyunjin looked pissed off, confused, and aroused as fuck all at the same time as he kept glaring at her.

“That’s actually depressing,” He stated, slightly guilty look on his face, but it didn’t last long, “Why are you telling me this now?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged lightly, biting her bottom lip slightly as she looked at him, “It just didn’t feel right to not tell you when I was about to… you know. Sorry. Bad timing, I know.”

“About to what? Ride my cock?” He raised an eyebrow, tapping his dick against her again, “Were you riding his cock when you were crying about me?”

He circled her clit with the head of his dick, and the stimulation caused her to drawl out a soft moan. She closed her eyes, starting to grind herself down on him again, a warmth traveling up her entire body.

Another hard smack to her ass had her letting out a surprised gasp, eyes shooting back open. “Answer me.” He demanded lowly.

“Y-yes,” She moaned out, lifting her hips up a little to position his dick at her entrance, mouth gaped open as she felt him slowly start to stretch her out as she sank down on him just a little bit, “Fuck, yes. All I was thinking about was you, Jinnie. It hasn’t been anyone else since. Please… please, can I ride you? It’s all I want.”

She wanted his cock so bad, wanted him so bad, that it had her whining out like a bitch in heat. He groaned loudly, eyes flickering from her pussy to her face and back to her pussy, so wet and ready for him. “Go ahead, baby. Do whatever you want to me. I’m yours. I can promise you, though, it’s going to be longer than fifteen measly seconds.”

“Says the guy who came in his pants completely untouched just from fingering me.”

Before he could even reply to her, she was already sinking down onto him slowly, gasping at the feeling of him inside her. The stretch was insane, and it had her eyes screwing shut in complete bliss, her pussy sucking him in like she was made for him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” He whined out lowly, eyes zeroed in on her pussy lips swallowing him while the more she took of him, “And so fucking wet. Holy fuck. I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

Y/N moaned in reply, sinking down even further, hands coming up to lightly tug against his nipples as she sank down on him completely. A choked moan fell from his mouth, and she leaned her body down to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as she grinded her clit against his pelvis.

“Jinnie,” She whimpered his name out, the feeling on her clit driving her insane, “Y-you feel… oh my god.”

Hyunjin cursed again, really struggling to not take matters into his own hands and fuck her into oblivion, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. His grip on her ass tightened as she lifted herself up completely before coming back down with a little more force, moaning loudly into the open air.

“I love you,” She murmured into his mouth so tenderly.

And then Hyunjin came.

The feeling of him shooting his load inside her had her gasping out loud, Hyunjin’s hips jerking up once as he worked off his high with a drawn out groan. His eyes were screwed shut, eyebrows furrowed, slick lips parted as he kept whining out her name. She watched him crumble in amused silence, yet completely mesmerized by how beautiful he looked underneath her.

He peaked one eye open after a few more seconds, an embarrassed groan escaping his lips as he covered his entire face with his hands. Y/N held in her laugh, not wanting to embarrass him further, a sense of pride swelling in her chest that she actually made him cum this fast.

“Well, you beat it, but only by an extra five seconds.”

He groaned again, still half-hard inside her, and Y/N had to suppress a moan when he shifted his body. “Well this just ruined my fucking pride.”

Y/N giggled fondly, leaning down to softly grab ahold of his hands, prying them away from his face. He was chewing on his bottom lip shamefully.

“Sorry,” He smiled shyly.

Y/N leaned down to kiss him again, pulling back with a fond expression, “Don’t apologize. I love you.”

“I love you.” He kissed her again, moaning lightly once she shifted on top of him. Each time she moved he got even harder, his hands resting against her hips.

She whined out his name, and as much as he wanted her to ride him, he wanted her to cum even more, so he gripped her ass, quickly flipping them over so she’d lay beneath him. Y/N gasped into his mouth and he used this opportunity to slip his tongue inside, head tilting as he kissed her deeper, needier.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” He mumbled into her mouth, hips thrusting into her at a slow pace, his hand coming down to softly trace circles on her clit. She moaned loudly, wrapping her legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper, not wanting to ever let go.

