⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, Although I know you will never read this, it is still for you. Consider this my desperate attempt to finally let out all the things I have left unsaid. I have never been too good with words, but then again, neither are you. I wish communication weren’t so off-limits between us. When did that even start? When did we even make that silent deal? I think I am addicted to what you make me feel. I don’t think I would call it affection, let alone love. But somehow, every time I see you, I get this overwhelming feeling that nothing else matters. Those fleeting few hours make the heavy buzz in my head quiet down, but how do you even do that? I mean, we barely talk. The silence kills me a little more every time, because I want to know you so deeply. I have always wanted to know you, Sunghoon. I just wish you trusted me enough to let me see more, to see past the kisses, the marks and the sex. To be honest, I don’t even know what love is supposed to feel like. Maybe it is this ache. Maybe this is it. Much love? Y/N

you didn’t even think you remembered the exact color of his eyes. looking at sunghoon — really looking at him — was rare. eye contact wasn’t ever really your thing, but the fact that he was the one actively choosing to avoid it hurt more than you would ever admit.

there were too many things you couldn’t admit. not to yourself, and definitely not to him. you were constantly trapped in a lie you hadn’t even planned on building. it just happened.

it happened somewhere between all your casual hookups and that silent promise you made to keep things strictly casual. why would you get attached when you didn’t even truly know him? the empty pit in your stomach every time he thrust into you one last time seemed to give you the answer you were trying so hard to ignore.

was it just the attention? was it the years of being invisible, of not being touched, held, or even spoken to? or was it something real? the questions consumed you every night before you fell asleep, pulling you into an endless spiral of pure insecurity. you felt like you were the textbook definition of pathetic.

because the worst part wasn’t even the way he looked right through you, it was how easily you let him do it. you would lie there long after his footsteps echoed down the hallway, your skin still feeling warm where his fingers had pressed into your hips. you wanted to hate him for making it so easy for himself. no soft morning light, no hushed “text me when you get home”, no gentle lingering after the high wore off. just a plain shirt pulled over his head, a brief nod toward the door and that familiar silence settling back into the room.

but you couldn't hate him. how could you, when you were the one who signed up for this unspoken contract? you were the one who answered his late night texts in minutes, pretending you were still awake, pretending you didn't mind being his only when the rest of his world went dark.

you would swallow the lump in your throat, pull the cold sheets up over your bare shoulders and breathe in what was left of his scent on the pillow. you were starving for something he was never going to offer, yet you kept begging for the crumbs.

daylight was always the cruelest part. during the day, sunghoon belonged to the rest of the world. he belonged to his friends, to his laughter across crowded rooms, to the effortless composure he wore like a second skin around people who actually got to hear him. when your paths crossed in broad daylight under the harsh glare of real life, he didn't even flinch. his gaze would glide right past you, brushing over you as if you were nothing more than a shadow he had learnt to walk around.

and you played your part perfectly. you would mould your face into something cold and indifferent, pretending your ribs weren’t pressing uncomfortably tight against your chest every time.

that was the unspoken rule, wasn't it? sunlight erased whatever happened between you two. daylight rendered every bruise, every gasp and every tangled limb. you would sit alone in your room afterward, nursing the quiet anger in your chest. you would make promises to the empty air. this is it. next time he reaches out, i’m ignoring it. i’m going to block him. you would repeat it over and over until you almost believed you had control.

but then midnight would creep in. your phone would buzz against the nightstand. a plain “you home?” that took him three seconds to type.

and before your brain could even process the indignity of it, your fingers were already moving. you would send back a compliant “yeah”, hating yourself for the sudden pulse of adrenaline in your veins as you unlocked your front door and waited for his figure to fill the doorway.

because as long as he kept coming back, you could pretend he needed you. and even if he only wanted you when the rest of the world went quiet, even if he only loved the silence you kept for him, it felt safer than being nothing to him at all. you were drowning in him, but at least his hands were the ones holding you under.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, Another day of being a pathetic loser and doing this. But I just need to get all of this off my chest, and putting pen to paper is somehow the only way I know how to do it. Remember that one brief conversation we had? Someone called at three in the morning and you declined it without a second thought. You looked over at me and said you just preferred texting over calling. Although I knew that was probably not the reason why you didn’t pick up, I felt ridiculously happy about you giving me an explanation at all. Even if it wasn’t entirely honest, you considered the possibility of me wondering about it, and that was enough. It also showed me we have something in common, which is the reason why I’m doing this at all. I wish I could speak up, Sunghoon. Not just with you, but in general. My voice has always felt like a stone trapped at the bottom of my throat, but especially when I am around you. Every time I am lying next to you in the dark, there are a million things pressing against the back of my teeth. I want to ask you about your day. I want to know what scares you, what keeps you awake when I’m not there, what song you listen to when you are driving alone. But instead, I stay quiet. I swallow every word, every question, every confession until my throat burns with everything I am holding back. Because speaking out loud means making it real, it means risking the fragile arrangement we have. I know that if I open my mouth and demand anything more than the bare minimum, you might just turn around and walk out. Sadly, I am too terrified of losing these hours with you to ever take that chance. So I will handwrite it all instead. I will pour my voice onto paper where you will never have to hear it, so that it can’t burden you. It’s stupid, isn’t it? Celebrating a half-baked lie about a missed phone call just because it meant you acknowledged me. But when you are starving, even the smallest crumb feels like a feast. I will keep hiding behind these quiet letters, Sunghoon. Because as long as I stay silent, I still get to keep whatever little piece of you you are willing to leave behind. Yours truly, Y/N

the ice in jay’s glass had completely melted, watering down his drink until it was barely touched, but neither of you had made a move to leave. the diner was almost empty, as jay had spent the last ten minutes watching you shred a paper napkin into tiny pieces.

when he finally spoke, his voice cut straight through the low hum of the refrigerator behind the counter. "you actually need to let it go, y/n." he pushed his glass aside and leaned across the table, resting his forearms on the sticky vinyl. "remember, he’s my friend. i’ve known him for years. that’s my brother, but… let’s be honest. he’s being an asshole."

"you just… wouldn’t understand." you muttered, refusing to look up from the pile of white paper shreds scattered between your hands.

"i understand that you have this weird hyperfixation on him, y/n." jay said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding full of concern. "i’m not blind."

"we’re just having sex, jay!" your voice pitched higher than you intended, echoing slightly in the quiet diner. the bell above the entrance jingled as a stranger walked in, making you wince, pulling your shoulders in and dropping your voice to a harsh whisper. "why is it so bad if i sleep with someone? you do it all the time and no one bats an eye!"

jay leaned back, watching you with a look of exhausted frustration that made your stomach twist. "do i really have to explain to you why it’s different?"

you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted copper as your fingers froze over the torn napkin. you couldn't meet his eyes, because you knew if you looked at him, he would see the tears stinging in the back of your lids.

so you stayed silent.

"that’s what i thought." jay sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was nursing a headache you had given him.

the silence stretched out. you hated that jay was the one sitting across from you right now. he was the bridge between you and sunghoon — jay was the one who had introduced you at a chaotic house party, back when sunghoon was just a handsome stranger you didn’t even think of approaching. jay felt responsible for the wreck you were turning into.

"you know the last time he and i actually talked about something real?" jay asked softly, his anger draining out, replaced by quiet pity. "a real conversation. not just about sports or clothes or plans for the weekend."

you didn't answer, but your chest tightened.

"it was about his ex." jay said.

you didn't flinch. you didn't gasp or snap your head up in shock. you just kept staring at the shredded paper, your knuckles turning white where you gripped the edge of the table.

you weren't surprised, not even a little bit.

in a twisted way, it felt like the final piece of a puzzle settling into place. you already knew about their messy breakup, but hearing it out loud now, it explained the hollow look in sunghoon's eyes when he held you down. it explained why he never asked about your day, why he hurried to put his shirt back on before the sun came up, why he maintained that thick wall between you. you probably weren't a person to him. you were just a ghost to keep another ghost company. a body to fill the quiet so he didn't have to hear his own thoughts.

"he's clearly not over her, y/n." jay continued, reaching across the table to gently pull the torn napkin away from your trembling fingers. "he's nowhere near over her. and you’re letting him use you to fill a spot that isn't yours. you're going to destroy yourself trying to warm up someone who's still freezing over someone else."

"i know." you whispered. the confession scraped against your throat.

jay blinked, caught off guard by how easily you gave in. "you know? then why the hell are you still doing this to yourself?"

you finally looked up, your vision blurring around the edges as you met jay's concerned eyes. "because even if he's thinking of her…" you whispered, your voice shaking uncontrollably. "he's still coming to my room. and right now... i'd rather be his second choice than nothing at all."

"y/n…"

"i’m just being honest. you snapped weakly, wiping a stray tear with the back of your sleeve. "i know it’s pathetic, okay? you don't have to say it."

"look… why don’t you just try to talk to him?" jay pushed. "he’s not a bad person after all. if he knows this is something that actually matters to you, he might give you some kind of reassurance. explanations, maybe?"

"sunghoon is not exactly the kind of guy to give me “explanations”, you know?" you let out a dry laugh, totally humorless. "he doesn't do that shit with me, jay. you know that better than anyone. the moment i open my mouth and demand clarity, it's over."

"and would that really be the worst thing?" jay countered, leaning closer across the table until you couldn't avoid his stare. "because from where i'm sitting, you're already breaking into pieces. you’re so terrified of losing the bare minimum that you’re letting him hollow you out from the inside. you think you're keeping him, but you're just watching yourself drown in slow motion."

you bit your lip so hard you felt the faint copper sting of blood again. "you don't understand..."

"i do understand." jay interrupted gently. "he doesn't talk about her to you because you've made it so easy for him to pretend everything is fine. you answer his texts at two in the morning and you never ask for anything. he has no idea how much this is killing you because you act like you're completely fine with being a secret."

the words hit you like a violent wave. jay was right, and that was the most terrifying part. you had built a prison out of your own silence, convincing yourself it was the only way to stay close to sunghoon.

"if you talk to him," jay said softly. "at least you'll know. if he cares about you, even a little bit, he’ll hear you out. and if he doesn't..." jay hesitated, his eyes full of a preoccupied pity. "...then at least you stop wasting your heart on that."

you stared down at the wet ring left on the table by your melting glass. the thought of confronting sunghoon made your stomach twist into sick knots. you could already imagine his unreadable expression, the way his jaw would tighten, the sudden chill that would fill the air before he turned and walked out your door for good.

you knew how it would end. you knew it was a disaster waiting to happen.

but as you sat there under the diner lights, looking at the broken bits of paper scattered between your hands, you realized you couldn't keep living in the dark forever.

"fine." you breathed out, the word barely a whisper, yet heavy enough to break whatever was left of your composure. "i'll talk to him."

jay reached across the table and squeezed your wrist, offering a reassuring nod. "it's going to be okay, y/n."

you nodded back, pretending to believe him, dread settling deep in your chest. because deep down, you knew the moment you asked sunghoon to choose you for a second, you were going to lose him forever.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, I am writing this on the day I probably, completely fuck it all up. No matter how much I have worked on accepting reality, people always say hope is the last thing you lose. I know you don’t feel the same way about me, I know it. But a stupid part of me keeps asking: what if? What if you have slowly grown to care about my presence, even if it is just the smallest piece of you? “El roce hace el cariño”, my mom used to tell me. Closeness breeds affection. The belief that if you share enough space with someone — if you touch them enough, hold them in the dark, and breathe the same air long enough — something soft and real is bound to grow between you. I have been clinging to that proverb for months, praying that my warmth would eventually rub off on your cold edges. You probably understand that kind of desperation better than anyone. After all, why is it that you keep trying to go back to her, if not because of hope? Why do you keep running back to a ghost, if not for the foolish belief that things might turn out differently this time? We aren't so different, Sunghoon. We are both just tragic fools holding onto people who are already miles away from us. You are anchored to someone who left you in the past, and I am anchored to a version of you that doesn't even exist outside my own head. Jay told me that I need to speak up. He thinks that if I finally ask you for clarity, maybe you will give me something to hold onto. But Jay doesn't see the way your eyes go completely hollow the second things get too real. He doesn't realize that the only reason I have lasted this long in your life is because I made myself as quiet and undemanding as possible. I know what is going to happen tonight. I know that the second I break our unspoken rule of silence, the fragile illusion we built will shatter. You will pull your walls back up, grab your coat and walk out my door. And yet, here I am, getting ready to ask you anyway. Because starving like this is slowly destroying me, Sunghoon. I would rather let you break my heart all at once tonight than spend another month watching it erode into nothing. If this is the last time you ever come to my room... at least I will know I tried. Yours, even at the end, Y/N

he was already on the sofa with you, his cold fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, his breath hot against your neck. it was the same routine it had been for months: no prelude, no softly whispered greetings, just the immediate dive into the dark where you didn't have to talk.

every nerve in your body screamed at you to just yield. your mind spun into a dizzying spiral of panic. shut up, a loud voice in your head begged. just close your eyes and let him touch you. if you say a single word, you ruin it. you lose him. just take what he’s giving you. you knew how delicate this fragile agreement was. one wrong step, one wrong sentence, and it all would shatter into dust.

but beneath the sheer terror of losing him was a small burn of indignity. you were a human being, sitting on your own couch, letting someone who barely looked you in the eye use your body to quiet down his problems. didn't you deserve five minutes of honesty? didn't you deserve to be listened to, just once, before you let him drown out your thoughts again?

before you could stop yourself, your hands pushed firmly against his chest. "wait, sunghoon."

he paused, pulling back just an inch. for a second, he looked genuinely confused, his eyes blinking down at you as if his brain was trying to process why the routine had suddenly broken. it was an alien look on him — he wasn't used to you doing this.

"i wanted to talk about something first." you whispered, your heart hammering violently against your ribs.

"what…?" the cold edge that instantly entered his tone made your breath hitch. the tiny spark of courage you had been clinging to disintegrated in a fraction of a second. the sheer power he held over you hit like a physical weight. just a single word from his lips made you want to drop your hands, apologize, and pretend you had never spoken.

"about…" you swallowed hard, forcing the words out past the tight lump in your throat. "i-i talked to jay today."

"so?"

"i mean… we talked about you." you stumbled, unable to hold his gaze. "about you and your ex, to be exact."

the momentary confusion on sunghoon’s face vanished, replaced by an abrupt spark of realization that hardened into icy annoyance. he pulled away from you, sitting back on the couch cushion and staring at you like you had crossed an unforgivable line.

"and why the fuck are you two talking about that?" he asked, his voice low and chillingly quiet.

"jay is my friend too." you insisted, your fingers twisting frantically into the fabric of your jeans. "he’s just looking out for me."

"there is nothing to look out for, y/n." he let out a harsh breath, tilting his head up toward the ceiling before looking back at you. "i don’t get how my relationship with my ex has anything to do with you."

the words cut right through you, exposing the pathetic truth of your standing in his life. you felt exposed, naked and small sitting next to him on the sofa, but the bitter ache in your chest forced you to keep pushing.

"i-i mean… sunghoon, i don’t want to be in the middle if you’re going to get back together." you stammered, your voice trembling as you reached for any sliver of self-respect. "i think… i think if we’re doing this, then i deserve a… an explanation?"

sunghoon fell completely silent. the quiet that settled over the living room was suffocating. he just stared at you, his face a completely unreadable mask, before his jaw tightened.

"you’re not in the middle." he said evenly, every syllable laced with detached finality. "you are not between anybody. don’t… let’s not fucking do this. when we get back together, i will tell you."

you froze. it was like the air had been sucked straight out of your lungs and the entire world had stopped moving. you hadn't realized how much the simple grammar of a sentence could completely tear a person apart until that exact moment.

there was no conditional in his voice. no “if”. when. it wasn't a distant thought. it was a guaranteed outcome, a future he had already mapped out in his head, it was a reality where he was going back to her, and you were just the temporary space-filler on his way there.

sunghoon pushed himself off the sofa, grabbing his jacket off the armrest in one motion. "i’m leaving, y/n." he snapped, refusing to look at you as he threw the coat over his shoulders. "you know damn well this is not what we are about."

"no! sunghoon, wait!"

panic seized you, completely obliterating whatever dignity you had tried to defend. you scrambled off the couch, your hands reaching out instinctively to catch his sleeve, completely terrified of the cold distance growing between you.

"no, please, sunghoon, wait." you begged, tears burning hot behind your eyes. "i just meant… i don’t want to cause trouble. and i… i know what this is about, i know how it goes, but… i have feelings too, you know?"

sunghoon stopped, but he didn't turn around to comfort you. he just looked down at your hands clutching his sleeve, his expression deadened, like you were a stranger making a pathetic scene in public.

"that's your problem, y/n." he said, his voice void of a single drop of warmth. "i never asked you to feel anything. i never lied to you." he yanked his arm back, loosening your grip effortlessly. "if you can't handle this, then we're done."

the words tasted like ash in your mouth. a white-hot flare of rage exploded inside you — blinding anger at him for being so disgustingly cold, but even more so at yourself for standing there like a pathetic loser. you wanted to scream at him, you wanted to slap that detached look right off his face. you wanted to push him out the door, slam it shut, and tear down every single memory of him. you hated him. god, you hated him so much in that moment it made your throat burn.

but as he turned his heel toward the door, panic instantly swallowed the rage whole.

the thought of him walking out that door, leaving you alone with the deafening silence of your empty apartment, terrified you far more than any humiliation ever could. if he left tonight, he would never come back. you would just become another mistake he erased from his head on his way back to her.

you couldn't let him leave. you were too weak, too pathetic, too addicted to the poison he fed you.

so before he could reach the doorknob, you stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "sunghoon." you choked out. your voice trembled, but you forced the tears back. you couldn't be needy right now, needy got you abandoned. you had to be useful, you had to be what he wanted.

you reached up, your fingers shaking violently as they brushed the cold collar of his jacket. you couldn't bring yourself to look at his face, couldn't bear to see the sheer indifference in his eyes, so you stared at the base of his throat.

"i'm sorry." you whispered, hating yourself with every fiber of your being as the words spilled out. "forget i said anything. i don't care. i don't care about an explanation."

you slid the jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor between you. sunghoon didn't stop you, but he didn't help you either. he just stood there, watching you with that suffocating silence, testing how much you would degrade yourself just to keep him in the room.

your hands moved down to his waist, unbuckling his belt with rushed movements. you stepped closer until your chest was flush against his shirt, lifting your chin to press your lips against the familiar line of his jaw.

"please." you breathed into his skin, your heart breaking into a million jagged pieces with every word. "just stay. you don't have to talk. you don't have to explain anything. just stay with me."

sunghoon let out a exhale through his nose. for an agonizing second, he didn't move. then, with a sudden, rough grip, his hands slammed onto your waist, pulling you flush against him until there wasn't a single inch of space left between your bodies.

there was no tenderness in it. no soft kiss to reassure you, no gentle touch to ease the ache. he backed you up until your thighs hit the sofa, shoving you down onto the cushions and completely crowding over you.

his mouth smashed against yours — not to comfort you, but to shut you up. the kiss was demanding, and you opened your lips instantly, drinking him in as if you were a dying person in a desert. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down harder, needing the sheer physical weight of him to crush the unbearable agony in your chest.

he pulled back just an inch, his chest rising and falling against yours, but he didn't let you go. his fingers tangled roughly into the hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back until you had no choice but to look up into his eyes. there was an almost mocking glint in his gaze — a cruel amusement that made your stomach twist into a knot of humiliation.

"what happened to all those questions, y/n?" he murmured, his voice low. his thumb pressed hard against your bottom lip, dragging it down until your mouth parted. "i thought you wanted an explanation. i thought you had feelings."

the word sounded disgusting coming out of his mouth. a weapon he was throwing right back in your face. you swallowed hard, another fresh burn stinging behind your eyes. he was mocking you when you were already on your knees. but the threat of him walking out was still hanging in the air like a blade, and you were too much of a coward to test it again.

"i don't." you rasped out, hating yourself so much the words almost choked you. "i don't care about any of that."

"liar." sunghoon whispered against your skin, letting out a humorless breath that brushed over your cheek. his grip on your hair tightened just enough to make a helpless sound escape your throat.

he shifted his weight, crowding over you so heavily that your back sank deeper into the sofa cushions. his free hand slid down your front, his long fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants and tugging them down with a single pull that tore a quiet gasp from your lips.

"you're so pathetic." he muttered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he pulled your clothes away, leaving your skin exposed to the cool living room air. "you'll let me do whatever i want as long as i stay, won't you?"

every single word was a deliberate slap, but your body betrayed you anyway. a shiver ran down your spine at the touch of his cold knuckles dragging up the inside of your thigh. you hated how your pulse hammered in your ears, hated how desperately your core throbbed for the distraction, for the release he held over you like a leash.

"yes." you whispered into the dark, completely surrendering the last shred of pride you possessed. "just... please, sunghoon."

"say it properly." he commanded softly, his hand pressing flat against your bare stomach, forcing a ragged breath out of you. his tone wasn't gentle. it was demanding, a test to see how far into the dirt you would drag yourself just to keep his hands on you. "tell me what you want."

your fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle beneath his shirt as you dragged him closer, unable to look him in the eye as you admitted it out loud. "i want you." you choked out, your voice breaking. "please... touch me."

a low sound rumbled in his chest. not satisfaction, but the cruel validation of a man who knew he owned you completely. instead of giving you what you wanted, he abruptly caught both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them against the back of the sofa. he pulled away, sitting up and looking down at you with terrifying detachment.

"you don't get to ask for anything, y/n." he released your wrists, shifting his weight back until he was sitting up on the edge of the cushions. he looked down at you as he gestured toward the floor in front of him with a single tilt of his chin. "if you want me to stay tonight, you’re going to have to earn it."

the words hung in the quiet living room. a wave of nausea hit you, instantly freezing whatever heat had built up in your body. he wasn't even going to give you the delusion of shared touch, he literally wanted you on your knees. he wanted you completely broken down, serving him just to prove how little self-respect you had left.

your stomach churned with a blinding rage. get up, your mind shrieked. tell him to go to hell. push him out and lock the door. but as your eyes drifted up to his face, seeing his posture already shifting like he was seconds away from standing up and walking out forever, the anger vanished into terror. you couldn't do it.

with trembling limbs, you slid off the sofa, dropping onto your knees on the cold floor right between his legs. the sheer humiliation of it made your throat feel like it was closing up.

sunghoon didn't smile, he didn't look pleased. he just sat back, staring down at you with those unreadable eyes as he fully unfastened his belt. "well?" he murmured, his voice laced with cruel impatience.

you moved before your mind could protest, hurriedly freeing him from his underwear. he was already fully hard, a slick drop gleaming at the tip. it was the silent proof that he had anticipated your surrender long before you gave it, he knew you would break with quiet certainty.

your trembling hands took hold of him, stroking his cock with a steady rhythm, using his pre-cum to keep the movement fluid. every part of you was striving to give him a reason — any reason — to keep you in his head. sunghoon watched your submission with his heavy gaze before lightly slapping his hot length across your cheek, leaving a wet streak against your burning skin. you felt filthy, knowing you were degrading yourself purely for his amusement.

"open." sunghoon commanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated right through you.

the moment your lips parted, he showed zero mercy. he didn't give your throat a single second to adjust, taking control instantly as his palm clamped around the back of your head, forcing you down to take all of him at once. a low groan broke from his chest, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair without a shred of gentleness, anchoring you in place as he dictated your every breath.

he set a ruthless pace, using your throat with absolute authority. tears pricked the corners of your eyes, blurring the sight of his beautiful face. he looked so pristine sitting back while you knelt on the cold floor at his feet, completely undone.

you tried to breathe through your nose, your hands clutching weakly at his thighs for leverage, but he didn't soften his pace for a second. he wanted you to know that while your dignity was disintegrating in that room, he was barely breaking a sweat.

"i know you like being treated like this." he whispered, his thumb coming up to press firmly into the pulse point at your neck. "so desperate to stay relevant to me."

he pulled back just enough to let you gasp for a second, only to drive back in deeper, choking out a muffled sob from your chest. sunghoon let out a breathy chuckle, the sound so devastatingly casual it made your heart shatter all over again.

"what an obedient slut." he murmured, his hips thrusting upward as his grip in your hair turned iron-clad.

without warning, he yanked your head back, causing a harsh gag to tear from your throat as he roughly pulled his cock out of your mouth. "on the couch. now."

his command left zero room for hesitation. there was no patience in his touch, no slow foreplay to ease you into it. his fingers grazed your slick center for one fleeting second — a cruel gesture meant purely to mock how deeply your body betrayed you — before he lined himself up.

"you brought this on yourself." he whispered against the skin of your neck, his breath hot, right before he drove straight inside you in one ruthless thrust.

the sudden stretch hit you so hard your back arched off the sofa, a breathless scream catching in the back of your throat. it was overwhelming enough to erase every single thought in your head.

sunghoon didn't pause to let you adjust. he immediately set a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping forward against yours with a hard rhythm that echoed through the quiet room. his fingers dug brutally into your hips, anchoring you to the cushions as he took everything you had just offered him.

"sunghoon-" you whimpered, your head rolling back against the armrest as he hit deep spots inside you.

he didn't answer. he kept his jaw clenched, his eyes fixated on the wall above your head, checked out emotionally even as his body used yours with practiced precision. he was using the friction to drown out whatever mess was inside his own head, completely unbothered by the fact that he was breaking you in the process.

and the worst part — the most sickening, pathetic part of it all — was that as his weight pressed you down and his body filled yours over and over, the panic in your chest finally started to quiet down.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his cold face down into the crook of your shoulder, holding on for dear life as he drove you higher and higher towards an edge you didn't even deserve. you took every rough push, every callous bite of his teeth against your skin, swallowing the bitter taste of your own guilt just to feel him close.

it was a humiliating conflict. deep in your chest, a wave of self-loathing washed over you. you had never felt smaller, kneeling to his whims and letting him reduce you to a convenience right after you had tried to finally speak up.

yet, beneath the crushing weight of your ruined pride, your body was betraying you completely. every brutal thrust sent an embarrassing surge of heat pooling straight into your gut. your slick center clamped desperately around him with every impact, completely traitorous to the grief in your chest. you hated how good it felt. you hated that the friction was perfect, that your hips involuntarily twitched upward to meet his weight, seeking the very pleasure that was destroying you.

a choked whimper slipped past your lips, a sound so needy and small it made your stomach churn with disgust at yourself. you were weeping from the degradation, yet your body was begging for every single inch he offered.

sunghoon didn't offer a single word of comfort. his hand shifted down, his thumb pressing with precise intent right against your swollen center. the sudden stimulation shattered the last of your restraint. a gasp tore from your throat as your spine arched, the pathetic contrast of tears streaming down your face while your body chased the peak making your heart break all over again.

"fuck, y/n. you’re always so fucking needy." he rasped softly, his voice lacking affection. he wasn't looking at your face, his eyes now fixed purely on the mess between your thighs, watching your total submission. "so fucking wet for being such a demanding girl. come on my cock, come on."

your orgasm didn't bring relief, but a sudden rush of sensory overload. at first, the climax rippled through you in a blinding wave, making your body snap taut. your breath caught in your chest, your fingers digging into the seam of the couch as your center pulsated around him in tight spasms. for one fleeting second, you waited for the wave to recede so you could drag air back into your lungs.

but instead, sunghoon kept pushing. he didn't slow his hips, and he didn't lift his thumb from your swollen clit. he simply maintained that precise pressure, grinding straight through the peak.

a desperate sound broke from your throat as the pleasure instantly turned into an agonizing sensation. every microscopic movement of his thumb felt like a spark against raw skin, almost crossing the line into sensory torture.

"sunghoon, wait-" you gasped out, the word muffled instantly as you shoved your face deep into the cushion. you couldn't let him hear the full extent of the humiliating whimpers escaping you.

you hated your body for reacting like this. you hated that even as your heart was shattering under the weight of his coldness, your slick center was still twitching helplessly against him, betraying every ounce of dignity you had left.

instinctively, you tried to pull away. you twitched your hips back just a fraction of an inch, trying to escape the unbearable friction against your center.

sunghoon’s response was immediate. his fingers dug brutally into the skin above your hipbones, his iron grip anchoring you to the cushions so firmly you couldn't move a single millimeter. he didn't speak, he didn't offer a soft word or check to see if you were okay. he simply held you pinned down and drove his hips forward in another excruciating thrust.

"ah- no, please-" you wept, your back arching off the couch in a desperate attempt to diffuse the sensation. it was too much, every inch he slid inside feeling magnified ten times over.

you were completely at his mercy, weeping from the sheer humiliation of being so thoroughly used, yet completely paralyzed by the involuntary heat pulsing through your body.

sunghoon let out a gravelly breath against your shoulder. you could feel every spasm of your walls milking him, forced into continuous contractions by the overstimulation.

his pace picked up, each thrust driving deep into your hyper-sensitive core, eliciting a small sob from your lips every single time his cock fully went inside you. your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your toes curling as your body remained trapped in an endless loop of overstimulated release. you couldn't tell where the pleasure ended and the ache began, becoming just a shivering mess beneath his hands.

"this is what you wanted. so fucking take it." with three final thrusts, sunghoon went rigid above you. a guttural groan tore from his chest as his body shuddered, burying his full length inside your slick heat as he spilled himself deep into you.

he stayed there for a long moment, his weight pinning you down while his labored breath rattled against your ear. you lay completely still beneath him, your body continuing to twitch with tiny residual pulses that made you squeeze your eyes shut against the tears.

then, without a word, he pulled out. the sudden rush of cool living room air against your exposed skin felt like a slap.

you didn't move, you couldn't. you just lay there, face pressed into the damp sofa cushion, your chest heaving in shallow hitches. your thighs were still shaking, your muscles aching from the strain, but the physical sensation was already fading into numbness.

behind you, you heard the rustle of fabric. the metallic click of his belt buckle. the efficient sound of sunghoon dressing himself like he was packing up after a business transaction. he didn't check on you, he didn't reach down to cover your bare legs with the blanket nearby. he didn't even look at you.

he just existed in the room with you, completely untainted by the mess he had just made of your body and your heart.

you squeezed your eyes shut as the floorboards creaked under his body. every movement he made felt like he was erasing himself from your apartment in real time. you wanted to turn around, wanted to look at him to see if there was even a fraction of emotion in his eyes, a single crack in his composure. but you were too terrified of finding nothing at all.

"i'm leaving now." he said. his voice was even, completely devoid of any lingering heat or feelings.

you swallowed the bitter lump in your throat. you couldn't bring yourself to answer. you couldn't say okay, and you certainly couldn't say goodnight.

his footsteps drifted down the hallway toward the front door. you heard the soft slide of his jacket over his shoulders, the quiet jingle of his keys, and the door opening.

and then there was only silence.

the suffocating quiet settled over your apartment until it pressed down on your chest, making breathing feel like a chore. you slowly pulled your knees up to your chest, shivering as the cold settled into your bones. your body felt spent, stained with the physical proof of your total surrender. you had given up every single shred of self-respect you had left. you had let him degrade you, mock you, and use you until you were completely empty — and for what?

he was still gone. he was still going back to her.

a ragged sob tore through your throat, spilling over into the quiet room. you buried your face in your knees, finally letting the humiliation wash over you in full force. you hated him with everything inside you. but as you sat there alone in the dark, breathing in the faint trace of his cologne on your sofa, the most terrifying thought of all hit you.

if he texted you again tomorrow night, you knew you would still open the door.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, And the cycle repeats. Jay has nagged me so many times, I have lost count. You should probably repay me for that added damage, too. I have a genuine question for you — do you hate me? I ask this not as a hopeless girl who won’t ever be reciprocated by her sneaky link, but more as a person with fragile humanity. Someone who bleeds, who feels, and who sits alone in the dark long after you close my front door. Because the way you look at me when I ask for the bare minimum... it feels like disgust. It feels like you are offended by the fact that I exist, that I have a pulse, that I dare to ache when you bruise me. Why do you treat someone who gives you everything like they are dirty just for offering it? I know I do all of this to myself because of how painfully insecure I am, because I don’t respect myself enough to believe I deserve better. But Sunghoon, I have come to the certain conclusion that being aware of something does not make it easier for you to change it. Knowing that I am destroying myself doesn't give me the strength to stop. Knowing that you are using me to fill a spot that isn't mine doesn't stop my hands from reaching for you. Self-awareness isn't a cure; it is just a front row seat to watch my own pathetic ruin. I am watching myself drown in real time, and I still can't pull my head above the water. To be honest, I do enjoy the sex. It isn’t only about the fact that you are way too good at it. It is also because those quiet hours on my apartment are the only times I ever get to hold you. Even when you are rough, even when you are mean, even when you are using my body to quiet the noise in your own head — for those few hours, you are actually here. Your skin is against mine, your heart is beating against my chest. You are in my room, breathing my air, not anybody else’s. I let you break me because even your coldness feels like warmth when I have been freezing for so long. You left a little while ago. The apartment is freezing, my body still aches from the weight of you, and my face is still wet. The physical trace you leave behind makes me hate myself. But God help me, I think I hate the thought of an empty room even more. Yours, regardless, Y/N

as time went by, you kept your conversation with jay long lost in the back of your mind. there was no space for personal feelings in your transaction with sunghoon, and you couldn't afford to let anyone else's logic wake you up from the high. so things went back to normal. or at least, the version of normal you had forced yourself to digest.

but you could feel the presence of her more and more every single day.

it was in the tiny moments that used to seemingly be yours. it was the way sunghoon’s eyes flicked to his phone screen the second he sat up, his thumb swiping across the glass before he even reached for his shirt. it was the subtle shift in his posture when a notification lit up the dark room — a softness in his face that never, ever belonged to you. he was drifting further into the past with every passing week, and you were just the temporary anchor keeping him grounded while he waited for her to take him back.

you tried to get better. god, you tried so hard. you bought psychology books you couldn't bring yourself to finish, listened to jay’s gentle lectures about self-respect, and made endless mental lists of all the reasons you should hate sunghoon. you told yourself that tomorrow would be the day you finally blocked his number. tomorrow you would pick up the pieces.

but tomorrow always came with the terrifying reality of his absence, and your courage evaporated into nothing.

awareness was a useless weapon against an addiction. your self-worth was so thoroughly rotted, so completely tied to his touch, that without it, you felt like you didn't even exist. you were trapped in a loop: hate him, hate yourself more, crave his validation to erase the self-hatred, and end up hating yourself twice as much when he walked out the door.

it was another lonely thursday night in which he didn't come over. he didn't text. he didn't even send a one word message to tell you he was busy.

the quiet in your apartment felt suffocating. to stop the noise in your head, you opened a bottle of wine. and when that wasn't enough, you dragged out a half-empty bottle of cheap gin buried in the back of your pantry, drinking it straight from the glass just to feel the burn.

but alcohol didn't numb you the way you desperately hoped it would. instead, it just stripped away the fragile lie you maintained when you were sober. it made the insecurity scream.

by midnight, you were completely plastered, stumbling into the bathroom and leaning clumsily against the sink. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes glassed over, the rims of your eyelids raw and red. you hated what you saw. you hated your face, hated your body, hated the pathetic posture of a girl who spent her nights staring at her phone, waiting for a man who wouldn't even acknowledge her on the street.

you slumped down onto the cold tile floor, pulling your knees to your chest as the room spun around you. he is never going to love you, the liquor whispered, cold through the haze in your brain. she has his heart, his memories, his future. you're just the trash he steps on while he waits for her.

a sudden sob tore from your throat, echoing against the bathroom tiles. it wasn't just sadness, it was realization. you were dying in this apartment. piece by piece, night by night, you were sacrificing every single atom of your soul for a man who didn't even care if you were breathing after he left.

a dark wave of liquor-fueled clarity washed over you. you couldn't do this anymore. if you stayed in this loop for another month, there would be nothing left of you to save. so with trembling fingers, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. the screen blinded you in the dark. your thumb hovered over sunghoon’s name, your pulse hammering violently in your throat.

the alcohol gave you a reckless burst of courage — the kind born out of pure rock bottom. you didn't care about the rules anymore, you didn't care about playing it cool. you were going to force an end to this tonight, even if it destroyed you in the process.

you didn't press call. a text could be swiped away. a phone call could be ignored or muted with a flick of his thumb. you knew how easily he could dismiss your existence when you were just words on a screen. if you were going to burn this down, if you were going to force him to look at the wreckage he created, you couldn't do it from the safety of your bathroom floor. he had to finally look you in the eye.

with clumsy movements, your thumb tapped open the uber app. with your vision blurred from the alcohol and dried tears, you managed to type in his address — a place you had only been to a handful of times, always late at night, always under the strict rule that you were only an invited guest, never a surprise.

you didn't care about his rules anymore. his rules were a cage designed to keep you small and convenient.

you dragged yourself up from the tile, swaying violently as a wave of nausea rolled through your stomach. you didn't check the mirror again. you didn't fix your hair or wipe away the faint black smudges of mascara beneath your eyes. you just grabbed your coat off the rack, shoved your feet into the nearest pair of shoes, and practically stumbled out into the cold night air.

the uber ride was a nauseating blur. the city lights smeared through the window, the warmth of the car making your head spin even faster. sitting in the back seat, your mind lashed out at you in brutal waves. turn back, a terrified voice pleaded. you are out of your mind. if you show up at his apartment drunk like this, he will never speak to you again. he will look at you like you are insane.

but the alcohol in your blood spoke louder. let him look at you like you are insane. let him hate you. anything is better than being his dirty secret. you gripped the edge of the seat, your chest tight with a mix of drunk rage and suicidal bravery.

when the car pulled up to his building, you almost threw up right there on the pavement. you stumbled out into the chill of the night, your legs feeling heavy and detached from the rest of your body. you slipped through the doors of the lobby behind a resident who didn't even turn around, stepping into the carpeted elevator with your heart hammering so hard it felt like it was going to burst.

floor eight. the elevator chimed softly. the doors slid open, revealing the silent hallway. every step toward apartment 805 felt like your last. the courage that had fueled you in your bathroom was beginning to sour, leaving behind a sickening dread. the smell of cheap alcohol was noticeable on your breath, your clothes were messy, and your entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

what are you doing? your mind screamed as you stopped in front of his door. go home. please, just go home before you destroy what is left of yourself.

you reached out. your finger hovered over the metal button of the doorbell. you thought about every cold phrase he had ever said to you. when we get back together, i will tell you. you thought about how he treated you like a nuisance every time you dared to act like a human being with a heart. you thought about how much you hated him, and how much more you hated yourself.

so you pressed the button. the melodic chime echoed through the hallway.

you froze, holding your breath, your heart lodging in your throat. a second passed, then two. for a terrible moment, you thought he wasn't home, that you had traveled all this way just to break down in an empty hallway.

then, the faint sound of footsteps approached the door. a lock clicked.

you squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, bracing yourself to look at sunghoon, to say whatever reckless words were burning a hole in your chest.

the door swung open.

"sunghoon, i-"

the words died in your throat. the air evaporated from your lungs. it wasn't sunghoon.

standing in the soft light of his entryway was a girl. she was beautiful — effortlessly so, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that clearly belonged to him, her hair pulled up in a loose bun that spoke of absolute familiarity. she looked completely at home, completely secure, holding a glass of water in her hand as she blinked at you in confused surprise.

it was her. you immediately knew it was her.

she looked down at your disheveled clothes, taking in your glassy, tear-stained eyes and the lingering smell of alcohol clinging to you.

"can i help you?" she asked, her voice polite and completely unbothered.

the floor beneath your feet felt like it was dissolving into thin air. every drop of gin in your bloodstream instantly turned to ice. the drunken rage that had carried you into this building vanished, replaced by a shame so profound it made your knees buckle. you were standing in the hallway of his nice apartment, smelling of cheap liquor and dried tears, looking at a girl who looked like she belonged there.

she was wearing his clothes, she was drinking his water. she was standing inside his home like she had every right in the world to be there, while you were huddled outside on the doormat in the dark.

before your throat could force out a single word, a familiar voice drifted from inside the apartment.

"em, who is it?"

sunghoon walked into view. he was wearing sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, his hair soft and unstyled — the relaxed, domestic version of him you had only ever been allowed to see in the pitch black hours of the night.

then his eyes landed on you. for a split second, his face went completely blank. then, a dark shift hardened his features, his jaw tightening so hard you could hear the snap of his teeth from where you stood.

"go back inside for a second, em." sunghoon said softly to her. his tone was gentle — a protective tenderness he had never once used on you.

the girl gave you one last look of quiet pity before stepping back. sunghoon slipped out into the hallway, pulling his front door shut behind him until the latch clicked into place, locking his real life safely away from the pathetic mess standing in front of him.

"what the fuck are you doing here, y/n?" he asked, his voice a venomous whisper that sliced straight through the quiet hall.

you swallowed hard, but your throat was completely dry. the overhead lights exposed every flaw, every smudge of makeup, every violent tremor in your hands. you felt naked. you felt insane.

"you..." your voice broke, a high squeak. you cleared your throat, trying desperately to anchor yourself against the wall as another wave of nausea hit you. "you lied to me."

sunghoon crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at you with an expression of pure annoyance. "i didn't lie about anything. are you drunk? go home before you make even more of an idiot of yourself."

"no." you choked out, the bitter tears finally spilling hot and heavy down your cheeks. "no, sunghoon, listen to me. you said... you said when you got back together with her, you would tell me." the words hung between you in the quiet corridor, small and pathetic. "you promised." you whispered, your fingers clutching the fabric of your coat. "you said, “when we get back together, i will tell you”. those were your exact words. why... why didn't you tell me then?"

you weren't asking because you expected an apology. you were asking because some broken part of you needed to know why you hadn't even earned a thirty second text message. why he had let you sit alone in your apartment, spiraling and drinking yourself blind, while he was inside playing house with her.

sunghoon stared at you. there was no guilt in his eyes. no regret, no hesitation. "because it's none of your business." he said evenly, every syllable delivered with brutal precision. "i don't owe you a timeline, y/n. i don't owe you a courtesy call. we weren’t together."

the sentence hit your chest like a physical blow, knocking whatever little air you had left straight out of your lungs.

"you weren't supposed to show up at my door like this." he continued, taking a half-step closer. "this is exactly why i kept you at a distance."

the words didn't even sting anymore. they just settled deep into your bones, joining the black pool of self-hatred you had been drowning in for months.

"i just wanted... a text." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "just a text so i didn't have to find out like this."

his expression was terrifyingly neutral, his posture completely relaxed, as if he were explaining a simple mathematical fact to a child who kept getting the answer wrong. "texting you would imply there was an expectation of accountability." he said, his voice smooth. "we never had that, y/n. we were two people who kept each other company when it was convenient. sending you a text to announce my personal decisions would have suggested there was something to break off. there wasn't." he leaned slightly against the doorframe, crossing his arms, looking down at you with a logical clarity that cut deeper than any insult ever could.

"you can't just say that." you rasped, a sudden surge of heat breaking through the ice in your chest. "you can't just stand there and pretend like there was nothing. sunghoon, we spent months together. you came to my apartment, you stayed in my bed, you put your hands on me. you… you can't just act like i'm a stranger who hallucinated all of it! even if we weren't official, even if it was just physical to you... there was something between us. a person deserves at least a text out of basic human decency."

sunghoon didn't flinch. he just stared at you, his eyes blank. "you're confusing physical proximity with emotional obligation, y/n." he said quietly, his voice steady. "you opened your door every time i came over. you let me stay. but i never promised you a title, i never promised you a future, and i certainly never promised you updates on my personal life."

he tilted his head slightly, taking in your trembling frame with a look that wasn't even angry anymore — it was worse. it was clinical pity. "i was transparent with you. you knew what this was." he continued, every word delivered with calm precision. "if you chose to attach romantic weight to sex, that was your decision, not mine. you can't hold me accountable for expectations you created in your own head."

the hallway seemed to tilt on its axis. his logic was so clean, so airtight, that it felt like a physical blow crushing your chest. was he right? had you made it all up? were all those quiet hours on your apartment just a delusion you had manufactured because you were too pathetic to accept reality?

you felt a dizzying sensation in your brain — like your own memories were rotting into lies right in front of you. he didn't even have to raise his voice or call you crazy. he just stated his facts, and in doing so, he made you look at yourself through his eyes: an unstable girl who had shown up drunk at his door, demanding emotional tax for a transaction she had willingly offered.

you were crazy, you had to be. you had taken his coldness and convinced yourself it was intimacy just so you wouldn't feel so alone.

"i'm ordering you a ride." sunghoon said, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping the screen without an ounce of hesitation. "you need to go home, sober up, and stop this."

"sunghoon..." your voice was barely a whisper now, completely stripped of any remaining fight.

"it's done, y/n." he murmured, his thumb swiping across the glass. "the car will be downstairs in three minutes. please, don't come back."

he backed into his apartment, his fingers resting on the edge of the door. he didn't slam it. he just closed it softly, with a deliberate click that sealed his real life away from you forever.

the silence of the hallway crashed down on you. you stood there alone, your hands shaking so hard you couldn't even shove them into your coat pockets. you turned around on numb legs, stumbling down the long corridor and into the elevator. in the polished metal reflection of the elevator walls, you looked completely unhinged — standing in a building where you had never belonged.

when you stepped out into the night, the car was already there. you slid into the back seat of the silver sedan waiting at the curb, staring blankly out the window as the driver pulled away.

the ride home was a silent nightmare. every time you closed your eyes, sunghoon's voice echoed in your head, calm and reasonable, tearing down every boundary you had tried to set.

you can't hold me accountable for expectations you created in your own head.

he was right, and that was the most brutal part of the entire night. you had dragged yourself through the dirt, sacrificed your dignity, and let him break you open over and over again, all for a lie that you had written. you were the architect of your own ruin.

when you finally unlocked the door to your quiet apartment, the air felt thick. you didn't turn on the lights and you didn't take off your damp coat. you just walked into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, curling into a ball against the cold cushions.

the tears didn't come in a dramatic storm. they just spilled silently, soaking into the fabric beneath your cheek. you lay there in the dark, shivering from the alcohol leaving your system, listening to the deafening silence of the room.

you had gone to his apartment to force an end, to demand answers, to make him acknowledge your pain. but instead, you had returned home with the absolute certainty that you were completely unlovable.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, You didn’t even have to raise your voice to make me feel like I was insane. I keep sitting here in the dark, staring at the front door of my apartment, hearing your voice repeat in my head like a loop I can’t turn off. “You are confusing physical proximity with emotional obligation”. You said it so calmly, so logically. And the worst part is that you were probably right. You never promised me anything. You never held my hand in the daylight, you never said you loved me. You just came over when you were bored, took whatever you wanted from my body, left me bleeding on my own sofa, and walked out into the night. But I was the one who wrote the story. I was the one who took your coldness and called it passion because the alternative, accepting that I meant literally nothing to you, was too terrifying to bear. I convinced myself that if I endured enough pain, if I let you degrade me enough, if I became quiet and convenient enough, I would eventually earn a place in your life. What a pathetic delusion. When she opened your door, wearing your hoodie and holding your glass of water in the warm light of your hallway, I felt every single atom of my soul collapse. She looked like she belonged there, she looked safe. And when you walked up behind her, your voice was soft. You spoke to her with a gentle warmth that I didn't even know you had inside. You saved all your tenderness for others, Sunghoon. For me, you only ever had the dark. You only ever had hard hands, sharp words, and the cold snap of your belt buckle before you left me alone in the quiet. I went to your apartment because I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. I wanted to demand an explanation, to make you feel an ounce of the guilt that was eating me alive. But you didn't even give me the dignity of a fight. You just looked at me like an inconvenience, an awkward little mess you had to sweep off your doorstep so you could get back to your real life. You dismantled my entire existence in two minutes without even trying. You made me realize that to you, I was never a heartbreak, or a mistake, or even a guilty pleasure. I was just a temporary fix until the person you actually wanted came back. I hate you for doing this to me. I hate you for every time you looked at me with disgust while your hands were on my skin. I hate you for making me feel like a dirty secret. But Sunghoon, I will always hate myself so much more. I hate myself for getting on my knees, for begging you to stay, for drinking until my liver burned just to get the courage to stand in your hallway and be tossed out like trash. I knew what you were doing to me every single step of the way, and I still let you do it because I thought having a ruined version of you was better than having nothing at all. I don't think I will ever forgive myself for what I let you turn me into. You told me not to come back, and you don't have to worry, because I won't. You win. You get to go back inside your warm apartment, hold her, and completely erase my name from your head. You get to walk away untouched while I am left sitting here in the dark, trying to figure out how to live with the empty shell of a person that was left behind. I hope she gives you everything you need and deserve, Sunghoon. And I hope you never have to know what it feels like to stand outside a locked door, realizing you destroyed yourself for someone who didn't even bother to learn your heart. Goodbye, Sunghoon, Y/N

letting go wasn't a single dramatic moment. it didn't happen the night you went home, and it didn't happen when you wrote a letter. it was a slow bleed that dragged out over weeks.

the first few days felt like physical withdrawal. your brain was so used to the volatile highs and lows of his existence that the sudden deafening quiet of your life felt like torture. every time your phone buzzed on the nightstand, your chest would leap with an instinctual spike of adrenaline before reality crashed back in. he was never going to text you again. you had finally become invisible to him, exactly as he had wanted.

for almost a week, you barely left your bed, only leaving on the days when work required you to be in the office. the living room felt tainted, the sofa cushions still holding the ghost of every humiliation you had endured just to keep him in the room.

jay was the one who finally broke the lock on your front door. he didn't lecture you. he didn't give you a self-righteous “i told you so”, even though he had every right to. he just walked into your dark apartment, picked up the empty alcohol bottles off the kitchen counter, and opened the blinds to let the morning sun sweep across the floor.

"you're allowed to mourn it." jay said softly, setting a cup of warm coffee on the coffee table in front of you. "even if it was toxic. even if he treated you like garbage, you still lost something you cared about, y/n. but just don't die in this room."

jay stayed for hours. he didn't force you to talk, he just sat on the rug, working on his laptop while you stared blankly out the window, anchored simply by the presence of someone who actually cared whether you were breathing.

the hardest part was the non-linear nature of recovery. some days, you felt a flickering spark of anger — a burning rage that made you want to scrub your skin until it was raw and throw away every shirt he had ever laid his hands on. on those days, you felt almost powerful.

but then came the nights. at two am, the loneliness would creep back into your bones. you would find yourself opening his contact card, staring at his chat thread, your thumb hovering over the call button. the muscle memory of your desperation was terrifying. your mind would bargain with you: just one call. just to see if he picks up, just to hear his voice. even if he is mean, even if he hates you.

it took every ounce of strength you had left not to surrender. but one night, as you were sitting on your bed while holding your phone, you stared at sunghoon's profile picture. you realized with sickening clarity that as long as his name remained in your phone, a pathetic part of you would always be waiting for a notification that was never coming. you were keeping the leash around your own neck.

so, with trembling fingers and a throat so tight it hurt to breathe, you tapped the three small dots at the top of the screen.

block contact.

a pop-up window appeared, asking if you were sure. your heart hammered against your ribs. blocking him felt like severing the final thread linking you to the person you had spent months destroying yourself for. it meant accepting that the story was irreversibly over.

you pressed the screen. just like that, his name vanished from your recent messages. you buried your face in your pillow and wept until your chest burned, mourning the girl who had let herself be brought so low, and mourning the illusion of the man you had tried so hard to save.

blocking his number gave you a brief illusion of control. for a few hours, you felt a strange triumph — as if tapping a screen could magically erase months of degradation and pull out the roots he had planted deep inside your brain.

but reality set in by the next morning. erasing his contact details didn't delete his voice from your mind. it didn't wash away the ghost of his hands on your hips, and it certainly didn't fix the broken foundation of who you were before he ever walked through the door. sunghoon hadn't created your insecurities, he had simply found the bleeding wounds you already had and poured salt into them until you were addicted to the sting.

going back to your usual work routine was a lesson in how ruined you actually felt.

you put on real clothes, applied enough concealer to hide the dark circles carved under your eyes, and forced yourself into the light of the outside world. but you walked through the office like a ghost. every interaction was filtered through the toxic lens of the self-hatred he had reinforced.

when a coworker took a second too long to reply to your email, your brain instantly spiraled: they hate you. you're annoying them. you're burdening everyone around you. when someone dropped their tone slightly in conversation, you immediately shrank back, convinced you had done something wrong, that you were naturally repulsive to the people around you.

the dynamic you had accepted with sunghoon — where you had to shrink yourself, compromise your dignity, and accept crumbs just to be tolerated — had leaked into every single corner of your life.

you couldn't look in the mirror without picking yourself apart. you would stare at your face under the bathroom lighting, tracing the lines of your cheekbones, wondering what it was about you that made you so easy to discard. she was worth keeping. she earned his soft voice, his quiet protectiveness, his home.

the hardest part of trying to get better was realizing that the enemy wasn't sunghoon anymore. he was gone, living his life without a single thought reserved for you. the enemy was the person sitting in your own skin — the part of you that still believed his cruel logic was the absolute truth.

jay kept checking in on you, bringing groceries, forcing you to step outside for fresh air, listening patiently when you talked. but even around jay, a dark thought lingered in the back of your brain: how long until he gets tired of you, too? how long until he realizes how broken and exhausting you are?

you were trapped in a cage of your own making, terrified of being alone yet convinced that anyone who got close to you would eventually see how worthless you were and walk away.

so recovery wasn't a sudden breakthrough or a grand moment of self-love, it was more like an unglamorous chore. it was forcing yourself to eat three meals a day even when your stomach almost killed you. it was stopping your hand every time you reflexively reached for your phone to check if maybe, somehow, an unknown number had popped up. it was catching yourself in the mirror, mid-critique, and forcing your eyes away before you dragged yourself down into another spiral.

you hadn't healed. the wounds were still raw and throbbing beneath the surface of your daily routine. but as you sat at your desk, going through the motions of a normal afternoon, you held onto one small thought.

you were miserable, but for the first time in months, you were miserable on your own terms. not kneeling on a cold floor, waiting for a man who didn't even care if you survived the night.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, I hope this is the last letter I ever write you, but I am not going to promise anything yet. My track record with keeping promises to myself where you are concerned has always been pathetic, and I am finally done lying to myself. It has been months now. Three or four, I have stopped counting the days like a prison sentence, which I suppose is some kind of progress. The seasons changed, the cold rain gave way to milder air, and the city moved on. A lot has happened since the night I stood on your doormat, smelling like cheap alcohol and looking like a mess. I blocked your number, just like I knew I had to. I stopped re-reading our old text threads. I let Jay pull me out of the apartment until the four walls of my living room stopped feeling like a crime scene. I even bought a new cover for the sofa, a warm shade that covers up the worn fabric where your body used to press mine down into the cushions. From the outside, it looks like a clean recovery story. People at work tell me I look healthy. Jay smiles when he sees me actually finishing a meal. But the truth is much uglier than that. You left scars that time hasn't quite figured out how to smooth over yet. The insecurities you fed didn't disappear when I blocked your phone number, they just took up permanent residence inside my head. I still catch myself shrinking in rooms I have every right to stand in. I still brace myself for sudden cruelty every time someone treats me with patience, convinced that quiet kindness is just a trap waiting to spring. Every time someone shows interest in me, my brain instantly asks the same sick question you answered for me in that hallway: how long until they realize how disposable I am? I don't even hate you anymore, I don't have the energy for it. When I look back at us now, the burning rage is gone, replaced by sadness for the girl who dropped to her knees on the floor between your legs, begging for a life you were saving for someone else. You weren't a monster, Sunghoon. You were just a man who didn't love me, and I was a person who hated herself enough to think that was acceptable. I don't know if I will ever fully fix what was broken before I met you, or what broke while I was with you. But I survived the silence that came after you closed your front door. I survived the late night withdrawal when I thought the urge to call you would literally split my chest open. I am writing this not because I want you to read it, but because I need to leave you here, in these pages, in these past months that have already slipped away into memory. I hope you are happy with her. And I hope, eventually, I learn how to live in my own skin without feeling like I need to apologize just for taking up space. Goodbye, Sunghoon. For real this time, Y/N

as months slipped by, the sharpest edges of your grief started to round off. the constant weight in your chest slowly dissolved into a more manageable hum in the background of your life. for the first time in what felt like years, you were not just surviving the hours between sunset and dawn.

you were actually having fun sometimes, too. it was a chilly friday evening when your coworkers dragged you out to a cozy pub down the street from the office to celebrate the end of a project. normally, you would have made up an excuse to retreat back to the safety of your bed. but lately, you had been saying yes.

and for two whole hours, you slowly forgot. you sat in a worn velvet booth surrounded by the warm glow of the lights, the clinking of beer glasses, and the mindless chatter of people who momentarily loved their lives. you let out genuine laugh that started in your stomach and crinkled the corners of your eyes. you looked down at your hands resting on the table and realized they weren't trembling. you weren't constantly checking your screen for a notification that would never come, and you weren't picking apart your reflection in the glass.

you were just a normal girl, having a drink with her coworkers, finally feeling at ease. the relief of it was almost intoxicating. you took a sip of your drink, leaning back against your seat, letting the warmth of the room wash over your skin. you were rebuilding. maybe, you were going to be okay.

your phone buzzed on the table, making the screen light up. Jay :D was displayed in white letters across the display.

an involuntary smile touched your lips. jay was your safe harbor, the person who had pulled you out of the wreckage without ever asking for a single thing in return. assuming he was just calling to check if you needed a ride home or to tease you about finally going out, you grabbed your coat.