“Yeah, that’s it,” He breathed out a moan, fingers speeding up on her clit, thrusting into her faster, the wet sound of her pussy swallowing him whole ringing in his ears, “That’s it, baby. Does it feel good? Does my cock feel good? Hm? Like the way it feels inside your tight pussy? Your pussy is made for me, and only me. You know that?”

She cursed out, head tilting back, and he bent his head down to lick a stripe up the side of her neck before nipping on the skin right behind her ear. Her nails were digging into his back, clawing at the skin there, the slight burn making him hiss out in pleasure. She moaned his name again, and he hiked her legs up, pushing her knees towards her head before ramming back into her.

“Oh, fuck,” She screamed out, his cock hitting her just right, toes curling at the angle he was pounding into her, feeling a warmth begin to form in her stomach, “R-right there… don’t stop… please… o-oh my god.”

His dick felt like it was about to explode, his head spinning. He was fucking into her with so much force that it had her entire body jerking backwards, his balls slapping against her asscheeks with each thrust forward. “Fuck, I love you,” He panted out, eyes screwed shut as he jerked his head back, hair falling in front of his face, “I love you so fucking much… l-love this pussy so fucking much… you’re perfect. So perfect. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go. My petal… my angel… fuck.”

“I-I love you, Jinnie,” Y/N cried out, that warmth coaling in her stomach, “I’m g-gonna… fuck…”

“Yeah, baby,” His fingers slipped off her clit, wetness trailing down his thighs, hips stuttering into her, “C-cum all over my cock… just like that… mhm… fuck,”

She cried out his name, back arching as her entire body went stiff, stars clouding her vision as she came all over him. He bottomed out with a loud moan of her name, and she felt that familiar warmth shoot into her belly once he finished inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, spent the fuck out, their skin sticking together from the sweat that had built up. Her hands tangled in his hair, combing through it lovingly, entirely drenched in sweat. He dug his face into her neck, breathing in her scent deeply, curling his arms around her to hold her closer against him.

“I hope that made up for the twenty seconds.” He mumbled into her neck.

She breathed out a laugh, still a little drunk on the post-orgasmic haze she was in, eyes flickering up to the sky above her.

She was suddenly brought back to the first time they had sex with each other, giving their firsts to one another, lying in the same position. The moonlight was casting an elegant glow over them, tangling them together.

She swallowed thickly at the memory, at how real it felt. “I love you.” She said again, because she couldn’t ever say it enough.

He placed a lazy kiss to her neck, relaxing completely into her, “I love you. Always.”

There was no hesitation, no uncomfortable stiffness, no heavy weight sitting on her shoulders. She glanced back up at the sky. The moonlight seemed much brighter.

And this time, finally, it made them into one.

Y/N woke up in a blissful daze.

Her body was warm, too warm, a pair of arms wrapped around her so tight she couldn’t even move. She was lying on her back in the middle of the bed, Hyunjin’s legs slung over her own, his head resting on her bare chest. The swell of her breast felt damp, and when she glanced down, she noticed that he had been drooling in his sleep.

She rolled her eyes fondly. Of course.

“Jinnie?” She combed her fingers softly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He didn’t budge, soft snores escaping his mouth, his body twitching.

Doesn’t snore my ass.

“Jinnie,” She tried again, shaking his shoulders gently. He let out a low groan, licking his lips as he readjusted his head on her boob, the feeling of his tongue grazing her skin making her shiver, “Jinnie, baby, I have to pee.”

He made a noise of protest, arms tightening around her briefly before he trailed his hand down her body. Goosebumps formed on her skin at his touch, and she gasped lightly when his hand snuck in-between her thighs.

“I have to pee,” She squeaked out, squirming in his hold once she felt his fingers dip into her pussy once before coming up to start circling her clit.

He grunted into her skin, moving his head to start sucking at the skin on her breast before licking over towards her nipple. His fingers sped up their pace and she let out a low moan, attempting to shut her legs together to trap his hand so he’d stop.

“Jinnie, stop, I really have to pee,” She strained out, the feeling in her bladder only getting heavier the more he stimulated her.

“Piss on my hand, then,” He rasped out, curling three of his fingers into her pussy, making her back arch into him, “I’m not letting you go until you cum on my fingers again. So hold it, or piss on me. Your choice.”

His name got caught in her throat as she threw her head back on the pillow behind her, grinding her hips with each thrust of his fingers. Her pussy was so wet, his fingers sliding in and out of her with ease, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, her toes curling.

He was panting into her skin, groaning lowly as he alternated between sucking and biting at her nipple. Y/N felt that familiar pit forming in her stomach, the pressure building up quickly, and her body tensed up as her eyes screwed shut in utter bliss, back lifting off the mattress with a loud cry of his name.

A gush of wettness trickled down her thighs, her body spazzing out as her high came down. He was loudly moaning into her skin, fingers still inside her as he worked her through it, the stimulation making her hips jerk.

“J-jinnie,” She breathed out his name, hands coming down to grab at his wrist, attempting to pull him away. He let out a grunt, his fingers slipping out of her with a sound so lewd it had her ears ringing.

She all but ran to the bathroom once she managed to push him off of her, dots floating her vision as she did so, but she was able to manage as she hurriedly plopped down on the toilet, sighing in relief once she finally was able to empty her bladder. For a second, she thought she might have actually peed herself in her bed and on Hyunjin’s hand, but it seemed like she just squirted again instead. This was starting to become a routine for her. She can’t say she entirely hates it though.

She winced once she wiped herself, flushing the toilet and standing up to wash her hands. She gasped once she looked at her reflection in the mirror, head tilting to the side as she got a better look. Her entire neck was covered in hickies, there was another right above her right breast, and she had faint bite marks in-between her thighs—all a visual reminder of last night. Y/N doesn’t know how many times they’ve fucked each other over the span of the last eight hours or so, but it was enough to where her pussy was sore and her clit was swollen from the constant overstimulation. But she honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

She felt her cheeks heating up at how clingy Hyunjin was all night, never wanting to leave her side even for a split second. She needed to shower? He was getting in with her. She needed to pee? He was perched up on the bathroom sink swinging his legs back and forth as he patiently waited on her. Luckily, she didn’t have to shit, but she knew he would be in the same exact spot if she did, probably complaining the entire time about how it smells like sewage water. No, there is no probably—he would. And she knows this because he’s done it before.

Y/N let out a quiet sigh, pulling her tangled hair up into her claw clip as she started washing her face and brushing her teeth. Her eyes glanced over to the extra toothbrush sitting beside hers on the counter. She had a spare toothbrush underneath her sink, and Hyunjin had claimed it as his own to keep at her place. It reminded her of when they each had designated toothbrushes at each other’s house when they were younger, a given from all the sleepovers they had. It warmed her heart in a way that had her feeling giddy.

Once she was finished freshening herself up, she stepped outside the bathroom, fully expecting Hyunjin to be wide awake and waiting impatiently for her to come back to bed. A soft smile formed on her lips once she saw him lying diagonally on the bed on his stomach, soft snores falling from his mouth with each breath. He was fast asleep.

She shuffled over to him quietly, admiring him. His cheeks were smushed against the pillow, his arms and legs sprawled out everywhere like a starfish, his hair falling messily in his face and scattering around the pillow behind him. The covers were kicked down to the edge of the bed, his ass on display, and Y/N had to stifle a laugh from how cute he looked right now. She bent down to peck a quick kiss to his cheek before covering him back up, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and some pajama pants before heading out of her bedroom.