"sorry, guys, i gotta take this. it's my friend jay." you said, offering an apologetic wave to the table.

"tell him we said hi!" one of your coworkers called out over the noise of the bar.

you pushed your way through the crowded pub, slipping through the front door and stepping out onto the quiet street. the cold night air hit your cheeks, contrasting pleasantly with the warmth of the bar inside.

you swiped the screen and pressed the warm screen against your ear. "hey, jay." you said, your voice light and completely unguarded. "what's up? i'm actually still at the pub with my coworkers."

silence met you on the other end. it wasn’t the static-filled silence of a dropped call, but a deliberate quiet. you heard the faint rustle of a jacket moving, followed by a ragged exhale that sounded too close to the microphone.

your smile faltered. the playful warmth in your chest instantly curdled into a cold sensation. "jay?" you asked, taking the phone away from your ear for a split second to make sure his name was still on the screen. it was. Jay :D - Calling...

you put the phone back to your ear, your breath catching in your throat as a sudden sense of dread began to bleed through your veins. "jay, is everything okay? why aren't you speaking?"

there was a long pause. and then, through the speaker of jay's phone, a low voice spoke — a voice that was rougher and far more broken than you had ever heard it before.

"hey, y/n."

every drop of blood drained from your face in a single second. the noise of the city street vanished, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heart hammering wildly against your ribs.

that wasn't jay.

the air in your lungs vanished. a sickening cold washed over you, plunging straight into your stomach. for a few seconds, you couldn't move, you couldn't breathe. the world shrank down to the dark street, the glowing screen pressed against your cheek, and the sound of his ragged breathing on the line.

"sunghoon?" your voice came out cracked, shaking so hard it barely sounded like you. "where is jay? why do you have his phone?"

a slurred laugh drifted through the speaker. it was bitter and seemingly heavy with liquor — a far cry from the logical man who had shut his door in your face months ago.

"he's in the bathroom." sunghoon muttered. "left his keys and his phone here. didn't take much to slip it into my pocket when he turned around."

you gripped the phone tightly, the initial wave of paralyzing shock instantly igniting into a blinding fury. he had invaded jay's privacy, he had stolen his phone. he was standing in some bar or apartment right now, using the only safe person left in your life as a backdoor entry into yours.

"are you fucking insane?" you spat, your voice trembling with a rage you didn't even know you were capable of holding. "give the phone back to jay. don't you ever-"

"i actually waited, y/n." sunghoon interrupted, his tone dropping into a spiteful murmur. the words were venomous, meant to cut you down, but beneath the cruelty, the slurring of his speech betrayed something else. "i honestly thought you’d call me a day after. i thought you'd send one of your pathetic little paragraphs, begging me to listen to you. begging me to let you come over." a harsh laugh escaped his throat. "i didn't think you had it in you to block me." he rasped, the sentence dripping with wounded entitlement. "who the fuck gave you the right to block my number?"

he had been waiting for you to beg. he had spent weeks expecting you to crawl back like you always did, feeding his ego with your suffering. the anger burning inside your chest solidified into something deadly. you felt utterly disgusted.

"you are sick." you whispered. "you stood in your hallway and told me i was nothing to you. you told me you didn't owe me a text, a courtesy call, or an explanation. and now you're stealing jay's phone like a coward because you wanted me to be miserable?"

"miserable?" sunghoon echoed. "you were already miserable, y/n. you were crying on the floor long before i ever said a word to you."

the anger that had flared in your chest suddenly gave out beneath you, collapsing into an aching void. the tears you had been fighting off spilled over your eyelashes, stinging against the chill of the street air.

you hated how easily he could do this. you hated that after months of agonizing work, after trying so hard to build a life where his name didn't haunt every shadow, a single sentence from him could strip you down to that same helpless girl begging on his doormat.

"do you think that's fair?" you choked out, your voice breaking right down the middle, thick with a sadness so deep it made your heart ache. "do you honestly think any of this is fair to me?" you wrapped your free arm tightly around your waist, shivering as the cold seeped straight into your bones. "i gave you everything. i let you tear down every single piece of dignity i had left because i thought... i thought if i stayed long enough, you would see me. but you treated me like trash. and even after you tossed me out, even after you got what you wanted... you still couldn't just let me bleed in peace?"

a heavy silence hung on the line. "do you hate me?" you whispered, the question barely louder than the breeze rustling the trees along the pavement. "is that what this is? do you hate me so much that you can't bear the thought of me moving on?"

sunghoon let out a bitter scoff, but the speed of his response betrayed the raw nerve you had just touched. "i don't hate you." he said, his tone dripping with a calculated malice meant to protect his own bruised ego. "hating you would mean you actually mattered enough to leave an impression."

the words were designed to destroy you. they were meant to leave you broken on the pavement, just like that night at his apartment. but as you stood there, wiping a tear from your cheek with a trembling hand, the brutal truth hit you through the haze of your grief.

he was saying the cruelest things he could think of. he was trying to reduce you to nothing, trying to make you feel small and worthless again. and yet, he was the one holding the phone.

he was the one who had watched jay walk away, who had taken his friend’s phone without permission, who had searched through a contact list just to dial a number he claimed to have forgotten.

"if i mattered so little..." you murmured, your voice trembling with tears, yet laced with clarity. "then why are you holding jay's phone right now, sunghoon?"

there was no quick comeback, no smooth reasoning. just a sudden stillness on the other end of the line.

"you can say whatever mean things you want to hurt me." you whispered, your heart breaking all over again for the girl who had begged him. "but you called me. you took his phone, and you called me. and that's the most pathetic thing you've ever done."

before he could force out another cruel word to save his pride, you pulled the phone away from your ear and pressed the red end call button.

the street went dead quiet again. the tears kept flowing, soaking into the collar of your coat as you stood alone in the chill of the night. it hurt so much it felt like your chest was going to cave in.

but you knew the truth now. he hadn't called because he didn't care. he had called because he couldn't stand the fact that you were finally slipping away.

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, It wasn't my last letter, but somehow, it finally isn't my fault. You stole Jay’s phone. You actually took his property and dialed my number in the dark just because you couldn't handle the silence. It makes me so furious I can barely breathe. You stood in your hallway months ago and told me I meant nothing, that you owed me no timeline. You told me to go home and stop embarrassing myself. And yet, the second I actually obeyed you, the second I stopped crying on the sofa and blocked your number, it drove you out of your mind. You didn't call me because you missed me, you called because you missed your high. You missed having someone so thoroughly broken beneath your hands that it made you feel powerful. You were waiting for me to keep feeding your sickening ego, you wanted me to stay permanently ruined for you so you could feel important. And what terrifies me, what makes me hate myself even more than I hate you, is that it still hurts so fucking much. I want to tell you that I am completely over it. I want to pretend that hearing your slurred voice through the speaker didn't instantly pull me right back down to the cold tile floor of my bathroom. But it did. My heart still leaped when I realized it was you. I hate that my feelings didn't vanish the second you proved yourself to be like this. I hate that despite every cold word you have ever thrown at my head, a small part of me still longs for the warmth I convinced myself you had. The feelings are still there, I can't magically erase them overnight. But I am going to fight them. Every single hour, every single time my chest aches for you, every time my thumb hovers over a blank screen, I will fight it until there is nothing left of you inside me. You wanted me to stay trapped in that loop forever, waiting in the dark until you needed a distraction. But you don't get to have me anymore. I am still bleeding, Sunghoon. But I am never going to beg you again. Y/N

when you hung up that night, you braced yourself for the absolute worst. you expected to wake up the next morning completely unraveled, waiting for a relapse. you were terrified that hearing his voice again would strip away every inch of progress you had fought so hard for.

but as the initial shock wore off and the adrenaline began to fade, something completely unexpected took its place. clarity.

for months, you had kept sunghoon on a pedestal in your mind. you had viewed him as this untouchable figure who held all the power, while you were just the needy person at his mercy. but that phone call had completely shattered the illusion, he wasn't untouchable. he was just a bitter man, so desperate for an ego boost that he had resorted to stealing his friend's phone, slurring his words like a child throwing a tantrum because you had finally stopped begging.

for the first time, you saw how he truly saw you: a guaranteed source of validation. the moment you stopped playing the role of the tragic girl waiting on his doorstep, his composure crumbled. ironically, the call you thought would break you ended up being the thing that saved you.

a few days later, your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

Jay :D: hey Jay :D: im having a few people over at my place tonight, nothing crazy Jay :D: just pizza, drinks and some music Jay :D: you should come. i wanna see you

your chest tightened instinctively at the thought of jay's apartment. even though jay was your closest friend, the fear was still so raw. what if sunghoon was there? what if he tried to drop by with her?

you couldn't just text back. your hands were shaking slightly as you tapped jay's name and brought the phone to your ear.

he picked up on the second ring. "hey." jay said, his voice instantly warm and easy. "did you get my message?"

"yeah, i got it." you said softly, leaning your head against the wall. you hesitated, the lingering anxiety making your throat feel tight. "jay... i want to come. but i need to ask you something first."

"anything." he replied softly.

"is sunghoon going to be there?"

there was a pause on the line. "no." jay said softly, his tone reassuring. "i made sure of it, y/n. he and em aren't coming over tonight."

he took a quiet breath before continuing. "i promise you're completely safe here. it's just us, some good food and people who genuinely want to hang out with you."

a deep exhale left your chest. the fear wasn't going to dictate your answer. "okay." you murmured, a small smile finally touching your lips. "i'll be there."

getting ready wasn't the agonizing chore it used to be. you played music in your bedroom, picking out an oversized sweater that made you feel comfortable and bright. you weren't trying to prove your worth to a man who didn't care. you were just getting dressed up for yourself and for the simple joy of going out and having fun.

when you stepped out of the uber in front of jay's apartment building, the cool night air felt refreshing. you practically bounced up the stairs to the third floor, a brown paper bag with two bottles of wine tucked safely under your arm.

you reached apartment 302 and knocked on the door with a playful tempo. you could hear music playing inside and the lively chatter of people already there. but when the lock clicked, the door opened only a few inches.

jay was standing in the narrow opening, and the warm smile you were expecting was nowhere on his face. he looked completely pale, his eyes wide with frantic panic. a faint sheen of sweat was on his forehead, and his hand was gripping the edge of the door.

"y/n." jay breathed out, his voice unnaturally tight.

"hey!" you said, your grin genuine, completely oblivious to his posture. you held up the paper bag. "i brought the wine! am i late, or-"

"listen, y/n." jay interrupted, stepping forward just enough to block the crack with his shoulders, his voice strained beneath the ambient music coming from inside. "don't come in yet. actually... let's just go."

you blinked, an amused laugh escaping your lips. "go where? jay, the hangout is literally happening right behind you."

"it's way too crowded in here." jay said quickly, his words tumbling over each other as he glanced nervously over his shoulder toward the living room. "the vibe is terrible. let's just leave. i'll take you to that late night diner down the street, okay? my treat. let me just grab my coat and we can go right now." he reached out, gently putting a hand on your arm, trying to nudge you back toward the stairs.

you laughed, assuming he was just being dramatic and stressing over host duties. "jay, stop being absurd. since when do you care about a crowd? i'm starving and i promised i would come hang out."

"no, y/n, seriously. just wait a second-"

"move, you weirdo." you teased, stepping forward and lightly bumping your shoulder against his to push past. "i'm coming in."

"y/n, wait-" jay reached for your wrist, his voice cracking with sudden edge, but it was too late. you had already pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold into his warm living room.

the playful words died in your throat. the music from the speakers suddenly sounded like it was playing underwater.

standing near the kitchen counter, holding a drink and looking toward the doorway, was sunghoon. and right beside him, was her.

every drop of excitement, every ounce of warmth and every single mile of progress you had built over the past weeks seem to instantly evaporate. you went horrifyingly still. your sight narrowed down to sunghoon’s face — the slight freeze in his posture, the way his fingers tightened around his drink, the brief flash of something unreadable crossing his features before he masked it.

the shock in your chest instantly twisted into a sharp sting of betrayal. you whirled around on your heel, stepping right back toward the hallway and pulling jay with you by the arm.

"you promised me." you whispered, your voice cracking, thick with a mix of fury and heartbreak. you looked up at jay, your hands trembling as you gestured toward the living room. "you literally promised me he wouldn't be here. you swore they weren’t coming!"

"y/n, i swear to god i didn't invite them." jay pleaded, completely sick with guilt. he grabbed both of your hands, his fingers shaking. "they showed up unannounced literally four minutes ago. i was about to tell him to leave when your knock came on the door. i didn't even have thirty seconds to text you."

jay looked back toward his own living room, then straight into your eyes. "we're leaving." jay said without hesitation. "fuck the party, fuck my apartment. we're going somewhere else right now. we can go to that diner, or a quiet bar downtown, or we can just grab takeout and go sit in your living room. anywhere you want. i don't care that it's my place. i am not letting you sit through this."

he reached for his coat hanging on the wall rack, ready to walk out his own front door. you stared at him, your breath coming in shallow hitches. every instinct in your body screamed at you to take the exit. but as you stood there, watching jay panic for your sake, something else sparked beneath the fear.

a burning anger. if you turned around and left, what would that prove? it would prove that sunghoon still owned every room you walked into. it would prove that he could still chase you out of your safe spaces without even opening his mouth.

you thought about his slurred voice on the phone. you thought about him stealing jay's phone, begging for a reaction, throwing a drunken tantrum because you had stopped giving him power over you.

he wasn't a god, he was just a man. and you were done letting him run your life.

"no." you said softly.

jay stopped, his hand pausing on his coat zipper. "what?"

"i'm not leaving." you said, your voice growing firmer, grounding itself as the panic slowly drained out of your veins. "you threw this party for your friends. i bought wine, i dressed up, and i came here to have fun with you."

"y/n, you don't have to force yourself to be brave-"

"i'm not forcing anything." you interrupted, offering him a reassuring nudge with your shoulder. "he doesn't get to drive me out of your apartment, jay. he doesn't get to dictate whether i get to have a good night or not."

jay looked at you for a long moment, searching your face to see if you were lying. when he saw the steady resolve settling into your eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally eased just a fraction. "are you sure?" he asked softly. "if it gets too much, even for a second, you tell me and we kick them out or leave. deal?"

"deal." you murmured.

you handed him the paper bag with the bottles of wine and turned back toward the living room. sunghoon’s eyes followed you as you walked straight past him to the kitchen counter, but you forced your gaze forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a second look.

you poured yourself a glass of wine, turned around, and threw yourself into a group of jay's friends sitting near the living room rug. you forced yourself to talk, to listen, to pour another drink. and slowly, beneath the initial spike of anxiety, you actually started having fun.

but you were still human. every now and then, despite your best efforts, your eyes would involuntarily drift across the room. they were standing by jay’s bookshelf, talking softly. she was leaning into his side, holding a cup, looking up at him with effortless ease. and sunghoon... sunghoon looked happy. he was looking down at her with attentive warmth — a soft expression you had spent months destroying yourself trying to earn. he spoke to her like she was precious, like she was something to be protected.

it felt like a physical knife turning in your chest. the familiar insecurities instantly rushed back to flood your brain, whispering everything you hated about yourself: look at her. she is worthy, you are not.

your chest ached so deeply you thought you might choke on your next breath. but this time, you didn't run to the bathroom to cry. you didn't get blind drunk to numb the sting. you just squeezed your eyes shut for a brief second, took a grounding breath, and let the pain sit there.

it hurt terribly, but acknowledging the hurt was different than letting it ruin you. you were changing, you were learning how to hold your own hand through the heartbreak instead of begging him to hold it.

around midnight, the music and the crowded room began to feel a bit too much, too loud and warm. needing a moment to breathe, you slipped away from the group and pushed open the front door.

the cold night air hit your face like a splash of ice water. you pulled a cigarette from your pocket, flicked your lighter, and took a long drag. leaning your elbows against the metal railing, you looked out over the quiet street below, watching the trail of grey smoke curl up into the night.

you thought about everything that had happened — the night at his apartment, the agonizing weeks in the dark, his voice on jay's phone, and now tonight. you were still so insecure, still so deeply bruised by him. but standing out there under the stars, you realized you hadn't collapsed. you were still standing.

a fragile sense of pride flickered in your chest. and then, the door behind you suddenly squeaked on its tracks.

a slightly unsteady step hit the concrete floor, accompanied by the sharp smell of hard liquor. you took another slow drag of your cigarette before you saw a heavily intoxicated sunghoon stepping out and letting the door slide shut behind him.

for a long moment, neither of you said a word. the only sound was the muffled bass of the music coming from inside jay's apartment and the uneven rhythm of sunghoon’s breathing beside you.

"didn't know you smoked." he said, his voice thick with alcohol. it was meant to sound casual, maybe a little condescending, but the slight slurring of his words stripped it of any real authority.

you took another slow drag, letting the silence stretch out. "you didn't know a lot of things about me, sunghoon." you said quietly. "mostly because you never bothered to ask."

a bitter scoff escaped his lips. he leaned his elbows against the railing, stepping just a little too close.

"you’ve changed so much, right?" he muttered, turning his head to glare at you sideways. his eyes were bloodshot and heavy with defensive edge. "you are now playing the composed survivor. like you didn't spend months practically dying on my arms."

it was meant to draw blood. it was meant to drag you back down to the floor, to make you cry, to make you defend yourself like you always used to. months ago, it would have worked. but tonight, you just turned your head and looked at him.

up close, without the loving filter you used to view him through, he didn't look so superior. he looked messy. his hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw was tense, and beneath the mean tilt of his chin, there was a frantic restlessness in his eyes.

"is that why you came out here?" you asked softly, your tone almost conversational. "to check if i was still ruined? to see if you still owned me?"

sunghoon’s knuckles turned white against the metal railing. "don't flatter yourself." he snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "you’re the one who blocked my number. you made everything into a fucking tragedy, y/n. i never promised you anything."

"i know." you said. the simplicity of your answer caught him off guard. his mouth opened slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features before he caught himself and scowled. "i know you didn't." you continued, looking back out at the dark street. "i made up the story. i stayed because i was terrified of being alone, and because i genuinely believed that if i endured enough of your cruelty, you would eventually stay."

you took a shaky breath, letting the hurt show in your eyes without letting it break your posture. "and the worst part was thinking you were just incapable of loving anyone. i convinced myself you were just broken and distant." you gestured vaguely toward the door behind you, where she was still inside. "but you're not cold, are you? you're soft with her. you smile at her."

sunghoon’s breath hitched. "she doesn't suffocate me." he spat. "she doesn't sit on the couch crying, demanding things i can't give. she doesn't make everything exhausting."

it was the meanest thing he had ever said to you. it was a direct hit straight to the core of your deepest insecurities. a single tear finally escaped your eye, tracking down your cheek. but you didn't hide it, you didn't bow your head.

"you're right." you murmured, wiping the tear away with the back of your hand. "she doesn't. because you treat her like a human being. you gave her a reason to be soft, sunghoon. for me, you only ever gave me closed doors and silence."

sunghoon stared at you, his chest heaving. he opened his mouth to hurl another insult, to twist the knife again, but as he looked at your sorrowful face, the liquor in his system couldn't mask the ugly truth hanging between you.

he had gotten everything he claimed he wanted. he had his peace. so why was he standing out in the freezing cold, drunk off his mind, chasing you down?

"if i was so exhausting… then why did you steal jay's phone, sunghoon? why did you call me at midnight? why did you follow me out here tonight?"

sunghoon flinched as if you had slapped him. the mean mask he had worn all night finally fractured right down the middle. for a split second, the cruelty vanished, replaced by a raw look in his eyes.

"you were supposed to keep waiting." he rasped out, the truth slipping out past his pride in a whisper before he could stop it. "you weren't supposed to just... erase me."

there it was, the ugly heart of it all. he didn't love you, but he loved the way you loved him. he loved knowing that somewhere in the city, a girl was weeping over his memory, keeping him on a pedestal, waiting. and your silence, your recovery, had starved him of the only power he had over you.

a profound sadness settled over your chest, but beneath it, the last lingering embers of your devotion finally died out. "well, i'm not waiting anymore." you said softly.

sunghoon swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried desperately to pull his mask back over his face. the booze in his system made his composure sloppy, but his pride refused to let him fall apart completely in front of you.

he looked away toward the dark street before glaring back at you. "you think you're over it?" he muttered, his voice tight, trying to regain his footing. "you think walking back through that door means you get to pretend none of it happened?"

"it happened." you murmured, watching the way he gripped the metal railing just to stay upright. "i'm not pretending it didn't. i'm just not letting you use it to keep me small anymore."

you dropped the rest of your cigarette onto the concrete floor and stepped on it with the heel of your boot. sunghoon watched the motion. as you turned to leave, his hand moved on instinct, his fingers reaching out and catching the edge of your coat sleeve.

"y/n." he said, his voice dropping into a strained tone. it wasn't a grand, cinematic plea. it was just a quiet command from a man who couldn't stomach the thought of you walking away first.

you stopped and looked down at where his hand held your fabric. you didn't yank away or raise your voice. you just looked up at his face and spoke. "let go, sunghoon." you said gently.

he held on for one more second, his pride warring violently with the sudden realization that he was losing the last thread. then, his fingers slowly loosened, slipping off your sleeve.

he didn't beg, he didn't run after you. he just stood there, leaning back against the railing, turning his head away to stare out at the night air as if he couldn't bear to watch you walk through the doorway.

"go back inside." you whispered softly. "she's waiting for you."

you slid the door open, the sound of music and laughter instantly spilling out to wrap around you. you stepped over the threshold and pulled the door closed behind you, shutting out the freezing wind and the ghost of the man who had kept you in the dark for so long.

jay met you near the edge of the kitchen, his eyes immediately searching your face with quiet concern. "you okay?" he asked softly, offering you a fresh drink.

you looked at jay, then took a slow breath. your chest still ached — and it would probably ache for a while — but the air finally reached your lungs.

"yeah." you said, a small and entirely genuine smile on your lips. "i'm actually okay."

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪

Dear Sunghoon, You were right about one thing: I will never erase what happened. But I don't have any long paragraphs left for you, and I don't need you to give me permission to move on anymore. Thank you for taking Jay's phone. Thank you for following me out there. You finally gave me the one thing I couldn't give myself: the truth. I am letting you go now, for real this time. This is the last time your name will ever appear in my handwriting. Goodbye, Sunghoon.

But of course, riding with the girls is fun too.

Your focus can be a bit singular when Jake is around, so it's nice catching up properly. Together, you yell along to PinkPantheress with all the windows down, while Minjeong keeps her eyes on the road ahead. Slower songs in the group playlist give you chances to debrief, and laugh to the point of tears remembering some of the shit Aeri puts up with from some of the world's most questionable men. 

jaeyunie: How's the drive? 

you: it's really good actually i'm having a lot of fun rn, you're genuinely so jealous of all the fun i'm having i can't even talk rn i'm just so busy having fun without you.

jaeyunie: Wrong. You're so wrong I'm actually laughing at you, Yongie.

jaeyunie: I'm jealous of Minjeong getting to drive you around :( 

Jake is always… saying things. Things that give you butterflies, and then give your butterflies butterflies too. 

you: that could've been you.

jaeyunie: I KNOWWW I KNOW IT COULD HAVE I PROMISE YOU I KNOW

jaeyunie: Quit making me feel bad at work. 

you: soz. 

jaeyunie: Found out why Jaehyun and Yunjin broke up btw, more of an in person story though so remind me when I see you

you: YAYYYYYY can't believe they even dated genuinely how do they know each other.

jaeyunie: Discord !!! 

you: i have more questions 

“What you have, YN, is five seconds to put that phone down before I throw it out the window,” Yizhuo says, leaning over the centre console to scowl at you. “And if I hear a word about Jake Sim at any point in the next two hours, I'll throw you out the car too.

“I'm allowed to text my best friend,” you mumble, but you put your phone down anyway, tucking it under your thigh.

At the exact same time, in the exact same tone, all four girls say, “Ouch.”

“Best friend…“ Minjeong trails off, running a hand through her silky blonde hair. “I think you might have it worse than Aeri did with Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo was Aeri's ancient ex-boyfriend who used to smack himself on the head and call himself stupid whenever he made a mistake. Maybe if the thought wasn't so funny, you might have taken offence, might have stepped up to your or Jake's defence. In unison, Jimin and Yizhuo smack their foreheads and say, “Stupid, stupid Jungwoo.”

While you and Minjeong erupt into a fit of cackles, Aeri groans, slumping in her seat. “Don't remind me.”

“Wasn't he, like, forty or something?” you ask.

“He was thirty,” she corrects, defensive. “And that was two years ago, guys. I've done better.”

“I'd consider any guy who doesn't send shirtless selfies with the message, aren't I a big strong boy, to be better,” Jimin points out. “Even Donghyuck was better, at least he didn't send you any messages.”

“Jesus, I get it.” Aeri groans. “Can we go back to bullying YN for her made up problems?”

For a moment, no one says anything, and eyes dart around the car while trees and stretches of motorway blur by through the window. This thing with Jake — your friendship — has become a source of mild irritation with the girls, a bit of a touchy subject. Something you complain often about though make no effort to change. Attempt to change. Relationships, of all kinds, take two unfortunately, no matter how desperately you wish you could take control of Jake's brain and rewire him to like you back. For fear, perhaps, that Aeri's comment might have hurt you, it seems the silence is yours to break.

“You're on your own, Aeri. Yizhuo said we're not allowed to talk about him,” you say, turning the radio up so loud that SZA's new single makes the speakers rattle. 

“No, she said you can't talk about him.” Minjeong turns the volume right back down. 

“Yizhuo?” you ask, desperate for her to agree with you. 

“I'll allow it.”

“You like him, he likes you—your problems only exist in your weird, YN brain,” Jimin says, speaking for Minjeong. And apparently for Aeri and Yizhuo too if their disjointed chorus of, exactly, is anything to go by. 

There's no restraining the pit in your stomach. You've seen Jake like someone before, seen it a million times. How he turns to mush when a pretty girl so much as smiles at him, goes out of his way to be wherever she is. You know they're wrong, and that only makes your stomach feel worse. 

Jake tells you absolutely everything, whether it concerns you or not, anything he finds out is something you're going to find out as well. The guy's an open book, with you at least, and can't lie to save his life—by omission or otherwise. If he fancied you, you would know. In fact, he would have told you as soon as it occurred to him, blurted it out. 

“Only one of those things is true and I don't want to talk about it,” you say, unlocking your phone to text him again. 

At your request, they drop the subject. Minjeong goes on a rant about how the dress she ordered for graduation arrived yesterday, one whole month after the ceremony.

you: are you really not coming at all……..

you: you used to be so fun dude i miss you

“YN!” Yizhuo yells, reaching for your phone. 

“Done! I'm turning it off, see?” It does not help that you have a picture of Jake as your lock screen, which shows as you hold the power button. For the sake of your phone, and your life, you make a show of opening your bag and shoving it to the bottom before pulling the zipper shut. “Happy?”

In the rear view mirror, Yizhuo grins, leaning back and closing her eyes. “Very.”

At the rest stop, all of you get out to stretch your legs and pee, grabbing enough snacks to feed a small country before piling back into the car where Jimin takes over for the rest of the drive. You fall asleep as soon as you rest your head on the window, bass buzzing against your skull as your eyelids get heavier and heavier. 

It's only one long blink until Jimin parks in the driveway.

The Kim family holiday home is a sight to behold. A sprawling wood-clad fortress by the beach that has seen you at your best and your absolute worst. You and your friends have spent summer after summer visiting this large slice of heaven on earth, hoping its original pine floors and floor-to-ceiling kitchen windows will keep all of your secrets. So much has happened here, changed here, it's hard to believe you only stay for one week at a time. That so many of your life's keystone moments could be boiled down to twenty-eight sweaty days over the last four years. 

On the couch in the den, Aeri gave you first and only tattoo, a shaky five-pointed star right between your shoulder blades that your mother still hasn't seen even after three years. That was the summer before you and Jake spent two rounds of sardines hidden in the wine cellar. Pressed chest to chest between cool rows of sauvignon blanc, it's the closest to kissing you two have ever gotten, and you're certain if his phone hadn't started ringing, your lips would have bridged the centimetres-wide gap. And maybe then, you would have had something to talk about before bed beyond, that was… and, yeah, it was. 

When you get to your room at the very end of the hall, you dump your bag by the door and throw yourself onto the bed, spreading out like a starfish. It feels huge without Jake here to share it. Whether or not there's any real need for you to share a room on this trip is up for debate, but for as long as Jake doesn't make a complaint, you won't either. That first summer, you won rock, paper, scissors and got first pick of a room all to yourself, Jake lost and got stuck sharing with Jay. Before bed that night, he came to check on you and fell asleep at your side. It happened the next night too and by night three, with your heart pounding against your ribs, you suggested you might as well share the room. He agreed. 

On the pillow by your head, your phone vibrates. It's him.

jaeyunie: I have a job, dude. You gotta try it !!!

jaeyunie: I miss you more though :( 

you: i have a job too you know. i work at the very beautiful woman factory

jaeyunie: Ohhh I get it now…that explains a lot

jaeyunie: You're employee of the month then, yeah?

The great big grin stretching your mouth is humiliating, even in a room by yourself.

you: i've heard this before jaeyun thank you

you: wyd

He replies with a selfie, he's lying in bed frowning, the sweetest thing you've ever seen. On the wall behind him, you see his steadily growing collection of Polaroids. You're in almost all of them. 

jaeyunie: Tired af rn I'm gonna slump very soon wbu send a piccc

jaeyunie: Texting w one eye open wanna see you before the end

you: and you look very cute doing it

At his request, you take a selfie right where you are — after tilting your head a little to show your bare neck and tugging the neckline of your tank top down just enough to show the top of your lacy bra and adjusting your boobs in said lacy bra to make them look a bit bigger — sending it without thinking too hard about it.

you: our bed feels so empty bruh what are you doinggggggg

Jake types and deletes for a while before his message finally comes through.

jaeyunie: Noooo darling I'm sorryyyyyyy

jaeyunie: My pretty Yongie holy shit look at you

jaeyunie: Yk if I could be there I would bruh. I'm requesting PTO for next summer as we speak

jaeyunie: Fuck I really miss you :(

The squeal that comes out of you is wretched. Worse than the grinning from earlier, the grinning you haven't quite stopped doing as you writhe around on the bed. Maybe it's for the best that he's not coming this summer, he'll miss you more. And text you all about it. 

A throat clearing in the doorway snaps you out of whatever chokehold Jake seems to have on you from the other end of the country. It's Yizhuo and she's not pleased. 

you: yizhuo has a Water Gun so i have to go but sleep tight ok ily + imysm 

jaeyunie: Ilymmmmmmm

“I'm up, okay? No more Jake, I promise. Just put the gun down,” you plead, getting up from the bed and leaving your phone face down on the sheets. In the doorway, she doesn't budge, only closing one of her eyes and aiming the bright orange nozzle with one arm. “I'm coming, Yizhuo. It's alright.” In a very brave display, you don't even jump to check your phone when it vibrates. 

You make it out unscathed, joining the rest of the girls in the kitchen. Open cans of beer litter the worktop, and Jimin's speaker plays at full blast. You can hear Travis Scott so clearly you're not convinced he's not yelling in your head. Locating the blender is a five-woman task, and you celebrate by making a heavy handed cocktail while waiting for the takeaway Minjeong ordered in advance to arrive. 

Tonight is girls’ night, the first of the summer so far. Tomorrow, the guys will arrive and your group will be mostly complete. On Sunday, your birthday, Sunoo finally gets back from Erasmus, and everyone else will be here for the rager you throw every summer. 

Everyone but Jake anyway.

Minjeong's garden — her mum's garden — is beautiful, always more so than you remember during the gloomy remainders of the year, when you're lying in bed at night, replaying your summer memories and trying to fall asleep. Tipsy lengths swam across the pool; falling asleep on the linen couch, just out of sight behind Ms. Kim's pink cosmos; crawling through the gap in the fence to get their teeny private strip of rocky beach to skinny dip in the ocean—when it's quiet enough, you can hear the tide kissing the shore. An otherworldly saturation permeates the entire yard and even photos don't do it justice. Brilliant turquoise swimming pool and lush green grass. If your friends notice it too, how brightly everything shines out here, they don't mention it. Nothing bad could happen to you out here, you're certain you could weather any storm on earth if it was happening in this garden. 

With the long table and sliding glass doors at your backs, the five of you sit on the warm concrete by the pool, an excess of takeaway bags and boxes strewn between you. It's not so much a sharing platter as it is a, this is my dinner for tonight and tomorrow until we eat out on Sunday, situation. As nice as the quiet is, just you and the girls and no threat of being thrown into the pool by Heeseung and Sunghoon, it's a little strange without the boys. Jimin pushes her container away, every last morsel of jalfrezi eaten up, while your dinner still hasn't arrived. You watch as she sighs into the night sky, leaning back on her palms and envy her full stomach while yours rumbles quietly. 

“I don't know why you insist on ordering from Ayaz every summer when you know how long they take,” she says when she catches your eye. 

You toy with a loose thread on the hem of your nightdress. “It's my favourite.”

“Favourite? They're not even the best Greek place on the high street,” Minjeong points out. 

And she's right, unfortunately. Last summer, you and Jake took a trip to Gyros Heaven after the club and well… went to actual heaven on the first bite. However, though apparently none of your friends care, tradition is tradition, and when you first came here, you and Jake ordered from Ayaz and what followed was the best summer ever. Too much is changing this summer, too much already has changed. Graduation, job offers across the continent. In other continents. This could be the last summer you all get together like this and no one seems to care. Jake isn't even coming, and the other boys are skipping the first night. You've already checked the Nessfest website five times since you came outside, just to make sure something hasn't happened to cancel the whole thing.

Call it superstition or batshit crazy, you will have your chicken and lamb gyros with a bucketload of tzatziki to dip it into no matter how obnoxiously late it arrives. It's reliable, as close to something you can control as possible, their constant latecoming a complete non-variable—maybe the only one you have left.

You check the Nessfest site again. Refresh your emails. Reread the ticket confirmation. Text Jake.

you: do you ever feel like everything is changing in a way that none of us have any hold over haha

“It'd be kinda funny if they arrived early for once though,” Aeri says. “Like symbolic, you know? We've finished uni, we're starting our careers — our lives — maybe Ayaz could do with some change too.”

“I think I would shoot myself in the face if that happened,” you say, but it doesn't come out as light-hearted as you'd like for it to. 

Yizhuo lets out a surprised chuckle behind her cup, lips swollen and red from her extra hot tteokbokki. “Are you okay?” she asks, seeming truly concerned. 

You nod, smiling, even though you wish desperately for Jake to show up somehow. Materialise out of thin air or something, lift himself out of the pool and say, surprise! That was really funny, Yongie! HAHAHA that was just so silly! Isn't she so silly? He'd know you meant what you said, but he'd be able to swing it well, to add to it with his universal charm and help you land. Laugh first, properly, so you and everyone else could join in. 

“Well if they came early I wouldn't have gotten to sample your dinners, check for poison and all that,” you point out.

To this, they laugh, genuinely. Thank fuck. It's easy to laugh now that they are. 

Now that Aeri's laughing even harder as she turns her phone for you all to see. It's a picture of Jay leaning against one of the walls in the student union, posted to Sunghoon's Instagram story. He's dead asleep with his eyes and mouth half-open. To his credit, Jay's a good drinker. Never too rowdy or too emotional. Nor too argumentative or romantic. He's sleepy though, more so than usual. This photo is just one more in a folder of near-identical photos. Jay sleeping at the dinner table, Jay sleeping on the driveway of his childhood home. If you can think it, he's slept there. In the queue for Thirsty Thursday after pres. And, though not photographed, once during sex. 

“Well, it's nice to know he's enjoying the Pickle Club party they absolutely couldn't miss.” Yizhuo rolls her eyes, taking an irritated bite of her last chip. “Come on, it's gonna be our last time seeing some of those guys.” Her Jay impersonation is scarily accurate. “Suck my dick, Jongseong.”

You and Jimin can't stifle your laughter, exploding into cackles when your eyes meet. 

“At least Jaeyun has an actual excuse, if he can't get off work it can't be helped, but the rest of them… I swear to fucking God—” Minjeong cuts herself off with a sip of her drink. “Whatever.”

“It's not like he works weekends,” Yizhuo points out.

The desire to leap to Jake's defence is overwhelming, second nature even, but you bite your tongue. You had the same thought when he told you he wasn't coming. Asked if he couldn't even make it just for the weekend. I don't know if it's worth driving so far just for a night or two, Yongie, he said, while you tried not to burst into tears or punch him in the face.

“How about no boy talk?” Aeri suggests, taking a screenshot and sending the picture to the groupchat. All of your phones light up at the same time, buzzing against the concrete. “Not until they get here anyway, can't really avoid it then.” 

As soon as she says it, a message from Sunoo lights up your phones once more. It's a screenshot of the folder in his phone with all of the Jay sleeping pictures in it and the total is at 400. 

“If they get here,” Yizhuo mutters, raising her glass. “Cheers, then.”

All of you raise your drinks and clink them overhead, as a chorus of cheers! rings out loud enough to settle the unease in the back of your mind, even if only for a moment. You take a slow sip of your sun-warmed beer and the doorbell goes behind you.

Your dinner is here, right on time. 

The night slips away before your eyes, and it doesn't feel like long until you find yourself brushing your teeth after a cool shower in the en-suite. It's weird not seeing Jake's things with yours on the countertop. His cologne in the light blue bottle, his watch next to yours between the sinks. The bedroom is worse though, by far, one suitcase and one pair of house shoes. One body in the bed.

As much as you love this house, you hate this bedroom. All of its large windows are on the right side, giving you a beautiful view of the beach, the water. At night, the moonlight kisses the ripples, making it glitter. Having this ocean view however, means the lighthouse at the end of the dock casts its blinding beam into the room with a startling frequency. Even with your eyes screwed shut, you can see the shifting light behind your eyelids. 

Your phone lights up as soon as you get comfortable, Jake's name on your screen, stinging your eyes.

“You alright, Yongie?” he asks, calls out more like, as if he wants you to hear him over the distance and not just through the phone. 

Holding it an arm's length, you ask, “How drunk are you?”

“I just saw your text,” he says, ignoring the question you asked, but his softer vowels and higher pitch answer for you. He's tipsy. “Thought you were excited to spend time with the girls tonight, darling.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling your cheeks burn. “I was just being stupid that's all.”

Jake says nothing and over his silence you hear the boys laughing. Hear the opening and closing of a door muffle the laughter.

“That was actually your chance to tell me I could never be stupid.” To this, you hear his smile so clearly it's like he's here with you now and despite the ache in your chest, you can't help but smile too.

“I was thinking, Yongie,” he says. “I get it freaks you out, and that's valid, but I don't think everything's changing.”

“Ever heard of hyperbole?” 

“Ha ha. That was really funny, Yongie. Aren't you just so silly?” There's some rustling on his end before he speaks again. You can picture him quite clearly, lying down on the end of his bed, his hair covering his forehead, long enough to graze his eyelids by now surely. “How about we try and think of something that's never going to change so you can focus on that instead?”

If you'd been having this conversation last summer, you would have said this trip with no hesitation, but even this, your teenaged promise with — at the time — Jake's friends, feels less and less secure with each passing minute. Slipping like sand through your fingers. This summer, here, right now, you've got nothing.

“How about I come up with something?” he suggests after a while.

“Please.”

Jake doesn't seem as stumped as you, continuing right away. “You love me, right?”

“Sure.” You chew on your lip, concerned like you've made some grand admission, bared some precious part of yourself for him to look at. To hold up to the light and inspect. 

Another audible smile takes over his voice. “And you know I love you too, Yongie. That's not going to change.”

Heat lashes your cheeks, coats you from head to toe as your heart thumps away in your chest. That Jake can speak so definitively, with such conviction always scares you. He might be the most sincere person you know, completely earnest for earnestness’ sake no matter what. Everything he cares about he gives the utmost attention to, and you're no exception. He's proven that time and time again, he's proving it now. And yet, that nagging voice in the back of your mind won't quiet.

“But—”

“No, YN,” he says, interrupting you. “But nothing, I always will and you can count on that.” There's a certainty in his voice that forces a flutter in your stomach, a smile on your face. A certainty that makes you desperate to believe him. It feels like a necessity. “Change can be a good thing, you know. I think most of the time it's a great thing,” he adds.

“Why is it so scary then?”

“I'm not sure, darling,” he says quietly, like he really wishes he could give you an answer, like he's disappointed that he can't. 

You sigh and he yawns, though he vehemently denies sleepiness when you accuse him. “Good night,” you say anyway.

“Good morning,” he says, and it's the start of an endless back and forth.

The sound of the smile in Jake's voice only makes you smile too, heats you up from the inside out and reminds you just how lucky you are to have him at all, whether he's right next to you or on the other side of the country. “I'm really glad we're friends, Jake.”

A moment passes before he speaks, you can't even hear him breathing down the line. “Yeah, Yongie, I know,” he says before clearing his throat, sounding more awake than earlier. “I'd better get back to the guys. See you when you're back, yeah? I miss you already.” 

Jake doesn't even wait for your response before he cuts the phone and you can't keep your eyes open for long enough to think much about it as you fall asleep. 

Nessfest is a geographically confusing Loch Ness-themed carnival hosted on the east coast of Scotland. As is tradition, you attend every summer and spend the whole day catching sun and eating pastries. And like every year, you are staunchly against getting on any ride that can just be thrown up and taken back down again at a moment's notice, so you're stuck holding bags while everyone else straps themselves into swinging lawsuits waiting to happen. Without Jake, who's scared too, you have to do it all on your own, taking your job of live-texting him updates very seriously.

you: aeri threw up after the tilt-a-whirl

you: again

The sun is relentless, baking the concrete and your skin. Your feet are already tanning around the crisscrossed straps of your sandals, paler bands of skin on your shoulders where your tank top straps rest. Alone under a parasol next to a ride with five loop-de-loops in a row, you're on high alert, craning your neck and trying to spot the guys in the growing crowd. They were meant to meet you at the house this morning, but last night's drinking rendered them horizontal until noon. 

And that is okay. Change is okay. 

Inhaling slowly, holding the breath, and exhaling slowly is easier in the shade, but there's nothing you can do to stop the sweat beading along your hairline, no matter how many times you pat it away with the back of your clammy hand.

you: what are you even doing rn

you: please tell me if you're sleeping it's in the car next to hee otw here :/ 

“There she is!” Jay calls out in a hoarse voice, waving with his whole arm when you turn around. At the sight of him, and Heeseung and Sunghoon trailing behind, your stomach drops. Jake really isn't coming. It's strange seeing everyone without him. Seeing the boys without him. He was your first friend, your only good friend until you went to uni together. And even then, all the friends you have now were his friends first.

If it weren't for all the handbags you were wearing, you'd have jogged over to meet them halfway, but alas. They're gracious enough to do the jogging on your behalf, all three of them pulling you into the middle of a group hug and jumping around you. There are more long, sweaty limbs than you'd like to be embraced by at any one time, but you've missed them so much you can't find it in yourself to complain. Not properly anyway.

“Any chance you left someone in the car?” you ask, squinting up against the sun at them. 

Heeseung pulls air through his teeth and shakes his head. “Sorry, princess.”

“No worries though, birthday girl. You won't even notice he's not here!” Sunghoon grins for a split second before pressing his lips in a flat line, saluting and standing at attention like he's ready to serve his country through the fulfillment of Jake duties. “Can't share the bed though, bossman said no way,” he says, taking the girls' bags from your shoulders, so he can carry them. You don't stop him when he takes yours as well. To his credit, he looks kind of wonderful, a buff, compression-shirt-wearing ten out of ten with five handbags slung over him. 

“Give me some of those,” Heeseung mutters, taking Jimin's and Minjeong's bags for himself. “Making me look bad.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “You do that on your own. Look after your fucking hair, man.”

It's hard not to laugh at that, at least until Heeseung cuts his eyes at you anyway—that shuts you up quite quickly. Now that the guys are here, there are more targets for the line of fire, and you're not about to do the noble thing and take the fall for Heeseung. You wouldn't even do that for Jake. 

you: stupid stupid jungwoo son or heeseung's fried hair daughter? 

Unconcerned with how he looks, Jay cranes his neck to watch as the Loch & Key hurls your friends through the air. “Are—uh… are you guys mad at us? For missing last night?”

“Not any more than usual.”

He hums, resting his hands on his hips. “That's good then. A relief, I guess.” 

Ice cream wielding children rush by you, glittery green butterflies and purple thistles painted on their smiling faces. Their soft laughter makes you grin as their exhausted parents, miniature backpacks slung over their shoulders, trail after them, weaving through you and the boys while mumbling their apologies. Jake would think it adorable if he were here, clutch his heart and coo over their tiny giggles and hurried waddles. He's always been good with kids, relating and playing with your little cousins better than you ever have, braiding hair and coaching football. He'll be a great father and his children will be very lucky. His partner. It's easy to imagine him running after his own kids like that, keeping up though, and happy to do it. Just the thought of it, future Jake, father Jake, warms your skin, your cheeks. 

Meanwhile, present Jake, childless Jake, is ignoring your texts. Missing your birthday. You turn to Heeseung who's scrolling on his phone. “How was Jake before you guys left? He's airing me.”

He lifts his head at once, affronted by the very notion apparently. “Nah, no way. He drank the most last night, for sure. Didn't even wake up to say bye, dude's gonna be hungover 'til at least Christmas.”

A grin splits your face at the revelation that he's suffering for his crimes against you and your date of birth. The universe is fair and just after all. “Was it worth it at least? Your Pickle Party?”

“Pickleball, YN, ball,” Heeseung corrects, though Pickleball Party is not as fun to say. “I was fucked, man, can't really remember it if I'm honest. How about you though, how was your night?” 

“I figured as much, we saw the photos, but my night was so good.” You're not even exaggerating, you hadn't realised how much you needed time with just the girls until you got it. “And I have all of my memories.” 

“I remember enough to know Jake was with me and not you so…“ He shrugs with a shit-eating grin on his face, and he's very lucky you love him because if not, you would have pushed him to the ground instead of nodding nod with your jaw clenched, and muttering, yeah, well. 

Free from Loch & Key's deep blue clutches, the girls stumble down the stairs and into the waiting arms of the boys. Anyone watching might think it had been years since they'd seen each other, rather than a handful of days. It wells your eyes to see them all like this, overjoyed already just by the promise of the next few days spent together. Meanwhile, you struggle to adjust to the sight of them without Jake, feeling the void already. At least you've had time to get used to missing Sunoo, seeing as he left a year ago now, but even he'll be here tomorrow. As Jimin reaches out to pull you into the group hug, you think of Jake. Miss him.

you: what time do you get in tmrw?

suntori: like 9 pm ish at the airport and then ten thousand hours in the car to get to the house

suntori: pls get me a nessfest '26 shirt !!!!!!

“To the bar!” Aeri calls out, pointing in the direction of the margarita truck you frequent.

Heeseung actually shudders. “Sober weekend for me I think, sorry guys.”

Even though he mumbles his agreement, Sunghoon is the first to follow Aeri, Jimin, and Yizhuo through the crowd. Around Heeseung and Jay's waists, Minjeong snakes her arms. “Hair of the dog, boys,” she says, pulling them. “Hair of the dog.”

Under an air conditioned gazebo, you crowd around a picnic table and Jay buys you an Irn Bru margarita in a pitcher. Sitting across from you, Sunghoon tries the first sip of it and hums, his eyebrows knitting together. “It's good, you know. Surprisingly.” He slides the pitcher back over to you, but you slide it back.

“We can share it.”

As if terrified by your offer, his eyes widen and he shakes his head so hard his sunglasses slip from his hair down onto his nose. “No way, YN, I actually can't. Because you'll want me to drink again tonight and tomorrow and for the rest of the week. What do you know about moderation?”

“Not much.” You shrug, taking the drink in your hands and moving the straw to take a big gulp. It is good. Surprisingly. 

you: having a pitcher of irn bru marg u are so jealous rn

To sober Sunghoon's credit, he does a pretty good job as a Jake stand-in. Holding all the bags and phones while you sit in the shade, even standing if there's only one seat free so you can take it. The two of you eat candy floss and caramel coated popcorn while he gives you a play by play on last night's jaunt and follow the group from ride to ride, passing a yard glass of melting blue raspberry slushy back and forth. He even tries — and fails — to win you a stuffed animal to add to your collection. As the sun inches lower and lower, the crowd only gets denser, the lines longer. You and Aeri wait twenty minutes to use the toilet, shuffling into the same stall because the attendant is too busy scrolling through short-form videos with her volume on full blast to stop you. You pee first then Aeri goes. 

“I feel like a grandma, dude. I'm tired already.” Laughter and squeals and techno music muffle her voice as she shimmies her jean shorts back up over her hips.

Only when you've fully processed what she said does a groan rumble in your throat, agreeing wholeheartedly. There are still nine hours until midnight, never mind whatever godforsaken time it'll be when you crawl into bed and sleep. Alone. “Call me Jay the way I'm gonna nap at any opportunity.” You lean against the stall door with your mouth open and your eyes half-shut to make her laugh. 

“Him and Heeseung are kinda opposites like that, don't you think?” she asks, following you to the sinks. “Heeseung only has to close his eyes to fall asleep and that's before a drink.” 

“Was that last year or the year before when we lost him because he was sleeping behind the marg truck?” 

Aeri cackles, shaking her wet hands out in front of her. “Could Heeseung Lee report to guest services?” she says in a flat tone, just like the tannoy that had blared through the entire festival that day. “That's Heeseung Lee to guest services, please.”

You leave the toilets with your sweaty arms linked together, only to find everyone laying out in the grass. Sure enough, when you reach him, sober Heeseung is dead asleep on his stomach with his head on his arms.

you: was i annoying on call last night or smth… my bad my bad

To this, finally, Jake replies and right away. 

jaeyunie: Neverrrrr ❤️

jaeyunie: I miss you sooooooooo much

jaeyunie: Can call before bed if you're free? Facetime and we can watch Bee Movie if you want

you: ok. i miss you an adequate amount. i always want.

Next on Yizhuo's tight schedule, is the least intimidating, but by far most popular ride at the whole festival. The Rock Ness Monster—a Viking ride with peeling green paint where the boat curves towards the bottom. She bumps your hip with hers. “Are you two coming with?”

“Who's gonna hold your bags if we do?” 

“Ugh.” Sunghoon's head falls back, clearly sick of standing around while all the slightly terrifying, so-called good stuff happens on these insane portable roller coasters. “Don't be such a baby, YN. Even Jake can ride a viking boat.”

“Wow, Hoon,” you say, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “It's almost like we're two different people.”

At his side, Minjeong actually laughs out loud. “Could've fooled me.”

The burn in your cheeks is immediate, the sting behind your eyes. That no one leaps to your defence, that you feel like someone else should in the first place, is unsettling. Embarrassing, more like, to stand there, sandalled feet glued in place, body heavy with alcohol stirring in your sinking stomach, sweat laden and overheating. Saying nothing while your friends look around at one another and Jay mutters, “God damn.”

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes. You're not in the mood to argue, not sure if you even have much of a case, so you leave everyone's bags at your feet and take the first step towards the Rock Ness queue. “Let's go then, since you all want to so badly.”

You walk quickly and blink even quicker, the only thing that could possibly worse would be to cry and bring the mood down. It's not even really that serious. Not at all. Your friends follow in silence while you pull out your phone to text Jake. Do you think I'm too dependent on yo—sense and shame wash over you, pulling your thumb down to the backspace key and clearing the message. Who cares what your friends think? Even Jake can ride a Viking boat, well so can you! It's not even about him anyway. You like roller coasters, it's just that these particular rides, with their semi-permanent nature, freak you out a little. 

At your place in line, a rush of peach hits you and two long arms wrap themselves around your middle. Minjeong. “My sweet lady,” she mumbles. “I'm sorry for saying that.”

Worse than everyone thinking you follow Jake around like a lovesick puppy, is them feeling bad for you, feeling bad about bringing it up. And here you are, with no Jake to follow, ruining everyone's mood. “It's fine,” you say, picking at the fraying hem of your jean shorts. “It's true anyway, I guess.” That's probably what annoys you about it, that she wasn't wrong.

Minjeong kisses the top of your shoulder, her lip gloss sticky on your skin. “We're all a bit too attached to be fair.”

As if to prove her point, the two of you stay clinging to each other, a sweaty waddling mass as the queue grows shorter and shorter until it's your turn to get on. You press your palm to the side of Nessie's carriage for good luck, safe travels maybe, like boarding an aeroplane, and end up sandwiched between Heeseung and Jay, bare thighs sticking to each other and the hot seat. It's a bit of a tight fit, squeezing all of you into the same row, against some kind of safety regulation surely, but the teenaged ride attendant barely looks up from her phone except to push the bar down over your laps. It's fun though, even you can admit that. Fun to laugh and squeal with your friends while Nessie's hinges do the same, rocking you back and forth and back and forth again. 

Heeseung's hair is dry as straw and the heat does nothing to help, so that when you get off the ride, wobbly-legged, it sticks up at all angles like he's been electrocuted. Yizhuo can't stop laughing, reaching up to ruffle the strands. A few of them break off when he does, flitting towards the ground, dusting his shoulders. 

“Jesus, Heeseung. Do you want a hair mask or something? A buzzcut, maybe?” Minjeong asks, her own bleached hair silky and long, a testament to her twelve step haircare routine. 

He rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. “It's not that bad.”

“It's literally breaking off in her hands,” you remind him, taking a tuft from his shoulder so he can see it.

“Good thing it's my hair then,” he says, yanking the cap from Jimin's head and putting it on his own to hide what's left of his hair. 

Yizhuo wipes her palms together and Aeri scowls. “Sure, buddy—not for much longer though.”