The smell of bacon caught her attention, and she quietly closed the bedroom door before making her way towards the kitchen. Felix must be home.

Her assumption was correct as she padded into the kitchen, seeing Felix hunched over the oven as he fried the bacon. Minho was sitting at the island, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, head turning to the side once he heard her.

“Well don’t you look awfully cheerful this fine and dandy morning,” Minho grinned teasingly, placing his phone down, “Just glowing, really. Had some good dick last night?”

Y/N choked on the air, face immediately heating up, stuttering out a mix of words that made zero sense.

“Don’t even attempt to deny it. We all heard you. All. Fucking. Night. Is his dick that good? Sheesh.”

“Minho!” She screeched out his name, absolutely mortified, but really, what did she expect? It was her own fault. There was no hearing the end of this.

“No, seriously, I’m dying to know. Man had you moaning like a fucking pornstar the entire night, so he’s got to be hung. It was disrupting my Game of Thrones time down here, so I feel I have a right to know.”

“Can we stop talking about their sex life while I’m trying to fix everyone a nice breakfast?” Felix chimed in, placing the cooked bacon on a plate beside him.

“Don’t be a killjoy, Lix,” Minho rolled his eyes, and Felix flipped him off before turning his attention back to the stove, “So where is loverboy, anyway?”

“He’s sleeping,” Y/N replied, walking over to stand closer to Felix, peering over his shoulder to see what he was making. Her stomach grumbled when she saw that he was now plating the french toast, sprinkling some powdered sugar on top.

“Spent out from all that fucking?”

Y/N was about to yell at him again, when Felix beat her to it. “If you say one more thing about sex I will throw your food into the trash.”

“God, you guys are so boring! Bor-ring.” He replied with another roll of his eyes, hopping off the stool to walk towards the dining table, pulling a chair out and plopping down.

Y/N’s face was still red, but she tried to shake off the embarrassment by reaching for the plate of bacon, “I can take this to the table.”

Felix hummed in response, turning around to grab some orange juice from the fridge, walking over to place it on the table. Y/N followed behind him, setting the bacon down in the middle of the table, Minho immediately reaching out to plop a piece in his mouth.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly when she noticed that there were four places set up at the table instead of three. She didn’t realize she was starring at the extra seat as deep as she was until she heard Felix’s voice behind her. “Are you going to wake him up to come eat or should I just save him a plate?”

Y/N blinked, completely bewildered at the fact that Felix had not only made enough food for all four of them, but had saved Hyunjin a place at the table to eat with them. And that, for some reason, had her wanting to cry.

She turned towards him, seeing him waiting there expectantly. And she didn’t even think twice before leaning in to hug him.

“Thank you,” She mumbled into his chest, “Thank you for including him. It means so much to me.”

Y/N could feel him hesitate for a second before slowly wrapping his arms around her. She let in a deep breath, willing herself not to become too emotional and start crying. She hadn’t hugged Felix in so long. The air around them had changed ever since Hyunjin had come back into her life, and he’d been acting very differently around her, distancing himself every chance he got and only conversing when appropriate. At the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, she found herself gripping his shirt tighter, pulling back slightly to face him.

“I know you’re upset with me, and I hate how distant we are from each other now, but I can’t apologize for loving him. I won’t apologize for loving him. You both mean so much to me, and the fact that you’re trying, tells me enough. But I just hope that you can keep trying and understand me, understand us.”

Felix sighed loudly, running his hands over her bare arms once before resting them at her shoulders. “I know you love him, Y/N. I know how much he means to you. I’m not asking you to apologize for how you feel, I would never do that. I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were getting yourself into. I didn’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I know, and I love you for that, but is ignoring me and potentially ruining our friendship over a decision I’m making for myself really worth it?”

He starred at her for a second, rubbing her shoulder gently, another sigh escaping his mouth, “Hyunjin came by and talked to me.”