Sunghoon's film camera goes everywhere with him, but he doesn't trust anyone else but Jay to use it—and even that took proof of him studying up on film and passing a twenty-question quiz. With it — now that you've all reconvened after a much needed, well-timed nap — the two of them capture every single moment, a flash going off in some part of the garden no matter what. Jay standing at the grill in his Meat Master apron. Aeri pouring shots at the table. Yizhuo putting a pink tiara on your head at ten minutes to midnight. Heeseung and Jimin making out on the linen couch. Minjeong napping on the unicorn float. He gets a photo of everything and Jay gets a photo of him in the kitchen doorway flexing all of his muscles like a bodybuilder. 

Right when the clock strikes twelve, all of you run and jump into the pool, waking Minjeong who rolls over into the water with a start. A rowdy chorus of Happy Birthday begins before you've even managed to resurface, waterlogged and tipsy in the deep end as your favourite people celebrate you.

“Your shots!” Jimin cries out, pushing her hair out of her face. “You need to start your shots!”

You get out of the pool as fast as you can, running towards the table to get your phone before going into hiding. Jimin doesn't take long to follow, but a text from Jake stops you in your tracks. He'd sent it five minutes ago, right at midnight. 

jaeyunie: Happy birthday, Yongiiieeee!!!!!!! I love u so bad, ur my bffieee, I hope today is really special and I'm sorry I can't be there, but I promise I'll make it up to you, yeah? Can't wait to see youuuuuuu 💘🐉

The smile on your face is immediate, and if you weren't surrounded by all of your friends, you'd squeal. But you are, so you slip through the sliding doors back into the house and lock yourself in the downstairs bathroom to squeal — and hide — there. When you call Jake, he picks up right away, his handsome face filling the screen. 

“Hey, birthday girl,” he says, a breathtaking grin stretching over his lips and showing all of his teeth. “How are you feeling?” 

You're not sure where to start. How to properly express just how much you miss him. Closing the toilet lid, you take a seat and settle on telling him you're mad at him instead. “I'm very, very mad at you.”

“What have I done now?” His eyebrows shoot up and his voice is low, deep, which is very cool and very normal. 

“You ditched me.”

When Jake laughs, it fills the room like he's right here with you. “I'm not the one who drove all the way across the country, Yongie. You ditched me, alright? If anything, I should be very, very mad at you.”

“You can't be mad at me on my birthday. Maybe another day?” Against your arm, the tile is so perfectly cool you have to resist pressing your entire body to the wall. “Do you have one in mind?”

His smile only widens. It's unjust that someone so beautiful would be so far away—that that someone would be Jake. “Whatever you say, Yongie—I won't be mad at you today. Tomorrow though? I'm pissed tomorrow.”

Just the thought of it sends a rush of heat to the base of your stomach. You've sat in the stands at enough of his football games, and various other sporting stints, to know just how pissed he can get. And just how good he looks when he is. His clenched jaw and squinting eyes. The crease of his eyebrows, how his neck goes red. Pissed at you would be new, though. Nice, maybe. 

“I look forward to it,” you admit. “Will you show me Layla now? She's way more exciting to look at.”

The smile falls from his face right away. “Should I die?”

“Not just now. Maybe tomorrow while you're mad at me.”

“Have I ever told you how funny you are?” He squints a little, getting closer to the screen. “Where are you?” 

“I'm hiding in the bathroom. I think Jimin's waiting to force twenty-two shots down my throat.” Just the thought of it makes you shudder. At sixteen, taking a shot for each year of your age was a badge of honour. Now, however, not so much.

“You're in the bathroom? Downstairs, right?”

“Yeah, that's what I just said.”

“Open the door then.”

“Is my signal fucked?” You look at him on your screen, tilting your head. “I just told you Jimin's waiting to give me alcohol poisoning, I can't go out there for at least another twenty-four hours.”

“Wow.” Jake frowns. “I drove all this way and you don't want to see me?”

The words pull you up from your seat so fast you almost smack your head on the wall. “You did what?”

“Open up, Yongie.” This time, when he speaks, you hear him through your phone and through the door.

Hanging up, you adjust the straps of your bikini and straighten your tiara in the mirror, peeling back some of your soaked hair. For how much time you spent in the sun earlier, and in the pool just now, you look quite nice actually. A healthy glow to your slowly tanning skin, a slight dark ring of mascara around your eyes that thankfully looks more fun party girl than tearful party girl. You take a deep breath, it's only Jake after all—a fact that does nothing to ease your racing heart.

“Are you really out there?” you ask through the door, desperate to prolong the time apart that you'd loathed maybe one minute ago.

He lets out a chuckle, knocking gently on the wood. “I promise.”

Like something from your dreams, and just like he said, Jake's standing there with a huge grin on his face. He's the greatest thing you've ever seen. “Surprise!” he says. “Happy birthday.”

“How are you—” You pause, shoving his shoulder just to make sure this isn't a very realistic hallucination. Against your palm, his shoulder is very solid and very real. “How are you here?”

Jake's smile curls into something sheepish, his hands resting heavy on your waist. Burning your wet skin. “If you could take a week off from the beautiful woman factory, I figured I could take some time off too. Turns out having a desk job involves a lot of scrolling through r/niceguys and drinking free Gatorade.”

“You…” There are a million ways to end that sentence, but you settle for hugging him instead. He laughs, soft and happy, taking you into his strong arms. He smells like home, like the sweet citrus and bergamot that crowds all of your memories. It's only been a week since you last saw him, but it feels like a lifetime now that he's here. “I can't believe you're here,” you mumble into his T-shirt.

“You know I'd never miss your birthday, Yongie. Not for anything.” Jake brings his hand to the back of your head, gently stroking your wet hair. “I meant it when I said you could count on me.”

Tipping your head back is a small devastation, you miss his chest as soon as you leave it, but the sight of him is worth it. Of Jake and his sweet round, smiling cheeks, his dark eyes meeting yours right away. “But I thought you—” Realisation sets in belatedly, cutting you off. “So you lie to me now? Great. Your employment has made you ugly, Sim Jaeyun.”

He's the furthest thing from ugly you can think of, especially when he's smiling like this at you. Because of you. “Occupational hazard,” he says. “I'm being really brave showing my face right now, but I was sweating in my ski mask.”

“Good call. And speaking of, I didn't take time off work, I'm working remotely.”

Jake's grin takes up half of his face and sends your heart into a frenzy. “My bad, Yongie. Of course you are,” he says, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “You must be the exception, your employment's only made you prettier.”

“It's hard work being employee of the century,” you admit.

“Yeah, darling. I'm sure it is.” Before you can respond, or fully process the heat coating every inch of your skin, he speaks again. “How does twenty-two feel so far? I only have a few more months left to get ready, so you have to tell me everything.”

“So far?” There's no platonic way to say that twenty-two is perfect because he's here, so you shrug. “Not sure—” At the sound of Jimin's voice over his shoulders you flinch, hiding behind him even though it's too late.

“There you are!” She's wielding the tall bottle of Pineapple AU the boys got for you. Your gift. Yay! “Don't worry, you don't have to take all the shots right now, you can spread them out over the day. Eleven now, eleven later.” She looks a bit like she's had twenty-two shots.

“Jeez,” Jake mutters, getting a good look at her flushed face. 

“I'll come find you, Jimin.”

This seems to be enough to satisfy her, for now at least, and she disappears back down the hall, utterly unsurprised by the sight of Jake.

Alone again, finally, he smiles down at you. “I'll help with your shots, alright? Looks like I've got some catching up to do anyway.”

“Me too.”

While Jake gets changed, you head back outside and jump straight into the pool to shock the heat from your skin. It works. Until he walks through the sliding doors and into the garden. His black swimming trunks sit low on his hips. Arms bigger than usual when he crosses them over his chest, eyes flitting around the space until he finds you and smiles. Your heart beats in your throat as the rest of your friends spot him and rush over, enveloping him in happy hugs and excited chatter. They ask him about the drive and work and catch up like it's been months. Nobody mentions his huge arms or his toned stomach that seems more and more defined every time you see it. Jay hands him a beer and he pulls the tab while watching you, laughing at something, he waves at you, all alone in the pool now that everyone's bagged their spot in line at the Jake meet-and-greet.

Good for them.

You swim lazy laps to give your heart something normal to race over and he finishes his entire can before breaking away from the group and backflipping into the pool. You hate yourself for being impressed, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old girl fancying the fastest boy in class. This feeling, you know it well, because you were that girl. Jake was the boy. And now, when he resurfaces right in front of you, his hair sticks to the edges of his face. He doesn't push it back.

“Good evening,” he says, voice already taking on its soft drunken state.

“You're stealing my thunder, Jakey. At this rate, I'm sure you'll wear red to my funeral, or do the splits during the eulogy, or something else attention-seeking,” you huff, splashing him. “It's my birthday, you know.”

“Trust me, Yongie. No one could ever steal your thunder.” He grins, taking the pink tiara from your head and putting it on his own. It suits him. “And we're dying on the same day, remember? Joint casket.”

“I'm starting to regret our blood pact.”

“Our blood pact?” he repeats, incredulous. “How many times do I need to remind you that someone waited until my middle finger was gushing blood before she backed out?” 

“I was fourteen!” 

“I was thirteen!”

“And you were so, so brave.”

A moment passes while Jake seems to think about that. The pool lights him up brilliant and blue, water slipping in fast rivulets down his skin. Though not a new feeling, it's definitely an irritating one, an embarrassing one, to be jealous of the water. Jealous of how close it gets to be, tracing his cheekbones and acne scars, his stubble. And all with no consequence, no teasing or accusations of feelings. Feelings of any kind. Your hands twitch at your sides, pruned and desperate. Splashes sound from the middle of the pool, though neither of you look to see who it is. There's no need. You could recognise Jay's squeals and Aeri's laugh with your eyes closed. The price of summers and all the seasons in between spent together, you suppose. You'd pay it over and over happily if you could. If it meant you could always have this. It'll be difficult on Wednesday, when you all go back home and get ready to split off into your corners of actual adulthood. 

“I'm a coward now, is that what you're saying?” 

“I wouldn't have used those words, but I'm glad you did.”

Jake rolls his eyes and says, “Most people are actually nicer in the summer, you know.”

“Yeah, to you maybe. Because you look like that with your shirt off,” you say, surprising yourself and him.

He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “What does that mean?” 

You've already swum into the deep end of this conversation, so it's not hard to say, “I think you underestimate how much justice your body does you, Jaeyun.”

“That means a lot coming from you.” With a smile on his lips, he reaches out, toying with the string on your bikini. Cool water slips from his skin onto yours, painting a trail down your body and back into the pool. His dark eyes follow it the whole way, neck, collarbones, chest, until his gaze hits the surface, lingering on the flimsy blue cups holding up your breasts. It all happens so quickly, his staring and the pounding of your heart. The hitching of your breath. Of his. How he swallows, gulps, like maybe this is affecting him as much as it is you until he says, “You're a dream, YN.”

The word strikes you anew, your name from his sweet mouth. He so rarely calls you by your name that it's always thrilling whenever he does. Only ever beautiful, special, when he's the one saying it. And at the end of a sentence like that no less. A dream. Said so simply and just for you. You should be over this by now, over him, but still — again — your breath hitches and a flare of warmth sets your skin ablaze. 

“You know that though, don't you?” Jake's voice is quiet against the sounds of everyone else — cans and cups clinking, lyrics screeched off-key — yet it's the only thing you hear clearly. “I've always known it.”

On his head, your pink tiara sits crooked. He almost looks silly. He does look silly, and maybe, if he'd said literally anything else, this fact, this sight, would make you laugh. But no, he didn't say anything else.

Attraction and romance are not the same. You know that well enough. It's taken a lot of kissing frogs to drill it into your head, but you've done it, and you know. Regardless, hearing those words from your Prince Jake is doing a very good job at shaking that knowledge loose. It's only when your back hits the tile that you realise you've drifted into the corner of the pool. He lets go of your bikini, palm resting by your arm on the pool's edge, boxing you in.

To your silence, he says, “I guess I gotta say it more.”

“Is that right?” you whisper.

When he nods, the tiara falls with a measly splash, bobbing along the surface between you. Neither of you lifts it.

“You've got a lot of catching up to do then. Like, ten years worth.”

“Thirteen,” Jake corrects. “Thirteen years worth.”

“I look forward to it.”

A smile breaks out over his face as he picks up the tiara. All the chlorine has spoiled the rhinestones, turning them matte. Gently, he pushes your hair away from your face and sets it on your head again, fixing the little combs so it stays in place. “You're beautiful, Yongie. You're very, very beautiful,” he says. Admits, maybe.

You let out a breath, hoping it can pass for a laugh. Hoping Jake doesn't notice how all of your breaths have been coming out in a bit of a hurry. “Well, I don't work at the beautiful woman factory for nothing.” 

It's Sunghoon's announcement of a very friendly game of chicken fight that breaks up your… moment. You're thankful, actually, it gives you some room to breathe, to smile like a maniac while Jake looks over his shoulder at the group. Nobody has to tell you to get out of the pool, you don't waste a second hoisting yourself over the edge. Jake does the same, trailing water all the way over to the electric grill where he dries his hands and ties Jay's apron around his waist. 

“You hungry?” he asks. “The real Meat Master's back in town, baby.”

“Not really.” You scowl, taking a step away from him. “And don't let anyone else hear you say that, okay? They won't be as kind as me.”

Red covers his cheeks and his ears and his neck as he heads for the kitchen. “Yeah,” he says. “You're probably right.” 

Despite this, his blunder, you can hardly tear your lusting eyes from his body, the flex of his muscles as he walks, the cinch of his little waist, swimming trunks sitting low enough to show the dimples in his lower back. How the water trickles slowly from his shoulders down, the warm kitchen lights making him glow. 

A pair of dripping arms wrap themselves around your waist from behind, making you flinch as Minjeong's chin rests on your shoulder, easy to identify by her touchiness alone, but her shimmery peach tanning oil gives her away. Her damp skin sticks to yours. A kiss pressed to your cheek. “I take it you like your present?” she coos, rocking your bodies back and forth. “It was my idea by the way, to surprise you, if you were looking for someone to thank.”

How touching, that your friends care enough to deeply upset you with your biggest fear and then quickly resolve it like nothing happened. Maybe change, as Jake had said last night, isn't as bad as you think. More than anything, you're alarmed by the fact that the best gift you think you could possibly receive is his presence. How disturbing, that you love him this much. 

“Thank you, Jeongie,” you say, dragging the E for as long as you can. 

Again, she kisses your cheek, mumbling, of course, against your skin. “What was that in the pool? You two all pressed up in the corner…“ Her voice trails off into a whisper as Jake comes back outside with a plate of samgyeopsal and chicken sausages and mushrooms in his veiny hand. Maybe you are hungry after all. “It was extremely hot to watch, I think he was genuinely a second away from tearing your bikini off.”

The thought of it makes you shudder, what might have been were you two alone out here, if Jake wanted what you did. Wanted you. If he'd tugged on the string of your bikini top and taken what you want him to have. You're a dream, YN. You can't help the heat in your cheeks and between your thighs, can't help but watch as his thick fingers turn the knob that starts the grill. As they skewer sausages and slabs of halloumi before carefully placing them on the rack.

Minjeong uses her clammy hand to close your mouth. “Fuck,” she mutters. “I think I get it now.”

Before you can tell her to back off, she's running over to the pool, waiting to sub in for someone. It'll be Yizhuo most likely, who keeps throwing herself from Sunghoon's broad shoulders, for no reason other than liking the feeling of falling into the water. He's too polite to express his frustration, but you can tell from the way he rolls his eyes every time she does it.

“They're pants,” Jake says, nodding over at them as he flips the skewers. “Utter pants.”

You wrap yourself up in a Spider-Man beach towel and sink into the chair closest to the grill, to him, sitting with your legs crossed. “It'd be unethical to play against them, seeing as we're professionals and they're… well, they're pants, like you said.” 

Last spring, Sunghoon announced in the chat that you'd be playing chicken fight for money, and it was all you could to do to take up Pilates in preparation—you had probably the strongest core out of everyone here, and together, you and Jake robbed your friends blind, then blew your winnings on a weekend trip to Naples to celebrate. This year however, you and Jake are barred, and your core strength has gone to shit without something to motivate you in the gym. 

It's for the best probably, your practice rounds were always garbage because you couldn't focus with Jake's head between your thighs or his huge hands gripping your soft flesh. The way his breath would hitch if you tugged on the right strands of hair by the nape of his neck.

Fuck. 

Pushing some of your wet hair back from your neck, he smiles down at you. “I took three of your shots, by the way.” 

“My knight in sweaty, muscular armour, wow, Jake.” Looking at him now, with the overhead lights making him glow around the edges, the sweet curve of his pink lips, it's like looking at an angel. He is an angel, you are absolutely certain. Your lovely, beautiful, soft-lipped angel. “I could kiss you,” you blurt out, covering your mouth with your hand to keep in the rest of your thoughts.

He laughs at that, a rushed exhale that he doesn't address before blowing on a skewer of halloumi. It's hot, clearly, because he huffs around the little chunk he bit off. Again, he blows on it then holds it out for you. “Here, Yongie,” he says softly. “Careful though, yeah?”

For a short while, you eat like this, sharing a Heineken with Jake until, naturally, at the sweet sizzle and smell of pork belly coming off the barbecue, everyone comes rushing out of the pool and over to the table, filling all the seats around you. Jay helps plate the food as Jake shuts off the grill, taking off the apron and mumbling at you to sit properly. It's hardly a second after your feet hit the warm tile that he sits in your lap, settling with his back pressed against you and his plate in his lap. To calm your pounding heart, you have to breathe manually, in for three and out for three, but it's to no avail as Jake plays with your fingers and passes food from his plate straight into your mouth. Trying to follow the conversation is impossible in these conditions, so you strain to listen to Tiffany Day's album whispering out of the speaker and chew on yummy samgyeopsal, ignoring the feel of his fingers on your lips every time he feeds you, ignoring how he makes a point to look straight at you, into your eyes whenever he does. 

At Jimin's request you take a shot and then another, both poured carefully into your mouth by Jake who can't stop laughing. 

“My good girl!” she cheers, a proud smile on her face as she points at you with her chopsticks. “Two down, twenty to go!”

You take another two, then down a full glass of water.

As the guest of honour, you're relinquished of clean-up duty, and your friends diligently snatch anything you dare to lift or stack to help. Your adamance gets Jake kicked out too, the two of you relegated to the linen couch. As soon as you sit down, he pulls your legs over his. His hand covers your knee, tracing shapes into your skin with his thumb. Sometimes it feels like he has to touch you at all times, like his life depends on his proximity to you—sometimes it feels like yours does too, to him. Given the years you've known each other, the years you've gone on like this, you should be used to it. You're not. When he touches your necklace, the star pendant resting on your chest, you have to put in effort not to shiver. 

“I can't believe you still wear this,” he says, the words garbled by a yawn. 

“I haven't found one I like better. What's your excuse?” you ask, nodding towards the identical star sitting beneath his collarbones. 

“Feels weird when I take it off. It's like a little piece of you or something.”

“Or something,” you repeat, understanding. 

It was a Christmas gift, years ago now. They both were. Something you saw that simply screamed Jake. Apparently, he thought the same, seeing the exact same necklace and hearing your name instead. It felt like fate when you exchanged presents that Christmas Eve, and even now, though most days you forget you have it on, you're not convinced it wasn't. 

With his rosy knuckles heavy on your skin, the necklace feels brand new. Jake has a funny way of making things feel new, making the simplest of moments exciting just because he's there. Swimming. Eating pork belly. Sitting on the couch. He lets go of the star, tucking your wet hair behind your ear before squeezing your knee.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“I'm just happy, Jake. I'm very, very happy right now.”

“Good, Yongie. I'm very, very happy too.” He yawns again. 

You roll your eyes, but you can't stop smiling. Can't stop the flutter in your stomach. “My thunder, Jaeyun. Leave it alone.”

When Jake yawns for the third time, you decide to retire, ignoring the chorus of boos that follow you back inside until he slides the back door shut. “Should I lock it?” he asks.

You actually have to think about it before you shake your head, leading the way up to your room.

In bed, showered and sleepy, the two of you lie very still, staring up at the ceiling. It's far too hot for a duvet, but you can't sleep without being covered, so a thin white sheet sticks to your skin. Each time the lighthouse beams into the room, the two of you laugh into the quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” A giggle breaks through your question, bright white shining through the window.

“Anything, Yongie.” He's more tired, and tipsy, than he let on downstairs. You can hear it in his voice, how slow and whiny he's being. “You know that.”

“Does you being here mean you didn't get me a present?”

Turning to look at you, Jake scoffs. You don't dare to look at him. You can't. Still, he asks, “Am I not enough of a gift?”

For the better you think, he has no idea how much his being here means to you. “I mean… maybe if we were watching Bee Movie or you'd brought Layla with you.”

“Okay, Yongie. Fine. I see how it is.”

Right when you look at him, the lighthouse sends another beam, carving his face out of the shadow. This time, you can't laugh. Can't do much more than stare at him. The curve of his pretty lips, his sleepy eyes on you. Pink on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. You feel very lucky getting to see him like this, and your birthday of all days. 

“I'm kidding,” you whisper, afraid of what your voice might sound like if you speak properly. “Kind of.”

Mercifully, the beam slips out of view, leaving him in the dark. No matter though, because you can make out his silhouette as he sits up and leans over the end of the bed. He opens the drawer of the nightstand and puts a small velvet box into your hands. “It's not Layla, obviously, but I hope you like it anyway.”

“We'll see.” 

Sitting up too, you lean on the headboard and open it. A thick heart-shaped pendant greets you, a locket, you realise when you take it out. The metal is cool in your palm and the light shines through the window, showing you what's carved on the front of it. Your stomach drops at the sight.

“Happy birthday, YN.” Jake clears his throat. “It's a dragon.”

When you first met, the first thing he ever told you was that his zodiac sign was a horse. You were nine years old back then, a Leo, and the first thing you did when you got home was look up animal zodiac signs on the family computer. The next day, you got to class and proudly told him that you were a dragon—your favourite of the twelve animals available. Yong, he said. That's dragon in Korean. Unfortunately though, like every other 2002 baby, you were a simple horse, but the nickname stuck.

“Yongie,” you say, heart beating in your throat as you run your finger over the tiny dragon. 

He's smiling when you look at him, clearly pleased with himself. “Yeah, Yongie.”

Every last detail of this moment latches onto you with unbearable strength. Small wings against your thumb. Laughter ringing out from the next room. Jake. His eyes on you. His gorgeous smiling face and the tumble of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of that smiling face. Summer's hot claws sink into you, leaving their mark on your sweaty flesh. If he asks again, how twenty-two feels, you hope you can relay this to him. And you hope you can sound very platonic and normal when you do.

“Can you… would you help me put it on?”

“Of course.”

You face the windows and unstick your hair from your back. Jake's hands are warm, burning your skin as he loops the necklace around your neck and fiddles with the clasp. Time seems to slow, his breath fanning the nape of your neck. Against your ribs, your heart races. It doesn't settle even when he's done and his touch is a memory.

“There,” he whispers, the sheets rustling as he moves away.

“I love it, Jaeyun. Thank you.” You can't look at him. Not now. Not with tears stinging your eyes. Instead, you wrap your hand around the locket, warming it in your palm. The word feels small, not enough for the swell of your heart in your chest. Not enough for the tumbling in your stomach.

“Good, Yongie. I'm glad, that makes me really happy.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I didn't put a picture in it, but if you have one in mind, I can take you to the printer and get it sorted out.”

“That would be really nice.”

For a while he says nothing. And you don't move. You don't even squint when the light shines through the glass, frying your retinas. Before you see Jake, you feel him. Feel the solid heat of his chest pressed to your back, feel his hair tickling your thigh when he cranes his neck to look up at you. In the dark, concern scrunches his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Jake. I just—” Saying the words always feels like torture, like you're being punished for your feelings. As if unrequited love isn't punishment enough. You have to swallow around the lump in your throat before you continue. “I really, really love it. I love you.”

His smile crinkles his eyes. “And I love you,” he says. Easy as ever. Because when he says it, he doesn't mean anything more than those words. Anything more than a friend loving a friend in the way they should. “More.”

You don't, you think. You couldn't. “I know,” you say instead.

When Jake rolls over, lying on his back again, you curl into his side. If you can't have him the way you want to, at least you can have him like this. Cuddling in bed despite the sticky heat, his arm around your waist, your head on his chest. Falling asleep together. As friends.

You wake up to your phone ringing on the nightstand, alone in the bed. Jake's side of the bed is still warm when you touch it, his scent tickling your nose. It's ten a.m. and your mum yells into the phone, “Happy birthday, sweet pea!”

Her voice is loud and lovely as always as you pull the phone from your ear. “Thanks, Mum,” you mumble, still adjusting your eyes to the broad daylight and bright sun beaming into the room. “Really.”

“You sound tired, are you still in bed?”

“It's ten in the morning.”

“That's practically five p.m. to you,” she points out. “Hangover?”

“Not really,” you say. “Not yet.” This morning has been gentle to your body, because you were gentle-ish last night. Tomorrow morning, however, you're not sure will be the same. Admittedly, with Jake at your side and your necklace burning hot against your skin, sleep was hard to come by.

“Where's Jake? Can you put him on the phone?”

“I don't know, I just woke up.”

Without another word, your mother hands the phone to your father who says, “Hey, love. Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Is Jake around?” 

“No,” you say, and the conversation doesn’t last much longer.

Birthdays are very strange, only made stranger with each year that passes. People from all dark corners of your life creep out to greet you. Failed situationships — your fault — worming their way back into your life with an HBD! Since starting university, your messages have been relatively quiet, since you've been spending your birthdays here with everyone who you actually want to hear from.

You're on your tenth variation of, thank you, angel, when Jake opens the door. “Ugh,” he groans, looking over his bare shoulders at you. “I really hoped you'd still be asleep, I haven't even lit the candle yet.”

“Candle singular? Wow, Jaeyun. You really didn't have to. I'm honoured,” you say, though no amount of sarcasm could calm the fluttering in your stomach or cool the heat on your cheeks.

Jake's grinning when he turns around, clearly proud of himself and the stack of pancakes he's holding. Stuck into their syrupy centre is a glittery candle in the shape of a two. “Happy second birthday, Yongie!” he says, kneeling by the side of the bed.

You can't help but grin. “I'm two!”

“This was funny in my head,” he mumbles, scrunching his nose. “If you can believe it.”

“It's funny in mine too.” 

He lights the candle and tells you to make a wish. Screwing your eyes, you do just that, blowing out the flame in a hurry so you can look at him again. At the lopsided curve of his pretty lips. Jake climbs back into bed beside you, making sleepy conversation while you eat your birthday pancakes—until he falls asleep anyway, keen to complete his eight hours. 

Fed and watered, you wash your dishes in the sink, liking the rush of the warm water on your fingers. The repeated motion of dragging the sponge over your plate. It’s actually fun to do it, to see your progress with each swipe, to have complete control over an outcome. Now that you’re here, enjoying yourself, you tackle the surfaces too, cleaning the stove and the countertops until they sparkle, and Aeri gasps at the sight of you, running into the kitchen. She clambers over the countertop to reach you quicker, handprints left on the dark wood, but you can wipe those up later. 

“No way, no way, no way!” she squeals, taking the locket in her hands to get a good look. “I hate to give credit to a man, but this is perfect, YN. I'm so happy for you.” She wraps her arms around you in a tight squeeze, unconcerned by the dripping sponge in your hand. “How did he tell you? Am I the first to find out?” 

You don't even have time to process or share in her excitement before Yizhuo comes in from the garden, wet hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head. “Find out what?” she asks, pulling her blue towel tighter around her body. 

“I was just about to ask.”

“He gave her the necklace,” she explains, gesturing with both arms to emphasise the the. 

Pushing her sunglasses up, a flicker of recognition dances across Yizhuo's face, widening her eyes at your chest when she crosses the room. “Great news, obviously, but I'm not sure how this changes anything.” She hugs you too, kissing the side of your head. “Seeing as you were fucking in the pool last night anyway.”

“Who was fucking in the pool?” Sunghoon asks from the doorway, wet hair clinging to the harsh lines of his face. At the sight of the necklace, he smiles, jogging over to join you all, hugging you just like the girls did. “Took him long enough! Good birthday so far then?”

You pry his ginormous arms off of you, squirming to freedom and stepping away. All of them watch you with huge grins, some of the happiest faces you've ever seen, but before anyone else can come in and continue this ridiculous game of broken telephone, you set the record as straight as possible. “No one was fucking in the pool, no one told anyone anything. What the fuck are we talking about right now?” 

Aeri's smile drops. “Wait, so how did you get that?”

“Jake gave it to me, which you seem to know.”

“And he didn't say… anything?” Yizhuo's eyebrows furrow. 

“Not much more than, happy birthday, and, it's a dragon.” 

“Oh, okay. Ignore us then.” Sunghoon clears his throat. “Pool?” 

And so begins a birthday like any other, at least since you started university anyway.

You laze around the garden, day drinking lightly and snacking heavily. Taking bikini pictures for Instagram and slipping in and out of heat-induced naps until it’s time to get dressed and head out to dinner. 

At the same long table in Seaside Gusto, you sit between Jake and Jay like always. You and Heeseung switch cocktails because you like each others’ better, and at Minjeong’s request, everyone goes around the table and shares something they love about you. 

Tears sting your eyes, beyond touched by all the nice things they say, no matter how silly some of them are about it. Yizhuo loves your boobs and butt; Sunghoon loves your summer birthday, because there’s always something to look forward to after exams; and Jimin loves your commitment to overthinking, crediting it with solving all of her problems with no stress on her end. For Minjeong, it’s your loyalty, and Aeri says you paint her nails the best. Heeseung loves your pretty face, and Jay loves your honesty. Last to go is Jake who only stares down at his plate, his silence making your leg shake under the table—now the only quiet one in the restaurant. 

Nobody says anything or makes a sound at all, save for your fork scraping parmesan around your plate. “Wow, Jaeyun, am I that bad?” you ask, and it’s supposed to be a joke but you just sound upset, pathetic. 

So much so that his face softens and he shakes his head, hand resting on your bouncing knee. “Are you kidding?” His voice is soft, laced with a concern he usually reserves for when the two of you are alone. 

When you don’t respond, Jake clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, taking a sip of water before speaking. “I was thinking about the right way to say this, but I guess it’ll be easier to just start talking and see where I end up, you know? Like Jay kinda.” There’s a smile on his face, handsome as ever, but he’s fidgeting with his trouser leg, scratching the side of his chair, tense even though he’s made you all laugh.

It’s been an age since you last saw him this nervous, this uncertain, so long that you’re just pleased you remember how to calm him down. You take his hand in yours, playing with his fingers the way he liked when you were younger. It takes a beat, but, sure enough, his shoulders fall and his shallow breaths level out. 

“I was really shy as a kid, sensitive, so I had no friends until I met YN. She was the first person to make an effort with me, or to make me feel like I was worth the effort, I guess,” Jake says, giving your hand a squeeze. 

Some twisted combination of his admission and the pressure is all it takes for your tears to spill, running hot and fast down your cheeks. That anyone could have looked at sweet little Sim Jaeyun with his missing incisors and been anything other than adoring hurts your stomach, that anyone could have made him feel less than, and for all your closeness you had no idea. Your vision blurs, the lump in your throat heavy when Jay hands you his napkin. It’s for the best that Jake doesn’t look up from your locked hands in his lap. 

“Everything I know about friendship I learned from her. So what I love about you, Yongie, is that you care a lot about others, and you cared a lot about me, you know?” 

Around the table, all of your friends coo and fuss over Jake until his face goes bright red. The heat in your cheeks burns with the same frenzy, spreading to coat your neck and chest. It’s only now that he looks at you, wet-eyed and smiling. Beautiful—always beautiful. 

“That was perfect, Jake. You said it perfectly.” 

With a brilliant smile on his face, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and leans towards you. “I really think you saved me, YN,” he says. 

For dessert, the butterflies in your stomach have a giant wedge of tiramisu with a candle in it, and because your heels ache your feet, Minjeong gives you a piggy back all the way home. Curled around Aeri, you take a nap on the couch in the den and right when you blink your sleepy eyes open, everyone else is setting up the house. 

Together in the en-suite, you and Jake get ready for the party you can already hear starting downstairs. Music rumbles in from all angles while he gargles mouthwash and you take your makeup off with a cotton pad. It's always fun getting ready with him, even if you take significantly longer, because he doesn't rush you. He's like Minjeong in that way, or any of the other girls, there's just something nice about doing it with someone. Sharing gossip and mascara, spitballing graft techniques and peeing in the same stall. 

It’s only your life-threatening crush that makes him different.

Swiping the cotton pad over your eyes, it’s hard not to think about what he said at dinner. You’d been such similar children, bonding quickly over LEGOs and wrestling and painting your nails. It was you who showed him Rayman Origins and he who showed you Hannah Montana. It didn't matter very much that he was a boy, didn't matter at all, he was just Jake. Your friend. Your person. And how much easier it was then, to be around him. To be hugged by him, to have your hand held, without reading into it. Without wondering how long you'll be able to have him in this way before he inevitably meets someone who doesn't like how close you are. How he tucks your hair behind your ear or calls you darling.  

He blocks your view of the mirror with his face, leaning in. At the sight, at his closeness, your stomach does a twirl. Splotchy red around the perimeter, a handful of freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. “What's the matter?” Jake asks. 

“Nothing.” Your voice comes out softer than you'd like, hardly a mumble over the music.

His gaze flicks around your face, catching every feature before catching yours again. “Your eyes are all watery,” he says, but doesn't move out of the way so you can see in the mirror or have a try at breathing normally.

It's only when you blink that tears fall. Not a lot, but enough for him to frown. You can't even begin to explain what you're crying about, at least without giving yourself away. He cups your cheeks with his hands, thumbs wiping your tears away, and making your breath hitch. 

“Hello,” you mumble, sniffling.

A smile plays at the corners of Jake's lips, giving way to a tiny curve. “Hey, YN.”

“Hi.”

“Do you wanna skip this thing? Sneak out and see the lighthouse instead?”

As tempting as his offer sounds, sitting out on the edge of the dock and eating salty fish & chips while the sun goes down, you're a little too excited for tonight to pass it up. This could be the last birthday you celebrate with all of your friends under one roof for a while now that everyone's employed. You shake your head, leaning into his touch. “I'm good, Jakey. Just really happy.”

“Good, Yongie,” he says, a bright smile covering his face. “I'm glad.”

You're not crying anymore, you weren't ever really crying — not properly anyway — but Jake doesn't let go and you don't move away. The moment stretches for longer than you're sure is fully friendly, long enough that your eyes catch his lips, long enough that you notice when his eyes catch yours. His furrowed eyebrows smooth out before raising for a split second. He's everything, the entire world and more standing right in front of you, with your face in his hands. 

It occurs to you now, like this, the fundamental difference between a need and a want. You need to have these summers here with him and everyone else, to fall asleep in his arms and wake up sweat drenched on opposite ends of the bed. Need to have him by your side no matter what, in your corner. Jake. Your Jake, as he's always been and always will be. What you want though, is to lean in, to kiss him. To feel his thick bottom lip pulled between yours, to feel the soft flesh between your teeth, his tongue in your mouth and yours in his. 

And as if he's read your thoughts, heard them, something changes in his face, hardens for a beat as he clears his throat and lets go of you, backs away until he hits the counter. “Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing at his hip and looking everywhere but at you. “Did you—uh, you wanna finish up by yourself?”

A salt-coated thorn pokes its way into your chest, jabbing the him-shaped wound in your heart. This chronic ache, your chronic affection, souring before your very eyes and making it easy to foster irritation towards Jake. Genuine irritation for the accent he won't let go of, and the stupid phase he had where he only let you feed him if you moved the utensil like an aeroplane. For his stupid brown hair that always dries perfectly even though he doesn't do anything with it. His eyes, his big, round eyes, and the way they get all sparkly when he's talking about something he cares about or to someone he loves. When he's talking to you.

“Not really,” you admit, though he is clearly desperate to be away from you and you from him. 

A new desire for both of you. Surely. If it weren't for the knots in your stomach, you might be fascinated by it. That you've known Jake this long and are still discovering new sides to him. Prickly ones. You'd been so sure you knew him, all of him, so sure that you liked all of him. Loved.

This though — the crease of his brows, the set of his jaw, the distance — whatever it means, is quite bad. Feels quite bad. Yet, when you open your mouth to continue, it's to say, “I don't want to go downstairs on my own.”

As if nothing happened, as if he hadn't been repulsed by your closeness, he nods and sits up on the countertop with a smile. The pointy corners of his curved lips, and the crinkle of his nose and eyes, are enough to quell your irritation. More than. It's like seeing daylight, like the sun coming up on a winter morning to melt the snow. That's just how friendships are though, isn't it? How it is to have friends and to be a friend. Minor offences resolved instantly, forgiven, over nothing more than a look or a smile. Friendships are neat in that way—friendships like yours, bloated by the stench of your unrequited feelings, however? Not quite so neat. Too much has changed here already, more than what you can afford, and it's all you can do to keep things exactly as they are. 

While you continue getting ready — washing your face, moisturising your legs — the two of you jump from one topic to the next and he is gracious enough not to mention your tears, or how he leapt away from you. “Has this been your best birthday yet?” Jake asks, leaning back on his palms. 

“You know what, I actually think, yeah. One regret though…“ You trail off, turning your head to spray deodorant. 

“Is it that we didn't order more toasted ravioli to bring home and eat later?”

“How'd you know?” 

Jake is smiling when you look over at him, patting his toned stomach and sighing. “Because I'm lowkey hungry again.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, predicting that your own hunger won't take long to follow.

“Fuck is right,” he agrees solemnly, pressing his lips into a flat line. 

Now that your armpits are sufficiently deodorised, you only have to get dressed and put on lip gloss. The lip gloss part is easy, of course, but you've been warring over two coverups in your head since you started packing, so you need a second opinion. Bringing your options from your suitcase, you hold them up side by side for Jake to see. “Which one's cuter?” 

He purses his lips, eyes flicking from left to right. “Both of them are cute.”

“Can you not annoy me right now, please?” You sigh, resting your hands on your hips while he watches, an amused slant to his lips. “Don't be such a boy about it, Jake, pick one.”

“Try them on and let me see, darling.”

Leaving him in the bathroom to get changed by yourself, you take off your T-shirt behind the closed door and ignore how much you liked the sound of his voice when he said that. Liked the way it felt to be told what to do. You tie up your pink bikini, pull a black crochet minidress over the top of it and adjust the low-cut back in the mirror before showing him. Instead of saying anything, reacting at all really, he just sits there, his wide eyes trailing over your body. 

Still, though, in the face of Jake's silence, there's no stopping the burn in your cheeks or the flutter in your stomach. “This is—uhm… you're supposed to tell me how I look.”

“Yeah, no, for sure, yeah,” he says, snapping into motion and clearing his throat. “Will you twirl for me?”

Again, you do as Jake requests, twirling as slow as possible while willing the twitching corners of your lips to stay put. Neutral. Relaxed. You know you look good, of course you do, you wouldn't have brought this dress if it didn't look good on you, if the low back didn't make your waist look smaller and your butt look bigger. Something about him though, about how he looked at you, like he thinks it too, thinks you look good is more than enough to take your breath away, so that you have to focus on breathing to do it effectively. 

He's leaning forward with his arms crossed over his lap, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes flick upward to meet yours, but he can't hold your gaze, looking up at the ceiling instead. “You look… Yeah, Yongie, nice.”

“Thank you for the glowing review,” you mutter, turning to leave, as if your heart isn't racing.

The next time you join him in the bathroom, you're wearing the white dress, and before he asks you to, you twirl for him, as slowly as you did earlier. This dress is just as short as the first, more sheer though, and the low cut is in the front instead, showing off the centre of your bikini top, your cleavage mainly. Now that you're wearing it, you might like it a bit better, preferring how your necklaces sit against your skin. 

Jake's face and ears are beet red, his mouth ajar but nothing comes out. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, suddenly unsure about the pink bikini you'd bought specifically to wear tonight, and fidget with the neckline, covering your chest as much as you can. “I'd change though, if I wore this,” you say, smoothing it over your hips. “Like white bikini instead, I think it'd look better at the front.”

His eyes fall to your chest, to the locket, and then lower, stuck on the pink fabric, on your boobs. He gulps but he can't look away, doesn't even try. “I think you should wear that one, wear it exactly like that, with the pink.”

“Yeah?”

Jake nods, clears his throat. “You really are a dream, YN. I meant it when I said it.”

Neither of you says anything about that, or the way his hands shake while he takes pictures of you and adjusts your poses. It's basically forgotten about by the time he leads the way to the party, humming along to Minjeong's playlist and holding onto your hand. Despite this, your coming downstairs together, you lose him to the crowd quite quickly. The first hour of your night is mostly just hugging people and accepting snacks from paper plates while having the same conversation five hundred times—how have you been? Great! What are you up to these days? Not much. Having a good birthday? The best! Your necklace is so pretty! Thank you, it's from Jake. Aw, you two are so cute! Haha… yeah. 

You pose for pictures and receive tall, sparkly gift bags of wine or vodka that you leave on the kitchen counter and garden table so everyone can help themselves. With Nishimura Riki, you have two Jimin-issued shots, bringing your total up to eight out of twenty-two. To Huh Yunjin, you put in a good word for Jay, talking him up like he's the second coming of Christ or the best thing since Compeed blister patches—like he's Jake, basically. And it's over Yang Jungwon's broad shoulder that you finally reenter the garden for good, while you kick and scream, begging not to be flung into the pool while he laughs maniacally. 

“I thought you liked swimming!” he calls out, as if you are ten metres away, while approaching the water. 

Trying to reason with Jungwon is like trying to reason with a crazy person—you are mostly certain Jungwon is a crazy person. It's for that reason that you screw your eyes shut and brace yourself, though the touch of the water never comes. Instead, it's warm linen on your skin when he drops you. It's Jake at your side on the garden couch when you open your eyes. 

He's laughing and it's the best thing you've ever heard. “You should've seen your face,” he says through his cackles. “Fuck, Yongie. That was great.”

All you can do is close your eyes and enjoy the sun, enjoy the sounds of your friends enjoying themselves and the music and the chatter, the splashing in the water. The heat of his skin through your dress, the weight of his arm around your shoulders. Literally anything other than Jake's annoying laugh. It's only when he stops that you open your eyes again and he's staring with his lips parted, his eyebrows pulled together just a little. Your smile is involuntary, immediate, and he looks away as fast as he can, ears burning red. 

Jake doesn't look at you until he's cleared his throat. “Food time,” he says, and lifts the most brilliant plate you've ever seen from the other side of him. It's heaped like a buffet plate with all your favourites. Gimbap, pizza, fried chicken, and chips with cheese on top. 

You lick your lips despite yourself. “That looks so good,” you groan, far too lazy to get up for your own. 

“It's yours.” 

“Really?” 

Smiling Jake nods his head and you kiss him on the cheek, mumbling, thank you, into his skin before turning your attention to the plate. You take a bite of everything before starting on the chips. Melted cheddar nearly burns the roof of your mouth, but still, undeterred, you chew on, having worked up quite the appetite with all of your socialising. At your side, Jake twirls the end of your ponytail around his finger and explains the inner workings of the Doki Doki Literature Club roleplay Discord server that Jaehyun and Yunjin crossed paths on. 

“It was also like seven years ago,” he points out. “I can't even tell you what I was doing online at age fourteen.”

“Oh, you were looking up how to kiss on my laptop and actually fainting when my mum brought it up at dinner,” you supply since he asked, laughing despite yourself because even after all these years, the image of him crying at the table then passing out still cracks you up. 

Jake, however, not so much. You're the only one who finds it funny, this secret you've decided to die with, this secret he continues to deny. A disbelieving scoff comes from him, eyebrows touching his hairline. “I'm telling you, YN, that was not me.”

“Yeah and it wasn't me either, so who does that leave?”

“I don't know, Yongie, it must've been a ghost or something.” Jake shrugs, affronted, like always, by your longstanding, well-founded accusation. He was the only other person who knew that your password was JaeyunFan1511, because he was the one who set it to that. “Do you believe in those?” 

“Sure.” 

“Anyway…“ And he continues, ignoring your laughter. As the story goes, Jaehyun and Yunjin had been in a locked roleplay channel with a couple of others before exchanging social media and learning they lived relatively close to each other. Their friendship fizzled out after a few months, but when they bumped into each other at a uni party last summer, they hit it off and got together. “But he was still in the server, and he had an RP girlfriend! He had two! And neither of them were Yunjin.”

Setting your slice of pizza down, you look over at him, parsing his face for any indication that he's taking the piss. “Are you, like, trying to be funny?” 

“I wish, Yongie.” Jake shakes his head. “That's everything I know, I haven't talked to him since he told me.”

You sigh, leaning further into him. “Onto better things at least, for her, now that the coast is clear for Jay.”

“Mm, I'll have to wingman that tonight.”

“I already started.” 

Jake's lips curl upwards. “Are you having fun though, darling? I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job of letting you keep all your thunder, right?” 

With a mouth full of gimbap you nod your head, chewing a little more before mumbling, “Yes to both.” 

He chuckles when he looks at you, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb, which is obviously fine and doesn't set off a flutter in your stomach or a hot flush in your cheeks. He smells faintly of sunscreen and chlorine, water dripping sporadically from his pool-darkened hair. It's cold when it hits your thigh, a nice contrast to the heat by your knee, where your sweaty bare skin touches his. 

As if she'd been watching you this whole time, just waiting for you to finish eating, Minjeong snatches you from the couch as soon as you're done and drags you over to the big long table where she covers your eyes with her hands. There's a lot of shuffling and mumbling before the entire garden erupts into a disjointed chorus of Happy Birthday, and when Minjeong uncovers your eyes, Jake is holding your cake in front of you, chest and neck glowing orange from the lit candles. He's the only thing you can see. The only thing that matters. 

“Make a wish, Yongie,” he says, and his voice is so gentle there's a sting behind your eyes as you screw them shut. 

Making the same wish as this morning, and all of your birthdays since your tenth, you blow out the candles and wish for Jake. 

After the cake and all the pictures, the energy doesn't seem to deplete. If anything, the music gets louder, your friends getting rowdier. About an hour later, in the bathroom upstairs, you take a minute to yourself, recharging before stepping carefully over and around the people talking and making out on the staircase. You're halfway down when the front door swings open and Sunoo walks in. 

Caution to the wind, you sprint towards him and into his arms, giggling when he lifts you up off your feet. “Hola, señor, welcome back,” you mumble into his collarbone. Pulling away, you take a beat just to look at him. It's only been a month since you all visited him in Barcelona for his birthday, but it feels like an age has passed by without the sweet smiling scrunch of his nose and eyes. Without the lemon tang of his cologne or the warm sound of his laugh. The group is complete at long last, your birthday really beginning now at half eleven at night. 

His eyes are big and wet when he opens them. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he says, sounding just as moved as you. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna miss it.”

You lug Sunoo's suitcase up to the room he and Heeseung always share and help him unpack. “I wanna hear everything,” you squeal, plugging his charger into the socket by his bed. 

“No way, tonight's all about you! And I can't believe you didn't tell me Jake finally gave you that necklace.” He reaches out to look at it, brushing over the baby dragon with his thumb. “It's even better than the pictures.”

You roll your eyes but can't stop the smile on your lips. “Jeez, not you too. It only happened last night.”

Sunoo pulls two bottles of Spanish wine from his suitcase and sets them down on the dresser next to Heeseung's aftershave. “Look, I'm just glad it happened at all. Now it's your problem instead of ours.” 

“What’s my problem?”

“Jake’s whole I'm in love with Yongie thing,” he says, delighted by his own bad Australian accent. “I mean, it was sweet, obviously, but it gets to a point, you know. Did you freak when he showed up yesterday?”

It does not feel as good as you thought it might to hear that. It actually does not feel good at all. So much so that if it weren't so surprising, you'd have glossed over it, pivoted to something else. Asked how to say, excuse me, Sunoo, what the fuck? in Spanish or something. But it is, to you, extremely surprising, so you say, “Jake's what?”

And Sunoo's eyebrows pinch together, his head tilting. “He’s been saying he was gonna confess with that necklace for as long as I've known him. Is that not what happened last night?” Now that you're looking at him, really looking at him, you see that his hair is shorter than it was last month, by quite a lot actually, so it doesn't flop over like it would normally. Weird. 

Weird that you didn't notice, not that he cut it, it looks good. Suits him. “I like your haircut.”

“Thank you?”

“I have to go.”

Sunoo bursts out laughing, bewildered. “If you say so. Talk later, Mrs. Sim!” 

In the safety of your bedroom, alone with your swirling thoughts, you pace back and forth, stepping around your open suitcase and the mess of clothes within instead of moving it to the side. It might be nice to organise though, to complete a task you have full control over. Logically, you know you don't have time to do it, but physically, before you can help it, you're kneeling on the hardwood floor emptying out your bag to repack. You fold up your underwear, rolling it neatly to fit in the zipper compartment with your socks. Swimming costumes are next, bikinis and one-pieces separated. Then it's tops, skirts, shorts, and dresses. And lastly, the black coverup from earlier. 

It doesn't take as long as you thought it would, tidying up, nor do you feel any better, so you unpack again and do it twice more. Zipping up your now colour-coordinated suitcase, you wheel it into the corner of the room where Jake's is, so it doesn't get in your way. This time when you pace, you clutch your locket. Jake's locket, technically, if the years he spent holding onto it mean more than the night and day you've had it. Quicker and quicker, you pace the room, but your thoughts won't break, you can't get through to them, not properly. 

Jake, AKA Mr. Change Isn’t All Bad, wavering in the face of his own ideology while expecting you to take it on board, to trust him. Is he a hypocrite for keeping this secret? Are you? Obviously he was going to tell you at some point, to confess, the locket is proof of that. Proof that a day would eventually arrive when all of this would come from Jake. A day he imagined could have been on this trip. This week. Between yesterday and Wednesday. Any day since he got the locket.

If change is good, if it can be good, why did he keep this from you? 

At the sound of the door opening, you halt in your tracks, startled to find Jake standing in the arch behind you when you turn around. “Good evening, milady. Hath the night treateth thee well?” he asks, stepping into the room and greeting you with a deep formal bow. Light from the dock sweeps in through the window, showing off the grin on his face.

You can't bring yourself to share in his amusement, and you know it's bad when the clear sound of his giggles doesn't summon the same giddy butterflies it normally does. For once, his smile does nothing to move you, to settle your nerves. If anything, his smile scares you, makes you feel worse. That he could be so happy with the way things are, so unwilling to change, even for the better, makes you feel a bit sick. It hurts your throat to swallow, to say the words, we need to talk, when you blurt them out.

In the light once more, his smile falls and his eyebrows rise. “Sure,” he says. “Can I pee first?” 

“No.”

“Okay, so I wasn't actually asking, YN. Obviously I'm gonna pee if I need to.”

“I'm coming with you.”

Jake lets out an amused breath. “Come on then.” With each step he takes towards the bathroom, the floorboards creak under foot—they do the same when you follow.

Against the locked door, you play with the hem of your dress, folding it up and up and up until your stomach is out before letting it go, the stretched cotton unravelling to graze your thighs again, before repeating the action. Your thoughts are scrambled, zipping by too quickly for you to get a proper hold on any of them, at least for long enough to figure it out. His feelings and yours, deep enough to discuss and share with others, to wish and complain, say, finally, in the face of the smallest hints of reciprocation, yet kept from each other and for all this time, behind closed mouths that begged to be fed. Closed mouths that still beg. You and Jake, and Jake and you, watching and waiting for divine intervention, some act of God or His blessed hand, of Sunoo as it turned out. 

The toilet seat hits the lid and the rustle of fabric follows—his swimming trunks. You can't stop your wanting gaze quick enough, looking from your thighs to glimpse the untanned skin of his hips, his thighs and his small ass for longer than necessary, feeling your heart rate quicken before you screw your eyes shut and his pee hits the toilet water. 

There's nothing weird about this. Mostly. You've peed in front of all of your friends. It's just that now that you're here, with him, this doesn't really feel like the right time to say everything you need to say, to get everything that's been weighing you down all these years off your chest. This definitely could have waited, at least for a moment where he wasn't standing with his soft dick in his hands. You're good at waiting after all, it's par for the course in your situation, though Jake hasn't quite taken to patience yet. 

“Yongie?” he says, for what you're realising is the second time. 

The toilet flushes. 

“Huh?”

“What's the matter?” Jake asks. He's at the sink when you open your eyes, spots along the edges of your vision, along the edges of him. It takes a second for him to come into focus, his face flushed more than earlier with a worried look cast across it. Thick eyebrows drawn together, squinting eyes searching face. “You look terrified.”

You can only laugh then, pressing yourself against the door, because that's exactly how you feel too. Turning stomach and racing heart. Palms slick with sweat. Under Jake's gaze, you wipe your hands on your dress and give a smile that feels about right. “No, not at all—” You clear your throat, shaking your head. “—Sunoo's here.”

His face breaks out into a grin as he turns to the mirror, soap suds forming on his skin. “Fuck,” he says. “Finally!”

“Yeah, no, exactly. It's just that he said something really weird about you.”

And even weirder than Sunoo's words, is Jake's reaction. How his smile falls, and his body goes completely still for the fastest second—you'd have missed it if you blinked. “What'd he say?” he asks, clearing his throat afterwards then clearing it again. 

“It was about us, I guess. That you… He said that you love me, Jaeyun.”

“Ah.” He lets out a breath, shoulders falling, seeming relieved. “Obviously I love you. And I love Layla, and Minjeong, and Jay, and everyone else.” 

“Mm, obviously. Uh, the way he said it though, how he put it, it was like you might love me the way I love you.”

His eyebrows raise for a split second. “Oh, yeah? And what way is that?”

“More than I should,” you admit quietly and as scared as you are, it feels nice to say it. To get it off your chest. 

If Jake heard you, or registered what you said, cared even, he gives no indication, only turning off the tap and shaking his wet hands over the sink. It would hurt less if he'd thrown up or said, ew, or, yuck, out loud. If he'd laughed. Anything but silence, anything but the way he approaches you only to dry his hands on the plush white towel by the door. It is unbearable to stand here in this, the aftermath, with Jake watching you from hardly an arm's length away. Still, you can't bring yourself to leave, hostage to your feelings and his reaction — or lack thereof — to them. You know now, just how much you love him, because the only thing you want to do is hide your face in his chest, to feel the beat of his heart against your cheek.

When he finally speaks, it's to say, “More than you should?”

You can only nod. 

“Would that be okay with you, Yongie?” Jake asks, and the softness of his voice betrays his worry, the depth of his concern. He tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand trembling against your skin. A spark at the contact. “If I loved you like that, I mean? More than I should?”

“Yeah.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, but he doesn't give in. Doesn't take his hand from your cheek or take his eyes off yours. “Are you sure? Because you look pretty upset about it.”

“It just, it scares me a bit,” you tell him, and it's the understatement of the century. If his eyes fell even slightly, he'd see your heart beating out of your chest, begging to be held in his hands, to be looked after by him, like always. 

“That's okay.” Jake bites his bottom lip, watching you for a beat longer before taking your hand in his. He brings your palm to his bare chest, pressing it against his warm skin, right over his heart as it races away just like yours. “See, Yongie? It scares me too, a lot.”

He's trying, trying hard, laying himself bare, his literal heart in the palm of your hand, but it is not a comfort. For as long as you've known him, he's only had two real fears, needles and roller coasters, the only two things on earth he can't be pressured into. Otherwise, he spends a lot of time tempering your fears, weathering your storms for you — at least in the moment — dismantling them in a matter of sentences, but this, his honesty, Jake at his most vulnerable, is only scaring you even more. 

You're being unfair. You know you're being unfair. Jake is gentle and accommodating and patient, and if you, for all of your flaws, are allowed to be scared, then so is he. You gulp and gulp again, trying to talk yourself down the way he usually does. And if anything, him opening up to you like this, showing this to you, can only be a good thing. He trusts you, he still trusts you, so things haven't changed that much. 

Not yet. 

“I know it's not what you want to hear, and I can't promise it'd be perfect or even easy, but I can promise that I'm always going to love you,” he admits, his voice so gentle and so sure. “I always have, YN.”

Like they tend to do, his words sink into you, that sweet look in his brown eyes taking over until you feel it too. Feel his certainty as if it's your own, his earnestness. The great rise and fall of his chest as he breathes intentionally, holding a deep inhale before releasing it. Over and over until his heart steadies itself, slowly but surely—the more you watch, the more you feel your heart doing the same thing. Feel the fear subsiding, feel butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach, feel a smile breaking free.

“Always?” you ask as excitement takes its first breaths within you.

Finally, he caves too, letting a smile curve over his pink lips, a breathy laugh coming out as he nods his head. “I think so, but I only realised when you gave up on our pact,” he says. “I thought I was crazy, slicing my finger open like that just because you asked. And even while I was bleeding out, halfway to death, I wasn't mad you bailed on me, I was just happy to be with you.”

It's hard not to laugh hearing that, at the memory. After he'd done it, he lifted his hand to show you the tiny dot of red on the tip of his middle finger where he'd pricked himself with a safety pin, and flashed you a nervous smile, braces peeking out between his lips. The sight of it, of him, your wounded Jaeyunie, moved you to tears. Great full-bodied sobs that definitely would have alarmed his parents had they been home, or his older brother if he wasn't too busy yelling at his TV screen over a game of FIFA Street. You were beside yourself, apologising profusely because you just couldn't do it, not only would it hurt, but it was extremely unhygienic and do you know how many blood-borne diseases there are out there, Jaeyun?

And just like he said, he didn't get mad or even upset, he simply bandaged his finger and took you into his arms, stroking your hair until you calmed down.

“I think I was too busy trying to hide how I felt to notice that you felt the same,” you admit, in awe of the fact that while your heart had been secretly beating in his direction, his was doing the same in yours. In awe of the fact that right now, you can feel his heart racing again.

“Been a while since then though,” Jake points out, only continuing when you agree. “So I guess things won't change too much between us, right? Since we've loved each other this long, it'll be the same, don't you think?” 

Sometimes it feels as if he holds the key to more than just your heart, but to the anxious muddle of your brain as well, so that he always knows what to say to nip your fears in their buds. And has the patience to do it all over again, reassuring you as best he can when they rear their ugly heads once more. 

“Actually, I think there's one thing we could change,” he adds.

Tilting your head, you're pleased to find that the idea of something changing sparks curiosity rather than dread. “What is it?”

“We could, like…“ Jake has to stop to giggle, covering his mouth with his hand as he tries to calm down. “Like, kiss, you know?”

“I'd like that, but I think we could do a lot more than just kiss,” you suggest, and it's all it takes for him to cut the laughter. 

Effective immediately—every last trace of amusement gone like it was never there in the first place, simply imagined. Replaced by his teeth biting down on his bottom lip and turning the pink white under the pressure. There's something there, to the look on his face, like his gears are turning slower and slower, overheated and lust-laden as yours at the sight of him. Jake's eyes trail every inch of your body, catching on your curves through your sheer cover-up, bright pink bikini beaming through white cotton. His palms scorch your waist when he takes hold of you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Like what, gorgeous? Had some ideas myself, but I wanna compare notes with you.”

Butterflies, heat and awful, awful thoughts descend on you like a sudden shower. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, his teeth in your neck, grazing and biting, his pretty face all screwed up before his jaw falls slack; whimpers and whines and grunts and moans; his thrusts getting quicker, sloppy, until he comes, without a condom obviously. The ease with which you can conjure the thoughts, the clarity of the image and its familiarity is humiliating, that they've occurred to you on many a night spent with your hand between your thighs. 

For fear of him seeing your thoughts written all over your face, you bury it in his chest and screw your eyes shut. “Don't be so untoward,” you mumble into his skin, liking the faint nip of salt on your lips when you lick them.

“You were untoward first,” he points out and you can hear his smile in his voice. “You're so hot, Yongie, don't be shy.”

When you muster up the courage to look at him, the pretty red kiss of alcohol and sunburn on his cheeks makes you smile, lips quirking into a giddy, horny curve. In his eyes though, where there had been heat, deep desire, there's only softness. A gaze that is so startling in its tenderness, in its pure love, that it makes your breath hitch in your throat before you ask, “What is it?”

“You love me,” he says reverently, as if he's informing you or he's only processed it now, taken it in.

“And you love me.”

Jake smiles, giving you a firm nod. “Yes, ma'am,” he says, leaning in to finally — finally — close the gap between your mouth and his. 

Your mind blanks completely at the feel of it, of his plump lips on yours. A gentle brush at first, like he's testing the waters, like he doesn't know you're utterly gone for him. He licks slowly along the seam of your lips before you open up to him, and then, suddenly, it's everything. It's the taste of the beers he's had to drink tonight, the slip of his tongue over yours, of his damp hair through your fingers. A decade's worth of want, for him, for this, unfolding and collapsing in and around you.

There's no telling where your mouth ends and his begins, no discernment between bumping teeth and smiling lips, nor the shallow breaths exchanged from one to other. Your bodies are as close as they could possibly be, your Jake warm and solid and so in love against you, no room for anything to get between you. Not even his dick that presses thick and hard into you, long, more so than you'd ever realised.

At the first roll of your hips against his, Jake's grip on your waist tightens, a needy groan rumbling through his chest and into yours as he grinds back even harder. A lick of heat sets your body alight, taking over, so that before you even register it, you're pushing his hands lower, down over the curve of your ass. Moaning at the feeling of his greedy palms slipping under your dress, under your bikini bottoms to grab at your bare skin, to squeeze, to smack. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, the word hot against your mouth. “You're perfect, you know that?”

From your lips to his, a breathy laugh passes, an endless flutter going off in your stomach.

“I'm serious, YN.”

“Good.”

Jake smiles, that boyish grin that's never really changed, that's always had the same effect, always makes you smile too. But it doesn't stick around for long, as his focus seems to shift instead towards rocking his hips with yours. The pace he sets, enforces, is maddening, slow enough for you to feel every last inch of him on you, and with dizzying clarity, how he throbs and twitches. Yet, you miss him for the split second he pulls back before he's on you again. You're not sure you'll ever have enough, no matter how much he gives you, you probably won't be fully satisfied until you can peel his skin off and wear it over yours. For now though, you won't pretend there isn't a pool in your bikini, hot and sticky desire gathering between your legs. He presses wet kisses to your cheek, trailing down your neck and latching onto the sensitive spot that makes you weak in the knees, a shiver rolling down your spine as he holds you tighter. 

On an exhale, you cry out his name, head against the door, nails sinking into his biceps. With his head on your shoulder, he lets out a jagged breath, his hips stuttering to a halt. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You did not,” you mumble, amazed by him, by the new heat coming from his swimming trunks and how you somehow want him even more. 

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, never mind speak, but finally, he says, “I did, Yongie. I promise I'm not usually so fast.” He almost sounds distraught, humming when you stroke his hair, scratching at his scalp with your fingernails.

“My sweet baby.” You can't stop yourself from smiling, from asking to see. 

“I'm soft and I know it looks disgusting in there. Need a shower, YN.”

“I don't mind.”

He chuckles, lifting his head to peck your lips. “Go ahead, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

It's probably only because he's Jake, and you love him, that the sight doesn't repulse you when you pull back his waistband and take a look inside. Strings of cum connect the fabric to his soft penis and dark pubic hair. He groans at it, turning his head, but you can't look away. “Can I taste it?”

“Sure, Yongie, do what you want.”

What you want is to suck him off, so while Jake covers his eyes with his hands, you get down on your knees and take his dick into your mouth. It's warm and bland mostly, save for the slight salty tang hitting your tongue.

“YN,” he whispers. “What are you—shit.” 

You pull off, stroking him with your hand and liking the heat of it as his tip starts to flush, the soft pink turning richer, redder. “I've never tasted it before, and you said I could,” you explain simply, eager to continue, to sate the pulse between your thighs. 

“Yeah, but I…” Jake blinks hard before looking down at you. He's very handsome like this, with the sheen of sweat on his skin, shining under the bathroom lights. The thick length of his neck is flushed too, his ears. Your heart stutters against your ribs, your cheeks heating up as he bites down on his bottom lip and sighs. “You wanna suck me off, darling?”

Instead of answering with a simple, yes, you answer with a kiss to his tip, tonguing tonguing his slit while working your hands over the rest of him. It might be pretty if it weren't so big. 

“Always so gorgeous, aren't you? Doesn't matter what you're doing,” he mumbles, pushing your hair away from your face with a soft smile. “It's yours, baby, take it all, yeah? Know you can.”

Desperate to please him, to have him in every single way, you open your mouth as wide as you can to take him in, relishing the weight of him, fully hard, on your tongue, the sting of your stretched lips at the corners. It's all you want, all that matters, to keep hearing those sweet little sounds, soft murmurs of your name along with praise. To see the look on his face, disbelief written all over it. Clear in the knit of his brows, his eyes wide for as long as he can keep them open, his swollen lips stuck ajar. It's getting to you, how much he seems to like it, like that you're the one doing it, so much that you can't help but press your thighs together as you bob your head, chasing friction, pressure. 

His hips stutter whenever your tongue flicks at the underside of his head, making him grunt. “Just like that, YN, fuck. You know exactly what I like,” he tells you, fingers getting lost in your hair, guiding you back and forth along the length of him, rougher than he seems to realise. “Think this pretty little mouth was made just for me.” Whether Jake means it or it's just horny rambling, it makes your heart race anyway, because you think the same, think it so deeply, so entirely, you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

And when he comes for the second time it's with his tip at the back of your throat and your name on the tip of his tongue. Muttered curses spill out of him as you keep sucking anyway, paying no mind to the hot drops of his release slipping onto your chest and thighs. All the while, you tongue at his slit so he whines, whimpers, and throws his head back, until he can't take it any longer, pulling out. Falling to his knees. You can't resist him, wiping his cum from your skin and sucking your fingers clean. Sucking on his thumb when he strokes your cheek. Leaning in and taking his bottom lip between yours to suck on that too. 

“So good, baby,” he mumbles, breathless. “Way too good.” 

The heat in your stomach doesn't subside, if anything, it spreads. Especially with the way he looks down at you, his eyes boring into yours, warm pools of deep brown and all the love in the world. “I love you, Jake“ you say, and it feels like the first time. Fresh and exciting and giggle inducing. It is the first time, technically, saying it in this way, for him to hear and understand exactly how you mean it. “I really love you so much.” 

“I love you so much too,” Jake says, and it's so much better to hear it from him. He pecks your lips, smiling when you lick into his mouth. “And I'm sorry about earlier, didn't mean to push you like that, yeah?”

A chance for both of you to catch your breath, to calm down, only comes when he gets into the shower. You brush your teeth, liking the dull ache in your jaw and the raw feeling in your throat, skin glowy and radiant after you wash your face. On cloud nine, you sit on the end of the bed to wait for Jake, but you can't sit still. Leg bouncing frantically while you drum your hands against your bare thighs. Restless, you get up and once again, pace the length of the room, this time with a grin you can't control playing on your lips. This surplus energy comes in handy though, because when Jake joins you in the bedroom, he wastes no time getting his head between your thighs and evening the score. 

Now that you and Jake have kissed once, a few times — a hundred — it’s impossible to stop. And each time is better than the last. First thing in the morning, you share giddy kisses in bed. And again right after brushing your teeth. Alone in the kitchen, you kiss against the countertop. And again by the pool after he swims four laps to impress you. 

His arms flex to show his muscles as he lifts himself out of the water, droplets running down his skin, racing through the dip in his chest, his abs. He’s already starting to tan, a clean line around his hips where the golden skin turns lighter under his shorts. Just the sight of it, the memory of it and everything else you saw last night, heats your skin, tugs your lips up at the corners. Jake straightens his waistband before extending a huge hand to help you up from the concrete, pulling you into him and pressing his lips to yours again and again. He giggles into your mouth, palms holding your hips to his. It’s hard to kiss like this, with both of you grinning against each other’s lips, but you don’t stop trying. 

“I. Love. You,” he says between pecks. “So. So. Much.”

You will never tire of hearing him say that, even though it’s the other thing you can’t stop doing now that you’ve done it once. It comes out at every opportunity, for Jake at least, you’ve been having fun teasing him, verbally opposing the flush in your cheeks and the grin on your face. “I. Know. You. Do.”

Unimpressed, he pulls away to look down at you, and seeming to notice your squinting eyes, he turns you around so the sun heats your back and his chest instead of your face. Now that you can see him properly, you can see that his smiling lips are covered in lip gloss. Most of his face is covered in it, shiny pink on his chin and cheeks, the tip of his nose. “Say it back,” he mumbles into your palm while you clean him up, though it’s no use, because you press your lips right back to his. 

“It. Back.” 

“Not. Funny.” 

You pull away, playing with the wet hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the longer tufts of it around your fingers. “Why are we laughing then?” you ask, struggling to stop.

Jake’s eyes and nose are scrunched, happy creases all over his face. “Because it’s funny watching you play hard to get after last night,” he whispers, and the uneven slant of his lips undoes you. “You’re a very bad actor, Yongie.”

Unfortunately, he’s got you there. It was like he’d hypnotised you, cast a spell so that the only things you could say were his name, and I love you. Every single time he touched you made it worse, each stroke of his tongue or brush of his fingers had you reeling, his name hardly more than a desperate cry or a sob—never mind the sight of him kneeling between your legs breathing heavily, his lips and chin covered in you. 

Completely defenceless, shameless maybe, you pull the only card you can. “Yeah, well, you’re hard.”

“Your. Fault.” He pushes your hips back so you can’t feel him pressed against you. “Love. You. Too. Much.”

The smile that curves your lips is reflexive, a knee-jerk reaction just like the butterflies in your stomach. “I. Love. You. More.” Flustered and giddy and giggling, you run away from him and all the way up to Minjeong’s room, flinging the door open. 

She’s laying on her beautiful four-poster bed, scribbling into her diary, but she abandons it at the sight of you. “Holy shit!” she says, covering her mouth. “You had sex last night.” 

You let the door swing shut behind you, biting your lip to stifle a smile. “I wish.”

“Those words don’t match your afterglow.”

“It’s thirty degrees, MJ. I’m sweating.” You roll your eyes, climbing into the bed next to her. “And there’s no such thing as an afterglow when you kiss someone—we would’ve heard about that by now. Although he did finish in his shorts, so I guess we did hook up.”

Minjeong’s eyes are like saucers. “Jake what? Just from kissing?”

“Kissing?” Yizhuo asks from the doorway. “You kissed Jake?” 

“They’ve been kissing all morning, I could see them from my window,” Aeri supplies, slipping past Yizhuo and into the room. It’s just like yesterday in the kitchen, except the telephone is working perfectly. “It was gross, in a cute way, I guess.”

“And he came in his shorts!” Minjeong squeals, kicking her feet.

This development, revelation, has Aeri and Yizhuo’s jaws on the floor, gasping as they rush over to the bed and leap onto the duvet in front of you. Having had your first and last sexual experiences during the summer before university, you’ve never had a story to share during debriefs, always in the listener’s shoes eager to hear more. 

Spurred on by the thrill of evoking this reaction, you can’t help but say, “Then he came in my mouth!”

Clearly as delighted as you, the girls break out into giggles and applause, nudging each other and hugging you, smiling from ear to ear. Your heart is racing in your chest, the smile on your face aching your cheeks, as they set off in a chorus of oh my gods and finallys. Maybe in the grand scheme of things — at least in your group — a blowjob was hardly anything to write home about, hardly anything to warrant more than a hum or a nod or a what else, but your having given one, and having given one to Jake, made the very admission seem like some kind of generational disclosure, some unique foray into sexual exploration. Made you something of a pioneer, an innovator even. 

Like air from a popped balloon, the story launches out of you, from picking your coverup and eating on the couch, to Sunoo’s slip-up and watching Jake pee, absolutely no detail is spared. Especially not when it comes to the feeling of Jake’s head between your legs. The whole time, your cheeks burn furiously and all of your words come out a mile a minute so you have to take a deep breath at the end, the girls watching you with varying levels of shock painted on their faces. 

It’s Minjeong who speaks first, tilting her head. “So he’s just as pathetic as he looks? That’s really hot, like, I’m sorry but he’s extremely hot.”

“Right?” Aeri nods. 

“I wouldn’t have thought to use that word…” You trail off. In theory, it seems a harsh thing to say, pathetic, but the more you think about it, the more objectively true it becomes. His little moans and whimpers, how easily he got hard in his shorts, how easily he finished. Pathetic. Maybe he is a little, but you like it, love it, feel a shiver down your spine at the thought. “It was sweet in the moment, how I said his name and he just fell apart, but yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head. Her cheeks and neck are flushed red. “I’ve never looked at him like that, but… I understand you so much better now, YN. You guys are freaky as fuck, I have to respect it. And I’m a thousand percent sure Sunoo did that on purpose.”

You hadn’t considered that, but it was the exact sort of thing he would do, losing his patience faster than the rest of you and taking matters into his own hands. After all, you and Jake had waited years, and it only took Sunoo a handful of minutes to confess on his behalf. There was no reason to wonder though, it was just as likely he’d gotten the same idea as everyone else had in the kitchen, and sharing your thinking, Aeri says, “I think he just saw the locket and thought the same as we all did.” 

“Uh uh.” Minjeong shakes her head, lifting her phone to show you the screen. It’s her text thread with him.

Minjeong: Jake gave her the necklace and didn’t say anything, he’s so fucking stupid. They’re just gonna be friends forever atp all bc he thinks he’ll scare her off

Sunoo: LMAOOOOO poor guy has rocks for brains BUT not completely doomed he just needs our help

Sunoo: *MY help

“That’s a little mean,” you mumble half-heartedly. “It was me being stupid.”

Yizhuo pinches the bridge of her nose. “If you and Jake kissing means we have to be nice to him all the time, I’m voting against this relationship.”

“Yizh—”

“All in favour of JakeYN breaking up right now, say, aye.”

Right in front of you, all of the girls raise their hands and from the doorway, Jimin gawks at you. “JakeYN doing what?”

“Well, we’re not even really…” You trail off, only realising now that you didn’t exactly put a word on what the two of you are. “Together in the official sense.”

Yizhuo sighs. “Oh, Lord.”

For Jimin’s sake — and yours — you tell the story again from top to bottom, while Aeri, Minjeong, and Yizhuo listen again, just as eager and nosey as the first time, oohing and ahhing at all the same parts. Jimin has a lot more questions than they did though—is he big? Yes, Jimin. Thick? Yes, Jimin. He looks like he’d whimper, does he whimper? Yes, Jimin. 

With everyone caught up to speed, you rush to your room — relieved to find it empty — and bring your suitcase into Minjeong’s so the girls can help you pick out something to wear to the beach. Luckily, it’s perfectly organised, with all of your swimming costumes neatly rolled up next to your underwear so you don’t have to take everything out to find all of them. At the end of the bed, you stand in a row appraising the spread of your swimwear.

“I think you need to wear the world’s tiniest bikini, so these are out,” Jimin says first, taking all of your one pieces and rolling them back up the way you had them packed. Whether or not she receives the mental thanks you extend her way is anyone’s guess. 

“Your ass looks best in this one.” Yizhuo lifts the blue bikini you wore on Saturday night. 

Aeri rebuts with a strappy black bikini in her hand. “Your boobs look better in this one though.”

“No, that’s your Instagram bikini,” Minjeong says, shaking her head. “You can’t do anything if you wear that.”

“I guess I could take pictures for Instagram,” you point out, not really caring which bikini they pick, obviously you like them all or you wouldn’t have brought them. The main reason you’re even letting this decision spiral into such a big thing is that you’re having fun with the girls, having fun feeling fully like you’re part of them, one of them. Mostly, your attachment to Jake is harmless, but it comes at the expense of this sometimes.

With her arms around your waist and her chin on your shoulder, Jimin speaks right into your ear, making you squirm. “Or Jake could take pictures,” she sing-songs, and you can picture the waggle of her eyebrows. “Wear the black one, YN, he’ll like it. And I’ll like it if he doesn’t.”

Heeding her advice, you take the black two piece from Aeri. “He’ll definitely like it, he’s a boob guy for sure.”

“I think he’s a you guy,” Minjeong says, gathering up your swimming costumes and packing them away. “What do you mean for sure?” 

A pang of heat burns your skin, flooding your cheeks. You can’t even look at her — or any of the girls — eyes darting to the pastel pink painted wall on the other side of the room. The white trim and sheer white curtains. Fanning your face, you finally say, “He was all over them basically, like, in bed.”

From Minjeong’s vanity, Aeri scoffs, spinning around in the fluffy desk chair to glare at you. “For a story you told in grave detail, it seems like you missed out a lot of details.” 

“You know what they say.” You shrug, feigning nonchalant like you’re not grinning from ear to ear. “A true gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, ladies.”  

“Okay, so you’re obviously not a true gentleman considering you described the exact movement of his tongue on your cl—” You cut Jimin off with your hand over her mouth.

“Jesus,” you mumble. “I was there, alright? I get it.”

As you’d expect for two p.m. in the dead of July, the beach is heaving. Families dot the sand with bright parasols and screaming children, while lines of vendors sell ice cream and hot dogs and chilled water for more than what’s reasonable. In the middle of it all, on a mass of beach towels, you and the girls drink cider and beat the same long-dead, stupid, stupid Jungwoo–shaped horses as always. 

“You could ditch the first two movies and still make sense of the story, Revenge of the Sith is clearly the best.” Aeri huffs, putting her book down to defend her favourite of the prequels. “The Phantom Menace was boring as fuck, you only like it for Padmé’s dresses.” 

Even though you’re not part of the conversation, at this accusation, you have to speak up. “No one’s watching Phantom Menace for the dresses, Aeri. Everyone knows Padmé’s best dress is at the Naboo picnic in Attack of the Clones.” 

“Thank you!” Jimin pats you on the back, pleased that you’ve come to her defence. “I never even said Phantom Menace was the best, I just like it. Obviously Revenge is better, I mean, isn’t Anakin such a big, strong boy in that one?” 

Aeri doesn’t even dignify that with a response, at least not with words anyway. Instead, she puts her head down, face in the towel and lets out a scream louder than your laughter, causing families and couples to look around in terror.

Regardless of the crowd, and oblivious to Aeri’s mounting irritation, the boys do keepy ups in a tight circle with varying degrees of skill. Jake doesn’t drop the ball once, neither does Heeseung. Sunoo does well enough to keep Jake happy. Jay’s very good at kicking the ball, but not so much at the aiming of the ball, which leaves poor Sunghoon sprinting off to the shore before he has a proper chance to play.

It doesn’t take long before Jay gets kicked out and a visibly irritated Jake calls time out. “Yongie,” he yells, waving with both of his arms, lips spreading into a stomach-fluttering grin. “Hey, darling! Sub in?”

You shake your head, pointing over at them. “Jay’s right there!”

Jake actually laughs at that, his head falling back. “We need someone good, Yongie, please?” 

“No, thank you.”

His lips curl downwards, pushing out into a pouty frown, but you remain strong, unswayed no matter how cute he is, no matter how much every last fibre of your body cries out to be near him. You’re already tired from the heat, and — having opted for the picture bikini in the end — not actually dressed to run around the beach anyway. Seeming stumped, Jake stands there with his hands on his hips, watching you, perhaps trying to communicate that he’d really like to be spending time with you at the minute. At least, that’s the message you’re trying to send him, willing him to ditch the game altogether and join you on the blanket, though he does no such thing. 

It’s Sunghoon who calls Aeri over to play instead, and with a grumble, she swaps with Sunoo so the game can continue. They even work up a rally, now that Jay’s been relegated to ball boy, and before long, Yizhuo runs over to join in too. You and Jimin and Sunoo stay safe on the blanket, watching over napping Minjeong and taking turns to wake her up so she can turn over. 

“One more question.” Jimin lifts her head from her book, looking out at the group for a beat before she looks at you. “Was he good?” 

“At what?”

“In bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips before you can help it, destined forever to giggle and blush at the memory by the looks of things. “I’d say so, I don’t have much to compare him to, but…” You trail off, looking over your shoulders before leaning in and whispering the rest. “He made me finish twice.”

“Twice?” Sunoo repeats, eyebrows shooting up.

“With his mouth, yeah.”

“So that’s the kissing he was talking about,” he says with a slow nod.

Jimin nudges him, muttering his name, unimpressed. He nudges her right back, rolling his eyes. “What? He’s the one who said a true gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Jeez.” She sighs. “You two really are perfect for each other.”

Fighting your smile is futile, so you don’t bother. You’d have to agree with her, eternally thankful that she sees it too, even if she’s told you in a ridiculous context. Pushing your sunglasses up into your hair, your eyes find Jake right away, latching onto the sight. The flex of his back as he stretches this way and that, muscles accentuated by the slick sheen of sweat. The bob of his glistening Adam’s apple in his throat. The tipping back of his head whenever someone drops the ball, how he groans in frustration. 

“Hoon, you totally had that, are you fucking kidding?” Jake’s red in the face and pinching the bridge of his nose, but Sunghoon only shrugs, laughing as Jay runs off towards the shore to collect the ball. 

This side of him amuses all of you, the loveliest, most patient person any of you know losing his cool over the slighting thing if sports are involved. His hyper-competivity is probably the reason he’s always been so good at football, that he takes it seriously, more meticulous on the pitch than with anything else. 

For you though, Jake in this state, all riled up and irritated, is a guilty pleasure. The clench of his jaw, the way he rakes his hand through his wet hair, how he cuts his eyes at Sunghoon, seeming more annoyed by the way he only laughs harder. These tics, and them existing on Jake, force your heart to race, skipping beat after beat against your ribs to no end. 

“Sunoo,” you say, leaning forward to get a good look at him. “Tell Jake if he ever feels like being ungentlemanly, he doesn’t have to hold back.”

His ears burn red and he hums in response, giving you a thumbs-up.

“You’re disgusting, YN.” Jimin gives you a discerning look from top to bottom as if she’s relearning you, reassessing, and, clearly liking what she sees, she grins. “I love it.”  

You can only smile because you love it too, love this side that he brings out of you, this side that you don’t have to keep to yourself anymore, this side that Jake loves as well—Jake who still stands irritated amongst the group. You’re drawn in completely by the pinch of his eyebrows, by the way his frustration melts away as soon as he catches your eye. The crease of his brows smooths over, and his lips curl up when you blow him a kiss.

Apparently deciding he’s had enough of the game, he comes bounding over the way Layla normally does, further committing to the bit by laying down on top of you, his front to your back, like a hot and gangly weighted blanket. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he presses tickly kisses to your skin, pecking a trail up to your cheek where he stops and mumbles, “D’you see me play, Yongie? Was I good?”

“Yes, Jake, very,” you say through a smile that aches your cheeks. 

Instead of thanking you, his response is to roll over so he’s lying on his back and pulling you close. Everywhere he touches, your skin is on fire, soft fingertips hotter than the shining sun against you. Giddy giggles trickle out of you like water from a tap, endless as the ocean, even while he kisses you—a messy liplock that you can hardly focus on for the thudding of your heart in your ears, for the way your friends cheer and applaud behind you.

He pulls away and it’s an affront, though he’s still smiling, the pointy corners of his lips quirked up and beautiful as he looks at you, breathless. “Why didn’t you wanna play with us? You know you’re my favourite teammate.” 

“This isn’t really a sports bikini,” you explain, liking the way his hand falls from your back to your hip, twirling the string. “One deep breath and I’m flashing everyone.” 

Jake nods, patting your thigh and letting his eyes fall to your chest. “I can tell,” he says, laughing on an exhale as his hand comes up between you, pulling the black cup more securely over your left breast. “Instagram bikini.”

“Mhm.” You give him a peck, but he holds you against him, his hand slipping into your hair to keep you right where he wants you, which apparently is as close as humanly possible just to kiss you.

It’s never just kissing with Jake though, that’s the thing, and you’re not sure it ever could be. More than lips on lips and tongue on tongue, it’s a full body experience. It’s your knee slipping between his, your foot stroking his calf, it’s his dick hard against you, his hands slipping over your body. The lick of heat in the pit of your stomach, the lightness in your head and in your body like none of it is real, like you don’t really exist. But you could never complain, not when his soft lips move so savouringly over yours. Not when his tongue licks into your mouth with such care, drawing hushed whines out of you, out of him, deep and slow like he wants to feel every single part of your mouth, like he wants to fall into you, to become one.

Unconcerned about anyone else, Jake lets his hand slip over your ass, cupping it gently. And as much as you like it, you lift his hand to a decent height on your waist, making him chuckle. “Couldn’t. Help. It,” he tells you between kisses and breaths. “Not. Sorry.”

“You’re a disaster, Jake,” you whisper, even though you’re smiling, even though the only thing keeping your hands out of the front of his shorts is that they’re too busy tugging his hair. “No decorum at all.”

“I’m saying this in the most respectful way possible, but it’s kinda impossible for me to have decorum when you look like that. I mean, now that I’m allowed to touch you after all these years of wanting to, Yongie, it’s all pent up.” His gentle voice doesn’t match his words or the hungry look in his blown eyes. 

You gulp, and the only thing you can think to say is, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Look so good in black, in everything.”

“Thank you.” Holding eye contact is a feat, but there’s nowhere you’d rather look than at your sweet Jake, no matter how much your cheeks burn. 

“Such a perfect girl, YN, even look good in nothing,” he says, and you can hear in his raspy voice, see in his lidded eyes, feel on your stomach that he wants you in a way he can’t have you on the beach, but it just sounds earnest. Sweet. 

The smile on your face and the cold sweat on the back of your neck answer for you. At once, it’s affirming and terrifying to hear these things from him, these things that only ever existed in the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind, nestled away behind the wholesome stuff. Cuddles and held hands. Forehead kisses, wearing his hoodie. These things you’ve only ever let out late at night by yourself. All you can do is hide your face in his chest and feel the rumble of his laughter on your nose.

“Don’t need to be shy, Yongie, not with me,” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head. 

Leaning back, you face him again, liking the freckles forming in the middle of his face, scattered over the broad bridge of his nose, the red pimples on his forehead and chin, this face you’ve come to know better than your own. As if it’s your own. How could you ever be shy with him? Your bestest friend, your… whatever he is now. Dread casts a cool shadow over you at the mere thought. You press a soft kiss to his lips, but it doesn’t help.

“I’m not shy, this is just weird,” you admit. “No offence."

“What’s weird?”

Motioning into the space between you, you cringe at the way Jake’s face falls, though briefly. He clears his throat before he speaks. “You don’t like… us?”

“I do, Jake. I love it, I just…” You press your lips together and wait, either for Jake to supply the rest of your sentence or the world to come to its fiery end, saving you from the duty of salvaging what you’ve so quickly torn apart. Neither happens, so you push on, ignoring the ache in your chest. “I pictured this for so long that having it, having you, is a bit weird. Not in a bad way, it’s just… as if it’s not real or something, like I’m dreaming.”

Jake pinches your waist, making you cry out and you hear your friends cheering behind you. “See, Yongie? Not a dream. Dreams aren’t nearly as good as this,” he says.

He’s right, but just like he said they wouldn’t, things have changed a lot. Good change — amazing, even — but that doesn’t make this any less surreal. Doesn’t tamp the fuzzy feeling when he kisses you or tells you that he loves you, nor the way he seems to glow whenever you look at him. After all, the sun can’t rise if it doesn’t set, and dream or not, you’ll have to wake up eventually. 

Seeming to realise he hasn’t quite soothed you, he changes his tack, stroking your hair and pecking your lips. “Does all of it feel like that or just right now, Yongie?”

You take a moment before responding, trying to feel more in the moment than in your head. Over your shoulder, your friends chat and bicker and laugh, the same as everyone else around you. By Jake’s head, the coarse sand is hot on your palm, slipping easily through your fingers. Against you, Jake is solid, he is warm and waiting. Patient. Yours. On his collarbone, there is a purple bloom in the shape of your mouth. It’s enough to ease the tightness in your throat so you can say, “Just right now.”

Jake doesn’t speak right away, only eyeing you instead, slowly like he’s taking you in. He gulps before he speaks. “I think that’s alright then, Yongie. Because even if this is a dream, I’ll be sleeping right next to you when you wake up, won’t I?” he asks, waiting for your response. You nod, so he continues. “And I’ll love you just as much as I do right now.”

You have no idea how you got so lucky, how someone could possibly love you this much—how that someone could be the one person you’ve wanted so badly all this time. His heart and yours beating in tandem, towards and for each other, bound by a single thread of gold or something greater, and you had no idea.

“Okay,” you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Now I’m shy.”

Holding you tight, he presses his lips to your ear. “So am I,” he admits. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you say back, and it feels more honest than before, better somehow. Better to hear the spread of his lips into a smile, to feel it and his heart racing against his chest. Against you.

Being this close to him is addictive, to deeply inhale his citrus and sunscreen scent, and taste the salt of the ocean on his skin, is maddening. A hot, shaky breath hits your shoulder when you lick his neck, fingertips sinking deeper into your flesh. 

The promise of food wasn’t enough to separate the two of you, but the smell of food wrenches you apart, forcing you to join the circle of your friends eating burgers and hot dogs and chips. 

And even as you sit cross-legged, laughing and talking with everyone else, Jake’s hand rests on your thigh, and your hand rests on top of his. At least until it’s actually time to eat, and he splits his burger in two while you do the same with your hot dog, giving each other the bigger half—you don’t even have to check to know he’s taken the pickles out. With your thumb, you wipe ketchup from the side of his mouth and he adjusts the cup of your bikini and both of you giggle at the fuss your friends make about it.

Once everyone’s done eating, Jake volunteers the two of you to take away all the rubbish, stuffing carrier bags with styrofoam containers and wooden cutlery and empty cans. He carries everything over to the bins and you do all the sorting before rejoining your friends hand in hand. By the time you reach them, they’re all scattered, split off by activity—napping, drinking, and reading. With you two back, another activity starts: planning. “Are you free tomorrow, darling?” Jake asks, his arm heavy around your shoulders.

“Yes, Jakey.” 

A smile plays at the corner of his lips and he nods his head, but he keeps his gaze locked on the shore no matter how long you stare at him. “Same,” he says.

“Cool,” you say, grinning. 

Red scatters slowly over his ears and neck, nipping his cheeks as they lift with his smile and finally, he looks at you. Eyes wide and golden in the sun, brown hair blackened and slicked back with seawater save for one stubborn strand over his forehead. He looks like a prince and your heart stutters in your chest at the thought. 

“Well… since we’re both free tomorrow, how about I take you out, Yongie?” 

“Like, on a date?” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand for fear of screaming at the top of your lungs. 

Jake chuckles, taking your wrist in his hand and tugging it down. “Yeah, gorgeous, exactly like a date. Just you and me.”

Heat overtakes you, flooding your cheeks and your neck and swirling in your stomach, an endless stir all throughout your body like a shaken can of fizzy juice. “Yes, please,” you say, but it’s more of a squeak.  

“You’re so cute,” Jake says under his breath, pulling you close to kiss your temple. “I’ll pick you up at eight, alright?”

And even though you’re staying in the same house, you nod and tell him, “I’ll be ready at seven. I’m ready now.” 

As he said he would, at eight p.m. sharp, Jake knocks on the door of the bedroom you share to pick you up. And as you said you would be, you were ready at seven. 

In the external sense at least, because you’ve spent an hour admiring your reflection and taking pictures in the short white linen dress that the girls picked out for you. On the inside, you feel about as relaxed as a fish out of water, your stomach and its contents flipping and flopping. It’s just a shame he arrived before you thought to repack your suitcase or alphabetise your bodycare on the sink. But none of that matters in the end, because when you open the door and see Jake standing behind it, smiling, you can’t even remember what you were so worked up about. 

“H—” His eyes widen, looking you up and down and down and up before he clears his throat and he tries again. “You look so beautiful, Yongie.”

“So do you.” 

The giggle that he lets out is contagious, passed between your mouths in a kiss that lasts too long. Taking your hand, he leads you through the suspiciously quiet house, hardly a trace of your friends at all as you step out into the garden, going all the way to the back behind the shed. Jake climbs the stile in the fence first, then helps you over with his hands on your waist. On steady ground, you don’t pass up the opportunity to press a kiss to his soft lips. 

“I love this dress,” he tells you. “My. Beautiful. Girl.”

Despite the grin on your face, still you keep your mouth on his. “Always. All. Yours.” 

“Lucky, lucky me,” Jake says through a smile, giving you a peck and then another before pulling you through the clearing and out to the beach. 

Generous perhaps, to call it a beach, this little private strip that’s more giant slabs of glittering rock than sand along the shore where you all used to skinny dip until a rogue jellyfish stung Jay’s ass. A smile splits your lips at the memories, a happy warmth in your chest that only heightens and spreads at the nod of Jake’s head towards something behind you. On the rock furthest from the water, is a cosy-looking nest of blankets and cushions, lined at the outer edge with fairy lights, and a wicker basket in the middle of it all. 

“You like it, Yongie?” he asks, a sheepish look in his curious eyes. 

“Jake…” You trail off, unable to find the words to express how much you love it. How much you love him. 

Behind him, the tide rushes against the rocks, a constant crash that rivals the thud of your heart, darkening the slabs and making them glossy. In your silence, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scrunching his nose. “I know it’s not much, but I didn’t want to wait until we got home to treat you.” His voice is but a murmur over the ocean, and still your stomach sinks.

“Are you joking? Jake, no one’s ever do—” Realising how wrong you are, you have to stop mid-sentence, because someone has done something like this for you before, because Jake is always doing things like this for you. Always going out of his way to show you he cares, to make you happy. “It’s perfect,” you say. “It’s absolutely perfect.” 

Together on the blanket, Jake lets you open up the basket, beaming as you fawn over the crisps and dip he picked out, the nice cocktail cans and yogurt-covered pretzels, the banana chips. And a delighted laugh comes out of him when you lose your mind at the sight of a clear container with honeydew feta salad inside, chili crisp tickling your nose as soon as you take the lid off. “Look how thin you sliced the cucumbers!” you all but squeal.

Jake, who only ever slices his cucumbers in thick strips, is blushing, beautiful red breaking through his smiling cheeks. “Jay helped a little bit with that, but it was mostly me once I got the hang of it.” 

Fuelled by love and hunger and a quick kiss, you continue through the basket. Japchae, tinfoil wrapped ham & cheese toasties, and perfectly pinched dumplings. Raspberries dipped in dark chocolate, and a foggy tub of pork belly. It’s more food than you’re sure you can eat, but you’re happy to try. Apart from what he’d obviously picked up, it’s clear he made it all himself — with maybe some help — and all for you. 

Your giggles are instantaneous, light and giddy, as Jake joins in. “So this is why I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen all afternoon?” 

He nods. “Worth it?”

“More than,” you whisper, liking the pleased smile on his lips. Looking into the basket once more, you find a heap of shiny gold foil beaming up at you. “Holy shit,” you manage through a laugh. 

“What, baby?” 

Like a magic trick, when you grab the first condom, an endless string of them follows from the depths of the basket and you can’t stop laughing, genuinely having to fight for breath. “I was wondering what we were gonna have for dessert.”

Jake doesn’t share in your amusement though, his face falling as he snatches them like they might hurt you, and says, “I didn’t put those in there!”

“Are you sure?” 

“I swear.” 

Even though you believe him, you can sense the evening taking a turn towards how-to-kiss-gate and nip it in the bud immediately, giving him a big hug and assuring him that you know he wouldn’t do that, all while stifling your laughter and stroking his hair. 

With Jake’s mood all taken care of, it’s time to tuck in and the food he prepared is just as good as it looks. The japchae light and the pork belly tender, sweet salad with a perfect kick. You can’t help but moan around each bite, around his fingers when he feeds you raspberries, constantly losing track of the conversation as it goes. Patient as ever, Jake only repeats himself or reminds you gently, accepting your apologies with a smile, seeming happy just to be here. Just to be with you. As the heat of the sunshine wanes, so too does your hunger. Having tried everything, you at least feel satisfied when you tap out, pushing your plate towards him. He’s not faring much better than you are, though he does finish off your pork belly. The more time you spend out here, the more you notice how lost he gets in the quiet, frozen in place, staring into the distance. 

All it takes to steal his attention from the glimmering shoreline is you squeezing his knee, gaze finding yours, lips curling into a dizzying smile. A lingering peck pressed to your lips, your cheek, and then, “Can we talk about something?”

“Mhm.”

Looking down at his lap, Jake clears his throat and says, “I know a lot has changed between us since your birthday, but in my opinion it’s all been good. What do you think?” It’s only when he’s finished speaking that he looks at you.

“It’s different, but it feels right,” you admit, mirroring the grin that spreads on his lips. “I’m happy, Jake. You make me happy.” 

Seeming a bit more sure of himself, he nods, locking his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. “I’m the same, I mean you’re exactly what I want, Yongie. You’re who I want. You always have been, and you make me so… I just get so excited when it comes to you, even if I read your name somewhere or I hear it, my heart beats out of my chest.” 

As he says the words, your heart does exactly that, beating so fast and so hard you can hear it in your ears, feel it in your throat. You can’t believe this is happening, that any of this has happened over the past few days, that tomorrow, when you wake up in the morning, it’ll be to pack your bags and go home. 

“And I feel really sorry that you had to hear it from someone else first, but I love you, YN. I love you so much. I wanna do everything with you, and more than anything, I’d like to be your boyfriend,” Jake admits, only taking a beat to breathe at the end. “Is that… would you like that as well?” 

Fuzzy warmth finds a home in your chest, blooming and spreading and forcing giggles out of you. Nodding your head, it’s all you can do to hope he can read your mind like he always has. More than anything, Jake, you think. You’re all I want. Like a penny to a magnet, your lips find his, drawn in over and over and over again. You can’t even help it. Can’t help but hold his face in your hands. Can’t help but say, “I. Love. You.” Hardly noticing you’ve been kissing for so long until your knees start to ache against the blanket. 

You pull away and don’t wipe your lip gloss from his smiling face. 

Once the two of you manage to stop giggling and kissing and lingering and kissing again, packing up the picnic is an easy task. You hand empty containers to Jake who places them neatly in the basket, same with your cutlery and cans and wrappers.

It really doesn’t take long at all and with pursed lips, he latches the basket shut, patting the top and staring out at the shore before saying in a quiet voice, “I really am sorry about the condoms, Yongie. I’m sure it was just one of the guys trying to be funny or something.”

“I know, I know, and I thought it was funny, baby, it is funny. We’ll just take them back to our room and see how many we can use tonight,” you suggest, already looking forward to later, hoping that he’s looking forward to it too, though his expression betrays nothing.

Jake’s eyes flick over your face and he finally smiles, a slow, lopsided, butterfly inducing curve of his lips as he takes your locket in his hand, pulling you closer for a quick kiss. “Lower your expectations, my love. Promise you’ll be happy even if we only use two?”

Your stomach does a swoop at that, my love. “I’d be happy even if we didn’t use any,” you tell him, breathless. 

“That would kill me, YN, alright? I’m serious,” he says, with a great big grin on his face.

“Well, we’re dying on the same day, remember? Might not be too bad.”

Even though he chuckles, he rolls his eyes, seeming to give in. “Whatever then, have it your way.”

You hum, shaking your head as you push Jake’s hair from his face to get a good look at him. At his freckled nose and lopsided smile. “Obviously if you want to use a condom we’ll use one, Jakey. Or two just like you said.”

“I don’t,” he admits, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

A smile curls your lips and a flutter stirs your stomach. “Not before the sun goes down, I want to see it.”

“Sounds good, love. Later then.” And with the matter settled, he kisses your forehead. Then the tip of your nose, then your lips. Unlike the first two though, this kiss is lingering. This kiss is the press of bodies against one another, thighs and hips and chests and lips. It’s Jake’s soft hair between your fingers, his big hands slipping to your waist, holding you as tightly as possible. Like this, you kiss and you kiss and you kiss, separating only for the time it takes to tug his T-shirt up and over his head—all plans of watching the sunset long forgotten.

Still attached at the mouths, Jake lays you down on the blanket, his palm clutching your hip through your dress as he settles between your thighs. A lick of molten need consumes you at the weight of his body on yours, at the closeness of his lean frame. How you’re connected everywhere it matters. Damp press of sweat-slick skin on linen. Grind of rough denim on soft lace. Tug of hair between fingers and warmth of whimpers passed from his mouth to yours and right back. 

Wet kiss after wet kiss from neck to collarbone, shallow breaths warm your skin from collarbone to heaving chest, tearing a desperate sound out of you. Teeth on linen, tugging at the neckline of your dress, trembling hands coming up to help, to pull it down and hook it underneath your bare breasts.

Jake pulls away and it’s like seeing God, your breath hitching at the sight of him, at how the setting sun filters through his hair, catching him at the edges so that he glows. His chest rises and falls heavily as he looks down at you, his eyes blown and latching onto your breasts, inching slowly upwards along the shiny saliva path he’s left behind. From his swollen lips, the word, God, falls, a gravelly sound, ragged like it came from the depths of him, enough to make you shiver. He lets his palm roam the length of your body, over your stomach and up between your breasts until his long fingers slip over your shoulder to straighten your locket on its chain. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he says, eyes tracking the same path before they flick up to meet yours. “You’re so…” He shakes his head. “So, so beautiful.”

Causing this reaction, being the one to get to him this much, and seeing it, is a rush unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced. In this state, this stupor, you could probably ask him to do anything, tell him, and he would, and only on the basis that it came from you. Inexplicable heat pools between your legs at the mere thought.

“Thanks.”

An unbearable beat passes, scored by the whisper of the breeze and the kiss of tide against rock, before Jake wets his lips and says, “What’d you say, gorgeous?”

“You want them in your mouth, don’t you?” Your wavering voice betrays your nerves, but if he notices, he doesn’t seem to care. 

His pretty mouth falls ajar, wordless lips closing and opening again until he gulps, nods his head.

Spurred on by his level of engagement, his willingness and pliancy, there’s nothing you can do to stop your mind from running wild, alight with possibility, the future suddenly an exciting thing for as long as Jake is with you. It’s this, your certainty, your desire, that levels your voice when you speak. “Are you gonna be good and hurry up then?”

“Fuck,” he whispers before clearing his throat and speaking softer than you’ve ever heard. “Yes, love. Gonna be good for you, gonna be so good.” He’s already leaning in. 

Taking your nipple between his teeth, Jake has you gasping, has your back arching up towards him as his tongue flicks out over the sensitive skin to soothe it. A cry of his name, a huffed breath, a shudder at every tug, at every lick, at every moan he lets out around you. Caught up in the feel of it all — of his sweet mouth and muffled whines, of the knot tying itself in your stomach — you don’t even notice that his hand has left your other breast until his thick fingers press on the lace between your thighs.

Chasing it, the pressure, your hips buck, grinding until Jake curses under his breath and pulls away. To the chill of the air on your wet chest, you sigh, opening your eyes to the sight of your beautiful boyfriend kneeling between your spread thighs. Straight teeth dent plush bottom lip. Heavy eyelids blink slowly. Pink flush on his cheeks, his neck, spreading to his chest that heaves with his breath. Your toes curl against the blanket. He looks about as good as you feel—looks better. Unsticking the damp cotton, Jake pushes your underwear to the side so the breeze rushes against you, cool and overwhelming and drawing a gasp from your parted lips. 

His eyes fall as he spreads your wetness from your slit up to your clit and groans. “Love how wet you get for me, YN, always feel so good.”

Every last inch of your body responds to his touch, to him and the low sound of his voice, to the slow push of two thick fingers into you. Clamping together, your knees knock with a smack, thighs trapping Jake’s wrist where it is. The tension in your stomach is immediate, hot and heavy as he curls his fingers where they are, just brushing right where you need him to.

"Good, baby,” you manage, breathless. “Like that.”

Parting your knees, he pushes further and the sweet pressure sends a burst of blinding pleasure throughout your writhing body. A twist of the knot in your stomach, a moan torn out of you, stars behind your closed eyes at the sound of the smile in his voice. “Such a pretty girl, aren’t you? Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

As always, seeing Jake smile far surpasses hearing it, that broad curve, lips red and puffy around his perfect teeth. It takes your breath away to see him like this, to hear those words from him when it’s exactly how you feel—Jake, Jaeyun, your pretty boy, and you, Yongie, the luckiest girl in the world. Especially when you notice the way his other hand is tucked into his shorts, moving slowly under the denim. 

“I wanna see, Jake,” you say. “Take them off.”

Not a second goes by before he undoes his belt and button and fly with one hand to push his shorts down. On the front of his white briefs is a dark patch where his dick strains against the cotton, precum seeping through it. A pang of hunger strikes you, tongue wetting your lips as he thumbs at the damp spot and mutters, fuck, tugging the fabric out of the way. His leaking tip is shiny and red, same as his lips. Veins curve around the rest of him, leading your eyes down his twitching length to where his fingers are wrapped around the base, unmoving. 

“Should I…” Jake trails off. 

“Please.” You nod and without missing a beat, he spits into his palm and starts stroking. 

Save for the pretty way he whines and shudders, how his nose scrunches up and his muscles tense, there’s nothing particularly special about the way he jerks off. What’s mesmerising though, what really winds you up, is the fact that it’s Jake’s big hand on Jake’s big dick. That and the fact that he’s timing his strokes with the pump of his fingers into you. The fact that the wet sound between your legs is only getting louder and lewder. Feverish heat laps at your bucking hips, ravaging your body from the inside out.

“Don’t wanna—” you blurt out, taking a moment to catch your breath, to figure out what you’re trying to say. “I don’t wanna finish like this. Need it now. You.”

“Thank fuck.” He takes his fingers straight from inside of you to his mouth, humming around them. “So good,” he mumbles, shaking his head while your cheeks burn. “You’re so perfect, YN.”

Butterflies fill your stomach, tugging your lips up at the corners. If it were up to you, this moment would never end. Jake, apparently, has other ideas though, asking, “So are we using a condom or am I dying today?” 

His question takes a second to process, to make sense of over the pounding rush of blood in your ears. “The second one,” you whisper with a smile. “And I will miss you so, so much.”

A glorious smile curls his lips, a sweet chuckle coming out of him. “Not for too long, love.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your knee. “You sure though? Sounds silly, but you’re allowed to change your mind, YN.” 

“I know.” You can’t resist reaching for him, unsure if you can stomach another second without. Against your palm, his hair is soft between your fingers. Behind him, the sun’s last rays cling to the violet sky, streaking it orange. Something twists in your chest at the sight, at the sight of Jake’s brown eyes, shining like brilliant pools of amber. There’s nothing you’d change about any of this, let alone your mind. “I’m sure about this though,” you say, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “About you.”

Jake leans into your touch, lifting his head and kissing your palm when you cup his cheek. “Me too, Yongie. I’m certain.” That certainty is warm against your skin, muffled and earnest. “Forever,” he says and this is the moment you don’t want to end.

You can’t help but take his forever to heart, because it’s a promise he’s always kept. There isn’t much for you before Jake, your memories few and far between up until he moved to your school. “Yeah, Jaeyun. Forever,” you say, and when the words come out, you are absolutely certain that there won’t be much after him either.

The moment it finally happens, you’re kissing. That slow nudge of Jake into you, the complete shrinking of the world to that burning point of your connection, the melting of two bodies into one. His shallow thrusts deepen with each push and pull of his hips until he’s filling you all the way up over and over, further than you thought possible. Pressed to your chest, his heart races just as fast as yours, beating in perfect sync. Hungrily, Jake’s lips move over yours, but his hips still against you, buried to the hilt and staying completely flush—as if the kissing, the brushing of tongues and taste of you, is the point of it all.

I love you, he says, and you say, I love you, too. On a desperate, whiny loop, those three words spill from one mouth into another, back and forth for ages until you can’t tell if it’s him saying it or you. 

Until he finishes with a cry of your name, arms giving out so his full weight presses you down. Until you finish right after, shuddering and full and so in love.

As is tradition, you all spend this last morning together. Bright and early, the kitchen is alive at eight a.m., all ten of you moving sleepily around each other while Sunghoon’s lock in playlist blares through the house. After four summers of this, you’ve gotten it down to a science, so that no one is in anyone else’s way and nothing needs to be reheated. It takes forty-five minutes, but with all of the dishes on the garden table, everyone sits around it, ready to eat the breakfast you all helped to make. 

Your plate is about as full as can be, with Jay’s gamjajeon, Jimin’s buttered toast, Sunoo’s fried eggs, and Heeseung’s pork belly all warring for space on its surface. Exactly where he wants to be, Jake sits in your lap and his plate has your overflow—his Buldak carbonara, Yizhuo’s stir-fry, and your bacon. 

Nosey as ever, your friends barely allow you to have a bite before grilling you and Jake, desperate to know what happened at the beach to make you guys come back so…

“…Weird,” Yizhuo says. “If you hadn’t been holding hands I’d have thought you called it off.” 

Around gulps of Aeri’s coffee and spoonfuls of Sunghoon’s assorted cereal, everyone nods and mumbles their agreement. Now that everyone knows about your reciprocated feelings — now that you and Jake know — it seems your friends would prefer one big debrief rather than you with the girls and him with boys. Most of the time, the morning after begins with a group FaceTime call, or a detailed rundown in the chat to catch each other up, so it’s not totally unusual to share everything with everyone at once, and of course, now that two members of the group have hooked up, the next natural step would be to tell the group together. This fact, and your knowledge of said fact, don’t make it any easier for you to find words that accurately convey the genuinely life-changing sex you had last night. How afterwards, you undressed each other reverently to fuck like animals in the shower. 

Seeming not to share your reservations, Jake has no trouble speaking. "We weren’t being weird,” he says through a yawn, even though you definitely were. “We were being in love, Yizhuo, you should try it.”

“Yes, but you’ve been in love for as long as we’ve known you, and we’ve never seen you like that.” Minjeong squints over the top of her sunglasses, pointing an accusatory spoon. “Obviously you fucked out there, but — and no offence — was it bad?”

Before you can leap to the defence of your and Jake’s sexual prowess or show them the video you took last night and ask, does it look bad? Aeri sighs, shaking her head. “They didn’t, I counted and all ninety condoms were in the basket, they didn’t even tear one from the strip.”

“Ninety? Aeri, we gave them eighty, you bought the boxes,” Sunoo says, smacking his forehead twice and going, “Stupid, stupid Jungwoo.” 

Around the table, laughter is immediate and as you wrap your arms around Jake’s waist to hold him closer, you can’t help but wish you had even one more night to spend together. Can’t help but wish you’d been even a tiny bit less in your head about him all weekend so you could’ve gotten the fullest out of this time with everyone. Only one person isn’t fighting for breath through their cackles, and it’s Aeri who only rolls her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, because none of you have ever been with someone questionable.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she scoffs and points in your direction. “YN is literally dating Jake,” she says and everyone laughs again, even Jake, who you know is only pretending not to be irritated. 