“What?” She let out, a confused expression on her face, “When?”

“A few days ago. It was after you left for work,” He replied, chewing on his bottom lip, “He just wanted to talk to me. Said he knew we both didn’t like each other, but that I meant a lot to you, so he wanted us to get on good terms.”

Y/N could feel her heart swelling in her chest. Why didn’t he tell her he came and talked to Felix?

“He basically gave me a space to ask him anything, and he would answer truthfully. Said he knew I was wary of him barging back into your life, and wanted to try and clear the air a little. I guess he wanted my approval in some way before he came back to you.”

Y/N’s lips parted, and the back of her neck felt hot. “What…” She trailed off, mind feeling a little fuzzy, “He did? That’s really… unlike him.”

“Yeah, I could hardly believe it either,” Felix laughed out in disbelief before growing a more serious look on his face, “I still don’t entirely trust the asshole, but I did grow some respect for him. And I’m not going to dictate your life. So if you’re happy with him, I am, too. We also have a lot of things in common, apparently, as annoying as that is.”

Y/N smiled, pulling him back into a hug as she let out a little squeal of happiness. He laughed against her, holding her head into his chest, and she pulled back, giving him a little peck to the side of his face before pinching it with her fingers. “Thank you, Lixie. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

“What am I, a piece of chopped liver?”

Y/N turned to the table to see that Minho was leaning against the table, his head propped up on his hand as he scowled at them. “I never got a proper thank you, you know. I was yours and his biggest supporters, and I was the one that led you to him again in the first place. So where the fuck is my kiss?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, walking over to plant a quick peck on his cheek, shoving him to the side lightly once she pulled away. “There. Thank you, Minho. Really means a lot to have your constant support.”

“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t sarcastic.”

“It wasn’t. I was being serious. Thank you, seriously.” Y/N laughed out, walking back towards the kitchen to start making her a coffee.

She heard Felix and Minho bickering with each other—Felix telling him to stop eating all the bacon, Minho complaining that he didn’t make enough. She smiled to herself, taking the oat milk out of the fridge as her espresso shot brewed. Right now, everything felt like it was finally back in place. Y/N couldn’t help but feel giddy with bringing Hyunjin into their routine, into their life.

“Are you going to wake him up or no?” Felix asked once Y/N sat her glass down on the table, pulling out the chair so she could sit down.

“No. He seemed comfortable. I don’t want to bother him,” She replied, taking a sip of her coffee, “Oh, by the way. I told him we slept together that one time. It didn’t feel right keeping it from him.”

Felix choked on a piece of bacon, and Minho smirked. “Great. Now he’s going to hate me again.”

As if on cue, Hyunjin had made himself present, padding into the kitchen with a loud yawn. His hair was messy, held back by one of her headbands with a bow on the front she kept in her bathroom to help hold her hair back whenever she was washing her face. He was shirtless, the same shorts he wore last night hanging low on his hips, and Y/N immediately felt her face heating up at the sight of him. It was truly unfair for someone to look this good at ten in the morning.

“Good morning,” He lowly grumbled out, walking over towards Y/N, bending down slightly as he kissed her. The kiss was sweet, and she found herself melting into it a little before realizing where she was, pulling back.

Minho and Felix mumbled out good mornings of their own, and Y/N could feel Minho’s stare on them. Hyunjin sat down in the chair beside her, scooting his chair over so he could lean his head against her shoulder, placing her hand on his thigh as he cuddled into her more.

Felix told him to help himself with the breakfast, gesturing towards the food and his empty plate that was set out for him. Hyunjin looked surprised for a second, before letting out a quick thank you, to which Felix nodded in acknowledgement. Hyunjin eyed the food in front of him before glancing back over towards her. “You just left me all alone up there. Disposed of me like I was a one-night-stand. I was very offended. Did you just use me last night, petal?”