After breakfast, it’s a heated game of rock, paper, scissors that leaves Aeri, Heeseung, Jimin, and Sunghoon on kitchen clean up duty while the rest of you are left to your own devices. Thankfully, you had the foresight to pack your suitcase, and then Jake’s, before breakfast, so all that’s left is kissing and triple-checking that you have everything you came with. 

It’s an hour before Minjeong calls up the stairs that it’s time to leave and you’re standing alone in the en-suite, staring at your reflection. Only five days have passed since you left home with the girls, but already you look so different, feel so different. A healthy glow kisses your tanned skin and the semi-permanent bikini straps on your shoulders. Your lips rest in a curve you can’t straighten out. And your locket sits under the star pendant on your chest. Jake’s locket, maybe, if the years he’s held onto it mean more than the days you’ve spent wearing it. Running your thumb over the tiny dragon, the metal is warm in your palm. Changed by the love of those you love — Jake, your friends, and the sun — you can only look forward to what might change next, knowing no matter what, you won’t have to go through it alone.

From the doorway, with his baseball cap backwards and glasses low on the bridge of his nose, Jake is already watching you. His small smile turns into a broad grin, showing all of his teeth as he lets out a happy sigh. Crossing the room to be in his arms is the absolute least you can do, sinking into his chest as he pulls you close. You tip your head back to press a kiss to the base of his neck, making him giggle. 

“You ready to go, darling?” 

You’re not ready to go, not really—you never are. Already, you want to relive the last few days, see them again with those same fresh eyes. See them with your knowing eyes and make the same decisions a million times over, because all of them have led you here, lead you to this. To Jake’s lips on yours. Regardless, you nod and say, “I am.”

In the middle of the driveway, warmed by the blazing sun, you hug all of your friends as though you’ll never see them again, as if you don’t share a flat with Minjeong, or won’t see everyone at Heeseung’s on Friday for movie night. For what it’s worth though, they all hug you the same way, with tight squeezes and mumbled I’ll miss yous and get home safes. 

Once you’ve hugged your way around the circle, you end up in Jake’s arms again, squealing when he lifts you up off your feet. His fingers grip your sides as tight as he can, warmth in your chest at the feeling and a smile on your face even as you try to wriggle free. But over your shoulder you hear the girls burst into laughter, hear Jimin cry out, no way! And there’s something to it, the disbelief in her voice, the sheer joy, that stands out to you, that tugs your heart in her direction, in theirs. You can’t ignore it, can’t ignore how much you hate the thought of having to hear about it from Minjeong at home later. 

“Would you mind if I went home with the girls instead?” you blurt out as soon as Jake sets you down on your feet.

The smile on his face doesn’t falter at all, it widens, his eyes searching yours. “That sounds like fun, Yongie. I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah, Jake, see you later,” you say, and for the first time, the thought of being away from him doesn’t make you feel sick. 

© zreamy (2026), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let me know your thoughts !

Jaeyun said while he stirred the glass straw in his mocktail, blooming a tingling sound in the silent atmosphere. Everyone looked at Heeseung. It was the time.

The time to prove their worth.

They had this sick addiction to truth and dare where they used to give each boys, a dare or make them reveal a secret for truth. They considered it their "display of manliness."..and someone who was unable to fulfill this twisted pattern was mocked and teased for the entire semester for being a pussy.

Young guys..indeed.

They had just conquered the basketball match and won the trophy to their university, filling the principal with joy and pride, which gave them even more privileges to do whatever they wanted to do in the campus.

It's not like they were pure bullies though...but with some of their actions, they did fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum.

"Are you ready?" Jay said arching his eyebrow as he gave a nasty smirk to Heeseung, already thinking of one of the many things he could give him a dare for.

Midterms were near, but they could care less due to being exhausted by the inter-uni basketball match and constant practices..alll they wanted to do now was to let off some steam and relax..while also playing this danger game of dares and truths (secrets).

"I. AM. ready." Heeseung said looking into Jay's eyes...almost...almost glaring. Deliberately emphasizing each word to let him know that he wasn't scared of any mere game or a challenge.

"Okay..then..we should think of what to give him"

Yeonjun smirked, played with his popcorns and jokingly offered the bowl to Heeseung for him to take some but quickly gulped and withdrew his hand when he saw Heeseung's stern expression.

Heeseung would first hand argue that he wasn't scared of anything..not even God...then why did his heart start beating more rapidly at the thought of a challenge approaching him?

"You've done me dirty hyung, last time when I was the player, it was your idea that I seek out English final exams paper and leak all the questions , wasn't it?"

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at Heeseung, jaw clenching at how he almost got caught while trying to complete the dare.

"Hey..but you didn't get caught right? Then what's the fuss about?"

Heeseung glared at him, gripping the edges of the bar couch hard with his knuckles. Turning them particularly white.

That was the problem. They always played this game once, in every two or three months, new season, spinned the bottle, and whoever it landed on, that only person had to do a dare as said by the other guys or reveal a secret about themselves to the whole world

And well...Heeseung wasn't the bestest guy in this game..he was the one who outed Jake's bisexuality for his truth, gave Sunghoon the idea of paper leak dare, dared Jay to record a sextape with professor's wife and very well cooperated with his evil mind during other guy's turns aswell. He enjoyed the twisted satisfaction.

But how long..before the sheep gets caught in its own mud?

"make a cheerleader of our university.. fall in love with you"

Heeseung suddenly lifted his face up at Jaeyun's words.

That is his dare.....?

What a fucking joke.

Heeseung knitted his brows together and scoffed. Partially relieved that they actually had some respect for him as a captain and didn't give any ridiculous dare..but on the other hand he was equally offended..cause what the fuck is this dare even ?

He wasn't into relationships at all. Let alone a lovey-dovey dare.

"What the fuck is that type of dare?" "Why Heeseung?"

"Afraid your dick game isn't capable of doing that?"

"If it was really about my dick game, you would give a dare of fucking some whore"

he looked at Jaeyun who was smirking already, as if he knew what was coming Heeseung's way too soon.

"I asked you something Jaeyun" Heeseung glared sternly at Jaeyun. Jaeyun just raised both of his arms in surrender, feigning innocence. "What man! I'm giving you a good dare.. cmon..there is no risk in that"

"But there sure is a plot twist"

everyone suddenly moved their eyes to him. "What twist?" Sunghoon asked suddenly getting curious and placed his glass down on the table.

"You not only have to date the girl...but you also have to take her virginity..."

The whole drowd erupted in chaos and laughter as if Jaeyun wasn't proposing a challenge but doing some stand up comedy.

"Come on Jake..we're in our sophomore year already...no girl as such is left virgin inside this campus..only if you don't count those twinks holes"

That guy said to Jaeyun and wandered his eyes to Rumi, a guy who was attracted to men and very submissive. Rumi upon feeling his gaze on him just covered himself with his jacket. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"Anyways..that is your dare"

"What the fuck is your problem dude... now how am I gonna find a virgin here...let alone date and take her virginity????" Heeseung said visibly frustrated having no idea of the game Jaeyun was plotting for him.

More of a destruction rather than a game.

"I know one..who is"

"Y/N" "What??"

Heeseung's eyebrows raised in confusion. You were one of the cheerleaders.. so ofcourse he knew you but you two never crosssed paths...even though you had mutuals like Jaeyun himself.

"Are you talking about that cheerleader who goes to date with a different guy every month??? Lmfao..never in my fucking life I'd believe she's a virgin."

"But she is" jaeyun said calmly, knowing what he was doing.

"She's just too kind and very popular so whenever someone asks her out on a date..she just agrees to go, but usually it's a one time thing, and she hasn't fucked any of them yet.."

"Trust me she's my friend..I know..all of her friends know that, you can ask them."

Heeseung placed both of his arms on the table, carefully analyzing whatever Jaeyun was trying to do here.

"But she's your friend..? Why are you making her the target? knowing very well she'll get hurt from this?"

"I have my own reasons."

"Hyung...the way you're asking so many questions make it seem like you're trying to chicken out of it...are you scared?" Ni-ki said sucking on the lollipop, grinning from ear to ear seeing his captain flushed like that.

The bottle landed on Heeseung after a long while..so it was time for a long dare too.

Heeseung glared at Ni-ki and then looked at Jaeyun.

"Bring it on then"

and then the challenge got its own take-off.

————————

"The midterms are gonna kill me....AWHHH!!"

Chaewon said burying her face in the crook of your neck. "Hmm tell me about it"

You patted her head. Both of you were just finished with your cheerleader activities and now the midterms were about to start, giving you an absolute no-break life. Your other friends also walked side by side visibly exhausted after the long major class.

"So what happened to the Taeyong guy, Y/N-ah?? Any plans of dating him???" One friend of yours asked, plugging out one of her earphones.

You just gave a sheepish smile at her. "Uhm no..he was nice..but we only went on a date once...and that kinda told me that we weren't compatible as a couple..you know??"

"And did you guys fuck after that date or not???" Chaewon asked wiggling her eyebrows, you just spanked her hands lightly and chuckled.

"No! Not at all.."

"are you planning to stay fucking celibate and become a nun or what???"

Thst broke the group into laugh. "No but I need to find a good guy.."

"Good girls like you need a bad guy for them..I guess you haven't found him yet.." Wonyoung whispered raising her shoulders as if were the most factual thing that's ever come out of her mouth.

But somewhere along the lines..she wasn't wrong too.

"Kay bye everyone..!" You bid them bye and walked to get to the library. Your eyes on your phone, scrolling all the dms you received from different guys, trying to pick out who to choose for the next time.

A sigh escaping you when none of them caught your eye. They were good, nice, polite even. But they were not what you wanted..not what you needed. One more reason to not lose your virginity.

You craved a suffocatingly dizzying depth, a mesmerizing true devotion, and a guy who had a burning desire in his eyes.

which none of the guys you met showed you yet—

"Jesus christ—!!!!"

Your train of love thoughts came to an end when you felt your foot slip and the world tilt infront of your eyes. Oh my god..I fucking slipped on the floor. You immediately closed your eyes. Already imagining everyone's reaction when you touch the ground, how embarrassing that will be be for you, you clutched the phone tight in your hands squeezing your eyes..

But the fall never came??

You peeked your eyes open suddenly, when you felt two warm hands wrap around your waist gently.. to stop you from falling and your vision came back to see a handsome face just inches apart from you.

Lee Heeseung. The basketball team captain. Sophomore year just like you. He was popular, even more than you, around the whole campus. Girls drooled and died just to befriend him, date him or sleep with him. Even some of the young female professors swooned over him..and one even slept with him.

You heard the stories. Of course you did.

Everything fell into slow motion but soon came back to normal when you both detached yourselves from eachother. People around you two present, whispering things, already anticipating some dating rumors.

"Hey..are you okay???" Heeseung said as he held both of your edges of shoulder with his hands and tilted his face down a little to match your height. His eyes so bambi and innocent. You've never seen him like this.

Never during the matches, never during the classes, never during anything. He was softer than you've seen him before.

"Yea-yeah..I'm okay, thanks for saving me"

you bowed down your head a little and immediately let your eyes fall on the ground where you slipped to spot....a banana peel?

"Wow what the fuck"

Your eyes squinted, "now who the fuck is eating bananas and throwing them in the middle of the corridor??"

"I know right..tell me about it..they neeed to be careful when littering." He agreed with you and then gave you a heart shaped hot pack.

"Here..apply this on the back of your calves.. since you were about to slip suddenly.. so your muscles must've been stretched..apply this to them a little, yeah?" He said giving a pearly smile, patted your head lightly and went away with his almost empty bag hanging on one side of his shoulder.

Leaving you there..dumbfounded.

What the fuck just happened and why the fuck did that make you fucking blush???

—————————

as soon as Heeseung turned his direction and entered another building, he heard clapping sounds from behind. It was Jaeyun. He was grinning and leaned on the wall.

"Dare I say...oscar worthy performance??"

Heeseung just chuckled at his words and rolled his eyes. "Better than the oscars"

Jaeyun then started walking towards him and came closer, putting his hand on Hee's shoulder. "But that was dangerous..you know right???"

"You intentionally put the banana peel on the floor where she was about to come to make it slippery without anyone noticing..and then grabbed her like you were her saviour"

"When in reality..you were almost about to let her get hurt"

Heeseung just yanked Jake's hands away from his shoulders. "But she didn't get hurt right?"

"But she could've" "but she didn't."

"Look Jaeyun-ah..I'll do it my own way, so don't pretend to care for your friend now.. after you've purposely given her name to me."

Heeseung then licked his lips and gave a nasty smrik to Jaeyun. His eyes turning dark for a second.

"And you know what..she's pretty..really pretty..now even if you take back the dare..I won't stop from making her mine."

He smriked at Jaeyun and walked away while humming to himself.

"Can't wait to take her virginity ~~~"

——————————

Next day

You entered the class earlier than everyone else..

you looked at the watch. and you were twenty minutes early today. your eyes squinted. how did I come this early?‎

you shrugged your thoughts and took a seat anyway. curling your hair with one fingers and with the other, scrolled on your phone through some of your guy friends texts

‎"Jeno : cafe date when sweetie?"‎ "Kyung : wanna grab matcha?" ‎"Minso : I like you Y/Nieee, would you like to go out with me?"‎‎

you sighed putting the phone face down and started scribbling on your notebook, getting lost in your thoughts. ‎as much as you acknowledged these guys and admired their feelings for you. ‎it just was not it.‎ not what you craved. ‎your mind started reeling back to what happened yesterday.

the basketball captain Heeseung and how he saved you from falling. how warm his fingers felt against your bare waist. how deep his voice sounded. you quickly shrugged those memories. it's not like there's anything though, you didn't even know him properly.

‎but what you did know was that you wanted someone who'd make you forget your days and nights, someone who'd carry you with grace.‎

you wanted a darkness that consumes you—

‎"a darkness that consumes you?"

your breath got stuck midway when you looked up to spot Heeseung standing infront of you. your face getting pale,

how did he—did he just—?‎

Heeseung saw your pale face and quickly pointed at the notebook to clear out the confusion.

"your scribbles, you were writing them so I read them"

you quickly looked down to find that you were writing everything... EVERYTHING.

‎‎"not what you craved. how warm his fingers felt against your bare waist. how deep his voice sounded. ‎but what you did know was that you wanted someone who'd make you forget your days and nights, someone who'd carry you with grace.‎ you wanted a darkness that consumes you—"‎‎

your eyes widened and you quickly closed down your notebook..

fuck.. that was so embarassing. you wondered if he read those and understood that those were about him..why not just dig a hole and bury yourself at this point? but sadly you could do nothing. ‎so you quickly looked up and tried to be defensive.‎

"you do know it's not polite to peak into someone's notebook without them knowing, right?" you interrogated with one brow raised. ‎Heeseung just raised his hands in the air, accepting defeat, definitely not wanting to piss the target off before the dare is even complete.

‎"you're right, it was my fault.. should've asked"

he scratched  the back of his neck and went to sit on a chair. ‎finally sighing.. you put the journal back before anyone could read it once more.‎ you were NOT taking chances after this.‎‎ sounds of approaching footsteps made both your and Heeseung's ears perk up and you lifted your head to see a guy entering the classroom. 

you very well knew who that guy was. a guy that has been trying to hit on you since the very start of the freshman year. he fixed his hair and, walked closer to you, sitting in the chair infront of you and smiled at you. you've said no to him multiple times, have made multiple different excuses, but he never really cared or listened, claimed he would still like you.

liking someone was okay but it gets to a point.

Heeseung noticed your uncomfortable position as soon as the guy entered. he wanted to step in but held back a little to observe. not him, but observe you. observe how easy of a target you were.

afterall that was the only thing you were to him. right?‎

"missed me, Y/N-ah?" you looked into his eyes but didn't smile and just slowly replied. "I didn't."

‎the guy chuckled. he was Ren, really popular among girls himself, but he only wanted you, fucked every girl but only claimed to love you. it felt ego-boosting at first to have a popular guy like you but it turned creepy when you didn't find him your type and rejected his proposal after the first date. 

"too bad cause I did miss you.. recently you haven't been visiting our library we used to go"‎

"I don't like that library anymore." lie

‎you only stopped going there because of his creepy stares to you all the time.

‎Heeseung could've let you handle it on your own... afterall...why the fuck would he care? he was no different or saint from that guy... if being realistic, but something in him still stirred and told him to go and protect you.

he stood up from his seat, walking over and nonchalantly sat beside you. interrupting the intense eye contact you were having with Ren. both of you looked at Heeseung. who just came up and sat beside you, his eyes still on the phone not moving an inch. with one hand he scrolled on his phone and with the other, he smoothly slid it behind your chair almost touching your back.

that didn't move Ren in a better way. ofcourse Heeseung and Ren knew eachother, and of-fucking-course not in a good way.

"brother Lee, it's mine"

Ren said leaning, putting both his elbows on your table and looked at Heeseung. Heeseung immediately understood what he meant. he was implying that you were his, and not Heeseung's. Heeseung just chuckled. the mention of you being someone else's, that bloomed something ugly in him. "you're living in delusion, Ren"

Heeseung was very much sleep deprived and had no energy to fight whatsoever, so his tone was still not enough to instigate any argument. but apparently Ren had other plans. he looked at you. you were just watching the boys speak, not exactly getting what they were trying to say and you were terribly annoyed at Ren's presence to focus on their double meanings aswell.

Ren looked at you and smiled. and then looked at Heeseung and then back at you.

"has my Y/Nie already made a boyfriend behind my back?"‎

your brow raised when you realised that he was seeing you and Heeseung as a couple. you were about to interrupt when Heeseung answered.

"yep she has"

‎"and this boyfriend of hers doesn't really like when other guys roam around her like bugs..so the bugs should get away"

Heeseung said leaning on his chair, his hand was now slowly caressing your back to show the couple pda.

Ren just chuckled. the pain burning in his heart but he knew better than to mess with Heeseung... so he just stared at you for the last time and quietly went out of the classroom. ‎you turned to Heeseung,

"thank you.. he's really creepy and annoying everytime" "why don't you report it?"

‎"cause he's one of the richest students like you, nobody really listens to complaints against him" ‎"don't worry, I'll be there whenever he comes.."

he smiled at you to which you smiled back...and that's only when you realised that his fingers and his palm were still caressing your back, drawing circles on it, sharing warmth. for a moment you forgot everything in your surroundings and only focused on how his fingers moved on your back, giving you slow caressing.

‎but soon you heard other classmates come in and Heeseung quickly moved his hands away. making crimson appear on your cheeks and a question rise in your heart.‎

am I falling in love with the one that could break my heart?

‎‎——————‎

‎"sorry but it's out of stock now"  the lady said with a sad smile.

‎"what?? ahh nooo ughhhh" you sighed out of annoyance, there was a trending strawberry-milk-chocolate lollipop trending around the street and you wanted to try it so bad.

you knew the university cafeteria had it but now suddenly it was gone.... you wanted to ask the lady more, but then your friends pulled you back.

"ah leave it YN... it will come and restock again..." Wonyoung said handling you a bottle of water. you took it and gulped the water and soon got lost with your girlfriends , gossip and gimbap.

‎—————

‎‎it was time for the classes and none of them shared this one with you, so you parted ways with them and took the yard route to get to another building. the yard was pretty empty with only one or two people around walking with headphones on. you were also texting one of your childhood friends about your day when you bumped into someone's chest.

"oh sorry—" you looked up to see Heeseung with the sugar pop in between his lips.

wait was that the..trending one?‎

you shooed your thought away and bowed your head down to apologise a little for bumping. then your eyes went again to the candy he was having..and to your inconvenience, Heeseung very well noticed it.

"are you looking at the candy between my lips or my lips around the candy?"

‎both.

that's what you would've said if you weren't a pussy.‎

"the pop between your lips" you raised your brows.

"it's the trending strawberry milk chocolate one with the bigger size right??" you blurted out which made Heeseung widen his eyes a little. you just nervously chuckled.

"well I've wanted to taste it for a long time...that's how I remembered..." "you haven't tasted it yet?" you shook your head, clicking your tongue. "nope not yet.. I was gonna but they were out of stock." "oh too bad."

but then his lips curved into a little smile.

"do you wanna taste it?"

"i mean it's infront of you, you want a taste?"

you bit your lips and looked at the sugar between his lips. you didn't know what tempted you more. his lips or the sugar. he sucked the life out of it infront of you, attaching both his lips around the sugar and practically had a makeout with it and then started with long licks around it. you didn't know why but the sounds along with the visual representation was making you wet...and Heeseung was well aware of that everytime the sound came, you were closing your legs together very subtly.‎ but enough for him to notice.

"wanna have a taste?" you body moved before your brain could and you nodded instantly, almost looking so dumb you were sure of it. ‎

"do you want it?" "yes"

‎he walked closer to you and licked the lollipop for the last time before taking it out of his mouth, you expected him to give you that. you looked at him but what you didn't expect him to do..

was grab you by your neck and attach his flavored lips to yours.

your body froze for a second. your eyes still open but his were well closed and he started moving his lips instantly, wasting no time. and parted his lips, letting his tongue covered with the sugar flavor...enter your mouth and make you dizzy from how the taste was coming altogether.

he held your waist strongly and started walking you backwards till you hit a little hard surface.. you assumed it was tree.. since you were in the yard. he pinned your both hands above your head and deepend the kiss leaking all that sugar juice into your mouth.

you were so lost in the kiss, your lips moved on your own, opening just right for his tongue to enter, holding your breath for so long and even responding well to the kiss even though it was the first, such an intense kiss of your life. 

all the kisses you had before with guys, were short and sweet. it was the first time you experienced.. such an intense, deep and long one.‎ you both finally parted ways..breathless.‎

you held on his collar, "what was that for?"‎

"didn't you say you wanna have a taste?" "I meant the candy!"

"I taste better than that"

he pressed you down on the branch and started kissing you again to which you kissed him back. saliva drooling onto your neck, the subtle scare of a professor waking away. but the way his lips danced against your own made you forget everything about your day.‎‎

but one thing you were still unknown of......

was that Heeseung intentionally bought all the lollipops and made them go "out-of-stock" just so he could lure you in and steal this kiss.

—————

‎you didn't know how and why but since then, Heeseung became an important part of your life, always showing up, saving you, helping you, entertaining you..people teased you two as couples due to how you two were acting all lovey-dovey with eachother...... and despite denying them and their teasings.

something in your heart still bloomed like a fire when you put "Heeseung" and "Love" in the same sentence.

‎‎soon enough he asked you on a date, ‎

"what are you doing Y/N-ah??" Heeseung said looking over your phone where you were smiling seeing some of the guys texts and they were saying funny things to you about how they would dress up as teletubbies for your date. you didn't want to go on date that much these days but due to a bit pressure, still agreed to go on a date with Taehyun.

‎Heeseung scoffed looking at how happy you were looking at your phone. he didn't like it a bit.

the mention of Jungwon, Taehyun, Ren and not him. something ugly was rising in his heart. and so he said.

"are those the kiddie guys you're going on a date with, love?"

he possessively slid a hand across your shoulder and leaned down to where you were sitting, and with his other hand, he lifted your chin up to make you look at him and not the texts of other guys.

some of the guys were your friends, you can't let him diss them like that. right? you looked at him and replied.

"some of em are my friends Hee—"

"get yourself a real man, Y/N-ah" 

his grip on your chin got firm, not breaking the eye contact. the tension so heavy, it could be felt in the air. "Hee—"

"would you like to go on a real date with me instead of all of them?"

your breath hitched. suddenly the room felt too small, the air too thick and your mind too big. you should've said no, your date was already fixed but still your mind wandered with a thousand possibilities. ‎his gaze still fixed on you, waiting for your "yes", cause he knew he was getting one.‎

"I—I will"‎ good.

Heeseung smiled at you, his grip on your chin getting gentle and he kissed you right there.

‎dare step 1, complete.‎

that day, you both went home with different victories in your mind.

————

FIRST DATE

‎you entered the venue of where your supposed date was going to take place. it was a dimly lit billiard-pool hall, semi crowded by young people.

various crowds of smoke came from different areas, girls puffing out their life away. while the dark chuckles of men surrounded the four walls.

it was new to you. usually for dates, the university or non-university guys took you to either a five star restaurant, cafe or museums.

you never met a guy who invited you to such a mysterious place.

‎this was new. this was exciting.‎

you were about to text Heeseung when a certain voice caught your attention from the back.

"searching for someone...?" you turned around to spot Heeseung leaning on one of the tables. sporting baggy jeans, white tee and a black leather jacket. ‎

goddamn..‎

you silently gulped away the thirst that formed inside you for him and went towards him. "heyy.. I was just about to text you" he just smiled and gave you a light hug, soon extending his forearm infront of you to hold on.

"first time..here?" ‎you shyly smiled and nodded.

"well then let's make it unforgettable for you"‎

————

‎‎he led the way to an even darker and dim hall which was less crowded but still carried the same sensual aura which did things to your mind. Heeseung looked at the guy who was playing the slow music in the background.

"brother Jim..play Criminal".

Heeseung then looked back at you and titled his head, eyeing you up and down.

"cause I'm gonna commit a crime today" ‎ that presumably Jim guy nodded and soon played "Criminal by Britney Spears".‎ you raised a brow and leaned your back onto the tables. the sudden rush of confidence and adrenaline flooding your senses. 

"what crime are you planning to commit today, Mr. Lee?"

‎Heeseung bit his lower lip, taken aback by your sudden shift, but God.... only he knew how much hotter that made you look. so he started taking slow deliberate steps towards you and finally came closer to answer your question.

"crimes that will leave you with permanent stains"

Heeseung's eyes turned serious for a split second before they returned to flirtatious again. cause he wasn't lying with those words....at all.‎ he then smiled at you and held your hand.

"come on darling, play with me" ‎you two stood beside the table, you pouted and looked at him. "but I don't know how to play—"

"I'll teach you..everything"‎

he tucked one strand of hair behind your ear and suddenly, very aggressively turned you around so now you were facing the table and he was right behind you. you gasped.

"Hee—" "shh"‎

he shushed you while both his hands trailed from your back to your shoulders and he gently pressed on them to make you lean on the table. and he didn't stop bending you like that till your breast were getting flushed and pressed down to the table, till your back was completely arched and till your ass started rubbing on his thigh. Heeseung looked at the sight and he knew he could cum from this alone if he just looked too long.

so he leaned even closer to you and made his lips come closer to your ear. the heat of his body touching every right parts of your body. letting goosebumps rise up. momentarily stopping your breath between. you tried your best to stay calm but still jerked when you felt his lips whispering near your ear.

"are you ready love?"

he was completely bent down at your level, his body pressed to yours, nothing was left untouched. you could feel his cologne sticking to your black dress now, from how close you two were. you looked around and were glad that everyone was busy in their own worlds. your eyes then landed on Jim guy who was playing music. he seemed really close to Heeseung.. interesting.‎

you tilted your face a little so now your cheeks were touching Heeseung's lips a bit, giving you shivers.

"you must come here often, no?"

you saw Heeseung's smile drop a bit before it came back and he replied.

"why?" he said smiling but his tensed raised eyebrows gave it away. "that Jim guy..he recognised you" "ahh him"

Heeseung didn't know what to say cause he did infact come here alot of times. with the guy friends, with girls, with other's girlfriends. the lack of response kind of pissed you for no reason.‎

"how many girls have you brought here, Lee?" you asked with curiosity and hidden jealousy.

"does it really matter? if you're the only one who's currently with me?"‎

he said and gave you no time to react as he started kissing the back of your neck purposely to shut you up and that did work.

"ahh..Hee not here!." but he sucked harder at your words. "I wonder if it really matters who was here before you..if the one feeling my lips on her skin right now is you"

he said and bit the side of your neck gently. not enough to sting, but enough to be felt. ‎you felt the desperation in his voice. your heartbeat started increasing.

did he get mad? you gulped. you didn't want to hurt him.

"hey hey." you moved your neck away from his lips a little and looked at him. "hey I'm sorry..I didn't mean to offend you or anything"‎

bingo. you fell right into the trap.‎

Heeseung laughed mentally but from the outside, he just gave a mad eyeroll. it was so much fucking fun for him.

the irony of having to apologise when it wasn't even your fault and just a mere question.

too easy to gaslight and manipulate.‎

"it's fine" you quickly took his hands and interwined them with yours, leaning back on him to let him feel you against him more, touching the side of your cheek with his, you affirmed him.

"Hee..I—won't you teach me?" he quickly looked at you and made the corner of his lips lift. God, he couldn't torture you further, you were too kind for it.‎

"I will teach you" he gave a peck on your lips and sneaked his hands until they landed on your ass and gave a hard spank. it made an embarassingly loud sound. your eyes widened and you looked around but luckily the background music was loud enough to cover whatever just happened.

you looked back at Heeseung and he just seemed chill. he quickly stood tall again and pressed you even lower to the table. getting as closer to you as possible and letting you feel his leather belt on your ass. at this point, he was literally grinding without even moving. he gave one light spank again and gave a light tug at your hair.

"come on baby girl..eyes on the game now."‎

————

later on that night, when dropping you to your shared apartment with your girls, he stopped you in the living room, went down on his knees with a bouquet of red roses in his hand and proposed you.‎

"would you like to be my girlfriend, Y/N?"‎

your eyes getting wet as you looked at your girls who were squealing with happiness on the side upon witnessing such a romantic act and gave you a thumbs up to accept his proposal. something stirred in Wonyoung cause she knew how much of a womanizer Heeseung was, but she shrugged it away thinking that maybe he finally changed due to how sweet he was to you.

your heart beating rapidly when you nodded your head with tears in your eyes and accepted the bouquet of red romantic roses.

Heeseung soon getting up and embracing you in a tight hug. you didn't know why but you felt your heart drop as soon as he hugged you. as if you said yes to a wrong thing. but you assured yourself that you were just nervous and your mind was making things up due to the novelty of the situation.‎‎

rule no 1? always trust your instincts.‎‎

——————‎

the news of the loved cheerleader and the popular basketball captain dating eachother started selling like hotcakes. it was whispered in every corner, talked on every student forum and broke many hearts. it was a big thing cause you were known to usually turn down men after the first date, claiming they were "not your type" and Heeseung was the type to never date but only do hookups. so people did see it as a miracle. ‎but not all miracles are good ‎‎

————‎

"you're taking way too long, hyung" Ni-ki said crushing the cigarette with his feet.‎

"I would've completed that if I was you" ‎Heeseung just rubbed his forehead and massaged his temple and replied. "you don't know how she is.. so don't say anything"

"how is it really going for you tho? took her virginity yet?" Jay interrogated. ‎

"nahh man.. haven't taken it yet‎" Heeseung hissed opening the can and chugged it all down at once. ‎

"you should've taken it by now.. it's been one month to the dare already...it's not supposed to take that long"‎ Jaeyun said rubbing his temples, tensed and feeling out of time as if he was doing it instead of Heeseung.‎ those words annoyed Heeseung who was already pissed at something from the morning.

‎"I'll TAKE IT! OKAY!!? I'LL FUCKING TAKE IT!! don't think I'm not fucking capable of doing that dare!! ofcourse it's gonna take time since she's inexperienced...but I've already started dating her so the next step will come very soon"‎

"then I hope you succeed in it...‎captain" Jaeyun said while he scrolled on the university news about you and Heeseung's dating rumors.‎

————

from then on, Heeseung was kind of shocked with how much you changed since you became his girlfriend. regular good morning, good night texts, texting him to choose between two outfits or two nail colors, bringing something you made by your own hands for him, like a scarf, some cookies or even helping him in his assignments. he never took you for the clingy type.

but he liked it. though it was little annoying but he knew he had to bare with it and also take some actions himself, if he really wanted to complete the challenge.

—————

You were talking to Subin in the class, he was one of your childhood friends. Your parents jokingly used to say they would make you two marry eachother when you were a child. But Subin never had any feelings for you, you were sure of that.

he cracked a joke which made you laugh and you hit his shoulder lightly. "You're so funny bro..what's wrong with you!" You two laughed.

but from the corner of your eyes you saw Heeseung enter the classroom and your smile dropped by a bit.

Heeseung also changed a bit, in the sense.. it wasn't toxic, but he became overly possessive, territorial and jealous over little things. He didn't like you talking to other guys when he wasn't there, he always told you to block guys who had a crush on you and definitely despised all your male friends.

He came where you two were and gently caressed your hair.

It was supposed to be a challenge right? then why was it fucking painful to see any other guy making you laugh?

Even Heeseung didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him these days but he didn't pay those feelings any attention and only focused to make a step today.

the class started. Heeseung purposely made you sit in the back rows with him where noone was...since most students sat in the front and middle row. Claiming he wanted to "spend more time" with you.

15 minutes into the class. You felt him caressing your thigh. Goosebumps came and your body jerked a little when he started massaging your thighs over your skirt.

You pretended that you had no idea what was happening and kept your head forwards to the board but still your body told him that it was receiving the touch very well.

His hands slowly went inside your skirt and he touched your wetness. Your eyes widened and you stopped his hand by grabbing his wrist. You whispered.

"What are you doing Hee?" "What I should've long time ago"

"what do you mean?"

"I'm just giving you my love darling..it's a little different form of love that's it...are you willing to accept my love?"

You gulped a little but nooded letting him continue. his fingers roamed around your core but it was too much for you... if he would continue any longer, you were sure an orgasm would hit you right here.

"please hee later" you begged him and he finally stopped. But later on he dragged you by your arms in a dark dimly lit locker room which seemed to have been abandoned.

"B-but someone would—" "noone would come baby"

"Noone would" he said as he went down on his knees and pulled your skirt down and gave you the best head you could have ever had as your first experience. It left you shaking. You slowly pulled your skirt up, still trying to wipe the wetness while you legs were trembling with each step.

But Heeseung wasn't done.

"Won't you return the favor?"

He said coming back on his feet and pulled you by the v line top revealing your breasts. He digged his face inside and closed his eyes taking long inhales of your chest and then finally pulled away. You knew what he meant by returning the favor.

But you didn't know how to give a head. But how could u say no to him?

"I—I will" you looked into his eyes and took his index finger in your mouth, sucking it for a while before Heeseung successfully made you go down on your knees and held your hair in a ponytail in one hand.

Already relaxed cause noone was coming, i mean how would he not?

He had several experiences in this locker room with other girls..so he was indeed speaking from experience but you were too unaware to realise it.

"Go ahead" he commanded which made you rub your knees together.

"H—Hee..I—I" "you what baby?"

"I—I don't know how to give a head" "what!?"

he pulled out the most shocked expression he could, mixing it with a bit of sympathy and surprise. Like he had no idea about this. Like he definitely didn't know this was a part of his plan. He caressed your hair and bent down to your level for a bit.

"It's okay darling..I'll teach you everythinggg"

"Open the belt first" you hesitated but he made your both hands go on the belt, you slowly unbuckled the belt and put it away. and lifted your eyelashes to look at him.

And damn that sight came straight out of heaven for Heeseung. Right now, he just wanted to put himself in your mouth already..but he waited.

He has come so far, he wouldn't let a single horniness ruin it all.

So he slowly guided you, slowly helped you, your mouth, how you should move your tongue, told you to look up at him, and gave occasional light slaps on your cheek to guide you in the right place.

He wouldn't admit..but that was one of the best head he got from a virgin.

—————

D-DAY OF VIRGINITY LOSS

it was your weekend movie night with Heeseung tonight at his apartment, in which he used to live alone, you cozied up on the couch draping the blanket over yourself but something inside you was buzzing.

Last move night, you and Heeseung watched "Titanic" together which made you both horny, you told him that you wanted to do it. But him being the respectful boyfriend he was, told you that he would only do it when you're ready. So you told him next moive night you'd be fully ready for it.

And it was tonight.

You gulped chunks of redbull to calm your heart that was beating rapidly since this morning at the thhought of losing your virginity.

You knew this wasn't the first for Heeseung... but it was for you.... so you were pretty nervous and did an everything shower, matched your lingerie, watched some videos on pornhub, and some youtube advices from girls on how to please your man....yet the unease wasn't getting away at all.

Heeseung came back with the popcorn and saw your tesned body language. He immediately gave you a big hug from the back startling you at first. "It's okay if you're not read—"

"I am." You said firmly. You wanted to do it. You trusted Heeseung with your life at this point. There was noone better than him for your first. And in the very quiet..he looked in your eyes and whispered.

"I love you" you smiled and put your head on his chest.

"I love you too" you replied back kissing him.

the movie ended and just when he was about to grab the remote to turn it off. you grabbed him by his collar and kissed him, soon getting on top of him, straddling him, he was baffled.. not that he was complaining at all.

He kissed back with the same passion and carried you bridal style to his master bedroom which had view of the entire seoul city.

In Heeseung's mind, only one thought chanted.

"Yes...this is it... tonight's the night... I'll be done with my bet"

He turned you around and pushed your cheek flush to the glass wall.

Caressing your ass in your skirt and started riding up his hands inside it catching your breath way. Your heartbeat fastening as his hands went up and he rolled down the skirt and opened the zipper of your tank top soon attaching his wet tongue onto your bare back sliding his tongue up and down.

"Ahh hee fuck—"

and then went to your neck licking a stripe of the flesh of your neck and gave a bite... making a sultry moan break out of you. Your legs trembled as he got rid of the rest of your lingerie too and turned you around achieving the heavenly sight of your naked boobs which were a little red due to being pressed to the glasswal. He hissed.

"fucking milk factories"

He wasted no time in attaching his lips to one of them while the other was squeezed continuously with his hands. You grabbed at his hair, pushing his face even deeper in your chest loving the tingling and sensual sensation of feeling a man's wet plump lips on them for the first time.

He detached and again went for your lips. His both lips capturing your bottom lip in a hard pull and he started specially sucking on them...leaving you breathless..after he made sure that your bottom lips were swollen, then he entered his tongue inside your mouth...

one of his hands grabbing your face firmly and pulled you closer to make his tongue go even deeper in your mouth than it already was.

with the other hands he started smearing your wetness on your thighs making you ashamed at how you were dripping so hard for him. You finally started hitting on his bare chest when you felt a lack of breath and only then... did he detach himself from eating your mouth.

"Ahh fuck Hee!! you literally took my breath away"

"and it's only the start."

He said carrying your naked body bridal style and plopped you down on his smooth bed, your body bouncing a little but then he pinned your hands above your head and licked your earlobe whispering,

"do you want it baby?" "Yes"

You nodded frantically which made a reassuring smile come up on his face. You sneaked your hands on his chest and trailed them down till it reached his black trousers. He was visibly and terribly hard. You teasingly caressed his inner thighs... biting your lips. Which made a hiss break out of him.

He immediately stopped your hands and with his other, he held your chin and strongly lifted your face up to meet his eyes.

"You're doing it on purpose...aren't you?"

"Really?.. But I didn't even do anything..I don't even know anything"

you pouted feigning innocence and tried to hold back your smile but he grabbed at your hair and pulled it. You yelped.

"Ahhh Hee!!" "pretty baby..."

he finally caressed your hair back. trailing his hands from your lips to your neck to your boobs to your stomach and to your cunt..dropping down on your legs. Admiring your virgin body for the last time. And kicked his trousers away and murmured,

"it's about time you get ruined for good.."

and then fucked you like an animal would, like a predator would to its prey before killing it. You cried your tears of popping your cherry, happy that you lost it to no other than Heeseung.

Cause there was no better man than Heeseung right?

but poor girl had no idea..what Heeseung really meant by ruining you for good.

—————

"So..when are you breaking up with her???" Sunghoon asked eyeing Heeseung, who seemed very stressed for someone who just completed his dare.

"Come on hyung, break up with her...do it fast..3 months have passed since you were given this bet and now you've finally completed it..so break things off soon... so that we can play another truth and dare."

Heeseung scoffed at Riki's words.

"This time I'm giving Riki, the dare to bedazzle the principal's mercedes without him knowing..."

"Yeah and I'll give you the dare to intentionally fail in all your end semester exams..how's that for you?"

Riki and Sunoo fought in the background but Heeseung's mind wandered somewhere else. He finally completed the dare...so why the fuck was he feeling bad for it?

"Look hyung..you're getting attached...but I know a way to break it....instead of thinking of the good times...think about all the worst times you two had! think of the cons of your relationship.."

Heeseung raised one brow and started thinking about it. He couldn't just think about you in a bad light but he still tried. When he thought negatively....more negative thoughts started flooding his brain. Fogging his brain, making him dizzy. Completely shutting off his human side.

"You're right." he finally spoke.

"I'm just getting attached!.. when in real, our relationship was nothing but a joke..she's...she's so fucking annoying bro..she literally texts me every two hours...sends me tons of things..forces me to visit new cafes and libraries with her..and makes me eat her and wear her handmade items i don't even like...she's so fucking fake..she's a pick me aswell..she acts a certain way to lure guys in...and she even gives me gold digger vibes."

The whole room fell silent. Nobody expected Hee to say that much.

"isn't he taking it too far???" Riki asked to which Jaeyun just nodded. Jaeyun saw this coming, ofcourse he did, since day one.

"And you know what? If not for the dare, if it was not for the fucking bet, I wouldn't even look in her direction to even kiss her, let alone fuck and date her..popular celibate cheerleader? My fucking foot—"

*CRASH*

the sound of glass crashing made Sunghoon and Jay look in the direction of where it came from and what they saw there, completely turned their face pale.

You stood there.

At the entrance of Heeseung's apartment. Your hands empty and the glass bowl you had with redvelvet cake destroyed completely on the floor. The crushed glass bowl mixed with the redvelvet cake, gave an illusion of blood.

As if a version of you just died, there and then.

The other guys also turned their head by reflex and......so did Lee Heeseung.

He...saw....you...the shock was too big... it took him seconds to process that you were there...standing at his apartment door.

"I'll come over today, I'll prepare your favorite red velvet cake..I'll bring it over okay???? Don't eat anything else"

that was what you said yesterday on the phone call with Heeseung..and Heeseung very much did not remember it at all. The words circled around in red letters around the silhouette of you standing there. His mind was dizzying itself.

On the treshhold you stood.

Your hands trembling. your feet shaking. Your eyes teary. Your vision blurry. You saw all of their faces but your eyes stopped at only one of them. Lee Fucking Heeseung.

you looked at him in the eye from a distance. Every time he made you laugh, every moan he tore out of you, everytime he helped you, everytime he taught you, everytime he protected you.

Was that all...a dare, a challenge, a bet to him?

All those memories started playing in the projector of your brain. Your tears fell without a single second miss.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"a darkness that consumes you?"

"get yourself a real man, Y/N-ah"

"I love you"

So this was.. what he meant by a real man, right?

A real man who treats you as an object, your relationship as a challenge, your virginity as a bet..to prove his manliness? Was your existence only a fucking game to him?

Wow. You wiped your tears and looked at him for the last time and said loud enough to reach him.

"I hate you, Lee Heeseung"

and ran from there without looking back.

every guy gulped down. Finally realising their game did cross a line this time..and hurt someone. But what was the point to realise when it was already too late?

"Go after her."

Jaeyun said to Heeseung without even looking at him. His eyes still on the door. Jaeyun somehow saw this coming from day one aswell.

Everyone looked at Heeseung to see he was weeping hard. He gave no expression, or tried to give none. But his red eyes, never-ending tears and the way his body was jerking....already was enough of an evidence.

Heeseung didn't wait any further and got up at the speed of light and ran..after you. He didn't care about anything.

Not when his friends shouted at him that he stepped on the glass and cake and his foot was bleeding with a sharp glass inside his flesh. Didn't stop when he made the whole corridor bloody with his bare glass cut foot. His eyes just searched for you.

Your shrill voice ringing in his ear like a haunted melody.

"Hee..please.." "Heeseung ah.."

"what crimes are you planning to commit, Mr. Lee?"

"I love you too"

He ran to the roads and called out your name. "Y/N??????"

"L/N Y/N!!!!????? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU BABY!!!????"

"Please come back Y/NNNN!!!!!!" He cried harder at your name.

The passerbys looked at him like was some sort of crazy...... and to some extent, they were right too. He moved his head here and there, limped with his bloody foot and asked every person...if they've seen his girlfriend, the love of his love...but noone knew.

And he spent the whole night, walking, barefoot, bleeding hard, in search of you, like a madman.

——————

while you sat at the edge of an abandoned street. Hugging your knees. You cried hard. Till your knees were drained with the tears. You sobbed and hugged yourself..because who else did you have?

The person you loved, trusted the most was Heeseung..and he betrayed you..he broke your heart...he broke your fucking trust.

Your world was tilted upside down. You blamed all the times you felt something was off between you two but shrugged it away. You blamed that one time Wonyoung told you to be careful of Heeseung and you accused her of being jealous of you.

Cause you saw nothing wrong with Heeseung. To you, Heeseung was the most perfect man to ever exist.

But your delusion finally broke off..in the most worst way possible.

What was the point of living now, anyway?

What happened broke you to your core, shook all your inner worlds and destroyed your confidence and willingness to live to the point you saw no motive of continuing to live this life.

A new fountain of tears came when you realised you can't just stop living this life. You can't just die. That the msiery you were given to, were fated to, you had no escape from it.. than living it.

Life was unfair to the good ones...always.

—————

next morning,

you woke up and got ready for classes.. cause despite everything that happened. You couldn't bail on your grades, your academics, your parents still had high hopes from you and you couldn't afford to disappoint them too.

You arrived home late yesterday so every girls were asleep already and when you woke up, all of them headed for early classes so nobody really was there for you..

You headed for the University anyway.

Chaewon, Wonyoung along with the rest of the girls quickly ran to you when they spotted you and gave you a big group hug. You assumed everyone knew about the bet and breakup news already.

Good. You didn't want to be associated with Heeseung anymore aswell.

"I'm sorry Wonnie..you were right..it was my fault..I was blinded.."

"It wasn't your fault at all!..if anyone was at fault...it was that Lee!..he will really go to depths of hell for the act he has just pulled!!!"

Wonyoung said and patted your back while the other girls also cuddled you and took you to cafeteria to make you eat something.

—————

when you opened your locker for your books, your eyes widened. There were almost more than 10 bouquets. You picked one and they were all from Heeseung's friends/teammates.

"Hello Y/Niee..it was our fault, we were the ones who encouraged captain to do this dare..please forgive him."

"Hey love Jaeyun here..I gave him your name for the dare..I didn't think it would turn this serious in the end. I'm truly sorry. I know you wouldn't but if still possible even a bit, please forgive us and most specifically Heeseung hyung please."

"We have stopped playing that game and abandoned the tradition completely..please forgive hyung"

You scoffed.

As if Heeseung was a child incapable of making his own decisions. On top of that, His friends/teammates taking the blame only made him look even more entitled and arrogant.

you headed for your class.

————

You entered it. But noone was inside. You still placed your bag on the chair and pulled out your phone, about to call either Subin or Yoonchae, whether this class was cancelled.

just then you heard the door lock.

You turned around to spot...Lee Heeseung.

Wow. You froze. As if your day wasn't going miserable enough.

He looked at you. His eyes puffed and red, he stood with the suport of a bench, his foot had a bandage, he looked miserable.

But why would you care?

He was the reason of your misery too.

You folded your hands above your chest and chuckled. Was he faking an injury to gain sympathy?

You completly stopped seeing him as a human, someone capable of having feelings or emotions... so now everything he did, looked like a dare....a challenge to you.

His eyes softened when he saw you and he started limping towards you.

"y/niee—" "don't dare to come near me."

He stopped in his tracks. This was your first time you ever rejected him from coming close to you.. it hit like a fucking arrow to his heart...but he knew he deserved it.

"Just because your friends apology ideas didn't work so now you're finally here showing your fucking face!!???"

Heeseung knitted his brows . "What do you mean??" you scoffed.

The same good boy act again. You fucking loathed it

"Come FUCKING ON Heeseung..stop pulling the innocent guy's act when you know you forced your friends to take blame and apologise in your behalf!!!"

"I don't.. trust me"

he didn't. In reality, Heeseung had no idea his friends planned this.. cause.. his mind was on you since yesterday evening.

"Lying again..but it's okay..I don't wanna talk to you anyway..so I'll just go.."

You went to the door and tried to open it but unfortunately it was locked and Heeseung had the key. You extended your hand and with no emotions present..said

"Give me the key"

He shook his head as NO like a child. "I won't..not until you hear me..please..love..hear me out..just once"

"What's there to hear about Lee Heeseung? Is it not true that I was a dare to you? Is it not fucking true that you were just there to take my virginity? Is it not fucking true that you found my entire presence annoying???"

"IS IT NOT TRUE THAT OUR RELATIONSHIP WAS A FUCKING JOKE TO YOU?!!!???"

You shouted and your tears started trickling down your cheek. Your eyes getting red and blurry. Heeseung's tears came out flowing looking at you like this.

You were a girl full of love and he made you like this, he sobbed harder.

How will he ever forgive himself for what he made you become?

He destroyed you, the lover girl in you.

He walked slowly towards you and you wiped your tears, sniffing, and extended your hands for the key. He dropped them in your hands.

But what he did next was unexpected.

He dropped on his knees. and lowered his head until they touched your sandals on top of your feet.

You froze. and looked down to see his face completely touching your foot. His chocolate brown fluffy hair making it unable to see if he was crying or not but you felt his tears and his lips on your flesh.

His plump lips made contact with your skin and he kissed your feet.

You couldn't move like this so you tried to hold him by his shoulder and get him up. "Lee Heeseung get up..don't pull this on me—"

"I know I was wrong and there is no justification to any of my actions. Yes it was a dare. Yes it started as a challenge but trust me I never planned to hurt you and turn you like this..please forgive me..please forgive me y/n!"

He rose from your foot and looked up at you, still on his knees. He gently held your thighs to support him from falling down.

"I'm sorry..*sob* I love you *sob* I still do *sob* please forgive me"

You held his collar and grabbed him..lifting his face a little closer to you.

"I loved you Lee Heeseung..I loved you"

Your tears fell between your words, the tears dropping from your cheek to Heeseung's cheek mixing with his own tears. You sobbed maintaining the eye contact and shook your head.

"You shouldn't have done that.."

He sobbed harder at your words, his nose red, breathing heavily and finally lowered his head.

"I know...*sob* I'm *sob* I'm sorry love"

he again lifted his head to look at you, his eyes glossy, face dripping from tears. "Please forgive me." He joined his hands and begged to you, lowering his head.

Your sobs stopped at that. You backed away from him and wiped your tears. turning your face straight, getting rid of any emotion that leaked through. You were not falling for his act again.

"Open the door." "Y/N—baby—please—"

"Open. the. door. Lee Heeseung" he lowered his head and sobbing hard inserted the key and the door opened.

"Baby —"

when you tried to go out he reached for your hand. You yanked it away, hard, which made him fall back onto a wall. He hissed in pain and saw your disappearing figure go.

He fucked up big time...

—————

"It must be so humiliating to save your virginity till the last only to lose it to a fuckboy like Heeseung..who didn't even take your relationship seriously and took it as a joke..its totally Heeseung's fault."

"Yea she could've gotten much better guys.. it's his fault!"

"As if Heeseung doesn't have a dozen girls lined up for him..your yn is nothing special.!!"

freshman fanboys and fangirls of you and Heeseung's argued over who was in the wrong and right. while you heard them with tears in your eyes behind the door while Heeseung heard them when he bent down to pick his phone that fell.

your "destroyed relationship" was their idea of "hot topics."

——————

Next day—

You were going to the cafeteria through the yard route with your girls when Heeseung popped out of nowhere and held your wrist.

"Y/N please..listen to me—" he started begging, making a scene infront of everyone. Embarrassment came up your face when U saw everyone looking at your view.

"Heeseung please.. let's not do this right now"

"You always say this.. then never talk to me ..please Y/Niee "

"Leave her dude the hell is your problem..? she's not your girl anymore" Wonyoung made a disgusted face and pulled you closer to her. Heeseung glared at her

"Whether she is mine or not..you are noone to decide that."

soon it started raining, everyone ran to the cafeteria, Heeseung still had your wrist held. "please Y/N—"

"do you want to hurt me more Lee!!? If yes, then let's get wet in the rain together!"

at that he immediately loosened his grip.

You quickly entered the cafe following your girls but Heeseung stood there and shouted.

"I won't move from here..if you don't talk to me!"

Now everyone was inside the building while only Heeseung stood outside, alone in the heavy pouring rain and thunderstorms. Everyone looked at him and then you and started whispering things.

throught the glass wall of the cafeteria, he looked straight at you, his bangs..wet coming over his eyebrows, his clothes complety drenced.

You didn't back off aswell. You sat directly opposite to him in a distance and maintained the intense eyecontact.

His friends started tensing up. "Hey Yn.. could u please just make him a false hope that you'll talk to him so he comes in????"

Jay said rubbing his temple looking at his friend, he knew Heeseung was gonna get high fever out of it.

Chaewon also bit her lips and suggested. "YN, maybe you should—"

"I won't." You said firm, no double opinions while your gaze still stayed at the man who was drenched infront of you.

Heeseung saw you sit comfortably with your friends, looking at him and not showing an ounce of care for him.

Awh my baby..

even after that, the love he always said he had for you only seemed to double.

..he still saw whatever behind that eye that you were trying to hide.

from then on, you regularly got parcels to your name of flowers, particulary red roses, notes, I love you letters, sorry letters, sweets, cake, chocolates and snacks, teddies, plushies.

You gave the edibles to your friends to eat and gave the flowers to any stranger you passed by..

while you kept all the notes, I love you letters, and sorry letters in a box..

to throw it one day.. obviously..you were sure of it..

But were you trying to deny something that was already inevitable the moment you two met?

——————

you were walking through the corridors to reach the library when you heard a chuckle. A chuckle of someone very familiar. You turned your head to the left to spot Heeseung.....smiling? Your brow raised. Wow. but your surprise only doubled when you heard a girl's chuckle aswell.

You squinted your eyes and spotted a girl, she shared classes sith you and Heeseung, she was sitting beside Heeseung.

"Oh you're so funny! Hee!..!!!" she said giggling and squealing as she hit on his chest. Heeseung also laughed showing his pearly whites while he roamed his hands in his hair.

You felt like puking at the sight. It was so disgusting and it formed something very ugly and terrible inside you, to the point if you would've stayed longer..you would throw up there and then.

So you walked away.

Laughing with a new girl while I just received an "i love you" letter today from him..?

Oh Lee Heeseung.....such a fucking womanizer you are

—————

you were closing your locker when you saw Heeseung approaching you with the same sad, pitiful and depressed look on his face.

As if he wasn't laughing with some bitch hours ago..

talk about duality.

Upon seeing him come towards you, you just wanted to disappear and luckily Subin came towards you with some stuff.

"Hey Y/Nie—" "hey Subin oh my god I missed you!!!!!"

You quickly went up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck giving him a tight unexpected hug.

Subin and Heeseung both froze at that. Subin knitted his brows cause he wasn't expecting that at all. You parted from the hug and looked him in the eye.

"You know..now I get why people said we should marry eachother..you've gotten really handsome.."you said smiling at Subin and pinched his cheeks. Subin became flustered at that and grabbed you by your waist, pulling you closer. "You think so?"

"Ofcourse I do" you said and gave a feather-light peck on his right cheek.

Ouch. That stabbed Heeseung in the heart. If there was any sight he despised the most. It was the idea of you with some other guy.

He almost felt like he couldn't breathe and slowly went out of the frame, forcibly rubbing both his eyes to erase what he just saw.

Another man's hands on your waist, your lips on another man's cheek.

Pack it up..this was unbearable for him.

"Hey..do you wanna do a collab singing on the Uni festival day???" Subin asked you with hope in his eyes. And who were you to say no?

"Yes sure I will"

—————

UNI FESTIVAL DAY

the lights buzzed around the campus as everyone laughed and gathered around the main stage where the performances were going to start now.

you and Subin had the last performance.

You and Chaewon cheering when Wonyoung had a dance performance with Yujin and Rei. Then Chaewon also gave a magic show performance. Along with Riki's solo dance performance.

According to the setlist, it was the time for your performance now. You looked at Subin who nodded and you both were about to walk away to the backstage when the stage lit up again...and you saw Heeseung? with the same girl he was laughing with that day..

Ew what the fuck.

the sight of them made you wanna leave instantly but you were curious of what they prepared.

"Are they having a performance of making out or what?"

you said in your mind but soon widened your eyes when you realised it was just not in your mind and you actually said those words out loud.

Chaewon and Wonyoung suppressed their laugh at your reaction. Soon Heeseung took off his shirt, making the whole crowd of his fangirls and even fanboys go crazyy. "Are they performing a sextape?" Chaewon asked seriously, and at this point you were ready to believe anything.

"Hello Everyone!!! I'm Miranda and this is my guy Heeseung.!"

Her guy?

Your brows raised at the words and you crossed your arms watching whatever was gonna happen. Still noticing how Heeseung was shy on the stage, trying to play nonchalant.

"So here is a blank page and I'll make the portrait of his body, the perfectly built body in less than a minute on this blank page" the whole crowd cheered in anticipation.

"Come on..sit here..Hee" Miranda said while she pushed Heeseung back a little to the chair by touching his naked bare chest.

Wow..the touching along with the nickname..

He really moved on from you. Good. Good for him. Good for me too.

You didn't need such a guy anyway.. the one who previously betrayed you and played with your feelings.

Lee fucking Heeseung. I hate you even more now.

true to miranda's words, she did draw the exact portrait in less than a minute. You tensed. You looked at Subin who reassured you that they were gonna win no matter what.

It was your turn now.

You two went on the stage and all the lights and cameras panned at you both. Subin smiled and went forward.

"Hello Everyone, today Lim Subin and L/N Y/N will present you a song called—"

"We don't talk anymore." the crowd turned tensingly silent when you murmured. and so did Lee Heeseung.

"Music please.."

And the song started. First Subin's part which everyone listened to with patience as...he was quite of a good singer.

"We don't talk anymore.........^^^^^^"

You looked at subin when he sang this part. He sang so well....as if he mourned someone he didn't talk to anymore. But you didn't have much time to think before your part came.

You grabbed your mic and looked straight at the crowd, in the middle stood Lee Heeseung in black, his eyes focused on you, his gaze piercing enough to make you uncomfortable and nervous, even from there.

and you sang like a woman who went through a life changing divorce..cause the feelings were somewhat similar.

"I just hope you're lying next to somebody. Who knows how to love you like me. there must be a good reason that you're gone. Every now and then I think you might want me to come show up at your door. but I'm just too afraid that I'll be wrong."

from the corner of your eyes, you saw Miranda come at Heeseung's side to observe your performance. That scene made your voice go even deeper and lower..perfectly aligning with the melody, captivating the crowd and the judges in.

Subin looked at you deeply, taking in your beauty and the way a certain strand of your hair moved which made you look even prettier than you already were.

He liked you. Had the biggest crush on you since forever. And that will be his secret to you forever.

"Don't wanna know if you're looking into her eyes. if she's holding onto you so tight. the way i did before. i overdosed. should've known your love was a game. now I can't get you out of my brain..oh it's such a shame".

The last line broke you into half laugh, half scoff. The irony of the situation and how it matched the song perfectly.

The crowd was mesmerized, Subin felt proud... but only Heeseung noticed why your eyes were glossy with tears that you were trying to mask by smiling occasionally..

..and also knew the reason for those tears was him. Heeseung himself.

Subin and You concluded with the last line.

"We don't talk anymore like we used to do~"

and you two won the trophy too, by coming first place.

————

after the festival celebration, it was now the time to go back to your dorms, you sighed when you saw all your girls busy with their boyfriends, talking and kissing them, living in the moment. it reminded you of your times...with a certain someone but you quickly shook your head.

There was no benefit in reminiscing on what already passed.

So you started searching for Uber...but your network was being trashy. You hissed and decided to walk back home. Sighing when you realised that,.. it indeed was quite far from here but you still walked anyway cause what else would you do?

You walked for about 10 minutes before a ferrari stopped beside you. you rolled your eyes when you already knew who the car belonged to. You didn't stop walking.

In the end, the ferrari owner, Heeseung had to step out and grab you by your wrist. His touch instantly made you annoyed.

"Get inside the car." "NO."

"Love please.."

"you're NOT my boyfriend Lee Heeseung..stop acting like one"

you yanked his hands away and started walking again, more like stomping away.

He suddenly came infront of you and picked you up bridal style. "You leave me no choice love" you started moving and hit his chest multiple times but he didn't drop you or anything until he placed you right infront of the car door, opened the car door and shoved you in. Forcefully.

"Heeseung you can't force me— you bitch I will sue you—"

suddenly a loud thunderstorm came and it started raining all of a sudden, as if it was also plotting your bad day with Heeseung. Heeseung also sat inside the car but it was raining so terribly that there was no way to drive in it. Unless he wanted to take a risk, which he could've if he was alone, but not with you.

You just rolled your eyes. "If you're not gonna drive just let me get out" but before the whole sentence could even leave your mouth. Heeseung locked your door from his side.

You scoffed. "You really have a kink for trapping and ruinng things, don't you?" He just swirled his tongue inside his cheek at your words.

His eyes moved up and down to your body. Your dress was quite revealing which he didn't like the entire time when guys looked at you but now that you were alone with him..this short little revealing dress was doing things to him. And oh god with your fucking fire mouth that you were spitting lava from..made you even hotter..

Heeseung tried but he was a man anyway...and this was the girl he loves infront of him. You were looking outside the window observing the rain when you felt Heeseung get too quiet, almost no sound and looked back to see him checking out your body, eyefucking it.

Out of reflex, your legs closed and rubbed together but you still called him out. "Aren't you such a pervert? Eyefucking your ex when you already have a new girlfriend??"

Heeseung scoffed. "I don't have a girlfriend..I don't know what the fuck you're talking about"

"You know nothing babe, you always know nothing but still manage to do and ruin everything." He sighed.

"Ok I've said it multiple times and I'll say it again, I'm sorry for what i did. Yes it was my fault and their fault, there shouldn't have been such a game in the first place, so we stopped now, and i shouldn't have started anything like this or even approach you with an evil intention..but i did and for that..I'm sorry."

"but I just wanted you to know. That not all of them were fake and some were genuine from my side, like the i love you i said, the way i cared for you, i only realised how deep and real my love was for you when you left me...please come..already"

his voice got lower and lower as he lowered his chin, not wanting to make eye-contact out of shame.

"It's okay..I've found a better man anyway" lie. you didn't find anyone in particular but you had nothing to do and he deserved it anyway. Heeseung's sad expression vanished and he quickly lifted his chin and to your level. With gritted teeth, he said,

"Oh yeah?found a better man..how's that for you?"

"just like how it is for you..lee"

"you don't have to rub it in my face you know."

You scoffed. "Says the one who has been rubbing this shit on my face from a long time."

The escalating argument made you both rise from your seats a little towards eachother and before you knew it. You guys were close. Heeseung looked at you, completely turned on now.

Your ragebaiting only fueled his hunger.

He grabbed you by your neck and pulled you closer. Your faces inches apart, one wrong move and you'll kiss. He looked deep into your eyes and murmured.

"Do you really know what it means to rub it in your face?"

He said breathless. The sexual tension reaching its peak, the rain sounds only making the atmosphere even more sensual. You both looked at eachother's lips and you didn't know who moved first, but presumably you both did at the same time.

Cause your lips clashed at the same time with eachother's.

And it was nothing sort of gentle or full of love.

It was hunger. Hunger of two needy lovers who got to taste eachother after a long time.

He quickly pulled you on his lap, holding your face with both of his hands and pulling your face suffocatingly close to his, making his tongue reach the very back of your mouth. He kissed you like he hasn't eaten anything since you two broke up.

You got out of breathless and pushed him back to breathe, coming close again, this time he moved agonizingly slow, making you feel his lips dance against yours, the way his warm saliva attached with yours, forming a string. You pulled at his hair and he digged his nails in your waist flesh.

His lips then moved down to your neck and he gave a vampire bite, almost drawing out blood, and sucked harder and deeper at the spot, giving a hickey to last for weeks.

He knew you had a thing for vampires.

He came back on your lips and kissed you hard, not wanting to stop feelings your lips on his, even for a second. Then he bit your lower lip and slowly started opening his black shirt.

"Let me show you what this man can give you that no other man can."

Whe he threw his shirt, you saw his pecs and abs up close..after a very long time.. you touched them, roaming your hands around and suddenly without even processing beforehand, you blurted out.

"They're mine." Hee just chuckled at your words. "They've always been yours.." "liar..I know you're hooking up with the othe girl.."

Heeseung knitted his brows, extremely confused. You just rolled your eyes. "That Miranda girl..or whatever her name is"

That broke Heeseung into a laughter. "What's so funny?" "funny is that Miranda is my old friend, almost like a sibling to me, and she already has a long term boyfriend she has planned to marry."

Crimson crept up your cheeks. What the fuck.

He caressed one strand of your hair. "What about you? Do you really want Subin's genes in your kids..and not mine??" he tugged a bit harder at your hair, his possessiveness coming through.

"Maybe..prove to me..how yours are better than his" Heeseung smirked and started undressing you. "Your wish is my command."

and then he made love to you, under the rain, in his car, in his livingroom, on his couch, on his bed.

—————

You woke up by the sunlight blinding your eyes, you squinted and opened your eyes to see Heeseung laying beside you, fully awake..but his hair still messy from the night. That's when it hit you.

You just slept with your ex.

you panicked a little and roamed your eyes around. He noticed it and grabbed your shoulders to anchor you. "Hey hey..this is my place."

His place, that day, redvelvet cake. It cut open that old memory.

"I know..my place is the one that gave you such a big trauma..but I don't want it to be remembered like that in your heart."

He held both your hands with his one and with the other gently held your chin and looked at you,

"what's already done, can't be undone but I can promise that it won't happen again in the future..y/n..I don't know if I'm worthy or deserving of it or not... "

"But can you give me a second chance?"

"A second chance to fix this? Fix us?"

"I won't try to be perfect or the best, but I'll be real, honest and always there for you...trust me even if the previous relationship was built on evil intentions...my love was still pure in it..and that day all those hate words I said, I meant none of them.... so please?"

You, quiet all the time when he spoke, finally replied.

"And what if you disappoint me again?"

"If such misery ever happens again..then just grab a knife and stab me in the heart..I'll die happily if it's from you."

Heeseung replied..but then he waited for your response but you seemed to be lost in thinking.

"Love?"

"Only if you play one game with me.."

Heeseung chuckled at that. "Oh yeah..which one?"

"Truth and Dare."

that broke you two into laughter, he rapidly shook his head. "I'm never letting you play that if it's my version." He hugged you and murmured.

"I'll try to be a better boyfriend, I promise." You bit your lips and looked at him.

"Be a little mean and more possessive over me too..it satisfies my kink"

"oh yeah?" He grabbed your hair but pulled you close to give a quick peck in which you both smiled.

"I love you"

"I love you too"

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a whole week had passed since that morning, and the silence between you two had been nearly deafening. you’d exchanged a few scattered, hesitant texts mostly logistical check-ins or some tiktoks but you hadn't seen each other in person. the weight of what had happened was probably too much for you.

when jake finally texted asking to meet up at a quiet little bubble tea shop not so far from where you lived, your heart did a little nervous flip.

the café was small and cute, filled with the sound of an indie playlist and the scent of sweet tapioca and brewed tea. jake was already sitting at a corner booth when you walked in, staring down at his phone, his tall frame looking slightly awkward crammed into the small wooden seat. he was wearing a simple gray hoodie, his dark hair falling over his forehead, looking devastatingly handsome.

when he looked up and caught your eye, his posture instantly straightened.

"hey" he said, his voice soft as you slid into the booth opposite him. he pushed a plastic cup with a fat straw toward you. "i ordered your usual taro with boba, half sweet."

"thanks jakey" you said, offering a faint smile as you took a sip.

for the first ten minutes, the air was thick with a fragile awkwardness. jake kept fidgeting with his cup, his long fingers tearing the paper wrapper of his straw into tiny pieces. he looked like he wanted to jump out of his skin, his eyes constantly darting to your face, then down to your lips then back to his drink. the shameless pervert from a week ago seemed to have retreated behind a wall of pure anxious restraint.

"so," jake started, clearing his throat, his dark eyes fixing onto yours with a sudden serious intensity. "are we...how are you? you've been a little quiet this week."

"i was just giving us space to process," you admitted, swirling the pearls at the bottom of your cup. "it was a lot jake. we jumped from best friends to...whatever that was, in less than twenty four hours."

jake swallowed hard his jaw clenching slightly. "i know and i'm sorry if i freaked you out, i was so desperate that night y/n. i couldn't hold it in anymore but the last thing i ever wanted to do was make you feel weird around me."

he reached across the small wooden table, his hand hovering hesitatingly over yours before he finally plucked up the courage to let his fingers brush against your knuckles. the simple touch sent a little shiver through your spine.

"i miss you" he added, his voice dropping into a whisper, completely dropping any act of playing it cool. "fucking hell y/n. this week has been torture, i couldn't stop thinking about you. i couldn't even look at my couch without losing my mind."

a soft flushed giggle escaped your lips, the thick tension in the air instantly dissolving. "you're ridiculous dummy."

"i'm serious" jake insisted, a small hopeful smile tugging at his lips as he squeezed your hand tightly. "look, my apartment is like five minutes away. do you want to just... leave here and go back to my place? we can actually talk properly or just chill. no pressure i swear, i just want you near me."

you looked into his eyes, seeing the same devotion, warmth and desperate needy edge that had drawn you in from the start. "yeah" you whispered. "let's go to your place".

the walk to jake’s apartment was quiet, but it was no longer tense. his fingers were securely intertwined with yours the entire way, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently.

the moment the front door to his apartment clicked shut behind you, the pretense of "just talking" completely shattered.

jake didn't even wait for you to take your shoes off. he threw his keys onto the entryway table, turned around and crowded you right up against the wooden door. his hands came up to frame your face, his palms warm against your cheeks, his dark eyes blown wide with an overwhelming hunger.

"i tried so hard to be normal at the café ugh" jake panted out, his forehead resting against yours, his hot breath fanning over your lips. "i swear i tried to be good y/n but having you right here, in my space…i'm losing it all over again."

"j-jake" you gasped, your hands automatically coming up to grip his waist feeling the tight, firm muscles beneath his sweater. "we were supposed to clarify things."

"we are clarifying" he insisted, his voice breaking into a needy, pathetic whimper as he leaned down and slammed his mouth over yours.

the kiss was instant, deep and intoxicating. jake tasted like sweet brown sugar and pure heat, his tongue sweeping past your lips, he pulled you flush against him, his hips pressing into yours until you could feel the unmistakable rigid length of his erection straining against his jeans.

"you're my girlfriend," jake mumbled against your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, lifting you up slightly so you were completely pinned between him and the door. "tell me you're my girlfriend y/n. tell me we're doing this for real now please please please, no more secret obsessions, just you and me."

"we're doing it for real" you whimpered back, arching into his touch, your fingernails digging into the fabric of his sweater. "i'm your girlfriend jake."

a groan escaped his chest at your words. he practically carried you to his bedroom, the two of you stumbling through the hallway in a mess of desperate kisses and frantic hands. he deposited you onto his bed, instantly stripping his hoodie off and tossing it somewhere across the room, leaving his broad chest exposed and heavy with ragged breaths.

he knelt on the mattress between your legs, his hands trembling violently as he reached for the hem of your shirt. "can i? please y/n let me look at you, let me worship you."

you nodded, lifting your arms as he pulled your shirt over your head, followed quickly by your bra. he smiled his gaze dragging over your bare skin with a dirty, worshipful reverence that made your entire body flush red.

he didn't waste a single second. jake slid down your body, his hands hooking into the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them both down your legs in one swift, impatient motion until you were completely bare beneath him.

he pushed your knees wide apart, settling himself comfortably between your thighs on his knees. the view of your soaked aching core open for him made his dark eyes darken even further, a shameless hungry grin stretching across his face.

"mmm you are so pretty for me," jake whispered, his voice dripping with thick, heavy praise as he leaned down, his hot breath brushing right against your sensitive core. "so wet, y/n. look at what you do to me, i'm going to eat you out until you can't even remember your own name."

before you could even respond, jake pressed his mouth directly against you.

a loud cry tore from your throat as his warm tongue made its first broad, wet swipe up your center, flattening out over your clit. jake groaned loudly against your skin, the vibration sending intense electric shocks straight to your core. he held your thighs open with a bruising grip, his knuckles white, completely refusing to let you pull away as he dove in with a wild intensity.

"jake, oh- fuck!" you screamed out, your fingers tangling into his dark hair, pulling him closer, pushing him harder against you.

he was relentless. jake ate you out with a needy, desperate rhythm, his tongue working over your clit in fast, slippery licks while two of his fingers slid deep inside your soaking cunt, pumping into you so good. he made the filthiest, most pathetic sounds into your lap whimpering, groaning and drinking you in as if he were a dying man in a desert.

"you taste so good y/n" jake gasped out against your slick skin, breaking his suction just a second to look up at you with blown-out, ruined eyes. his mouth was dripping wet, flushed pink. "so sweet for your boyfriend, suck my fingers baby. come for my mouth, let me taste how much you want me."

he slid his wet fingers out of you and pushed them straight into your mouth. you sucked on them greedily, the taste of your own arousal mixed with the salt of his skin driving you over the absolute edge.

jake went back to work with a smirk on his face, his tongue flicking over your clit in short, fast strokes, his thumb pressing hard against your sensitive spot. the coil in your stomach tightened so fast it made your vision go blurry.

"jakey~ i'm going to- i'm coming jake!" you cried out, your hips thrusting helplessly off the mattress, riding his face as the climax hit you with force.

jake didn't pull back. he ate you out through your entire orgasm, his mouth swallowing your cute moans, his tongue licking up every drop of your release with a dark, obsessive hunger until your thighs were shaking violently against his shoulders.

when he finally lifted his head, his face was flushed, his lips swollen and his eyes completely ruined with love and dirty satisfaction. he crawled up your body, hovering over you, his chest heaving as he stared down into your unfocused eyes.

"you're mine" jake panted out softly, kissing your nose, your cheeks, and then pressing his wet lips firmly to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "forever y/n, you're never getting rid of me."

"i don't ever want to" you whispered back, wrapping your shaking legs around his hips, pulling him down to finish what you started.

jake didn't give you a single second to catch your breath. the moment he pulled his wet mouth away from yours, his hand was already at the button of his jeans, undoing them with uncoordinated clumsiness that betrayed just how far gone he was.

"i can't wait anymore y/n. i need to be inside you right now" he groaned, his voice completely broken. he kicked his pants and underwear off in one quick desperate motion, his long rigid length springing free, heavily flushed and leaking at the tip.

he hovered over you, his eyes entirely fixed on where you were still slick and open for him, you were just too pretty.

"look at you" jake whispered, his voice trembling as he positioned his tip right against your entrance. "you're so wet for me. you look so damn good spread out on my bed like this. tell me you want me inside you, tell me please."

"jake put it in" you whined reaching down to grip his hips, pulling him forward. "please i need you so much."

jake let out a sharp breath at your words. he gripped your waist tightly, his hands digging into your skin and slowly pushed his hips forward.

the feeling of him filling you up slowly and completely was so fucking good, he stretched you so deliciously. jake moaned loudly, his eyes closing tight as he buried himself all the way to the hilt, his forehead coming down to rest against yours, his whole body shuddering from the intense heat of your core wrapping around him.

"fuck- y/n" jake whimpered against your lips, his hips beginning to roll into you with a perfect pressure. "you feel so tight and so warm nghh i love you so much. you have no idea how long i've dreamed about this, about being inside you like this."

"don't hold back" you gasped out, your hands sliding up his back, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled back and plunged in deep once more. "move faster p-please."

that was all it took to completely break his self-control.

jake began to fuck into you so wildly, his hips smacking hard against yours with every stroke. the bed frame creaked against the wall, but neither of you cared. he was panting directly into your ear, showering your face and neck with messy wet kisses.

"you're my girl" jake praised as his pace turned completely feral. "so good for me taking all of me, just like that, look at me y/n~ look at your boyfriend."

you opened your eyes, staring up into his ruined, adoring face as another wave of intense heat began to coil tightly in your stomach. jake's eyes were wide, blown-out and completely locked onto yours, his hands moving to lace his fingers with yours, pinning your wrists to the mattress as he rode you with absolute, unchecked devotion.

"jake i'm close again" you cried out, your hips arching up to meet every heavy thrust, your voice cracking under the pleasure.

"come for me my baby, do it" jake begged, his voice breaking into a whimpering gasp as he speeded up his rhythm, his hips hitting you at a relentless, perfect angle. "come all over me, let me feel you squeeze around me."

the second climax hit you like a wave, crashing through your entire body and making your thighs lock around his waist. the tight squeezing of your inner muscles immediately pushed jake right over the edge.

jake let out a cry, his entire body going stiff as he shoved himself as deep inside you as he could go. he came right after you, spilling himself thick and warm inside you, his breath coming in ragged, broken sobs against your neck as he collapsed completely on top of you.

jake stayed buried deep inside you, his heavy body pressing you down into the mattress, his arms wrapped tightly around your frame as if he were afraid you would vanish into thin air if he let go for even a second.

he slowly lifted his head, his face flushed, his hair a total mess, and his eyes shining with an overwhelming fluffy warmth. he pressed a soft sweet kiss to your lips then your nose then your cheek.

"i'm never letting you leave this bed" jake whispered softly, a completely smitten grin spreading across his lips. "we're staying right here forever."

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♡ ; @kristynaaah @biasseventeen @solarhrted @kazehee @temptingtea @heejaketilidie

it was supposed to be a normal movie night right? just you and jake, tangled up in a mess of blankets on your couch, a half empty bowl of popcorn sitting between you. but the air in the room felt heavy, thick with a tension that had been building for months. jake wasn't watching the screen. he was watching you, his dark eyes tracing the line of your jaw, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed, the way your oversized shirt slipped off your shoulder.

you knew jake was a bit of a deviant. he didn't exactly hide it from you, his best friend. he’d make offhand, shameless comments about things that should have made you blush, but you’d always laughed them off as jake just being jake. what you didn't know, what you only recently started to piece together, was how deep that fixation went when it came to you.

it started with small things. a look that lingered too long. the way he’d volunteered to do your laundry when you were sick, only for you to notice later that a pair of your lace underwear had mysteriously vanished, never to be found. you’d caught him once, standing in your bedroom when he thought you were in the kitchen, holding a sweater you’d worn the day before, his face buried deep in the fabric, inhaling your scent with a desperate, shaky breath. you hadn't said anything then, too shocked and, if you were being completely honest with yourself, too thrilled by the raw hunger in his eyes to confront him. but tonight, the boundaries were melting away.

jake shifted, shifting closer until his thigh was pressed hard against yours. you could feel the heat radiating off him. when you turned your head to look at him, you found him already staring, his gaze intense, almost agonizingly focused on your mouth.

"you're not even watching," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of his stare.

"can't," jake muttered, his voice rougher than usual. "there's something much better to look at right here."

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. "jake, don't do this. we talked about this. we're friends."

"i know," he said, and the sheer desperation in his voice made your stomach flip. he reached out, his long fingers trembling just a little as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his thumb brushed against your cheekbone, his skin scorching hot. "i know we're friends, y/n. i swear i try to remember that. but it's driving me fucking insane."

"what is?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

jake let out a breathless laugh, dropping his hand to rest on the cushion right next to your thigh. "you. everything about you. i spend every single day thinking about you. do you have any idea what i do when i'm alone in my apartment? do you know what i think about?"

you stayed quiet, your breath hitching.

"i think about you," jake confessed, leaning in closer, his scent of cedar and pure warmth overwhelming your senses. "i take your clothes, y/n. that sweater you lost last month? i have it. it's under my pillow. i jerk off into it because it smells like you. i sit on my bed, closing my eyes, imagining it's your hands on me instead of my own. i'm a sick fuck, i know it. i'm a pervert. but i need you so bad it hurts."

the honesty of it, the absolute lack of shame mixed with such raw vulnerability, sent a shivering wave of heat straight to your core. you should have been offended. you should have kicked him out. instead, your thighs rubbed together beneath the blanket, already slick.

"jake," you breathed out, your hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the frantic, erratic thumping of his heart. "we can't. if we do this, if we cross this line, there is no going back. i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend."

"i don't want to lose you either," jake said, his forehead coming to rest against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "fucking hell, y/n, you're the best thing in my life. but i'm dying here. just looking at you, touching you like this, it's not enough anymore. i need to feel you. please. just let me have this. let us have this."

"and what happens tomorrow?" you asked, your fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him just a fraction of an inch closer.

"we'll figure it out tomorrow," jake promised, his voice dropping to a needy, pathetic whimper. "just please, y/n. let me." you didn't answer with words. instead, you tilted your head up and closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

jake let out a choked sound, between a groan and a sob, and instantly took over the kiss. it wasn't a gentle, sweet first kiss. it was a collision. his mouth opened over yours, his tongue sweeping in with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you completely breathless. he gripped your waist with bruising force, pulling you flush against his chest as if he wanted to meld your bodies together.

the popcorn bowl fell to the floor, forgotten, as jake shifted his weight, climbing over you and pinning you to the couch. he broke the kiss for a split second to tear his shirt off, tossing it blindly into the room, before diving right back down to feast on your lips. his skin was burning, slick with a light sweat of pure anticipation.

"y/n, oh god, y/n," jake chanted against your mouth, his hands wandering frantically over your body, bunching up your shirt, his palms rough against your bare skin.

he didn't even wait to take your shorts off. the need in him was too feral, too far gone. he settled himself directly between your thighs, the heavy, rigid length of his erection pressing hard against your center through both layers of your clothes. then, he began to grind.

it was a slow, heavy roll of his hips at first, finding the perfect angle. you let out a loud moan right into his mouth, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist to lock him close. that sound seemed to snap something inside him. the pace turned frantic, desperate, and completely unchecked.

jake dry humped you with a wild, rhythmic urgency that made the entire couch creak beneath you. every downstroke of his hips pressed his hardness perfectly against your aching core, creating a friction so intense you could feel the heat blooming inside you like wildfire. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving dark marks that you knew would stay for days.

"you feel so good," jake gasped out, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding back. "even through your clothes, you're so warm. y/n, please. look at me."

you forced your heavy eyelids open, staring up into his face. jake looked completely wrecked. his hair was a messy nest, his cheeks were flushed dark red, and his eyes were wide, blown out, and filled with a devotion that made your heart ache just as much as your core.

"i've wanted this for years," jake whispered, his hips continuing their relentless, desperate friction against yours. his movements were getting faster, shorter, his breath hitching as he edged closer to the brink just from the sheer feel of you beneath him. "every single time i looked at you. every time you smiled at me. i'm so sorry i'm like this, y/n. i'm so sorry i'm so dirty for you."

"don't apologize," you whined, arching your back, throwing your head back against the armrest as another heavy roll of his pelvis hit you perfectly. "jake, don't stop. please."

"never," he groaned, his hands moving down to grip your thighs, keeping you pinned, keeping you open for him as he rode your thigh with a pathetic, whimpering sort of desperation. "i'm going to ruin myself for you. i already have."

the sheer friction of his jeans against your thin shorts was driving you insane. you could feel the dampness of your own arousal soaking through the fabric, making the contact even more intense, more electric. jake felt it too. he let out a loud, broken whimper, his hips slamming into yours over and over in a quick, merciless rhythm that had you gripping his bare shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into his skin.

"jake, i'm close, i'm going to," you cried out, your vision blurring as the coil of pleasure tightened to an unbearable point.

"cum for me, y/n. let me feel it," jake begged, his voice cracking. he gave one last, deep, heavy grind, his whole body stiffening as he buried his face in your hair.

the orgasm crashed over you in violent, pulsing waves, making your thighs quiver around his waist. right at that exact moment, with your body squeezing around him through the fabric, jake lost his grip completely. he let out a loud, guttural cry, his hips stuttering into you one, two, three more times before he completely froze, his muscles locking tight as he came hard into his own underwear, the heat of it transferring right through to your skin.

the room fell silent, save for the sound of your loud, synchronized, ragged breathing.

jake collapsed fully against you, his heavy chest rising and falling against yours, his face still hidden in your neck. he didn't move for a long time, just holding you as if you would disappear if he let go. his hands, still resting on your hips, were twitching slightly.

after a few minutes, he slowly lifted his head. the feral, perverted hunger from before was replaced by something incredibly soft, almost anxious. he looked down at you, searching your face, a sudden wave of panic in his eyes.

"did i ruin it?" he whispered, his voice incredibly small. "y/n, please tell me i didn't just ruin everything."

you looked at him, taking in his messy hair, his flushed face, and the absolute devotion shining in his eyes. a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you reached up, cupping his cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray bead of sweat.

"you didn't ruin anything, you idiot," you giggled softly.

jake let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he leaned heavily into your touch, closing his eyes. "i love you so much. you have no idea. i'm still a creep, though. i'm still keeping that sweater."

you laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that filled the quiet room. "i know you are, jake. we'll talk about your theft problems later. but right now? i think you still owe me a proper round without our clothes on."

CHAPTER 1: LATE NIGHTS IN LAKE COMO

I didn't come to Lake Como to fall into bed with a stranger. I came because my father's company was closing a deal with an Italian textile group and someone with a Singaporean passport and a decent grasp of contract law needed to sit in on the meetings, and that someone was me. Three days of negotiations, translators, and men twice my age calling me "young lady" instead of my actual title, and by the third night I was so done being professional.

"One night," my colleague Minji had said, clinking her glass against mine while we were on a terrace that overlooked the water so still it looked like it was painted on. "One night where you're not Mr. Song's daughter. Just you."

I'd laughed her off at first. And then I'd had a second glass of wine, and a third. Somewhere between the second bar and the third… a place with string lights and a DJ who clearly thought hip hop was a personality, Minji had gone off with some guy she just met at the last bar we were at. So I'd found myself alone at the counter, spinning the handle of my glass between two fingers, when a voice beside me said, in heavily accented but confident English…

"You're doing that thing where you're thinking too hard for someone on vacation."

I'd turned, ready to deliver the practiced brush off I gave every man who tried his luck with me in a bar, but the words had evaporated somewhere in my throat.

He was… objectively, impersonally, in the most detached way I could manage while I was literally half drunk… the best looking man I'd seen in person in my entire adult life. Dark hair pushed back like he'd run a hand through it and wasn't bothered to fix it, a jaw I could've used as a straightedge, and eyes that held a kind of lazy, unbothered amusement, like he found the whole world a little bit funny and had decided I was the funniest part of it tonight.

"I'm not on vacation," I said. "I'm working."

"In a bar. At eleven at night."

"It's a very demanding job."

He'd smiled then… slow, crooked, entirely too aware of its own effect, and ordered us both something with too much rum in it, and by midnight I'd learned nothing true about him. Not his last name, not what he did, not which hotel he was staying at, only that his name was Jay, that he laughed like he meant it, and that he had a way of looking at me that made me forget I'd sworn off men in suits after my last two relationships had both ended over a damn spreadsheet.

"You're trouble," I told him, somewhere around my fourth bar, when his hand had found the small of my back and left it there like it belonged.

"I get that a lot," he said. "You gonna do something about it, or just complain?"

Somewhere between bar three and bar four, I'd made him guess my job, "finance," he'd said immediately, squinting at me like he could read a balance sheet off my face, "no, wait… something in law, you argue like someone who's used to winning," and I'd neither confirmed nor denied it, just let him keep guessing, delighted by how genuinely invested he seemed in being right. He, in turn, had refused directly to tell me what he did, only that it involved "a lot of boring meetings and even more boring men," which had made me laugh so hard I'd nearly knocked my drink into a total stranger's lap.

"You're avoiding the question," I'd told him, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"I'm creating mystery," he'd corrected. "It's a strategy."

"It's evasive."

"It's working, isn't it? You're still here."

I couldn't argue with that. By the fourth bar, the DJ had switched to something with a Latin beat that made the whole floor move as one body, and Jay had pulled me into it without asking, hand at my waist, hips finding the rhythm like it was something he did often, and I'd stopped pretending, even to myself, that I had any intention of going back to my hotel alone that night.

"For someone who does boring meetings," I'd shouted over the music, "you dance like you do this professionally."

"Hidden talents," he'd said against my ear, and I'd felt the words more than heard them, warm and low, and something in my chest had done a slow, dangerous flip that I chose, deliberately, not to examine.

I should have called it a night right there. I didn't.

The walk back to his hotel blurred into a memory I'd revisit more than I'd ever admit… the lake at my left catching the moon, his jacket over my shoulders because I'd complained once about the wind, his mouth against my temple at a red light because apparently he couldn't wait until we were inside. The lobby of his hotel was the kind of quietly obscene luxury that told me he wasn't just some backpacker with a nice face… marble floors, a chandelier that had probably cost more than my apartment, a night staff that greeted him by name with the particular deference reserved for people who paid for entire floors.

I noticed. I filed it away. I didn't ask.

Neither of us were interested in talking anymore anyway.

I didn’t even make it past the doorstep of his suite before he had me pinned against the door, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that stole every last bit of breath from my lungs.

The click of the lock was barely audible over the pounding of my heart. His body pressed flush against mine… hard chest, strong thighs, the unmistakable bulge of his erection already straining against my hip. One of his hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head exactly how he wanted while the other gripped my waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid I might disappear.

“God, you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled against my lips, tongue sweeping in to taste me deeper. The kiss was messy, urgent, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger. I moaned into his mouth, hands fisting the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

When he finally broke away, both of us gasping, his lips trailed hot, open mouthed kisses down my neck. He sucked hard at my pulse point, then soothed it with his tongue. “Been thinking about this since the second I saw you at that bar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Wondering how you’d sound when I finally get my mouth on you.”

My dress was already riding up from how I wrapped my legs around him earlier on the dance floor. Jay’s hand slid under the hem, palming my ass, squeezing. “So fucking soft. I can’t wait to taste every inch.”

He lifted me effortlessly, my legs locking around his waist as he carried me toward the massive king bed. The suite’s floor to ceiling windows overlooked the moonlit lake, but neither of us spared it a glance. He laid me down gently, but the look in his eyes was anything but… dark, predatory, starving.

Jay knelt between my spread thighs, pushing my dress higher. “Let me see you.” His fingers hooked onto my lace panties, dragging them down slowly, teasingly. Once they were off, he spread my legs wider, eyes locked on my glistening pussy. “Look at you. Already so wet for me. Such a pretty little cunt.”

I whimpered at his words, hips shifting restlessly. He leaned in, blowing cool air over my heated flesh before his tongue licked a slow, broad stripe from my entrance up to my clit. The sensation made my back arch off the bed.

“Fuck—Jay—”

“Mmm, say my name again,” he demanded, then sealed his mouth over my clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicked rapidly. Two thick fingers pushed inside me without warning, curling to stroke that spongy spot that made you see stars. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the room.

He ate me out like a man possessed… long, hungry licks, tight circles around my clit, then sucking hard while his fingers pumped faster. “Tastes so fucking good,” he groaned against me, the vibrations shooting pleasure through my core. “Sweet and creamy. I could stay down here all night.”

My hands flew to his hair, gripping tight as my thighs started to tremble. He added a third finger, stretching me deliciously, scissoring them while his tongue worked my clit relentlessly.

“Come for me, baby. Let me feel this pussy squeeze my fingers.”

The orgasm hit me like a wave, crashing over me hard. I cried out his name, hips bucking against his face as he licked me through every pulse, drinking down every drop.

But he didn’t stop. He kept licking, gentler now, until the overstimulation turned back into building pleasure. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny with my arousal, and crawl up my body.

He kissed me deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “See how good you taste? I’m going to make you come on my tongue again before I fuck you.”

I reached for his belt, desperate to feel him. He helped me strip him, his cock springing free… heavy, thick, veined, the head already glistening with precum. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly.

“Fuck, your hand feels amazing,” he hissed. “But I need your mouth first.”

He guided me up, sitting back against the headboard. I settled between his thighs, looking up at him as I licked up the underside of his cock. Jay’s head fell back with a groan.

“That’s it… just like that. Take your time, baby. Worship it.”

I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the precum, then sucked him into my mouth. He was big… stretching my lips wide. I bobbed my head, taking more each time, using my hand on what I couldn’t fit.

“Shit—your mouth is perfect. So warm and wet. Suck harder—yeah, just like that.”

His hand rested lightly on my head, not forcing, just guiding. I relaxed my throat and took him deeper, humming around him. Jay cursed, hips twitching.

“Gonna come if you keep that up,” he warned, but I didn’t stop. I wanted to push him over the edge.

When he finally pulled me off, his eyes were wild. “Not yet. I want to be inside you when I come the first time.”

He rolled on a condom quickly, then positioned himself between my thighs. “Ready?”

“Yes—please, Jay.”

He pushed in slowly, letting me feel every thick inch stretching me open. When he bottomed out, he stayed there, grinding deep. “So tight. Taking me so well. This pussy was made for my cock.”

Then he started moving… long, deep strokes that built steadily. I wrapped my legs around him, nails raking down his back. He leaned down to suck on my nipples, alternating between them while he fucked me.

The pace quickened. Skin slapped against skin. He reached between me to rub my clit in tight circles.

“Come again for me. I want to feel you milking my cock.”

I shattered around him, clenching hard. Jay groaned, thrusting through my orgasm before pulling out.

“On your hands and knees,” he ordered.

I obeyed, ass up. He spread my cheeks, licking from my clit all the way up, teasing my other hole briefly with his tongue before diving back into my pussy.

“Fucking delicious,” he muttered, then slammed back inside me from behind. The new angle was devastating. He fucked me hard, one hand in my hair, the other reaching around to rub my clit.

“Tell me how much you love my cock,” he demanded between thrusts.

“I love it—fuck—so deep—don’t stop—”

He reached around and pinched my clit, sending me over again. This time he followed, burying himself deep and coming with a guttural moan of my name.

"Gosh, y/n"

We collapsed together, but the night was far from over.

After a short breather, he pulled me into the shower. Under the hot spray, he dropped to his knees again, water falling over both of us as he ate me out against the glass wall… tongue fucking into me, fingers everywhere, until I came screaming.

Then I returned the favor, sucking him off on my knees until he spilled down my throat with a hoarse shout.

Back in bed, he took me slow and deep in, whispering filthy praises the whole time, “Look at how well you take me… your pussy is so greedy for my cock… gonna fill you up again soon…”

I rode him next, grinding down, his hands guiding my hips while he sucked marks into my breasts.

By the time the sky started to lighten, I'd lost count of how many times he’d made me come… on his tongue, on his fingers, on his cock. The room smelled of sex and sweat. Jay held me close afterward, kissing my temple, both of us boneless and satisfied.

But even as sleep pulled at me, I knew I’d have to leave soon.

CHAPTER 2: THE NOTE

I woke up to sunlight shining gold across a bed that wasn't mine, in a room the size of my childhood living room, with an arm slung heavy and warm over my waist and my flight… my flight… leaving in three hours.

For one forgiving, traitorous second, I let myself lie there. Let myself feel the solid heat of him at my back, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the absolute stupidity of how good it had felt to be someone else's for one night, no expectations, no last names, no Song Corporation trailing behind me like a shadow with a balance sheet.

Then my phone, buried somewhere in my discarded clothes, buzzed with a reminder, and reality slapped me awake.

I slid out from under his arm with the sneakiness of someone who had, in a past life, definitely been a cat burglar. He stirred, murmured something impossible to understand, and rolled onto his front, and I froze mid motion for a full ten seconds before he settled again.

Dressing in the dark… or rather, dressing in far too much golden Italian sunlight while trying to be quiet about it… was its own special kind of chaos. I found my dress inside out on an armchair, one shoe by the door and the other, mysteriously, on the balcony. I did not investigate how it got there.

I should have just left. That would have been the smart thing. The clean thing. I had done this before… not this exact scenario, not a man who made my pulse skip just by saying my overthinking out loud, but the general shape of it, the one night stand that ended at sunrise with no numbers exchanged and no promises made. I was good at leaving. I'd built an entire adult life around being good at leaving before anyone got the chance to leave me first.

So why did my hand shake, just slightly, reaching for the hotel notepad.

I told myself it was the time pressure. The flight. The three hours narrowing by the minute while I stood in a stranger's hotel room debating the ethics of a goodbye note like it was a legal document requiring careful drafting. I told myself it had nothing to do with the way he'd said my name… just my first name, I realized with a small, absurd jolt, because I'd never told him last name, nothing to do with Song, just hey, you, careful, murmured against my hair sometime after midnight in a way that had felt, in the moment, more intimate than anything a stranger's name had a right to feel.

Instead I found a hotel notepad by a bowl of fruit no one had touched, and a pen with the hotel's logo engraved in gold, and I stood there chewing my lip, staring at a man whose last name I didn't know, feeling something uncomfortably close to guilt.

Had to run… flight I can't miss. Last night was fun. Sorry for ghosting, it's not you, it's timing. Left some money for the minibar since I definitely helped myself. Take care of yourself, stranger.

I looked at it, cringed, and added a folded stack of euros on top… not much, just enough to make the note read as a joke instead of what it actually was, which was panic dressed up as nonchalance. Then I slipped my shoes on in the hallway, and I left.

I did not look back at the bed. I told myself that later, on the plane, somewhere over the Arabian Sea with a complimentary champagne I didn't taste, three separate times, and I did not believe myself even once.

CHAPTER 3: THE ANNOUNCEMENT 

Jay woke up to an empty bed, a note that made his jaw tighten in a way he didn't examine too closely, and a stack of euros that felt, more than anything else that morning, like an insult.

Money for the minibar. Like he was a service she'd paid for and rated four stars. Like he was forgettable.

He wasn't used to forgettable. He wasn't used to being forgotten, not by women who'd looked at him the way she had… like he was the punchline to a joke only she knew, like she'd already decided he was fun but temporary before he'd even opened his mouth. He'd let a stranger walk into his hotel room, into his night, into apparently his head, and she'd left him folded currency like a tip.

He didn't know her last name. He didn't have her number. He had a room that still smelled like her perfume and a bruised ego he was going to pretend, for the sake of his own dignity, that he didn't have.

Fine, he thought, staring at the note until the words blurred. Fun while it lasted.

He had no idea, standing there in a hotel bathrobe at nine in the morning with wounded pride and lake view sunlight in his eyes, that the universe had already decided this was very much not over.

…

Three weeks after returning from Lake Como, I'd almost convinced myself the whole thing had been nothing more than a reckless business-trip mistake. I landed back into my routine feeling like myself again...… jet-lagged, sunburned in one uneven stripe across my shoulder, but myself, the version of me that answered emails and knew her own last name and hadn't spent a night pretending to be someone with no responsibilities. I told myself the whole flight home that Lake Como had been a bracket I was closing. Nothing that would follow me home.

My family had built Song Corporation from a single shipping route between Busan and Singapore three decades ago, back when my grandfather first left Korea with nothing but a cargo plan and a stubborn streak my father had inherited in full. I'd grown up between two languages and two sets of expectations… the quiet formality of my parents' generation, still rooted in Seoul even after thirty years abroad, and the faster, blunter world I'd built for myself in Singapore. Dinners at my parents' house still opened with a bow to my grandmother's photo on the mantel. My father still switched to Korean the second he was truly angry, which was usually the only warning I got before bad news landed.

My father was waiting for me at the dining table that evening, which was never a good sign. My father did not wait for people. People waited for him. The fact that he'd cleared his calendar to be sitting there with my mother, both of them wearing the particular stillness of people about to deliver news they'd already decided I would accept, made my stomach drop before he'd said a single word.

"Sit," he said. Not unkind. Just certain.

I sat.

"The Park deal," he began, and I already hated where this was going, because my father only used that tone… measured, deliberate, like he was reading from a contract instead of speaking to his daughter, for things he knew I wouldn't like. "Chairman Park and I have been in discussion for the last several months. Song Corporation and Park Industries merging our shipping and logistics divisions would put us in a position no one in this region could touch."

"Okay," I said slowly. "That's… good news? Why do you look like you're about to tell me someone died."

"Because," my mother said gently, reaching for my hand, "the merger comes with a condition. A marriage. Between you and Chairman Park's son."

The room tilted slightly. I laughed… an actual, disbelieving bark of a laugh, because surely, surely this was a joke, the kind my father sometimes attempted and always failed to land. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It secures the partnership for a generation," my father said, unmoved by my reaction, already reciting the argument he'd clearly rehearsed for this exact response. "It's not unusual in either of our families' histories. You know that."

"I know it's not unusual for it to happen to other people," I snapped. "I didn't think it would be me. I have a life, I have a job, I have… I don't even know this man!"

"You'll meet him tomorrow night. Dinner, here, informal. Chairman Park's son has agreed to the arrangement." My father's voice didn't so much as waver. "His name is Jay. I'm told he's reasonable. Personable. You could do far worse." Common name, right?

"And if I say no?" I hated how small my voice sounded, even to my own ears. "What happens then?"

My father set down his fork with the deliberate care of a man choosing his next words carefully. "Then the merger falls through. Ten years of negotiations, gone. Six thousand jobs across both companies put at risk over your reluctance to have dinner with a man you haven't even met." He softened, marginally, seeing something in my face he hadn't intended to put there. "I'm not asking you to marry a stranger tomorrow. I'm asking you to give this a chance. If, after time, you genuinely cannot stand him, we will find another solution. I promise you that. But I need you to try."

"That's not a real choice, father, and you know it."

"No," he admitted, quietly, which was somehow worse than if he'd simply argued. "It isn't. I'm sorry for that. But I built this company for you to inherit one day, and I need it to still exist by the time that day comes."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to slam my palms on the table and demand to know since when my entire future got decided over a boardroom handshake while I was out of the country closing a completely different deal for this same family. But I'd grown up in this house, under this roof, with this particular brand of love that came wrapped in obligation, and I knew… the way I knew the tide would come in, the way I knew the sun would set, that there was no version of tonight where I won this argument.

"Fine," I said, because it was the only word left that didn't come out as a scream. "Fine. I'll meet him. But I'm not promising anything beyond dinner."

My father, for the first time all evening, allowed himself something like a smile. "That's all I'm asking."

I went to bed that night thinking of Lake Como. Of a stranger's mouth against my temple, of a note I'd left folded on a hotel pillow, of the particular freedom of one night where nobody expected anything of me at all.

I had no idea how badly the universe was about to collapse those two lives into one.

CHAPTER 4: THE MAN ACROSS THE TABLE

I spent the following day in a fog somewhere between denial and minor panic, which was, in thinking back, an appropriate emotional state for what was coming.

My mother had chosen the restaurant… a private dining room in one of the hotels my family half owned, all dark wood and candlelight and a view of the skyline that was supposed to make everyone feel expansive and hopeful about the future. I wore the green dress my mother liked, the one that made me look, in her words, "like someone a Chairman's son would be lucky to marry," which was possibly the least comforting compliment I'd ever received.

I sat between my parents, watching the door, running through every version of this conversation in my head. Hello, nice to meet you, I hear we're being sold to each other for a logistics contract. I'd decided, somewhere around my second glass of water, that I would be polite. Cool. Unbothered. I would give this man exactly as much warmth as the situation legally required and not one degree more.

Then the door opened, and every rehearsed line I had died in my throat at once.

He walked in like he owned the room… because, I would later learn, in a very literal sense, he frequently did… dressed in a black suit that fit him with the kind of precision that only exists on men who've never had to wonder if they could afford tailoring. Dark hair, pushed back. A jaw I would recognize with my eyes closed, in a pitch black room, from memory alone, because I'd spent an embarrassing amount of a transatlantic flight trying not to think about that exact jaw.

He stopped mid stride. His eyes found mine, and for one full second, the easy, practiced charm on his face cracked straight down the middle into something like disbelief.

Him.

The stranger from Lake Como. The one I'd left a note and a stack of euros for. The one whose bed I'd slipped out of eighteen hours ago like a thief in the night, convinced… convinced… I would never see him again.

He recovered faster than I did. Of course he did. He slid into the seat across from me, straightened his jacket, and looked at me with an expression that was, if I had to name it, delighted… the specific delight of a predator that had just realized its dinner walked directly into the trap.

"Jay," my father said, standing to shake his hand, oblivious to the silent war being waged across his dining table. "This is my daughter."

"We've met," Jay said, eyes never leaving mine, mouth curling into a smile with teeth in it. "Haven't we?"

I picked up my water glass and drank the entire thing to keep from saying something that would get me disowned.

"Briefly," I managed. "In passing."

"That's not really how I'd describe it," Jay said, settling back in his chair with the unbothered ease of a man who had just been handed the single best piece of leverage of his entire life. "But sure. In passing."

My mother, blessedly, missed the hidden meaning entirely and launched into some pleasantry about the wine list. My father asked Jay about his flight in from Lake Como… of course he'd been in Lake Como, of course the business trip that ruined my life and the business trip that arranged my marriage were the exact same trip… and I sat there, spine locked straight, silently calculating how many ways I could disappear from this table without causing an international incident.

Jay answered every question my parents asked with the polished, charming ease of someone raised for exactly this kind of performance. And every few sentences, without fail, his eyes would slide back to me… amused, sharp, unmistakably promising that this conversation was very much not over.

Under the table, his knee brushed mine. Deliberately. I yanked my leg back like I'd been burned.

"So," he said, once dessert had arrived and my parents had drifted into a side conversation about the merger's logistics, low enough that only I could hear him. "Fun while it lasted, huh?"

My stomach dropped straight through the floor. "You read the note."

"I read the note." His voice was pleasant. Terrifyingly pleasant. "Money for the minibar was a nice touch. Very classy."

"I panicked," I hissed. "I had a flight to catch."

"You could've woken me up."

"I didn't want to wake you up. That was rather the point of leaving quietly."

"Right." He leaned back, studying me the way I imagine a shark studies a swimmer it hasn't decided whether to eat yet. "Because I'm just some guy you paid for room service and left behind. Except now it turns out I'm the guy your father wants you to marry. Small world, huh, Ms. Song?"

I hated how good my last name sounded coming out of his mouth like a threat. "This isn't funny."

"I think it's a little funny."

"Jay—"

"Relax." He picked up his wine glass, and something flickered behind his eyes that wasn't amusement at all… something colder, sharper, a decision being made in real time. "I'm not going to tell them. Wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your parents. But you and I—" he tilted his glass toward me, the picture of civility, "…we're going to have a lot to talk about."

I had never, in my entire adult life, wanted to disappear so badly.

"This isn't a punishment," I said. "For me. Whatever you're thinking. I don't owe you an apology for leaving."

"Didn't say you did." His smile turned into something private, something I didn't trust at all. "But you left before I got the chance to make an impression. Seems only fair I get a second shot. We're going to be married, after all." He said the word married like he was trying it out for size, testing its weight, and something about the way it landed in his mouth made my whole body go warm and furious at once. "Might as well make it interesting."

He's going to make me pay, I thought, watching him raise his glass toward my parents in a toast neither of us had agreed to. This is a man who is going to make me pay for that note for the rest of my life.

I had absolutely no idea, yet, how right I was… or how much I'd eventually come to regret ever wanting it any other way.

…

Jay walked me to my car after dinner, which I was fairly certain was less about being a gentleman and more about getting me alone long enough to finish the conversation my parents hadn't been allowed to overhear.

"You could've said something," I hissed, the second the valet was out of earshot. "At the table. You let me sit there thinking I was about to meet a total stranger."

"And what would you have preferred? Me standing up mid appetizer announcing, 'Actually, we've met, she left me for dead in a hotel room in Lake Como after we did it'? Your mother would've had a heart attack into the bread basket."

"This isn't funny, Jay."

"I told you, I think it's a little funny." He leaned against the hood of my car, entirely too relaxed for a man whose entire future had just been decided over dessert. "Here's what I don't get. You looked at me tonight like I was a problem to be managed. But less than three weeks ago you looked at me like—"

"Don't."

"…like you couldn't get enough," he finished anyway, watching my face for a reaction he clearly enjoyed getting. "What changed? Besides the small detail of our fathers turning it into a business contract."

"Everything changed," I said. "That night was supposed to be nothing. A story I'd tell at parties. Not a… a lifetime commitment."

"Scared?"

"Furious," I corrected. "There's a difference."

"Is there?" He straightened off the car, close enough now that I had to tip my chin up to hold his gaze, and something in his voice dropped, lower, more serious than the teasing he'd kept up all night. "For what it's worth, I didn't ask for this either. I found out about the arrangement two days ago, same as you probably found out today. It's not like I knew it was you either… only to discover tonight it's the lady who decided I wasn't worth a proper goodbye."

That landed harder than I expected. "I told you. I panicked."

"I know." Something in his expression softened, just slightly, before the familiar smirk slid back into place like armor. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy watching you squirm about it for a while."

"You are the worst person I have ever met."

"You said something very different 3 weeks ago," he said, opening my car door for me with an exaggerated little bow. "Goodnight, Ms. Song. See you at the engagement shoot."

"The what—"

He was already walking away, hands in his pockets, whistling something I was fairly sure was deliberately, infuriatingly cheerful, and I sat in my car for a full five minutes after he'd disappeared around the corner before I trusted myself to drive.

…

The engagement shoot, as it turned out, was very real, and very public, and scheduled for exactly six days later… a joint press release for two companies merging their shipping empires needed a photogenic couple to sell it, and apparently Jay and I were now, officially, that couple. A stylist tumbled in my apartment with three racks of clothing. A photographer with an assistant who called him "genius" without a trace of irony spent two hours arranging us against a backdrop of the harbor, murmuring instructions like closer, a little closer, now look at each other like you mean it.

"We're supposed to look like we mean it," Jay murmured, tilting my chin up with two fingers, entirely for the camera, entirely too gentle for a gesture that was supposed to be fake. "Think you can manage that?"

"I've been managing it all week," I muttered back, aware of how thin the line had become between performing something and actually feeling it.

The photos ran three days later… me in cream, Jay in navy, his hand at my waist and my head tipped back mid laugh at something he'd actually said, not scripted, a genuine reaction the photographer had caught by accident and declared "the shot." My mother framed it. Chairman Park used it for the official press release. Half my social circle sent me messages about how happy we two looked, how natural, and I sat there scrolling through the comments feeling something uncomfortably close to guilt, because the photo wasn't a lie, exactly. It just wasn't the whole truth either.

CHAPTER 5: ENGAGED, APPARENTLY 

The engagement was announced within the week, because apparently when two companies decide to merge their shipping divisions, nobody sees the point in a long engagement. There was a press release. There was a photo… me in a dress that cost more than my first car I bought for myself, Jay's hand at the small of my back in the exact same place it had been in a bar in Lake Como, except this time there were cameras, and this time it meant something entirely different.

"Smile," Jay murmured through his teeth as the photographers called for one more shot. "You look like you're being arrested."

"I am being arrested," I muttered back, teeth also gritted, smile also plastered on. "Just with better lighting."

"Careful," he said, low enough that only I could hear. "People might start thinking you don't like me."

"People would be correct."

"That hurts," he said, sounding not remotely hurt. "Especially considering how much you liked me a few week ago in a hotel room with a view of the lake. While you moaned my name—"

I stomped, discreetly, on his foot. He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider for the cameras, and I hated… hated… how much I wanted to laugh.