Y/N felt her face heating up even more, taking another sip of her coffee as he tightened his grip on her slightly. She could see Minho’s smirk widen from her peripheral vision.

“I was letting you sleep,” She strained out quietly, tips of her ears turning red, “Also, you were taking up the entire bed and drooling all over my sheets. There was nowhere for me to go.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Minho chimed in, and Y/N glared at him playfully.

“I forgive you, baby,” Hyunjin murmured quietly in her ear before planting a quick kiss to it, “You can just make it up to me later.”

He leaned over to start filling his plate with food, thanking Felix again for thinking of him, and Y/N took another long sip of her coffee in attempt to hide her flushed state.

Breakfast then turned into what resembled a family dinner, with Felix asking how everyone is doing, what plans they have for the day, if the food is up to par. It felt surprisingly comfortable, it felt natural, and it felt right.

“Oh, Hyunjin. Y/N’s been giving out free kisses all morning. Thought you should know that. You know, bro code and all.” Minho let out, giving Y/N a sly look that had her kicking his leg underneath the table.

“Oh, has she, now?” Hyunjin piped up beside her, taking a sip of his orange juice, placing it back down on the table with a small hum, “That’s okay. We all know she’ll be kissing something else later.”

Felix immediately groaned in annoyance, throwing his head back in frustration as Minho cackled beside him. “Seriously, can we please stop talking about sex?!”

“This feels oddly erotic.”

Hyunjin laughed at Y/N’s words, the silk blindfold he currently had on her eyes blocking her vision completely as she blindly trusted him to not lead her into a wall. His hand was on her back, warm at the touch, his fingers lightly dancing across her spine as she stood another step forward.

He let out a hum, his breath fanning the back of her neck, “You want me to keep it on while I fuck you?”

“N-no,” She replied quickly, breathy, before immediately correcting herself, “I mean… maybe?”

“Hm,” He hummed right at her ear, and she hated how her panties instantly dampened, “Yes or no, baby. You know I don’t take a lousy maybe as an answer.”

His arms circled around her waist, pausing her steps forward as he dipped his hands in-between her thighs, softly rubbing against her pussy through her leggings. She moaned quietly, pushing her ass back against him at his touch, and his other hand gripped at her waist a little tighter.

“Say?” He breathed hotly into the side of her neck, licking a long stripe up to her ear before softly nipping at it, “Want me to handcuff you to my bed and blindfold you so I can have my way with you? You’d have no idea what I’m doing… no way to escape… no way to touch me. You’d be completely helpless, begging, crying for me to make you cum. Or would you beg me to stop?”

“Jinnie,” Y/N whined out, feeling his hand travel upwards, grazing at the hem of her leggings, dipping two of his fingers inside, “Y-you’re supposed to be showing me your painting.”

“Fuck the painting,” He groaned deeply, fingers rubbing against her clit over her panties, kissing over to the other side of her neck.

“Jinnie,” She called his name out again, hands grabbing at his wrist. She felt a little dizzy, and her body felt hot, “I-I wanna see what you painted me. Please?”

He sighed into her skin, biting at her neck playfully as he withdrew his fingers, placing his hand back on her waist. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you. But you’re sucking my cock with this blindfold on after we’re done, right? Because I’m so hard right now thinking about it I could cum in my pants again.”

“Fine, whatever,” Y/N rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her, acting like she hated it, when they both knew she was a slut for his dick.

“Don’t act like you hate the way I fuck your pretty face, baby,” He lightly smacked her ass, before reaching behind her head to un-tie the blindfold. He slid it off of her eyes carefully, and Y/N blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the lighting, trying to ignore the way her pussy fluttered from his words.

Her eyes landed on the canvas that was propped up in front of her, and she started walking closer, eyes dancing across the canvas as she took in every single detail. It wasn’t what she was expecting. At a first glance, it looked chaotic. There were broad strokes clashing into each other, colors bleeding where they shouldn’t. But the longer she looked, the more it had started to feel familiar.