…

Jay and I were, by both families' decision, to move into a penthouse together ahead of the wedding… "to get comfortable with each other," my mother said, with the specific confidence of a woman who had clearly never had to share a bathroom counter with a man she was furious at. The penthouse was Park property, forty floors up, all glass and steel and a view of the harbor that would've been romantic under literally any other circumstances.

It had two bedrooms. Thank goodness…

The first month was a war led almost entirely through passive aggression and pointed silences. Jay left his shoes in the hallway specifically, I was convinced, because he knew it drove me insane. I reacted back by rearranging his entire closet by color instead of by season, which he discovered at seven in the morning while trying to find a specific navy suit and instead found himself surrounded by a rainbow of confusion.

"You're a menace," he told me over breakfast, hair still damp from a shower, tie hanging undone around his neck because he hadn't had time to finish it.

"I'm efficient," I said, not looking up from my coffee. "Color coding is a perfectly reasonable system."

"It's an act of war."

"Tie your tie, Jay, you have a board meeting."

He glared at me. I didn't look up. He tied the tie badly out of spite, and we both knew it, and neither of us said another word about it, and somehow that felt like the closest thing to a truce either of us had managed in weeks.

…

The banter was constant, and it was, if I was being honest with myself… which I tried very hard not to be… the best part of my day. He teased me about my coffee order (too complicated, he said, for someone who claimed to hate complications). I teased him about the fact that he talked to his car like it could hear him. He'd catch me smiling at something he said and immediately point it out, "Was that a laugh? Did I just make Ms. Song laugh?" and I'd immediately stop, purely on principle, which only made him laugh harder.

It would have been easy, dangerously easy, to enjoy it. I reminded myself, nightly, in the privacy of my own bedroom with the door locked, that this was a business arrangement wearing the costume of a relationship, and that the man three doors down had made it very clear, that first dinner, that he intended to make me pay for leaving him in Lake Como. I didn't trust charm that came with a motive. I'd learned that the hard way, long before Jay Park ever existed.

So I kept my walls up. Mostly.

It was easier some days than others.

…

RULES

Two weeks into this, I'd decided the situation required structure, so I'd drafted… because of course I had, I was my father's daughter whether I liked it or not… an actual list of household rules and taped it to the refrigerator.

Jay found it while looking for orange juice.

"'Rule one,'" he read aloud, deadpan, holding his glass of juice like a prop, "'No shoes in the hallway.' Sweetheart, this is a shared home, not a monastery."

"Rule one exists because you have never once, not a single time, taken your shoes off before the front door."

"'Rule two: knock before entering shared spaces if the other person is, and I quote, "visibly stressed."'" He looked up at me over the side of the paper. "How am I supposed to gauge 'visibly stressed' from outside a closed door?"

"You'll know."

"'Rule three—'" he squinted, "'… do not, under any circumstances, refer to this arrangement as "cute" in front of either family.' Why would I call this cute?"

"Because you called it cute to my mother yesterday and she looked ready to start planning nursery colors."

"It was cute. You made me a cup of coffee without me asking. That's basically a marriage proposal in this household."

"It was leftover coffee. I was being economical."

"Sure." He folded the list in half, tucked it into his back pocket like a souvenir instead of leaving it on the fridge, and I decided, very firmly, not to comment on that either.

Jay and I fell, without either of us quite agreeing to it, into a rhythm that felt almost domestic… he made appalling instant noodles at midnight and somehow always made a second bowl without being asked, I learned, against my will, the exact way he liked his coffee, dark, no sugar, one useless ice cube "for the aesthetic," his words, not mine. We argued about the thermostat. We argued about whose turn it was to deal with the dry cleaning. We argued, once, for a full twenty minutes, about whether pineapple belonged on pizza, an argument Jay won not through logic but through the sheer, relentless force of ordering one anyway and watching me eat three slices while insisting I hated it.

It didn't feel like an arrangement most days. It felt, terrifyingly, like something closer to a life.

I still wasn't ready to call it that. Not yet.

…

My mother had opinions about wedding dresses the way my father had opinions about shipping contracts… extensive, firm, delivered with total confidence regardless of whether anyone had asked. I stood on a small pedestal in a boutique that smelled like tea and money while a worker pinned fabric at my hips and my mother circled me like she was appraising livestock.

"This one," she declared, for the third dress in a row. "No… wait. The last one. Definitely the last one."

"You said that about the first one too."

"I have many opinions ." She adjusted a stray pin. "You seem distracted, darling. Everything alright with Jay?"

I hesitated a beat too long, and my mother, who missed almost nothing when it came to my moods, caught it instantly.

"Everything's fine," I said. "It's just… a lot. All of it happening so fast."

"You've been happier since Lake Como," she said gently, not unkindly, folding a swatch of lace over her arm. "Whatever's between the two of you, real or not, I've watched you smile at your phone more in the last two months than you did in the entire two years you dated that awful man from the shipping conference."

"His name was Nick, and he wasn't awful, he was just—"

"He once corrected your grammar during your own birthday toast. He was awful." My mother fixed me with a look I recognized from childhood, the one that meant she already knew the answer and simply wanted me to say it out loud. "I know this didn't start the way either of you wanted. But I've been married to your father for thirty one years, and I promise you, some of the best marriages start as arrangements. It's not how it begins that matters. It's what you both decide to make of it."

I didn't have an answer for that, not one I trusted myself to say without my voice cracking, so I just let the worker finish pinning the dress and hoped my mother would mistake the shine in my eyes for exhaustion instead of what it actually was.

CHAPTER 6: BACK TO THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Six weeks before the wedding, the Park-Song merger required one final round of negotiations … in person, in Lake Como, with the same Italian business I'd first met with the night I'd met Jay. My father, delighted by what he assumed was budding chemistry between his daughter and her fiancé, insisted we both attend together.

"Absolutely not," I said, the second I found out.

"It's one trip," Jay said, entirely too pleased with himself, lounging in the penthouse's kitchen doorway with his arms crossed. "Besides, you love it there. You told me so yourself. Very memorably, actually."

"I will end you."

"Promises, promises."

…

The flight over was, against my best efforts, almost pleasant… Jay stole my armrest for the entire eleven hours and somehow made it feel less like an act of war and more like an invitation, and by the time we landed I'd watched two mediocre romantic comedies with him, argued about which one was worse, and split a truly ill advised amount of the airline's complimentary chocolate.

The negotiations themselves ran two full days, and I found myself, for the first time since this entire arrangement began, genuinely impressed by him… not by the practiced charm he displayed at dinner parties, but by the sharp, unglamorous capability he brought to a boardroom. He caught a clause in the shipping contract that would've cost both companies millions if it had gone unnoticed, argued the business's lead counsel into a corner without ever raising his voice, and did it all with the same easy confidence he'd used to talk me into a second drink the very first night I met him.

"You're staring," he murmured, leaning close under the act of reviewing a document, during a break in the second day's session.

"I'm reviewing your work," I said. "It's a legitimate business function."

"Sure it is." His mouth twitched. "For what it's worth, you're better at this than half the men in this room. Your father should let you run point on these negotiations instead of just sitting in on them."

I blinked, thrown by the sincerity of it, the total absence of teasing. "That's—" I fumbled for a second, "…actually a genuinely nice thing to say."

"Don't get used to it," he said, already back to his usual smirk, though something warmer lingered behind it that neither of us acknowledged out loud.

…

With the negotiations wrapped early that afternoon, we found ourselves with a rare, unscheduled block of hours before the celebratory dinner… no meetings, no families, no reason to be anywhere but exactly where we wanted to be. Jay suggested, with the particular casualness of a man trying very hard not to sound like he cared about the answer, that we take the hotel boat out onto the lake.

"That sounds suspiciously romantic for a business trip," I said.

"It's efficient sightseeing," he said. "You've been to Lake Como twice now and seen nothing but hotel lobbies and a boardroom. That's practically criminal."

I went. The lake in the afternoon light was almost romantic in its beauty… pastel villages stacked along the hills, the water so clear I could see straight through to the rocks below, mountains still capped faintly with snow despite the season. Jay, it turned out, was a genuinely terrible boat driver, and I spent a solid twenty minutes laughing at him trying to dock at a small café along the shore, nearly clipping a much nicer boat belonging to a very unimpressed elderly Italian man.

"In my defense," Jay said, mortified, as we both scrambled onto the dock, "boats are unreasonable vehicles."

"You almost took out a man's entire summer."

"He'll live." He handed me out of the boat with more grace than his docking had suggested he possessed, and didn't let go of my hand once I was steady on solid ground. Neither of us commented on it. Neither of us let go, either.

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering a village whose name I never quite caught, eating gelato that Jay insisted, with total confidence and zero evidence, was "objectively the best in Italy," and browsing a tiny shop that sold hand painted ceramics, where Jay bought a small blue bowl for no reason he'd admit to and I caught him, later, packing it carefully into his suitcase like it mattered.

"For the penthouse," he said, when he caught me watching. "Somewhere in that place we could use a little color that isn't gray and glass."

"That sounds suspiciously like nesting, Jay."

"It's interior design. Don't read into it." He absolutely wanted me to read into it. I absolutely did.

By the time the sun started dipping toward the hills, gold spilling across the water in a way that made the whole afternoon feel like something out of a memory I hadn't made yet, I'd stopped keeping track of how many times he'd made me laugh, or how many times I'd caught myself wishing this particular afternoon didn't have to end.

That night, with the contracts finally settled and one more signing ceremony scheduled for the following week, the business's lead partner insisted on a celebratory dinner… the same terrace, coincidentally or not, where I'd first found Jay leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand and a comment about my overthinking. I wore red. He noticed. He didn't bother pretending he hadn't.

"This feels like déjà vu," I said, watching the same lake catch the same moonlight it had the night we first met, a lifetime ago, back when I still thought I'd never see this man again.

"Good déjà vu or bad déjà vu?" he asked.

"Ask me tomorrow," I said, though we both already suspected we knew the answer.

The hotel… a different one this time, a relief, at least, though not by much… had, thanks to some administrative mix up that I was fairly certain Jay had personally engineered, booked the two of us into a single suite. One suite. One bed.

I stood in the doorway, staring at it, then at Jay, who was already unbuttoning his cuffs like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"No," I said.

"There's a couch," he said, gesturing vaguely at a chaise longue that was approximately five feet long and shaped like a crescent moon, entirely unsuited to the human spine.

"You take the couch."

"I'm six foot."

"That sounds like a you problem."

He grinned, infuriatingly. "We've shared a bed before. I don't remember you complaining."

Heat crawled up my neck, fast and unwelcome. "That was different."

"How, exactly?"

"That was one night with a stranger. This is—" I gestured helplessly between the two of us, "…this. Whatever this is."

"Fiancés," he supplied, far too casually, sitting on the edge of the bed like he already owned it, which, technically, given his family's stake in the hotel chain, he might have. "That's the word you're looking for."

"I know what the word is, Jay."

"Then use it. Might make the whole thing easier." Something flickered behind his eyes when he said it… not quite a challenge, not quite something softer. I didn't examine it too closely.

I ended up sharing the bed. I told myself it was purely logistical… a strict, enforced border down the middle of the mattress, a wall of decorative pillows stacked between us like the Berlin Wall reincarnated as home decor. Jay found the entire arrangement hilarious and said so, repeatedly, until I threatened to relocate him to the crescent-moon couch by force.

I woke up at 3 a.m. tangled against his chest, his arm slung over my waist exactly the way it had been the first time, in a different hotel, a different life, and I lay there in the dark for a long, unbearable minute, listening to him breathe, hating how much it felt like coming home.

I didn't move. Not right away.

When I finally did, careful, silent, he caught my wrist in the dark.

"Stay," he said, voice thick with sleep, and there was none of the usual bite in it. Just something quiet. Something real.

I stayed. I told myself, the next morning, that it hadn't meant anything. Neither of us brought it up again.

CHAPTER 7: JEALOUSY… WAS IT?

The closing gala for the merger was held on the terrace of the same hotel where the Italian business had first courted my father's business, string lights, a jazz trio, champagne that flowed like the lake itself had been bottled and served. I wore navy. Jay wore black. We'd agreed, wordlessly, over breakfast, to be civil for the cameras, which had somehow, without either of us fully noticing, evolved into being civil in general.

For the first hour, it was almost easy. Jay kept a hand at the small of my back as he introduced me to a rotating different executives and their spouses, and I found myself falling into an easy rhythm with him… finishing his sentences when he got bored of a conversation, catching his eye across the terrace when someone said something particularly absurd, sharing the kind of silent, private laughter that made me forget, for whole stretches of time, that any of this had started as a contract instead of a courtship. My father caught the two of us mid laugh at one point and looked, for a moment, so un-embarrassingly pleased with himself that I almost forgave him for the entire arrangement on the spot.

"You're enjoying yourself," Jay murmured, refilling my glass. "Careful. Someone might think you actually like me."

"Don't get used to it," I said, echoing his own line back at him, and he grinned like I'd handed him a gift.

That lasted exactly until Karina Yu showed up.

Karina was the business's newest assistant, stunning, sharp tongued, and, I gathered within about four minutes of watching her operate, extremely aware of exactly how good she looked with her hand resting on Jay's forearm while she laughed at something he'd said. I told myself I didn't care. I told myself this several times, with increasing insincerity, while I held a glass of champagne on the other side of the terrace and watched Jay throw his head back and laugh… an actual laugh, not the polished business one… at whatever Karina had just said.

So when Yeonjun Choi, a family friend from Singapore who happened to also be at the gala for reasons that felt suspiciously well timed, walked up beside me with two fresh glasses of champagne and an easy smile, I let myself lean into it. Just a little. Just enough.

"You look like you could use better company," Yeonjun said.

"You have no idea," I said, and let him make me laugh… genuinely, loudly, at a joke that wasn't even that funny… specifically angled so it would carry across the terrace.

I felt it the second Jay noticed. The air seemed to change temperature. I didn't dare look over, but I could feel the exact moment his attention snapped away from Karina Yu and landed, heavy and distinctively, on me and Yeonjun and the two inches of space between our shoulders that Yeonjun had very deliberately closed.

Ten minutes later, Jay's hand found the small of my back.

"Having fun?" he asked, voice pleasant, smile fixed, eyes doing absolutely none of the smiling.

"Loads," I said sweetly. "Yeonjun was just telling me about his new venture. Weren't you, Yeonjun?"

"I was," Yeonjun said, entirely oblivious to the fact that he had just become a casualty in a war he didn't know was being fought. "Actually, I was going to ask if you'd want to—"

"She'd love to," Jay cut in smoothly, "catch up with you later. Right now I need to steal my fiancée for a dance."

He didn't wait for my answer. His hand slid from my back to my waist, and he was already pulling me toward the small cleared space where a few other couples swayed under the lights, and I went, because making a scene in front of half of Lake Como's business elite was not on my evening's agenda.

"That was rude," I said, once we were close enough that only he could hear.

"That was necessary."

"He was being friendly."

"He was flirting with you." Jay's jaw was tight, his hand at my waist gripping just a little too firmly to be casual. "In front of me. At our engagement gala."

"And you were doing what, exactly, with Karina Yu for the last half hour? Discussing shipping tariffs?"

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

"Because I wasn't trying to make you jealous," he said, and then, a beat too late, the muscle in his jaw ticking, "Were you? Trying to make me jealous?"

I didn't answer. Which was, in itself, an answer, and we both knew it.

"You were," he said, something dark and satisfied slipping into his voice even through the anger. "You wanted me to see that."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not flattering myself. I'm reading the room. And the room says you didn't like watching me talk to another woman any more than I liked watching you flirt with Yeonjun Choi's Rolex collection."

"I don't care who you talk to."

"Liar," he said, low, and pulled me a fraction closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him through two layers of expensive fabric. "You've been glaring at Karina Yu's dress since she walked in."

"It's a hideous dress."

"It's a Valentino."

"It's a hideous Valentino."

Something in his expression cracked then… not quite a smile, something rawer than that, something that looked almost like relief that I was finally, finally saying something true. The song ended. Neither of us stepped back.

"We're going back to the hotel," Jay said. It wasn't a question.

I didn't argue.

CHAPTER 8: CRASH… HEHE

The elevator ride back to the penthouse floor was silent in the way that meant it wasn't silent at all… every inch of space between us charged, both of us staring straight ahead at the doors like the reflection there might explain what exactly we were doing.

The second the door clicked shut behind us, it all came out at once.

"You embarrassed me out there," I said, rounding on him, heels forgotten by the door, adrenaline and champagne and something far more dangerous humming under my skin. "Pulling me away like I'm a possession you needed to reclaim—"

"I embarrassed you?" Jay's jacket was already off, tossed over the back of a chair, tie loosened like he couldn't get it off fast enough. "You spent an hour hanging off Yeonjun Choi's arm—"

"I did not hang off his arm—"

"…laughing at everything he said like it was the funniest thing you'd ever heard—"

"Because it's more fun than watching you and Karina Yu practically undress each other with your eyes across the terrace!"

"There it is." He turned to face me fully, and the look on his face wasn't the charming, lazy amusement I'd grown used to… it was something sharper, hungrier, months of banter and almost truths finally boiling over into something neither of us could pretend was just anger anymore. "That's what this is about. You don't get to be jealous of me, sweetheart. Not after Lake Como. Not after you left me a note like I was room service."

"I'm not jealous."

"You're jealous." He took a step closer. I didn't step back. "You've been jealous since the second she put her hand on my arm, and you know what? So was I. Watching Yeonjun Choi look at you like that. Like he had any right to."

"Maybe he does," I said, breathless, reckless, the words leaving my mouth before my brain could stop them. "Maybe I'm tired of being handed off to a man who's spent the last two months trying to make me pay for one night I don't even regret."

Something in his face went dangerously still. "You don't regret it."

"No," I said. "I don't. And that terrifies me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The distance between us disappeared.

In a crash of mouths and hands. Jay’s kiss wasn’t gentle… it was a claim, teeth clashing, tongue demanding entry as he backed me against the nearest wall with enough force that a framed picture rattled. I bit his lower lip hard enough to taste the faint metallic tang of blood, and he growled into my mouth, the sound vibrating straight down to my core.

“You think I don’t know what you were doing?” he rasped, one large hand fisting in my hair and yanking my head back so he could bite down the side of my throat. “Parading Yeonjun in front of me like I wouldn’t lose my fucking mind?”

“I wasn’t—” My words cut off in a gasp as he sucked hard on my pulse point, hard enough to leave a mark I’d have to hide tomorrow.

“Bullshit.” His other hand shoved the hem of my navy dress up roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh. “You wanted me jealous. Mission accomplished, baby.”

He spun me around suddenly, pressing my front to the cool wall, his chest hot and solid against my back. The zipper of my dress gave way under impatient hands, the fabric pooling at my feet in a whisper of expensive silk. I was left in nothing but lace panties and heels. Jay’s palm slapped against my ass… sharp, possessive, before he kneaded the sting away.

“Mine,” he snarled against my ear, teeth grazing the shell. “Say it.”

“Fuck you,” I shot back, even as I pushed my hips back against the hard line of his cock straining through his trousers.

He laughed, low and dangerous. “That’s the plan.”

He dropped to his knees behind me without warning, yanking my panties down my legs and tossing them aside. Strong hands spread my cheeks, and then his mouth was on me… hot, wet, relentless. His tongue dragged from my clit all the way up, circling the tight ring of my ass before diving back down to lap at my dripping pussy. I cried out, forehead pressed to the wall, fingers scrabbling for purchase.

“Jay—fuck—”

He ate me like a man starved, like he could erase every second I’d spent smiling at Yeonjun by devouring me instead. Long, broad licks that made my thighs shake, then tight, focused suction on my clit while two thick fingers plunged inside me, curling viciously against that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room… his groans vibrating against my folds, my own broken moans echoing off marble.

“You taste so fucking good when you’re jealous,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to speak before spitting on my pussy and diving back in. A third finger joined the first two, stretching me open as his tongue flicked rapidly over my clit. “Gonna make this pretty cunt remember who it belongs to.”

I came hard, suddenly, thighs clamping around his head as my walls pulsed around his fingers. He didn’t stop… kept licking me through it, gentler then rougher again, until I was whimpering and trying to twist away from the overstimulation.

He stood, spinning me to face him. His mouth was shiny with my arousal, eyes dark with lust and something fiercer. He kissed me again, letting me taste myself on his tongue while he stripped off his shirt and trousers. His cock sprang free… thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. I reached for it, but he caught my wrist.

“Not yet.” He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the massive bed. He dropped me onto it and followed immediately, crawling over me like a predator.

His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking hard while his hand pinched and rolled the other. I arched into him, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks. He hissed in pleasure, grinding his cock against my thigh.

“These tits,” he groaned, switching sides, biting down gently before soothing with his tongue. “Been thinking about them all night while that asshole flirted with you.”

He worked his way down my body with single minded focus… kissing, licking, biting every inch of skin he could reach. Over my ribs, across my stomach, dipping into my navel, then lower. He settled between my thighs again, pushing them wide apart until I was completely exposed.

“Look at this greedy little pussy,” he murmured, spreading my folds with his thumbs. “Still dripping for me even after you came on my tongue.” He leaned in and licked a slow stripe up my slit, eyes locked on mine. “Tell me you don’t want anyone else tasting this.”

“I don’t,” I gasped, hips bucking. “Just you—fuck, Jay—”

He rewarded me by sucking my clit into his mouth while two fingers pumped steadily inside me. The pressure built again, fast and overwhelming. He added a third finger, scissoring them, stretching me as his tongue worked magic. When I was right on the edge, he pulled back, ignoring my whine of protest.

“Not yet. You don’t come again until I say so.”

He moved up my body and straddled my chest, knees on either side of my shoulders. His heavy cock bobbed in front of my face, glistening. He tapped the head against my lips.

“Open.”

I did, eagerly. He pushed in slowly at first, letting me swirl my tongue around the head, tasting the precum. Then he gripped my hair and thrust deeper, fucking my mouth with controlled rolls of his hips.

“Fuck, your mouth y/n…always so perfect.” He groaned as I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, relaxing my throat. “Suck it like you mean it, sweetheart. Show me how sorry you are for teasing me tonight.”

I hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. Saliva dripped down my chin as he used my mouth, not rough enough to choke but deep enough that my eyes watered. I loved it… the weight of him on my tongue, the way his abs flexed above me, the filthy praises falling from his lips.

He pulled out suddenly, breathing hard, and flipped me onto my stomach. He hauled my hips up so I was on my knees, ass in the air, face pressed into the sheets.

“Gonna fuck you so deep you forget Yeonjun’s name,” he growled, lining himself up and slamming in with one brutal thrust.

I screamed into the mattress, the stretch bordering on too much after his fingers. He didn’t give me time to adjust… just pulled back and drove in again, setting a punishing rhythm. Skin slapped against skin, his balls hitting my clit with every thrust. One hand fisted my hair, the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise.

“Whose pussy is this?” he demanded, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot.

“Yours—fuck—yours, Jay!”

“That’s right.” He reached around to rub my clit in tight, fast circles. “Come on my cock like a good girl. Let me feel you.”

The orgasm ripped through me, walls clenching around his thick length as I shook and moaned. He rode me through it, thrusts growing erratic, then pulled out and flipped me onto my back again.

He buried his face between my thighs once more, licking up every drop of my release with long, hungry strokes. “Can’t get enough of this taste,” he muttered against my folds. “Could eat you for hours.”

I was oversensitive, trembling, but he didn’t stop until I was whimpering and pushing at his head. Only then did he crawl up and kiss me deeply, sharing my flavor.

“On top,” he ordered, lying back and pulling me over him. “Ride me. Show me how much you need my cock.”

I straddled him, sinking down slowly, savoring the way he filled me completely. His hands gripped my ass, guiding me as I started to move… rolling my hips, grinding down so my clit rubbed against his pelvis with every motion.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, eyes hooded as he watched his cock disappear inside me. “So fucking beautiful taking every inch.”

He sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around me, mouth latching onto my breasts again as I rode him harder. I threaded my fingers through his hair, tugging as I bounced on his cock. He met me thrust for thrust, one hand sliding between us to rub my clit.

The angle was devastating. I came again, clenching around him, and he flipped us so he was on top once more, pounding into me through the aftershocks.

He pulled out and moved down my body again, this time pushing my thighs up toward my chest, folding me in half. His tongue attacked my pussy and ass with renewed passion… licking, sucking, probing, while two fingers fucked into me and his thumb pressed against my clit. I was a mess of sobs and pleas, overstimulated and desperate for more.

“Please—Jay—I need you inside me again—”

He rose up and slammed back into me in one smooth motion, the new position letting him hit impossibly deep. His hand wrapped around my throat… not squeezing hard, just holding me there, possessive.

“Mine,” he repeated with every thrust. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to make you come like this.”

I clawed at his back, legs locked around his waist as another orgasm built. He leaned down, biting my shoulder, then soothing it with his tongue. His pace became brutal, hips snapping against mine, sweat slick skin sliding together.

“Come with me,” he growled. “Now.”

We shattered together. He buried himself to the hilt, pulsing deep inside me as my walls milked him through wave after wave of pleasure. His groan of my name… raw, broken, sent fresh aftershocks through me.

"Oh gosh—y/n fuck!"

We stayed locked together for long moments, breathing hard. Then he pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from my pussy with dark satisfaction. He gathered some on his fingers and brought them to my lips. I sucked them clean without hesitation.

But he wasn’t done.

He slid down my body again, gentle this time, and began licking me clea… soft, deep strokes of his tongue that had me twitching and sighing. He paid attention to every sensitive inch, my clit, my entrance, even pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs where faint marks from his grip were already forming.

When he finally moved back up, he pulled me into his arms, my head on his chest. His hand stroked down my back in long, soothing lines.

“I hated seeing you with him,” he admitted quietly, the roughness gone from his voice, replaced by something vulnerable. “Even knowing it was just to piss me off.”

“I hated seeing her touch you,” I whispered back, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

He tilted my chin up and kissed me… slow, deep, thorough. “No more games like that.”

“No more,” I agreed.

But even as we lay tangled together, bodies sated and hearts still racing, I knew the fire between us was far from extinguished. If anything, the jealousy had only stoked it higher.

He rolled us so I was beneath him again, already hardening against my thigh.

“Round two?” he murmured, lips brushing mine.

I smiled, wicked and wanting. “Make me forget every other name but yours.”

And he did… thoroughly, roughly, with his mouth and hands and cock worshipping every inch of me until the sky outside began to lighten and all that remained was the two of us, breathless and undeniably bound.

…

He lay awake long after I'd fallen asleep against his chest, staring at the ceiling of a hotel room in the one city on earth that seemed determined to keep rewriting the terms of his life without asking his permission first.

He'd meant what he said, in the heat of the argument, about making me pay for Lake Como… he'd meant it that first dinner, watching me go pale across the table as I recognized him, some petty, wounded part of him lighting up at the thought of finally getting to watch me squirm the way he'd squirmed reading that note. He'd built an entire plan around it, in the weeks after the engagement was announced. Charm her. Get close. Make her want him the way she'd wanted him in Lake Como, and then, at the last possible second, be the one who walked away first.

It hadn't survived the second week. It hadn't survived me falling asleep on his shoulder during a boring merger briefing, or the ridiculous, genuine way I argued about pineapple pizza like my life depended on it, or the morning I'd stayed in his bed instead of running, hand in his under the sheets, no note, no euros, no goodbye.

He looked down at me now, curled against him, and felt something settle in his chest that had nothing to do with revenge at all.

So much for making her pay, he thought, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, careful not to wake me. Guess the joke's on me.

CHAPTER 9: THE MORNING AFTER THE MORNING AFTER

I woke up tangled in sheets that smelled like him, sunlight cutting gold across the same kind of luxury bed I'd woken up in months ago in a different hotel, in a different life, except this time there was no flight to catch, no note to write, no reason at all to leave.

Jay was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with an expression I didn't have a name for… something quieter than the smugness I'd come to expect, something that looked almost unguarded.

"No note this time?" he asked, but there was no real bite in it. Just a question, testing the ground.

"No note," I said. "I'm still here."

"You are." He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and the gentleness of it undid me more than anything he'd said in the heat of the night before. "I keep waiting for you to run."

"I keep waiting for you to actually let me stay," I said, quieter than I meant to. "You've spent two months telling me you were going to make me pay for Lake Como."

"I know." His jaw tightened, something like guilt flickering across his face. "I meant it, at first. I wanted to. You made me feel like—" he stopped, exhaled, started again. "You made me feel like something I wasn't used to feeling, and then you left like it didn't matter, and I didn't know what to do with that except be angry about it."

"And now?"

"Now I don't know what I'm angrier about," he admitted. "That you left. Or how much I don't want you to leave again."

"For what it's worth," I said, tracing an absent pattern against his chest, "I thought about you. After Lake Como. More than I wanted to. I told myself it was because you were a mystery I hadn't solved. Turns out it was just because I liked you, and I didn't know what to do with that, either."

"You could've texted."

"I didn't have your number. That was rather the design flaw in my whole escape plan."

He huffed a laugh, low and real, pressing it into my hair. "I looked you up, you know. After the note. Took me two days and an embarrassing amount of Google searches involving 'Singaporean businesswoman' and 'Lake Como' before I gave up entirely."

"You didn't."

"I absolutely did. My assistant thought I'd lost my mind." He tipped my chin up with two fingers, the same gesture from the engagement photoshoot, except there was no camera now, no performance, just the two of us and the quiet. "Turns out I didn't need Google. I just needed my father to have terrible timing and worse business instincts."

"Remind me to thank him," I murmured, "right after I finish being furious at him."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. I just reached for his hand under the sheets and let the silence be its own answer, and for one suspended, golden morning, it was almost enough to believe none of the rest of it… the merger, the arrangement, the families watching my every move like a stock ticker… mattered at all.

It wouldn't last. It never did, not for people like me.

…

I called Minji the second I landed back in Singapore, because if I didn't say any of this out loud to someone, I was fairly certain my own head was going to implode from the sheer volume of unprocessed feelings rattling around inside it.

"So," Minji said, the second she picked up, "you disappear on a stranger in Lake Como, said stranger turns out to be your arranged fiancé, and now you're calling me at nine in the morning sounding like you just ran a marathon. Catch me up."

"I think I like him," I said, miserable. "For real. Not in the fake engagement, keep up appearances way. In the actual, terrifying, can't-stop-thinking-about-him way."

There was a pause on the other end, and then Minji, ever helpful, burst out laughing. "You're just now figuring this out? I could've told you that the second you texted me a full paragraph about the way he tied his tie badly on purpose."

"That's not… that was an observation, not a—"

"It was absolutely a symptom." I could hear Minji grinning through the phone. "So what's the problem? You like him, presumably he likes you, considering the man rearranged an entire hotel's booking system to get you both in one bed—"

"The problem," I said, "is that this whole thing started because our fathers wanted a shipping contract. What if none of this is real? What if I fall for him for real and it turns out I'm just… convenient? The easiest option? The daughter who happened to be in the right hotel room at the right time?"

"Do you actually believe that," Minji asked, gentler now, "or are you just scared?"

I didn't answer right away, because I didn't have a good one. "Both, maybe."

"For what it's worth," Minji said, "I watched that man's face when you walked into that gala in navy. He did not look like a guy fulfilling a business obligation. He looked like a guy who forgot how to use words." A beat. "Stop trying to find the exit before you even know if you want one. That's the same thing you did in Lake Como the first time, and look how well that turned out."

I hung up feeling more unsettled than before I'd called, which I supposed was the entire point of calling Minji in the first place.

CHAPTER 10: THE FIGHT THAT ACTUALLY MATTERED…

The trouble with almost truths is that they don't survive daylight for long, and by the time Jay and I were both back in Singapore, back in the penthouse, back under the weight of two families and a merger worth more than either of our lives combined, the softness of Lake Como had curdled, slowly, into something more complicated.

It wasn't any one thing at first. It was the wedding planning eating into every spare hour of both our schedules, endless calls with caterers and venue coordinators and a florist who seemed personally offended by every choice I made. It was Jay's schedule filling up with calls from the conglomerate's Singapore office as the merger moved into its implementation phase, calls that ran later and later into the evening. It was the two of us, still learning how to be honest about wanting each other without immediately following it with a joke to soften the admission, slowly running out of jokes to hide behind and not yet having anything solid to replace them with.

It started, as these things always did, over something small. A dinner Jay canceled at the last minute for a call with Karina Yu's firm… purely business, he swore, and I believed him, mostly, except believing him didn't stop the old, ugly voice in my head from whispering that I was, at the end of the day, a business arrangement he could deprioritize whenever something more important came along.

"You could have told me sooner," I said, standing in the kitchen while he shrugged his jacket back on for the second time that night.

"I told you the second I knew."

"You told me twenty minutes before we were supposed to leave, Jay."

"It's work. This merger doesn't run itself just because we had a nice morning in Lake Como."

The words landed harder than he probably meant them to. A nice morning. Like that was all it had been. Like I hadn't spent the last week turning it over in my head, wondering if it meant what I desperately, quietly hoped it meant.

"Right," I said, voice gone flat. "Of course. Wouldn't want the merger to suffer because you spent an evening with your fiancée."

"That's not what I—"

"It's fine." It wasn't fine. We both knew it wasn't fine. "Go to your call."

He didn't go, not right away. He stood there in the kitchen doorway, jacket half on, looking at me like he wanted to say something and couldn't find the shape of it. "I'm scared," he finally said, so quietly I almost missed it. "Of how much I want this to be real. And every time I get close to saying that out loud, I remember it started because our fathers wanted a shipping contract, and I don't know how to trust that any of this is actually about us."

The anger drained out of me at once, replaced by something far more exposed. "I'm scared of the exact same thing," I admitted. "That's why I left Lake Como the first time. Not because of you. Because of how much I already didn't want to."

He crossed the kitchen in three steps and kissed me like he was trying to prove something to both of us at once, and when he pulled back, forehead resting against mine, he said, "Cancel your evening. I'll cancel the call. Let's just… figure this out. Together. No merger. No fathers. Just us."

We canceled the call together. Neither of us brought up Karina or Yeonjun again.

…

It didn't stay easy. I hadn't expected it to… nothing about the two of us had ever been easy, not from the very first night in a bar with too much rum in the drinks… but the fight that came three weeks later still managed to knock the wind out of me in a way none of the others had.

It was over something stupid, in looking into the past. Jay had made a decision about the wedding venue without consulting me… a favor to both fathers, he said, a way to smooth over a disagreement about vendor contracts that had nothing to do with either of us and everything to do with two companies trying to look good in front of shareholders. I'd found out from my mother, not from him, and something about hearing it secondhand had cracked open every insecurity I'd been quietly protecting since the day this arrangement started.

"You didn't think to ask me," I said, voice tight, "because at the end of the day, this is still a business decision to you. I'm still a line item."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it? You made a decision about my wedding to smooth over a contract dispute, Jay. Tell me how that's not exactly what I was afraid of from the beginning."

"I did it because I was trying to protect you from getting dragged into another negotiation," he snapped, temper flaring to match mine. "I didn't think you'd rather sit through another four-hour meeting about seating charts and vendor exclusivity clauses just to prove a point."

"I'd rather you asked me. That's it. That's the whole point. You don't get to decide what I can handle."

"Maybe I overstepped." His voice cracked, just slightly, on the word. "But don't stand there and tell me this is still just business to me, because I have spent the last four months falling in love with a woman I met in a bar and then spent every day since terrified she was going to wake up one morning and leave another note."

The room went very quiet.

"That's not fair either," I said, softer now, the fight draining out of me as fast as it had risen. "Using that against me."

"I'm not using it against you. I'm telling you the truth, because I'm so far past pretending this is manageable that I don't know what else to do except be honest and hope it doesn't scare you off." He dragged a hand through his hair, the picture of a man who had clearly rehearsed a calmer version of this speech and abandoned it entirely under pressure. "I love you. I've loved you probably since the hotel room I woke up alone in. And I am so sick of both of us treating that like a liability instead of just… saying it."

I stood there, heart hammering, every practiced defense I'd built over the last four months suddenly useless in my hands. "You've never said that before."

"I'm saying it now." He looked, for the first time since I'd met him, genuinely unguarded… no charm, no smugness, nothing performative left in him at all. "I love you. And if you walk out that door right now, I'm not going to chase you, because I'm done being someone you run from. But I'd really, really rather you stayed."

I didn't walk out the door.

I crossed the room instead, and kissed him, and neither of us brought up seating charts again for the rest of the night.

…

Two days later, I came home to find the penthouse dark except for a trail of candles leading from the front door to the balcony, which was, I thought, either the most romantic thing Jay had ever attempted or a genuine fire hazard, possibly both.

"If you set off the smoke alarm," I called out, toeing off my heels, "I will never let you live it down."

"Just come outside," his voice floated back, suspiciously nervous for a man who negotiated multi-million-dollar contracts for a living without breaking a sweat.

I found him on the balcony in the same suit he'd worn the night of the engagement announcement, the harbor spread out gold and glittering behind him, and something in his posture… hands shoved in his pockets, weight shifting like he couldn't decide where to put himself… made my chest go tight before he'd said a single word.

"We're already engaged," I said slowly, eyeing the candles, the suit, the unmistakable set dressing of a moment he'd clearly planned. "This is either extremely romantic or you're about to tell me something has gone horribly wrong with the merger."

"Neither." He huffed a laugh, more nerves than humor in it, and pulled a small velvet box from his pocket… not the ring our families had already selected together for the official engagement, the one that had been photographed and press released and worn on my hand for months now, but a different one entirely, simpler, clearly chosen by him and no one else. "The first ring was picked by a committee. Our fathers, a jeweler, a PR team who wanted something 'photogenic for the press release.' I didn't get a say in it, and I don't think you did either. This one, I picked myself."

I stared at him, throat suddenly too tight to speak.

"I know we're already getting married," he continued, dropping to one knee anyway, the picture of a man determined to do this properly no matter how backwards the order of operations had gotten. "I know the contracts are signed and the venue's booked and my father's already started planning the honeymoon like it's his own. But none of that was ever really us choosing this. So I wanted to ask you myself. Not because a merger needs it. Because I do." He opened the box… a simple band, understated, nothing like the statement piece on my hand already. "Will you Marry me, y/n? For real this time. Not because of Lake Como, or the contract, or the note, or any of the reasons this started. Just because I love you, and I'd choose you even if none of the rest of it had ever happened."

"You're an idiot," I said, laughing and crying at once, dropping to my knees on the balcony floor to be level with him because I couldn't stand to have him below me for this. "You already had me. You've had me since the boat, or the pizza argument, or possibly since the very first night, I genuinely can't tell anymore."

"Is that a yes?"

"That's a yes." I kissed him before he could say anything else insufferably charming, and somewhere behind me, entirely unnoticed until this exact moment, I registered that he'd set up a small speaker quietly playing something slow and warm, the kind of song that made the whole ridiculous, candlelit, slightly hazardous scene feel like something out of a life I never would have predicted for myself a year ago and wouldn't trade now for anything.

"For the record," Jay said, sliding the second ring onto my finger beside the first, "I'm keeping both rings on you. One for the contract our fathers wanted. One for the choice we actually made."

"Sentimental," I accused.

"Only for you," he said, and meant it.

CHAPTER 11: FULL CIRCLE

The final signing ceremony for the merger was scheduled, fittingly, for Lake Como… the same business, the same lake, the same string light terraces where this entire impossible chain of events had started. My father called it poetic. I called it the universe having an extremely specific sense of humor.

This time, there was no confusion about the hotel booking. Jay booked the suite himself, one bed, no crescent moon couch in sight, and when I raised an eyebrow at him over the reservation confirmation, he just shrugged, entirely unbothered.

"Figured we'd save everyone the trouble of pretending," he said.

The signing went smoothly… my father practically glowing with the kind of pride that came from watching two companies and two children merge into one very profitable future. Chairman Park shook my hand with real warmth, told me Jay had been, in his words, "unbearable to live with" in the weeks after Lake Como the first time, and that he was glad to see I'd apparently cured that particular ailment. I'd laughed, genuinely, and looked over to find Jay watching me with an expression that had nothing to do with business at all.

That night, after the papers were signed and the champagne toasts made and the last of the business's executives had finally, mercifully, gone home, I found myself back on the same terrace where I'd first met him… string lights, dark water, a version of myself that had walked into this exact spot months ago convinced she'd never see this man again.

"You know," Jay said, coming to stand beside me at the railing, his tie long gone, sleeves rolled to his forearms, "I used to think about what I'd say to you. If I ever saw you again. I had this whole speech planned. Very cutting. Very devastating."

"What happened to it?"

"You showed up at my dinner table three weeks later and I forgot every word of it." He turned to face me fully, and whatever careful distance he usually kept even now, even after everything, was entirely gone from his eyes. "I don't want to make you pay for Lake Como anymore. I just want Lake Como. Again. With you. For real this time… not a stranger's name, not a note on a hotel notepad. All of it. If you'll let me."

My throat tightened. "I was so sure I'd never see you again," I admitted. "I left because staying scared me more than leaving did. I didn't know how to want something that wasn't part of a plan I'd already made for my life."

"And now?"

"Now the plan includes you," I said. "Which terrifies me a little less every day."

He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and I let him pull me back toward the suite with none of the panic of that first morning, none of the urgency to run before the sun came up. This time, I wanted to stay for the sunrise.

We walked the short distance to our suite. The moment the door closed, the rest of the world fell away. Jay turned to me under the soft glow of the bedside lamps, the moonlit Lake Como sparkling beyond the windows like a painting made just for us. No rush. No games. Only the quiet weight of everything we had finally admitted.

He cupped my face with both hands and kissed me deeply… slow, soulful, like he was pouring every unsaid feeling into the press of his lips. His thumbs stroked my cheeks as his tongue gently explored my mouth, tempting soft sighs from me. I melted against him, hands sliding up his chest to loosen his tie and work open the buttons of his shirt.

“I love you,” he breathed between kisses, voice low and thick with emotion. “Not because of the merger, or our families, or Lake Como. Just you. The woman who argues with me about pineapple on pizza and rearranges my closet to drive me crazy.”

Tears pricked at my eyes as I smiled against his mouth. “I love you too. I think I have for a long time… I was just too scared to stay.”

He kissed the corner of my eye, then my temple, then the sensitive spot beneath my ear. With soft hands, he eased the zipper of my dress down my spine, following the path with his lips… pressing open mouthed kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck. The fabric slid to the floor in a whisper. He unclasped my bra and let it fall away, then hooked his fingers into my panties and drew them down my legs, dropping to one knee to kiss my thighs, my knees, the delicate skin just above my ankles as he helped me step out.

When I stood completely bare before him, he rose slowly, eyes dark with desire but softened by something far deeper. I finished undressing him with the same care… pushing his shirt off his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of muscle in his chest and abdomen, unbuckling his belt and sliding his trousers and boxers down until he was as bare as I was.

Jay lifted me effortlessly and laid me in the center of the large bed. He followed, covering my body with his, but keeping most of his weight on his forearms so I felt surrounded, protected, cherished. He kissed me for a long time… deep, slow kisses that left me breathless… before trailing his mouth downward.

He lavished attention on my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers, switching sides with unhurried devotion until I was arching and whimpering. Lower still, he kissed every inch of my stomach, my hips, the tops of my thighs. Then he settled between my spread legs, spreading me open with gentle hands.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice full of awe. “So beautiful. So mine.”

His tongue traced a slow, broad stripe from my entrance to my clit, then circled the swollen bud with patient, loving strokes. He took his time, exploring every fold, savoring my taste with soft hums of pleasure that vibrated through me. Two thick fingers eased inside me, curling gently against that perfect spot while his mouth sealed over my clit, sucking with tender rhythm. The pleasure built gradually, like a wave rolling in from far away, growing deeper and warmer until it crashed over me in a long, shuddering orgasm. I cried out his name softly, thighs trembling around his head as he licked me through every pulse, gentle and devoted.

He kissed his way back up my body, settling between my thighs. His cock… thick, heavy, and leaking at the tip… nudged against my slick entrance. Our eyes locked as he pushed in slowly, letting me feel every inch as he stretched and filled me completely. When he bottomed out, he stayed there, buried deep, forehead pressed to mine.

“Feel us,” he whispered. “This is real.”

We moved together in a slow, rocking rhythm. Long, deep strokes that dragged pleasure through every nerve ending. His hips rolled against mine in a sensual grind, hitting that spot inside me with each thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, holding him as close as physically possible. Our breaths mingled, soft moans and whispered “I love you" filling the space between kisses.

Jay slipped a hand between us, fingers finding my clit and circling it with perfect, gentle pressure. The pace stayed tender but grew more intense… deeper, more intentional thrusts as pleasure coiled tighter inside me. I came again with a broken moan, walls fluttering and clenching around him, pulling him deeper. He followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan of my name as he spilled inside me, pulsing hot and deep.

Even after, he stayed buried within me, holding me close while we caught our breath. He rolled us onto our sides, facing each other, still connected. His hand stroked down my back in long, soothing lines, fingers tracing my spine, my hips, the curve of my waist. I pressed soft kisses to his chest, his collarbone, the hollow of his throat.

“No more running,” he said quietly, tilting my chin up to kiss me again… slow and sweet.

“No more notes,” I replied, smiling against his lips. “Just us. Every morning. Every night.”

We stayed like that for a long while, trading lazy kisses and touches, bodies still joined, hearts finally in perfect sync. Eventually he pulled out gently, cleaned us both with a warm cloth from the bathroom, then pulled me back into his arms. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the same lake outside the window that had once watched me slip away now witnessing me stay… willingly, completely, forever.

The universe had brought us full circle. This time, we were exactly where we belonged.

CHAPTER 12: THE HILLS, REPRISE 

Minji threw me a bachelorette dinner two nights before the wedding… small, just a handful of close friends on a rooftop bar overlooking the exact stretch of harbor I could see from the penthouse, which Minji swore was a coincidence and I was fairly sure was not.

"To the world's most chaotic love story," Minji said, raising her glass. "One night stand, arranged marriage, at least one shouting match that the building's security definitely heard—"

"That happened one time—"

"… and somehow, against every possible odd, an actual, real, sickeningly cute relationship. I still can't believe you almost didn't recognize him at that dinner."

"I recognized him immediately," I admitted. "I was just praying I was wrong."

"And now?"

I looked out at the water, dark and glittering, not so different from the lake that had started all of this, and felt something settle in my chest that had taken the better part of a year to arrive. "Now I can't imagine having prayed for anything else."

Across town, in a considerably less sentimental gathering, Jay was enduring a bachelor party that mostly consisted of his closest friends ribbing him mercilessly about the note.

"Money for the minibar," one of them said, for what had to be the fortieth time that week, raising a glass in mock tribute. "A toast… to the greatest insult ever survived by a Park heir."

"I've moved past it," Jay said, entirely unconvincingly.

"You named your dog after the hotel."

"That's… unrelated."

It was not, in fact, unrelated, and everyone at the table knew it, and Jay let them have the joke because some jokes you'd earned by now, and because in two days none of it was going to matter anyway. He was going to marry the woman who'd left that note, and somewhere between the fury and the note and the year that followed, he'd stopped thinking of it as something to make her pay for and started thinking of it as the first sentence of a story he was, against every prediction he'd have made about his own life, deeply grateful to be living.

…

The Ceremony…

The wedding, when it finally came, was nothing like the dinner where it had all started… no stiff formality, no families sizing each other up across a table like it was a negotiation. Just our two families, genuinely joined this time instead of merely merged, and Jay at the end of the aisle wearing the same crooked, unguarded smile he'd worn the night he first bought me a drink with too much rum in it and told me that I looked like I was thinking too hard for someone on vacation.

"You're doing that thing again," he murmured, when I finally reached him, voice pitched for only me to hear. "Thinking too hard."

"I'm just wondering," I whispered back, "if you're going to make me regret leaving that note for the rest of our lives."

"Every single day," he said, grinning. "But mostly because it's the reason I got to fall in love with you twice."

When it came time for vows, Jay went first, and the room, which had been politely rustling with the low murmur of two hundred guests, went entirely still.

"I had a whole speech written," he admitted, pulling a folded card from his jacket pocket and then, after a beat of consideration, tucking it away again unread. "My assistant helped me write it. It had a quote from a poet I've never actually read in it, to sound sophisticated. But I think you'd know if I was reading someone else's words instead of mine, so… here's the truth instead. I met a woman in a bar who told me she was working, at eleven at night, in a bar, and I thought that was the funniest, most transparent lie I'd ever heard, and I decided right then I wanted to know everything else she wasn't telling me. It took me a lot longer than I'd like to admit to realize that the version of myself I like best is the one that exists around you… the one that argues about pizza toppings and loses fights about thermostats and gets absurdly, embarrassingly jealous over nothing. I promise to keep choosing that version of myself, and to keep choosing you, for every single day we get, starting today and not stopping for a very long time."

My own vows came out shakier than I'd rehearsed them in the mirror that morning, but I got through them anyway. "I left you a note once," I said, and heard the ripple of laughter move through the crowd, most of whom had heard some version of that story by now. "I told you it wasn't you, it was timing. I have never told a bigger lie in my entire life. It was absolutely you. You were the first person who ever made me want to stay somewhere I hadn't planned on staying, and I've spent the year since trying to figure out how to say that without sounding as terrified as I actually was. I'm not scared anymore. I choose this… I choose you… not because of a contract, or our fathers, or a shipping deal neither of us fully understood at the time, but because somewhere between a bar in Lake Como and this exact terrace, you stopped being an arrangement and started being home."

Minji, somewhere in the crowd, would later swear she heard me laugh mid vow, which was, everyone agreed, entirely on brand.

Chairman Park gave a toast at the reception that started as a speech about shipping tariffs and ended, somewhere around his third glass of champagne, in genuine tears about how he'd never seen his son smile the way he smiled around me, contract or no contract. My father, not to be outdone, stood up next and admitted… publicly, in front of two hundred guests… that he'd fully expected me to hate the arrangement forever, and that watching me dance at my own wedding like I'd chosen this myself was the best business decision he'd ever made and he intended to take full credit for it at every future shareholder meeting.

"He's never going to let this go, is he," Jay murmured against my ear, swaying with me under string lights that looked, deliberately, unmistakably, like the ones from a terrace in Lake Como.

"Never," I agreed. "You're stuck being his favorite success story for the rest of your life."

"Worse things to be stuck with," he said, and spun me once, easy and sure, the same way he had the very first night, except this time there was no mystery left between us at all… no last name withheld, no hotel notepad, no note to write in a panic before a flight. Just the two of us, exactly where we'd both, somewhere along the way, decided we wanted to be.

Later, much later, when the guests had thinned and the band had switched to something slower, Jay pulled me toward the edge of the terrace, away from the noise, and pressed his forehead to mine the way he had the night everything finally cracked open between us.

"No regrets?" he asked. "Even with everything it took to get here?"

"None," I said. "Although I do think you owe me for two months of insufferable jealousy and a color coded closet war."

"I owe you," he agreed, "for a lot more than that. I'll be paying it off for the rest of our lives. I'm looking forward to it."

…

Years later…

Somewhere over the years that followed… the arguments that still happened, because two people that stubborn were never going to stop clashing entirely, and the jealousy that occasionally flared, more playful now than desperate, and the quiet mornings that mattered more than either of us had expected an arranged marriage to ever produce… I'd think back, sometimes, to a stranger in a bar in Lake Como who told me that I looked like trouble.

He'd been right. He usually was, though I'd never admit that to his face.

There would be more trips to Lake Como over the years… anniversaries, mostly, an unspoken tradition neither of us had planned but both of us protected fiercely, the same terrace, the same string lights, a standing reservation at a hotel that still, to this day, kept a bowl of untouched fruit in every suite because Jay had once complained, half joking, that nobody ever ate it. There would be a dog, badly named, exactly as his friends had predicted. There would be, eventually, a nursery my mother had been quietly hoping for since the night of that very first engagement announcement, though that particular chapter belonged to a different story entirely.

I wouldn't have changed a single second of it. Not the note. Not the running. Not the fights, or the jealousy, or the year it took the two of us to stop being afraid of wanting something that started as an arrangement and ended up as the realest thing either of us had ever had.

Some things, it turned out, were worth staying for.

THE END

I hope you guys like this fic! I didn't get to proofread it properly, so hopefully everything makes sense! I lowkey teared up writing the end of it. I really like this storyline so I hope I delivered it well! If you have any suggestion what who or what I can write next please drop a comment!

wonluvzu taglist ;)

university had settled into something comfortably predictable. the frantic first weeks of introductions and orientation events had faded months ago, replaced instead by routines that seemed to repeat themselves without anyone really noticing. monday mornings always began with students rushing across campus twenty minutes later than they’d intended. the library was impossibly full by lunchtime despite everyone insisting they worked better in their own rooms. by friday afternoon, every coffee shop had queues stretching through the doors, fuelled by exhausted students convincing themselves they deserved an overpriced coffee after surviving another week.

somewhere between all of that, you’d found your place. looking back, it was strange how quickly everything had happened. you’d arrived expecting months of awkwardness, eating lunch alone, second-guessing whether anyone would remember your name after conversations, wondering if uni friendships really were as effortless as people had made them seem.

instead, they’d simply… happened.

sunoo had been the first. he’d sat beside you before your introductory lecture had even begun, complaining dramatically about the size of the campus before asking if you’d figured out where the nearest coffee shop was yet. neither of you had. by the end of the afternoon, the two of you had spent almost three hours wandering around hopelessly lost before accidentally stumbling across the student union together.

after that came jay, who somehow possessed the remarkable ability to complain about absolutely everything while still being the most dependable person you knew. then jake, whose boyish eagerness felt almost impossible to rival, and sunghoon, who’d seemed intimidating right up until you’d realised ninety percent of his sarcasm disappeared whenever someone offered him food.

before long, dinners became shared instead of solitary. library sessions somehow turned into six people studying different degrees around the same table simply because nobody wanted to work alone. birthdays, movie nights, grocery trips, midnight walks to convenience stores after collective assignment breakdowns… somehow, they’d all become normal.

it wasn’t that your newfound group spent every waking moment together. everyone’s timetables were different. there were weeks where assignments swallowed whole days, where some people disappeared beneath deadlines while others barely had a lecture scheduled. but somehow everyone always found their way back together eventually, as though it had become an unspoken expectation rather than something anyone actively organised.

you liked that. how there wasn’t any pressure, only familiarity. outside of your own friends, uni had a funny way of making people feel familiar too.

your course was large enough that you couldn’t possibly know everyone, yet small enough that faces started repeating themselves. people you’d exchanged exactly one conversation with would smile as they passed you on campus. classmates whose names you’d never learnt would wave from the opposite side of lecture theatres. baristas recognised your coffee order before you’d even reached the till.

jay insisted it was because everyone knew you, you insisted he was exaggerating. the truth probably sat somewhere in the middle. you’d always found it easier to smile first than wait for someone else to. if someone looked nervous before a presentation, you’d wish them luck. if someone sat beside you in a lecture, you’d introduce yourself before either of you had time to overthink the silence. conversations came naturally enough that you rarely realised you’d always be the one to start them until they’d ended.

people remembered kindness more than confidence, something you’d learnt a long time ago. which, to give jay some credit, was probably why you recognised so many faces despite knowing so few names.

one of those faces belonged to someone you’d never actually spoken to, you couldn’t even remember the first time you’d noticed him. he’d simply always seemed to exist somewhere on the edge of your life.

sometimes you’d catch sight of him crossing the courtyard with headphones resting loosely around his neck, one hand buried in the pocket of an oversized hoodie while the other balanced an impossible stack of books against his chest. other times he’d already be sitting near the front before lectures began, quietly reading through notes while everyone else chatted around him.

he left classes quickly. professors barely finished dismissing everyone before he was gone, disappearing into hallways crowded with students until he became impossible to pick out from everyone else.

you didn’t know much about him, only fragments gathered accidentally over the course of a year. he was ridiculously smart. heeseung lived with him and you’d hear his complaints, albeit fond ones, about how when jungwon had an exam or assignment coming up, however small, he wouldn’t leave his room until he was impossibly sure of himself, which never happened. 

riki also complained (in much less detail) that he spent too much time studying.

sunoo had once described him as “one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet once he forgets to be nervous.”

that last one had surprised you. from a distance, he always looked composed, quiet, sure. but never nervous. if anything, he’d struck you as someone perfectly content staying in his own company. the kind of person who preferred observing conversations rather than joining them. you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him raise his voice. or laugh loudly. or even stay somewhere longer than he absolutely had to.

still, he was difficult not to notice. perhaps because everyone around him seemed louder by comparison. heeseung laughed with his whole body. riki rarely stood still for longer than thirty seconds. jay somehow managed to turn ordering lunch into a competition. sunghoon teased sunoo relentlessly and jake always seemed to be stuck in the middle, trying his hardest to swat sunghoon’s persistent hands away from sunoo as he tried not laugh himself, for sunoo’s sake. jungwon simply… existed quietly amongst all of it, as though he occupied a completely different pace to everyone else.

you never gave it much thought, he was simply another familiar stranger. someone whose face had become a comfortable part of your life without ever crossing fully into it.

despite sharing more mutual friends than either of you probably realised, you and jungwon had somehow managed to spend the better part of a year existing almost entirely on the edges of each other’s lives. it became one of those things you only noticed after it had already been happening for months. the two of you would be invited to the same birthday dinner, only for one of you to arrive after the other had already settled into conversation. someone would suggest a movie night at heeseung and riki’s flat, and while everyone else gradually drifted into the living room, you’d somehow end up helping jay order food while jungwon disappeared into the kitchen to make more drinks. group photos would be taken at the end of the night, proving you had, in fact, spent several hours in the same room, despite barely exchanging more than a passing glance.

it almost became funny, but not in a way anyone ever pointed out. just one of those strange little coincidences that seemed to happen naturally whenever enough people were involved. if there was a seat beside jungwon when you arrived, someone would inevitably call your name from the opposite end of the table before you had a chance to sit down. if you wandered over to ask heeseung something, jungwon would suddenly realise his cup was empty and excuse himself to refill his water. if everyone split into smaller conversations, the two of you somehow always ended up in different ones. not deliberately. just… somehow.

the closest thing you’d had to a conversation happened sometime during the first semester. you’d arrived at heeseung and riki’s flat with two bags of snacks balanced awkwardly against your hip after volunteering to stop by the corner shop on the way over.

the front door was already unlocked. you’d let yourself inside, calling out a quick hello that was immediately drowned out by riki shouting something unintelligible from the living room. before you could make sense of it, someone appeared around the corner.

jungwon. he’d looked just as surprised to see you as you’d been to see him. for a second, the two of you had simply stared at each other.