There was a figure at the center, unmistakably her. It wasn’t a portrait, and it wasn’t entirely detailed, but it was her. Light colors were splotched around her, dark lines cutting through it, spreading outward into the rest of the canvas. On one side, deep blues and greys folded into each other, with streaks of red and orange on the other. And everywhere else, there were faint, almost invisible lines, like veins or cracks, leading back to her.

She stepped closer without realizing she even moved in the first place, “What is it?”

Hyunjin didn’t reply right away, and Y/N turned to look at him, seeing him standing there, hands fidgeting at his sides nervously, shyly, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “It’s… how you feel to me,” He replied quietly, shifting on his feet.

He stepped beside her, glancing over towards the painting, eyes dancing across it like he’s seeing it for the time. “The lighter parts are everything good… everything that makes me feel good. It’s the way you laugh, the way you touch me, the way you look at me like I’m the most important thing in your life. It’s the way you always make things feel lighter, like I can breathe properly whenever you’re around me.”

He paused, his words coming out a little uneven. Y/N knows she should have been starring at the painting, but she kept looking at him instead. “The cracks represent wanting something you know you’re not allowed to have,” His voice was quieter, softer, “It represents the feeling of being close to you, but not close in the way that I deserved. It represents hurt, pain, but only just enough to where I notice it… just enough that doesn’t go away completely.”

She felt tears forming in her eyes, reaching out to gently grab ahold of his hand. He intertwined their fingers immediately, smiling softly as he glanced down at them once, before looking back at the canvas.

“And the rest?” She asked softly.

“The rest is everything I didn’t say,” He replied, rubbing his fingers against the back of her hand, “It represents all the overthinking, all the times I’ve wanted to tell you I loved you but didn’t, all the almosts we had. It just… kept building. It got louder in my head, messier in my head.”

There was a long silence, and Y/N glanced back at the painting, seeing it in a different light as she connected his words with the beautiful mess of streaks and colors laid out in front of her. Y/N had seen many of his paintings before, but never something like this.

“You know I’m not great with words,” He spoke after another beat, moving his body to stand in front of her. She looked up at him, saw the vulnerability in his eyes, and she reached her hands up to rest on his face, “Actually, I’m shit with words. But I hope this can tell you everything I couldn’t, and remind you just how much you mean to me if you ever doubt my love for you.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers ever so softly, hands coming up to rest against her own. “I love you, Y/N. And I’ll never stop loving you, even when I’m buried six feet under. You’re it for me, baby. Always.”

“I love you, Jinnie. Always.” Y/N leaned in to kiss him, savoring every single taste of him, every broken piece of him that she’ll put back together. He smiled into her, pulling back with a laugh that had his eyes crinkling into little crescents that always made her heart warm.

And as she stood there, safe and content in his arms, she felt everything. All the years of heartbreak, of growing up together, of navigating life together, of the distance between them—it all started to make sense. Because everything they’ve been through together, every single barrier they faced, suddenly seemed worth it in the end.

The bar is loud in a way that feels deserved. Long table. Shared plates passed hand to hand. Too many voices layered on top of each other. Coats slung over chairs like no one plans on leaving early.

Jihye drags you through the door by the wrist.

“You need to leave your house before you turn into furniture,” she says, already laughing, already halfway gone.

You roll your eyes but let her pull you anyway.

You don’t know anyone. Not really.

Jihye’s friends. Their partners. Friends-of-friends. A whole ecosystem already in motion. You step into it like a guest star with no script.

So you stay close to her at first. Shoulder to shoulder. Listening more than talking. Laughing quietly, hand rising to your mouth without thinking, like you’re checking yourself.

That’s when he appears.

No introduction. No announcement. He’s just there, sliding into the empty space beside you like it’s been waiting.

He notices things. You can feel it.

The way you anchor yourself to your friend at first. The way you watch the room before you speak. The way your laugh comes out soft at first, like you’re testing the water, then fuller when something actually gets you.

He doesn’t try to take up space. He doesn’t push conversation. Just offers small comments. Observations. Questions that don’t demand anything back.

It’s easy to answer him.

Easier than it should be.

He stays near you most of the night without meaning to. You stay aware of him without understanding why.

At some point, his chair shifts closer. Not touching. Just close enough that when he leans in to hear you over the noise, you catch the clean, faint scent of his shampoo.

It makes you pause. Just a flicker. Not attraction. Not nerves exactly. Just the sensation of being seen.

But it doesn’t turn sharp. It doesn’t turn heavy.

Because he’s gentle. Because none of this feels like it’s going anywhere it shouldn’t.

You talk at the edge of the noise. Quiet commentary. Shared humor that doesn’t need to be loud to land. You point things out to each other, details other people miss. It feels less like meeting someone new and more like finding someone who’s been speaking your language all along.

You clock his softness immediately. He clocks your attentiveness just as fast.

You don’t name it. You don’t even think to. There’s nothing to rush toward.

Something just settles between you. Quiet. Solid. Alive. After that night, everything it’s easy. Almost suspiciously so.

You don’t call it friendship yet, but it behaves like one.

Group hangouts blur together. Late dinners. Street food eaten standing up at midnight. Loud rooms. Too much alcohol. Too many conversations crossing over each other.

Always people. Always public.

And still, somehow, you and Yunho keep finding each other. You make space for him without thinking. Shift your chair. Move your bag. He angles his body toward yours even when the room is full, even when there’s no reason to.

There’s no flirting. No charged moments anyone could point at. Just comfort that deepens.

You’re a little touchy, but only because he makes you laugh. Not on purpose. He just does. The kind of laugh that punches out of you, ugly and full and unguarded. He looks proud every time it happens, like he’s accomplished something sacred.

You start doing things for him before he asks. Handing him water when he’s too deep into a story. Checking in with a look when he goes quiet. He doesn’t explain much yet, but somehow you still understand when something’s off.

You text at strange hours.

About the show you’re both watching. About the restaurant he tried and already knows you’d like. About nothing that couldn’t wait, except it didn’t want to.

At group hangouts, you catch yourself waiting for him to arrive. Not consciously. Just that the night doesn’t fully start until he does.

At the end of nights, you walk side by side. Close. Not touching. Conversations tapering into silence that doesn’t feel unfinished.

You laugh at something someone else says and instinctively look for him. He’s already looking at you.

Later, you bend forward laughing at the table, hand landing on his thigh for balance.

You don’t apologize. He doesn’t move.

It isn’t romance. It isn’t tension. It’s trust. It’s relief.

The hangouts keep happening.

Same faces. Same volume. Same rhythm of plates passed down tables that are always too small. Laughter layered over laughter. Elbows brushing. Knees knocking. A familiar chaos that feels lived in.

Until one night, it starts thinning.

People peel off in pairs and trios. Jackets claimed. Phones out. Someone hugs you with the soft finality of an ending night. The room exhales.

And suddenly, the idea of leaving alone lands wrong.

Not fear. You’re not afraid. It’s resistance. A quiet, stubborn no in your chest.

You don’t think it through. You just reach out and catch Yunho’s sleeve. Fingers curl into the fabric. Light. Intentional.

“Don’t let me go home alone,” you say, like it’s a joke. Like it’s nothing.

He doesn’t pause.

“Okay,” he says, already moving, already grabbing his coat.

The taxi smells like night air and clean laundry and something rancid you can’t name. The city blurs past in streaks of light. Your knees brush once. Then again. No one shifts away.

His hand finds your thigh.

Not searching. Not squeezing. Just there, like gravity.

Your breathing changes before you notice it has. The space between you tightens, thin and electric, but neither of you touches it with words. Talking would make it fragile.