“…hey.” you grinned. he noticed the hopeful sparkle in your eyes before he noticed the way the left side of your face tilted up slightly more than the right when you gave him one of the blinding smiles you seemed to dish out so abundantly to his friends. he thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“…hi.” he muttered back sheepishly, dropping his gaze to the floor on instinct. 

then he’d stepped aside to let you through with a small, polite smile before disappearing down the hallway again. that had been it. looking back, you weren’t even sure if it counted as a conversation. it obviously hadn’t felt like one.

after that, much to your dismay, the pattern simply continued. you knew who he was, everyone did. if someone mentioned jungwon, nobody ever had to ask, “which one?” he’d built something of a quiet reputation around campus without ever seeming to try.

people on your course didn’t know much about him beyond the obvious. they knew he studied computer science, that he consistently did well in every module he took and that professors seemed to like him. every now and then, his name would come up when someone was complaining about an assignment.

“jungwon finished it last week.”

“apparently he got full marks.”

“does he ever sleep?”

the answer, according to heeseung, was apparently “not during exam season.”

you’d lost count of the number of times he’d shown up somewhere and casually mentioned that jungwon hadn’t left his room all day.

“he’s revising.”

“again?”

“he says he isn’t ready.”

“his test’s tomorrow.”

“exactly.”

heeseung always said it with the same mixture of affection and disbelief, like someone talking about a younger brother who worried far more than he needed to.

riki, on the other hand, had much less patience for it.

“he acts like every quiz decides his entire future.”

“it kind of does,” heeseung had replied once.

“no, it doesn’t.” riki muttered out, rolling his eyes as far back into his head as he could.

“to him it does.” heeseung smiled, swatting riki on the shoulder as he teased him for his dramatics.

the conversation had moved on quickly after that. most conversations did. people laughed, someone changed the subject and eventually everyone started talking over one another again.  still, little comments like that stayed with you, simply because they slowly filled in the gaps around someone you barely knew. the version of jungwon everyone described never quite matched the one you saw. they talked about someone who panicked over assignments, second-guessed himself constantly and somehow managed to convince himself he’d fail exams everyone else expected him to ace. the jungwon you’d always seen seemed unnaturally calm. he walked across campus at an unhurried pace, never looking particularly rushed even when everyone around him was sprinting to lectures. he’d sit quietly before classes with a notebook open, reading through something while conversations buzzed around him. when people spoke to him, he always looked up immediately, giving them his full attention before answering. reserved, maybe. quiet, definitely. but never anxious.

you wondered, briefly, if he simply hid it well. or maybe people behaved differently around those they were comfortable with. the thought didn’t linger for long. everyone was different around their friends, you probably were too.

one friday evening, the two groups ended up at heeseung and riki’s flat after jay had declared that nobody should be spending the end of the week working. the plan had been to order takeaway, watch a film and, in jay’s words, “pretend deadlines don’t exist until monday.”

predictably, the film never really happened. jake and heeseung couldn’t agree on what to watch. then sunghoon decided he was hungry before a decision had been made, so much so that he refused to talk about anything else. by the time food finally arrived, everyone had split off into different conversations scattered around the flat. you found yourself squeezed onto one end of the sofa beside an exasperated sunoo while jake and sunghoon argued over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. jay had wandered into the kitchen to find more drinks, heeseung followed after him. riki disappeared for reasons nobody questioned. at some point, you realised jungwon wasn’t in the room either. you only noticed because he returned a few minutes later carrying a stack of clean plates balanced carefully in both hands. without interrupting anyone, he set them down on the coffee table one by one before disappearing back into the kitchen.

he came back again with cutlery. then napkins. someone thanked him absentmindedly. he nodded once.

“no worries.”

and sat down as though he’d done nothing at all. it was such a small thing that nobody else seemed to pay it any attention. conversation carried on without missing a beat. sunghoon was still insisting pineapple absolutely belonged on pizza.

jay, now involved, disagreed so passionately that you’d begun to suspect it was personal. across the room, jungwon listened with the same quiet smile he’d worn all evening, occasionally laughing under his breath whenever riki deliberately tried to make the argument worse. he looked just comfortable enough to let everyone else fill the room while he quietly existed alongside them. for someone who supposedly struggled around people, there was something unexpectedly reassuring about the way he never seemed to force himself to keep up.

somewhere between arriving and leaving, you realised you’d learnt something new about jungwon. that he wasn’t quiet because he had nothing to contribute, he was quiet instead because he never seemed to feel the need to compete with everyone else for the conversation.

and, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself thinking that was admirable.

the problem with missing lectures wasn’t usually the lecture itself. it was everything that came afterwards.

lecturers had an unfortunate habit of squeezing the most important information into the last ten minutes of class; the reminders about coursework, changes to seminar groups, little comments that never made it onto the slides but somehow always ended up appearing in exams.

normally, you really wouldn’t have worried. one of your friends would send their notes eventually. except this lecture unfortunately happened to be shared with almost none of your friends. by the time you’d made it back onto campus, your phone was already buzzing with messages.

jay Where are you?

sunoo u alive??

jake thought you’d overslept 😭

you smiled to yourself, typing out a quick explanation as you walked across the courtyard.

doctor’s appointment. i’m alive, unfortunately.

three dots appeared almost immediately.

jay Truly devastating news

you rolled your eyes. he still texted like your dad.

the lecture theatre ahead was already emptying by the time you reached it. students spilled into the corridor carrying half-zipped backpacks and takeaway coffees, conversations blending into one another until it became impossible to tell where one ended and another began. a few familiar faces smiled as they passed. someone from your seminar waved. you returned it automatically before stepping to one side to avoid a group hurrying towards the stairs. too late. you’d known it before you’d even arrived. still, disappointment settled somewhere in your gut anyway.

“you look like someone just told you christmas is cancelled.”

you turned to find sunoo weaving his way through the crowd, balancing a coffee in one hand and his laptop under the other arm.

“i missed it.” you pout, poking him in the arm. he followed your gaze towards the lecture theatre.

“…ah.” he realised, mirroring your pout almost mockingly. you’d take it as an insult if his eyes didn’t have that affectionate sparkle in them, seeming to be naturally ever present around you anyways.

“i even left home early.”

“that’s rough.” he said, more gently now. you only sighed in return.

“did i miss much?”

sunoo considered it.

“…honestly?”

your shoulders lifted hopefully.

“…i wasn’t really paying attention after the break.”

you stared at him blankly, eyebrows just starting to furrow.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m honest.” he giggled, winking at you.

“you’re hopeless.”

“a little.” he didn’t sound remotely apologetic.

the two of you drifted further into the corridor to avoid blocking the doorway as more students filtered past. somewhere nearby, someone dropped a folder, sending loose sheets skidding across the floor. three people immediately crouched to help gather them, the interruption lasting all of thirty seconds before everyone continued on with their day. nothing never really stopped moving. sunoo took another sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“you need the notes?”

“unless you’d like to sit my exam for me.” you deadpanned.

“…hard pass.”

“thought so.”

he made a thoughtful noise.

“mine aren’t great.”

“i know.”

“wow.”

“last time i borrowed your notes you wrote ‘i’m hungry’ halfway through a paragraph.”

“because i was.”

“you’d also drawn a cat.”

“…it was a cute cat.”

you laughed. there was a brief pause. then, as though the answer had only just occurred to him, sunoo clicked his fingers.

“ask jungwon.” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

the suggestion came so casually that it took you a second to process it.

“…jungwon?”

“yeah.”

“why?”

“because he actually listens. and because his notes are terrifying.”

“terrifying?” you replied, eyes wide.

“you’ll see.”

you frowned slightly. asking someone for notes wasn’t unusual. you’d obviously done it before, many times in fact. people asked you all the time too.

still…

“i’ve never actually spoken to him.”

sunoo looked back at you, genuine confusion etched onto his face.

“yes, you have.” he said, suddenly so sure of himself.

“have i?”

“you’ve said hi.”

“…i don’t think that counts.”

“close enough.”

you weren’t convinced, he seemed to notice.

“seriously,” he said. “he won’t care.”

“how do you know?”

“because if someone asked him for notes, he’d probably apologise that they weren’t neat enough.” you couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“…you’re exaggerating.”

“i wish i was.”

before you could answer, his phone buzzed. he glanced down, groaned dramatically and shoved the coffee into your free hand while he typed out a reply with both thumbs.

“seminar?”

“unfortunately.”

he took the coffee back.

“come on.”

“what?”

“he’s probably still inside.”

your eyes drifted towards the lecture theatre doors.

they’d almost emptied now.

through the small window, you could just make out a few remaining students gathering their things.

“…i’ll feel weird interrupting him.”

“you won’t. okay, you might.” sunoo admitted, eyes narrowed as he mused. you gave him a flat look in return.

“helpful.”

“but he’ll still say yes.”

the lecture theatre was almost empty by the time you finally walked inside, a little while after sunoo had walked off to his seminar. you’d stood outside the door for a little longer than you probably needed to, fingers resting against the handle while you tried to convince yourself that this was not a big deal. because it wasn’t. it really wasn’t. you weren’t asking him for anything unreasonable. you weren’t about to have some life-changing conversation or confess some huge secret. you weren’t even asking for help with something complicated. you just needed notes, that was it. you still couldn’t for the life of you figure out why it felt like so much to ask, but that was obviously the reason for your unusually timid lingering outside the door.

you’d seen jungwon’s notes before. not properly, but enough to know that they were probably going to save you from spending three hours trying to piece together half-remembered information from the slides. the problem was not the notes. obviously. 

the problem was that you had never actually spoken to jungwon before. something which always seemed to be nagging at you when you were around him. clearly, you knew which people he was friends with, because you were their friends too. you knew little things you had picked up without meaning to, the same way everyone did when they spent months around the same people. but knowing about someone and knowing someone were completely different things. and for some reason, the thought of walking up to him made you hesitate.

if anything, he was the opposite of unapproachable. he was always easy to be around, yet strangely hard to interpret. there was something about approaching someone who always seemed comfortable in their own space that made you feel like you were stepping into something you hadn’t been invited into.

which was silly. you knew that. you were really not someone who usually overthought things like this. especially not so much so that you were loitering outside like an idiot, rocking on the balls of your heels with too much running through your head. you rolled your eyes at yourself, and how all of this was so unlike you. instead, taking a small breath, you pushed the door open. the sound was louder than you expected in the quiet room. it felt completely different after everyone had left. earlier, it had been filled with voices and movement, people packing away their things while talking about assignments and plans for later. now, it was almost peaceful. the rows of seats stretched out in front of you, sunlight falling across the desks near the windows. a few forgotten papers were scattered around, abandoned by students who had already moved on to their next class.

and there he was. you spotted him almost immediately. you weren’t surprised. if anything, you would have been more surprised if he wasn’t there. he was still sitting near the front, his attention focused on his laptop while he finished whatever he was doing. for a second, you just stood there. you almost laughed at yourself. because why had you made this into such a big thing? he was just a person, a friend at that. a friend who you needed notes from. a friend who would probably definitely say yes.

still, your feet felt slightly heavier as you walked closer. you stopped beside his desk. he didn’t notice immediately. and you were glad he didn’t, because it gave you one last second to collect yourself. then you spoke.

“hey.”

his head lifted. the reaction was small, but you caught it. the slight surprise, the way his attention shifted fully towards you. for a moment, he looked like he was trying to place why you were standing there. then, recognition settled it, not dramatically, just a quiet moment where you felt like you could hear his every thought as you glanced sheepishly at his eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses. something about that made you feel strangely less nervous. because, obviously, he knew who you were. and he wasn’t looking at you like an inconvenient interruption.

“hi.” he said, sounding his voice muffled as he cleared his throat behind his hand. his voice sounded softer than you expected. you smiled slightly.

“sorry, i hope i’m not bothering you.”

he shook his head almost immediately. the response came so quickly that you wondered if he was worried you had mistaken his surprise for annoyance.

you relaxed a little.

“okay. good.” you muttered out, unusually shy.

there was a small pause after that, not really awkward, just unfamiliar. you were two people who had existed around each other for months without ever having a reason to talk. and now suddenly, you did. you explained that you had missed the lecture and needed the notes. you found yourself adding the reason why, even though he hadn’t asked. you mentioned the appointment running late. maybe because you didn’t want him thinking you had skipped class. maybe because there was something oddly important about really wanting (needing) for him to have a good first impression of you, even though technically this was far from his first impression.

the whole thing was ridiculous. you didn’t even know why you cared. jungwon just nodded. as always, there was no judgement in his expression. no teasing. no comment about catching up. a tiny part of you almost wished there was. maybe then you’d be able to open him up a little bit. you told him sunoo had said his notes were really good. and almost immediately, jungwon tried to downplay it, which, to be honest, you’d expected somehow. there was something very predictable about the way he refused to make a big deal out of himself.

you looked at the notebook beside him and pointed out sheepishly that his notes actually had structure. you admitted yours usually consisted of random words that only made sense for the first ten minutes after typing them. this earned a small reaction from him, not quite a smile, but close, and for whatever reason, that felt like a really big victory. jungwon just turned back to his notebook and started gathering the pages. you watched quietly, noticing how there was no rush in the way he moved. he seemed to take care with everything, making sure he had everything he needed before handing it over. as always, it was strangely comforting.

when he looked back at you, he hesitated.

“i can send them.” he said, looking up at you again.

“really?” you smiled.

he nodded and you watched as he glanced between you and his notebook like he had reached the obvious next step but hadn’t figured out how to get there. for a moment you just looked at him with confusion until you realised, he didn’t know how to send them. because neither of you had actually exchanged any way to contact each other. you grinned again before he had the chance to overthink it.

“i can give you my number.” you offered hopefully, his eyes lifting to meet yours again.

“okay.” he mumbled, finally returning your smile, a lopsided grin taking over his features. you thought there was something oddly sweet about how willing he was to help even whilst being unsure of what to do next. you unlocked your phone and handed it to him.

“just put yours in.”

he typed his number in, saved the contact, and handed it back. you looked down.

jungwon

“that’s it?” you said without thinking, he merely blinked up at you in return.

“what?”

“your contact.”

he looked down at the phone.

then back at you.

“yeah?”

you laughed softly.

“i don’t know. i expected maybe something else.”

“like what?”

you glanced at the screen.

“an emoji or something.”

the silence that followed was so genuine that you had to stop yourself from laughing. you don’t even know why you’d said it, you wouldn’t have even done it yourself.

“i don’t really use emojis.”

you smiled brighter and then immediately noticed the tiny hesitation in his expression. you manually tried to soften your own face in hope that he wouldn’t take it as making fun of him.

“i’m not judging.”

“i know.” he mumbled quietly.

almost like he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring you. you added that you never used emojis either, which was absolutely not true. you know your friends would have laughed out loud if they’d heard you say it. but something about the small look of relief on his face made your white lie worth it. there was another quiet moment.

“thank you, by the way.” you said, trying to fill the silence as quick as you could. again, he nodded.

“it’s okay.”

you picked up your phone, looking down at his contact one more time before putting it away. now jungwon wasn’t just someone you sat near in lectures or someone you merely shared mutual friends with. now he was someone you had spoken to, someone who had your number. someone who would probably text you later.

“see you later, jungwon.” you motioned to wave before stopping yourself and putting your hand back down again.

“see you.” he replied, another lopsided grin taking shape after he caught your stifled gesture.

and that was it. you walked out of the lecture theatre with his contact saved in your phone, the unexplainable stress finally lifted.

you didn’t expect jungwon to send the notes so quickly. not because you thought he would forget. if anything, forgetting seemed like the least likely thing he could do. from everything you’d heard about him, jungwon was probably the type of person who made reminders for his reminders. you had already accepted that the notes would arrive eventually, probably later that evening after he had checked through them one more time and decided whether they were good enough to send. what surprised you was the fact that your phone buzzed before you’d even reached the other side of campus. you felt oddly good about seeing jungwon’s name. there was a difference between seeing his name appear in a group conversation and seeing it sitting privately in your own messages. it was such a stupid and small thing that you almost laughed at yourself for noticing.

jungwon hi i've sent the notes over

underneath were the files. you clicked on the first one while continuing to walk, expecting exactly what sunoo had described. you were prepared for them to be neat. you were prepared for them to be organised. you were not prepared for them to make you question whether you had been approaching uni notes incorrectly this entire time. the document was almost painfully structured. everything had a place. every topic had been separated clearly, important points marked out without making the page look overwhelming. there were small explanations beside certain concepts, things he had probably written down for himself because he knew he would want to remember them later, but obviously, they were equally as helpful for you too.

you stared at the screen for a few seconds. you barely knew him, but you could already imagine the process. him sitting somewhere quiet after the lecture, going through the notes again, deciding what was important and what wasn’t. because that was simply how his brain worked. you typed back before you could overthink it.

these are actually ridiculous

you paused. you didn’t want to sound like you were insulting him, especially not after he so graciously did you this favour.

quickly, you added:

in a good way 😭

the response did not come immediately. you found yourself looking at the little typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. it made you smile slightly. you’d never considered yourself someone who intimidated easily. you were usually the person who filled awkward silences, who introduced yourself first, who made conversations easier for other people (so you’d been told). but jungwon had a way of making you acutely aware of every small interaction. maybe because he seemed so careful in comparison.

eventually, his reply appeared.

jungwon thank you i think they’re okay

you giggled under your breath.

jungwon there are diagrams my notes look like i was writing during an earthquake

this time, his reply came a little quicker.

maybe your handwriting is just fast

you stared at the message. it wasn’t exactly a joke. not one you’d typically laugh at anyways. but there was something about the fact that he had tried to lighten the mood. 

that is the nicest way anyone has ever called my notes terrible

jungwon i didn’t call them terrible

you could practically hear the seriousness behind the message.

you didn’t have to

after that, your conversations stayed small. you preferred it that way. you didn’t suddenly become attached to your phone waiting for him to reply, and jungwon didn’t become someone who messaged constantly. that would have felt unlike both of you. instead, he became someone who existed slightly more in your day. a message about a lecture, a question about an assignment, a quick clarification when you didn’t understand something from the notes he had sent. you noticed quickly that jungwon was much easier to talk to through messages than you had expected. however, he was occasionally so formal that you wondered if he had accidentally written an email instead. but you’d like to muse there was warmth underneath it. maybe that was wishful thinking.

he always answered properly. if you asked something, he didn’t just send a vague response and disappear. he explained and he made sure you understood. and, perhaps more surprisingly, he started asking things back. small things; how your assignment was going, whether you had managed to catch up on the lecture, whether your exam preparation was going better. obviously simple questions, but they mattered to you because they meant progress. and because jungwon was not someone who asked things just to keep a conversation alive… when he asked something, he genuinely wanted to know the answer. you found that oddly refreshing. you were used to people knowing you. that was the strange thing about being naturally social. people often assumed familiarity. they knew your name. they knew your friends. they knew what you were studying. they knew the stories you told at parties or the jokes you made in group chats. but there was a difference between being known and being noticed.

jungwon noticed.

the next time you saw him outside of lectures, it was at one of your usual gatherings. not big enough to call a party, but usually, nobody was sober enough for it to be just an average hangout. by now, heeseung and riki’s place had become almost a second home for your progressively more tight-knit friend group. nobody really planned anything properly anymore. someone would mention they were bored, someone else would suggest going over, and within an hour half you’d all somehow end up there. it was comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected relatively new friendships to become.

you arrived with sunoo and jay, already listening to them argue about something completely unnecessary. the moment you walked in, the usual noise surrounded you. music playing quietly from heeseung’s speaker, riki complaining about losing a game he insisted he wasn’t taking seriously, jake laughing unabashedly from somewhere in the kitchen, heeseung attempting to stop everyone from making a mess while very clearly contributing to it.

it took you a moment to realise jungwon was already there. he was sitting at the edge of the sofa, listening while jake explained something animatedly beside him. before, you probably wouldn’t have approached him. you would have smiled. maybe waved. eventually, someone else would have pulled you into another conversation. but now it felt different. you obviously weren’t best mates. but friends enough that when your eyes met across the room, you wouldn’t hesitate to smile. and this time, he smiled first. it was a tiny thing. so tiny that you wondered if you imagined it. but you didn’t. something about that made you feel strangely content, you noted the way your cheeks flushed an embarrassing pink, feeling the heat spread up your neck as you took in his lopsided smile again.

later, after everyone had settled down, you found yourself sitting near him while the others argued over what film to watch. you weren’t sitting beside him intentionally. at least, that was what you told yourself. there simply happened to be space there. and he happened to be there. the conversation moved around you naturally, everyone speaking over one another the way they always did. jungwon wasn’t the loudest person in the room, but you had started noticing that he never seemed left out.

people included him without thinking. heeseung would always ask for his opinion on whatever niche topic they were discussing like their lives depended on it, jake would show him stupid memes on his phone that rarely prompted a reaction from anyone, riki would jab and poke at him until jungwon’s face broke out in one of his endearingly wonky grins. at some point, your conversation shifted towards classes. you mentioned the lecture you’d missed to sunoo and jay, mostly as a joke about how much work you had to catch up on.

jungwon glanced over.

“did the notes help?” he said, perking up as he did so.

“they did,” you said, smiling. “actually, they helped more than the lecture probably would have.”

he immediately shook his head.

“no, they wouldn’t.” he replied, brows furrowed.

“jungwon.”

“what?”

“you literally explained half of it better than the slides and the prof did.”

he looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t have a response ready. that happened sometimes. you were beginning to notice it. jungwon was always prepared when it came to academics, but when it came to compliments, he never knew what to do with them. again, you found yourself thinking it was so endearing. obviously not enough that you would ever admit it, not right now anyways. you mentioned one part of the topic that you still didn’t fully understand, not expecting anything from it, you were really just babbling on at this point, to anyone that’s listen, although sunoo and jay had moved on and were having their own conversation now.

but jungwon listened.

and after a moment, he just started explaining. in the middle of heeseung’s living room. not with overly complicated definitions or phrases that made you feel like you were supposed to already understand. he broke it down slowly, making sure you followed each step, like he could see the cogs moving in your head and the moments things clicked for you.

“‘was easier to understand than the actual lecture.” you stared at him blankly after he’d basically summed up the entire second half of the module.

“was it?” he asked, confusion plastered onto his face yet again.

you nodded in reply, realising that you were probably making uncomfortable with the sheer amazement in your eyes. he looked down, a pink flush slowly creeping up his neck.

“i just explained it differently.” he shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose as he lifted his gaze to meet yours again.

before you could respond, sunoo, who you now realised had clearly been listening despite pretending not to, looked over.

“you know, you could literally just tutor her.” the suggestion was casual, almost thrown away. 

you just looked at jungwon. he looked back at you. and immediately, you saw the thought cross his face, like the idea had never occurred to him.

“i don’t know if i’d call it tutoring,” he said eventually, a deeper flush now making its way up to his cheeks.

“well, what would you call it?” sunoo (almost) snapped, raising an eyebrow.

jungwon opened his mouth. then stopped, because he didn’t actually have an answer. you giggled softly, and this time he didn’t seem as embarrassed. he just looked away, a small smile spreading across his features despite himself. the conversation moved on soon after. jay changed the topic, riki started another quietly fond argument with sunghoon. the moment just passed, much to your forcibly subdued dismay. 

the idea of jungwon tutoring you was never supposed to become an actual plan. at least, that was what you’d told yourself after his brief hesitation. it had been nothing more than something sunoo had thrown into the conversation because he found amusement in pointing out things before anyone else noticed them. for as long as you’d known him (albeit it’d only been a year), he had a habit of doing that, noticing the typically imperceptible shifts between people and making them obvious before anyone involved was ready to acknowledge them. you’d learnt that about him quickly. sunoo always knew when dynamics had changed before either person realised it themselves. so, when he suggested jungwon tutoring you, you had laughed, because it felt too soon to call it anything like that. you and jungwon had exchanged a handful of conversations. you had his number. he had yours. he had sent you notes. you had made unfunny jokes about his lack of emojis. that was hardly enough to suddenly turn him into your personal academic support system.

except, as the weeks went on, you started noticing how often you ended up relying on him. there was a question you couldn’t figure out, so you checked the notes he had sent you. there was a topic you didn’t understand, so you found yourself wondering how jungwon would explain it. that strangest part was that you weren’t someone who usually needed help. not because you felt so uncomfortable that you were were incapable of asking, but because you were normally the person other people asked. it was a role you’d always fallen into without noticing, until now, that is. you were organised enough to remember deadlines, social enough to know who to ask if you needed something and patient enough that people felt comfortable coming to you. your friends joked that you somehow became everyone’s emergency contact despite barely being able to keep track of your own schedule.

you liked being helpful. you liked feeling useful. but there was something unexpectedly comforting about having someone who was willing to do the same for you. jungwon never made you feel like you were behind. he never responded to questions with the kind of surprise that made you feel embarrassed for asking. he simply answered, without fail, every time. and maybe that was why you started asking more. jungwon noticed too. just probably not in the same way you did. you were aware of the changes because they happened around you. you noticed that you no longer hesitated before saying hello when you passed him on campus. you noticed that seeing his name appear on your phone no longer felt surprising, but instead comfortable. for jungwon, it was less obvious because he wasn’t used to analysing his friendships in that way. he had always been someone who let things happen naturally. he had friends. good friends. people he trusted. but most of those friendships had formed slowly, through repeated exposure and familiarity. he wasn’t usually the person who approached first. not because he didn’t want to, but because he had never been particularly good at knowing when he was truly welcome.

with you, he never had to wonder, that was the part that caught him off guard. you made things really easy for him. you spoke to him with your soft, unguarded voice like there was no reason not to. you included him in conversations without making a performance of it, which obviously made it feel more genuine. you looked up at him with your big sparkling eyes through long lashes and nodded attentively when he was talking you through something, so he wouldn't have to guess if you were listening or not. jungwon was used to people noticing him for specific reasons; his grades, his ability to solve problems, the fact that he was reliable. he wasn’t used to someone being interested in what he had to say even when the topic had nothing to do with your syllabus. and you did that often. you asked him small things. what he really thought of the film you’d all watched at heeseung’s place. whether he thought the fancy coffee shop near campus was actually worth the price. whether he agreed with jay’s very strong opinions about literally everything.

none of the questions were particularly important, but jungwon always found himself thinking about them afterwards. he wondered if he’d still be thinking about the things you asked him if they’d come out of anyone else’s mouth. which was becoming increasingly inconvenient for him. because he had assignments. and exams. and a schedule that already felt too full. yet somehow, he always found time to reply to you.

the first time the tutoring idea became a genuine possibility was after another lecture. not because you had planned to ask, in fact, you'd actually been trying very hard not to bring it up. there was something slightly embarrassing about admitting you were struggling with a topic that everyone else seemed to understand. logically, you knew that was ridiculous. uni was difficult and everyone struggled sometimes. but there was still a part of you that hated feeling like you were falling behind. you had spent the better part of an evening trying to understand a section of your module notes, moving between your own work and the lecture slides until the information started blurring together. eventually, out of frustration more than anything else, you sent jungwon a message. you stared at the text blankly for a while before sending it.

hi Lol sorry this is random but do you understand this part?

you attached a screenshot.

almost immediately, you regretted the wording because you realised you’d apologised before even asking. something you did more often than you liked to admit. also, something jungwon had bought up with you before. telling you gently that he felt it was unnecessary to apologise for shivering next to him on heeseung’s sofa while you were sat right next to an open window.

you put your phone down and tried to focus on something else. it lasted approximately three minutes. then your phone buzzed.

i can explain if you want

you smiled before you could stop yourself at the way he’d always phrased his messages. he left space for you to decide. you replied that you would appreciate it, expecting another explanation over text.

instead, a few minutes later:

are you on campus tomorrow?

you stared at the message. your first thought was that you had somehow misunderstood.

yeah, why?

the reply came a little bit slower this time.

i can teach you properly

you looked at the screen for a moment. it was such a jungwon thing to suggest. practical and straightforward, completely unaware of how much trust was involved in what he was offering. because for jungwon, explaining something to someone wasn’t a big deal. it was simply something he could do, and did, regularly in fact. for you, though, there was something different about it. this wasn’t borrowing notes or a quick explanation during a group hangout. it was choosing to spend time together. just the two of you. you found yourself smiling slightly at the thought, then immediately questioned why. which was annoying. because there was nothing strange about spending time with a friend. and jungwon was becoming a friend! you thought that you really needed to stop treating every small interaction like it meant more than it did.

the next day, you met him outside the library. or, more accurately, you met him in the library because jungwon had apparently arrived early enough to secure a table before the usual afternoon rush. you weren’t surprised. when you approached, he was already there, laptop open, notebook beside him, two drinks sitting on the table. you slowed slightly when you noticed the second one.

“i didn’t know what you liked,” he explained before you could ask, gesturing towards it. “so i just got water.”

you looked at the bottle, then at him.

“jungwon.”

he paused.

“what?”

“you’re genuinely the most prepared person i’ve ever met.” you smiled.

for a second, he looked unsure whether that was a compliment. you had started noticing that happened often.

“i didn’t know if you’d have something to drink.”

“most people would just assume.”

“i didn’t want to assume.”

the answer was so simple that it caught you slightly off guard. jungwon always considered things other people overlooked. not because he was trying to impress anyone but because that was simply how he moved through the world. you sat down across from him, opening your laptop. and for the first time, you saw what everyone else probably saw when they studied with him. which wasn’t the intimidatingly smart person people talked about, not the student everyone went to when they were stuck. just someone patient, someone who genuinely wanted you to understand. which, somehow, made it much easier to admit when you didn’t.

the two of you didn’t study for very long before you ended up talking about other things, nothing particularly meaningful. just little conversations that happened naturally between his long, thought out explanations. you found out jungwon hated overly sweet drinks. you found out he had a habit of tapping his pen against his textbook when he was thinking. you found out he actually had a much drier sense of humour than you expected. and, perhaps most surprisingly, he found out you weren’t as effortlessly confident as he’d assumed. you admitted, almost accidentally, that you hated asking questions in lectures because you worried they would be obvious.

jungwon looked genuinely surprised.

“you?”

“what does that mean?” you muttered out through a frown.

“you talk to everyone.”

you laughed quietly.

“that doesn’t mean i can’t get nervous.”

he looked down at his notes. you mused that he probably understood that better than most people. because maybe that was the thing neither of you realised yet. everyone else saw the obvious parts of you; they saw someone friendly, someone confident, someone who belonged everywhere. everyone else saw the obvious parts of him; someone deeply intelligent, someone capable, someone who always knew what he was doing. but none of those things had ever fully summed either of you up. and maybe that was why the two of you got along. because you were both much more complicated than the versions people had decided on.

by the time you packed your things away, the library had started to empty. you hadn’t finished everything. technically, you had probably spent too much time talking. at the end of the day, you’d still understood bounds more than you had when you arrived. you looked at your notes, then at jungwon, a shy smile playing at your lips.

“i think sunoo was right.”

“about what?” he looked up and met your eyes.

“the tutoring thing.”

his expression immediately shifted, not really dramatically, but just enough for you to notice.

“oh.”

you giggled.

“don’t look so terrified.” you replied, pouting slightly involuntarily.

“i don’t.”

“you do.”

he just looked away. which, unfortunately for him, proved your point. you smiled as you packed your laptop away.

“i’m joking.”

but the idea didn’t disappear. and neither did the small smile that appeared on his face when he thought you weren’t looking.

the following tuesday arrived with the kind of weather that never seemed to make up its mind. the morning had started bright enough for people to leave their accommodation without coats, only for grey clouds to roll across the sky before lunchtime, threatening rain without ever fully committing to it. by the time your last lecture finished, the air had turned cooler, carrying the familiar scent of damp pavement that always seemed to settle over campus before autumn properly arrived.

you stood outside the building for a moment, adjusting the strap of your bag as students spilled around you. your phone buzzed.

hi i’m already at the library second floor i found us a table

you couldn’t help smiling. there was something strangely unsurprising about the message because of course he was already there. of course he had arrived early enough to secure one of the quieter tables before the afternoon rush started. of course he had somehow managed to phrase a simple text so politely that it almost sounded like an apology for disturbing you.

you typed back as you crossed the courtyard.

i’ll be there in five :D

you hesitated for a second before pressing send. the smiley face stayed. it wasn’t until your phone disappeared back into your pocket that you remembered your conversation about emojis. you laughed quietly to yourself. he was either going to think nothing of it… or spend the next ten minutes wondering whether there had been a hidden meaning behind one tiny :D

for some reason, the thought made you smile all over again.

the library was busier than usual. students filled almost every table on the ground floor, conversations kept deliberately hushed beneath the steady hum of printers and keyboards, while the occasional sigh or rustle of paper floated between shelves lined with textbooks that looked far too expensive for anyone to actually buy. you climbed the stairs two at a time before slowing your pace. there he was. he had chosen a table tucked beside one of the tall windows overlooking the centre of campus, far enough away from the busiest part of the floor that it felt almost secluded. his laptop was already open. two notebooks sat neatly beside one another. highlighters arranged in a straight line. a mechanical pencil resting precisely across the top page.

he looked up almost immediately. for a second, neither of you spoke. then his expression softened into a small smile.

“hi.” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t notice the pink you could feel spreading across your cheeks for no apparent reason.

“hi.” he whispered back, his lopsided grin deepening, his dimple now visible.

you slipped into the chair opposite him, dropping your bag onto the floor with considerably less grace than he’d arranged the table.

“sorry if i’m late.”

jungwon glanced towards the clock hanging above the staircase.

“…you’re three minutes early.”

you blinked.

“…oh.”

“just had to find something to apologise for, didn’t you?” the corner of his mouth lifted slightly again as he whispered. you just looked at him for a second before laughing under your breath while pulling your laptop from your bag, bringing it up to your face because now you really had to hide your red cheeks from him. it wasn’t much, barely even a joke. but you were beginning to realise something about jungwon. he was funny! not loudly and definitely not in the way jake was, where half the room inevitably ended up laughing with him. jungwon’s humour appeared quietly, tucked between otherwise serious conversations, almost hidden beneath the way he spoke. if you weren’t paying attention, you’d probably miss it entirely. which somehow made it even better. 

“thank you for doing this.” you said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence while settling your things across the table. 

“for what?” he looked genuinely puzzled, eyebrows furrowed and face devoid of that grin you’d come to really like.

“helping me.”

“you asked.”

“exactly.”

“i don’t mind.” he said with so much conviction that it caught you off guard, like he was urging you to believe him. there wasn’t any awkward insistence that it was nothing, no dismissive shrug. just a straightforward answer, as though helping you had never been something he needed convincing to do.

it made something in your chest feel unexpectedly warm. you had always been the friend who offered. who stayed behind after seminars if someone needed something explained again. who reminded everyone about deadlines because you knew at least one person would forget. you liked taking care of people. it wasn’t something you thought about very often until someone quietly returned the favour. 

jungwon opened one of his notebooks.

“which part?”

you pulled your own notes closer.

“this.”

you pointed towards a page that had become increasingly covered in question marks over the past few days.

“i understand the beginning.”

your finger moved lower.

“and then somewhere around here i completely lose whatever’s happening.”

he leaned forward slightly, just close enough to see the page properly. without thinking, you did the same. your shoulders almost brushed. you didn’t notice until you caught the faint scent of clean laundry and something woodsy. not cologne. nothing strong. just oddly fresh. you blinked quickly, forcing your attention back towards the notebook. jungwon, meanwhile, had already started reading. he didn’t seem to notice the distance between you at all, and you couldn’t help feeling like a little kid about the fact that you were so aware of it, and liked it in fact. perhaps he had simply decided it wasn’t worth acknowledging.

“okay,” he murmured after a moment. “i think they’re explaining it backwards.”

you looked up.

“backwards?” you asked, confusion painting your features like it rarely did. jungwon thought your scrunched eyes and tilted head was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“kind of.” he replied after clearing his throat. he reached for his pencil before hesitating.

“can i?”

you looked down, he was gesturing towards your notebook.

“oh.” you nodded quickly.

“yeah, of course.” 

only then did he start writing. his handwriting was somehow just as neat as you’d expected. he drew a small diagram, crossed something out, rewrote it differently. then turned the notebook back towards you.

“try thinking about it like this instead.”

there was no rush in the way he explained things. he never made you feel as though you were slowing him down. if you interrupted to ask another question, he answered it without sighing or trying to move on too quickly. if you looked unconvinced, he simply found another way of explaining the same concept.

after about twenty minutes, something finally clicked. you stared at the page.

“…oh.”

jungwon looked up.

“does that make more sense?” he asked, hint of a knowing smile spreading across his face.

“a lot more.”

you looked between the diagram and him.

“why couldn’t the prof just say that?” he looked almost embarrassed by the compliment.

“they probably did.”

“they definitely didn’t.”

“maybe they explained it differently.”

“jungwon.”

he met your eyes.

“you’re being modest again.” you whispered, poking him playfully in the shoulder. colour crept faintly into his ears.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

he looked away first. you smiled to yourself, you were starting to recognise his little pattern. whenever anyone complimented him, jungwon reacted as though they had accidentally handed him something that belonged to someone else. time passed easier than either of you expected. somewhere between diagrams, explanations and comparing lecture slides, the awkwardness that had hovered around your first few conversations dissolved into something quieter. more comfortable. you found yourself talking without thinking about it. sometimes about the work, oftentimes not. you learnt that jungwon almost always studied in the same spot because he liked the light from the window. he admitted, after a surprising amount of persuasion, that he couldn’t concentrate if people chewed too loudly. you confessed that you sometimes highlighted entire pages of content because you could never decide what was actually important.

“that defeats the point of highlighting.”

“i know.”

“then why do you do it?”

“panic.”

he looked down at your notebook.

“…fair enough.”

again, that tiny smile. small enough that someone across the room probably wouldn’t even notice it. you did, every time. and each time it appeared, it seemed to linger a fraction longer than the last. it happened gradually enough that neither of you noticed the hours slipping past. outside, the sky had darkened. students came and went around you, chairs scraping quietly across the floor as people packed their things and left. you only realised how long you’d been there when your stomach growled. loudly. the sound seemed to echo across the table, jungwon’s head snapping up at the sudden noise. your entire body froze. you covered your face with one hand.

“please pretend that didn’t happen.” heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly.

“i left straight after my lecture this morning.” you laughed awkwardly.

“i completely forgot to eat.”

jungwon didn’t laugh. he didn’t tease you. he simply looked at you for a second before quietly reaching down beside his chair. you frowned. he unzipped his backpack, rummaged around for a moment, then placed something gently on the table between you. a packet of chocolate almond pepero. you stared at it blankly, then up at him.

“…what?”

“you should eat.”

you blinked.

“jungwon…”

“before you try and study anything else… your stomach sounds unhappy.” he mumbled out after being interrupted mid sentence by another grumble from your tummy. despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that escaped.

“thank you.”

you picked the packet up slowly, still looking at it.

“…hang on.”

he looked up from his notebook.

“how did you know these were my favourite?”

for the first time all afternoon, jungwon hesitated.

“i…”

he looked as though he genuinely hadn’t expected the question.

“jay and sunghoon used to buy them for you.” he replied sheepishly, hand scratching at the back of his neck.

“yeah, but that was only once or twice.”

“it was eight times. that i was around to see it at least.” 

you stared.

“…you counted?”

“not intentionally.” he said, his eyebrows knitting together slightly.

“jungwon.”

“they were always the same… so i remembered.”

your heart did something strange. you weren’t even sure why. it wasn’t the snack. it wasn’t even the fact that he’d brought one. it was that he’d noticed! months ago, during noisy evenings where everyone had been talking over one another, he’d quietly remembered something so insignificant that even you would’ve forgotten mentioning it. you looked back down at the packet in your hands.

“that’s…”

you searched for the right word.

“…really thoughtful.”

he seemed almost confused.

“it’s just a snack.”

“yeah i know, ‘m just saying thanks anyways.” you spluttered out quickly and now, shyly, hoping he wouldn’t notice your immediate backtracking after his dismissal. you looked back up at him. for a second, neither of you spoke. jungwon rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck again, suddenly looking far more interested in his notebook than he had been a moment earlier.

“…i wasn’t sure if they were still your favourite.”

your smile softened again before you could stop it. it seemed like he was giving you an out from your previous embarrassment. you didn’t feel as much like you’d made an unnecessarily big deal out of it.

“they are.”

he just nodded once in reply.

“…okay.”

for some reason, that answer seemed to make him happy. and as you opened the packet, handing the first stick across the table towards him without really thinking about it, you couldn’t shake the growing feeling that somewhere along the way, tutoring had quietly become one of your favourite parts of the week.

by the time the packet of pepero was empty, the stack of notes between you had doubled. it hadn’t happened all at once. one explanation had turned into another, then into comparing lecture slides, then into jungwon suddenly deciding that one of the examples in your textbook was unnecessarily complicated and rewriting it from scratch in the margins of your notebook. you watched him for a moment while he worked. his brows drew together whenever he concentrated, creating the faintest crease between them that disappeared almost immediately whenever he looked back up. every so often, he would stop writing altogether, not because he had forgotten what he wanted to say, but because he was deciding how to say it. that was something you were beginning to admire about him. jungwon never explained things to prove that he understood them. he explained them so that you would.

it was a small difference, but one you hadn’t appreciated until now.

you had met plenty of people who enjoyed being the smartest person in the room. people who answered questions in ways that somehow made everyone else feel a little smaller for asking in the first place. jungwon was the opposite. if anything, he seemed happiest when the person sitting across from him finally understood. the little smile that appeared whenever something clicked for you was never smug, it was relieved. you caught yourself watching him again. this time, it wasn’t because he was explaining anything. he had reached up absentmindedly to push his glasses higher on his nose, only for them to slip straight back down again a few minutes later. he sighed so quietly you almost missed it before repeating the same movement without even thinking. you smiled to yourself before realising you probably looked like a bit of a perv, hastily bringing your hand up to your face to hide your smile as casually as you could.

“what?”

his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

you blinked.

“huh?”

“you smiled.”

“…did i?”

he nodded once.

“…why?”

heat crept into your face before you had a chance to stop it. he tilted his head ever so slightly. the expression wasn’t suspicious, just curious. you debated telling him. it wasn’t that embarrassing. not really. still…

“your glasses keep falling.”

his hand immediately lifted towards his face.

“…oh.”

“you’ve pushed them up about six times in the last ten minutes.”

“…have i?”

“i’ve been counting.”

for the first time since you’d met him, you watched jungwon look genuinely flustered. it wasn't dramatic, he didn’t splutter or hide his face. instead, his eyes widened just enough for you to notice before he looked away with a quiet, “i didn’t realise.”

you laughed softly.

“it’s kind of cute.”

the words left your mouth before your brain had caught up. silence settled between you. your smile disappeared.

oops! to be really honest, it was something you’d say to most people with ease. it wasn’t even typically an odd thing to point out, you remembered only yesterday telling jake how adorable he looked when he let his hair grow out a little longer. but something about the way jungwon looked up at you, like you’d just done something jail time worthy, almost made you wince. again, you felt like a kid, a really stupid one at that. you looked down at your notebook so quickly you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“i meant…”

why were you trying to explain it?

“they’re just…” you gestured vaguely towards his face without looking directly at him. “very… you.”

that somehow sounded worse.

“forget i said anything.”

you squeezed your eyes shut for the briefest second after seeing a lack of the lopsided grin you’d become accustomed to on his face. across the table, jungwon had gone completely still. he didn’t look offended. if anything, he looked as though his brain had momentarily stopped working.

cute. you had called him cute. he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. compliments had always made him uncomfortable. they tended to sit awkwardly somewhere in the middle of gratitude and disbelief, leaving him unsure which emotion he was supposed to choose. this one felt… different. because you hadn’t said it to be polite. if anything, you’d oddly seemed horrified that you’d let it slip, in a way so unlike what he’d seen of you these past few months. his ears felt warm. he was fairly certain they were turning pink. he hoped they weren’t.

“…thank you,” he managed eventually, the words quieter than he’d intended.

you looked back up, relief written plainly across your face. something in jungwon relaxed. the smallest laugh escaped him before he could stop it at the sheer speed in which the alleviation of your panic ensued. later, as the conversation drifted away from coursework and towards anything else that came to mind, the atmosphere around the table changed almost without either of you realising. the books remained open. pens still rested between pages. yet neither of you seemed particularly concerned with the fact that you hadn’t looked at the lecture slides in nearly twenty minutes. instead, you learnt that jungwon always listened to the same playlist whenever he studied because changing songs distracted him. he learnt that you couldn’t revise in complete silence because your thoughts became louder than whatever you were trying to memorise. you admitted that you had once colour-coded an entire set of flashcards only to lose them the day before a test. he admitted, after a surprising amount of hesitation, that he alphabetised the folders on his laptop.

“you’re joking.” you said, probably too loudly considering the fact you were in a library.

“…no.”

“every single one?”

he nodded.

“…it makes finding things easier.”

you stared at him for a moment before laughing under your breath.

“that’s…”

you searched for the right word.

“the most jungwon thing i’ve ever heard.”

“that’s probably true.”

“you agree?”

“…yeah.”

the consistent honesty of all of his answers no longer caught you so off guard. most people would’ve defended themselves, or laughed it off. jungwon simply accepted it. there was something strangely attractive about that. not because alphabetising folders was attractive.

obviously. but because he never seemed interested in pretending to be someone else. he wasn’t trying to seem cooler than he was, or louder, or more confident. he simply existed exactly as he was. and somehow, that made you want to know him even more. jungwon, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to stare. he wasn’t succeeding particularly well. he was trying so hard to make his constant glances look unintentional but his eyes simply kept drifting back without permission. you smiled all the time. he had noticed that weeks ago. not the kind of smile people put on automatically when they greeted someone. your smiles were different. sometimes they were quick and amused. like when jake would show you some stupid meme on his phone that only ten year olds would typically find funny, you usually ended up laughing at jake himself for his endearingly regressed humour. sometimes they spread slowly across your face before you even realised you were doing it. like when you and riki came to the conclusion that jay was in fact wrong about whatever he’d been arguing about with sunghoon with so much conviction. 

sometimes, when you laughed properly, your nose scrunched ever so slightly. he had never consciously paid attention to something like that before. now he couldn’t seem to stop noticing. every time you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear while reading. every time you frowned at a sentence before chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek. every time you looked up after finally understanding something he’d explained. he kept remembering them.

which was again, extremely unhelpful. he was supposed to be helping you study. he felt like he’d just been gawking down at you the whole time. eventually, the announcement echoed gently through the library.

“the building will be closing in fifteen minutes…”

you both looked up instinctively, then towards the windows. outside, the sky had turned almost completely dark. 

“…what time is it?” you frowned, surprise colouring your features.

“…eight forty-five.” he said, whispering long forgotten as he checked his phone.

your eyes widened.

“jungwon! we got here at one.”

“…yeah.”

you both looked down at the notebooks covering the table. then back at each other. somewhere between studying and talking, almost eight hours had disappeared.

“i didn’t even notice.”

jungwon nodded slightly.

“…me neither.”

the admission just lingered between you. it probably should have felt awkward. eight hours was a long time to spend with someone you’d only recently become friends with. instead… it felt strangely easy, comfortable, even. like the afternoon had passed exactly as it was supposed to. you packed your things away together, neither of you rushing despite the librarian beginning to switch off lights further down the floor. as you zipped your bag closed, your hand brushed against jungwon’s where both of you reached for the same pen lying between your notebooks. it barely lasted a second. just enough for your fingers to touch before both of you instinctively pulled back.

“sorry.”

you spoke at exactly the same time. then stopped. then looked at each other. a little giggle escaped you first. jungwon’s followed a second later. it was quieter, warmer. and somehow, hearing it felt like accomplishing something. walking out of the library together, you realised something that should probably have worried you a little more than it did. for the first time since uni had started you weren’t looking forward to the next tutoring session because you wanted better grades. you were looking forward to it because you wanted another afternoon exactly like this one. with jungwon. and, a step behind you, jungwon found himself thinking that perhaps he’d start arriving fifteen minutes early next week instead of ten. not because the library got busy. that was simply the excuse he gave himself, the truth was much harder to admit. he liked waiting when he knew you were the person he was waiting for.

a month passed quietly. not in the dramatic way some movies liked to pretend time moved, where seasons changed overnight and entire lives somehow transformed between one scene and the next. nothing about the last few weeks had felt particularly significant while you were living through them. lectures came and went. assignments accumulated faster than any real human being could finish them. the weather grew colder, the mornings darker, and somewhere along the way, the trees lining the paths across campus began shedding leaves that collected in damp piles beneath benches no one wanted to sit on anymore.

life carried on. the only difference was that, at some point, jungwon had become woven into it. you couldn’t have pinpointed exactly when. there hadn’t been a conversation where the two of you had agreed to keep meeting every week. nobody had suggested making tutoring a regular thing. it had simply… happened. 

the first time, you’d arranged to meet because of one particularly confusing lecture. the second time, because there was another topic you wanted him to explain before a quiz. by the third week, neither of you really needed an excuse anymore. thursday afternoons had quietly become yours. sometimes you studied in the library, tucked away in the same corner beside the windows where jungwon always managed to find a table before anyone else. sometimes you ended up in the little coffee shop across from the engineering building after discovering every seat in the library had already been taken. once, when it had started raining halfway through the afternoon, the two of you had spent almost an hour sitting on the floor outside an empty seminar room because neither of you wanted to carry all your textbooks somewhere else.

it didn’t seem to matter where you were. eventually, one of you would arrive first. the other would appear a few minutes later. and somehow, without ever talking about it, the afternoon would disappear. your friends noticed before you did, not in an obvious way. little comments slipped into conversations so naturally that you rarely thought much of them.

“aren’t you with jungwon today?” sunoo had asked one thursday when you’d turned down lunch because you wanted to finish a reading beforehand.

you’d blinked.

“…yeah.”

“thought so.”

that had been the end of it. another time, heeseung had wandered into the kitchen while jungwon was packing his bag.

“library?”

jungwon hadn’t even looked up.

“…yeah.”

“she’s already there?”

“…probably.”

heeseung had smiled to himself but wisely chose not to say anything else. it wasn’t strange. at least, it didn’t feel strange. friends spent time together, friends studied together. if anything, it made sense that you and jungwon had become close. you were taking similar modules, he explained things well, and somewhere beneath all of his quietness, he’d turned out to really make you laugh. you liked being around him. that was all. or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

by now, your study sessions had developed their own unspoken routine. jungwon still arrived first. you still apologised for being late, even when you weren’t, he poked fun at you for this and made you promise you’d stop (knowing full well you never would). he still insisted on explaining concepts from the beginning instead of assuming you understood the foundations. you still interrupted him halfway through with questions that somehow sent the conversation in completely different directions. he no longer looked surprised when you reached across the table to steal whichever pen he happened to be using. instead, he simply sighed with exaggerated patience before sliding another one towards himself.

“you’re unbelievable,” he’d muttered the week before.

“thank you.” you grinned out through a mouthful of apple.

“that wasn’t a compliment.” 

“it sounded like one.”

“…maybe a little.” he muttered out, mask of feigned disbelief broken by his lopsided smile.

you’d giggled so hard that people had actually looked over from neighbouring tables. jungwon looked faintly horrified, which only made you laugh harder. somewhere along the way, he’d stopped apologising every time the silence settled between you. you’d stopped feeling responsible for filling it. there were afternoons where the two of you barely spoke for twenty minutes at a time, completely absorbed in your own work before one of you quietly asked a question. the silence never felt uncomfortable. if anything, it was becoming one of your favourite parts. there was something strangely peaceful about existing beside someone who didn’t expect constant conversation.

“you’re staring.”

your head snapped up.

jungwon looked at you over the top of his laptop.

“…what?”

“you’ve been looking at the same page for five minutes.”

heat crept into your cheeks. had you? you glanced back down at your notes. the paragraph you’d supposedly been reading hadn’t changed. because, apparently, you’d spent the last five minutes watching the way sunlight caught against the rim of jungwon’s glasses instead. the way his dimple emerged slightly when he scrunched up one side of his face in concentration.

brilliant.

“i was thinking.”

“…about operating systems?”

“…yes.” you muttered out after a pause.

his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. you tried to keep a straight face. he tried to keep a straight face. neither of you managed it.

“you’re terrible at lying,” he said quietly, poking you playfully in the arm.

you pointed your pen towards him.

“that’s rich coming from the person who once tried convincing me he didn’t alphabetise his desktop.”

“…i don’t.” jungwon replied, still trying to make you believe what you knew was false.

“jungwon.”

“…it’s organised by colour now.” he replied, eyebrows raised.

you giggled again so suddenly that you had to press your lips together to keep the sound from carrying across the library. he smiled fondly, hoping you wouldn’t notice the affection that he felt was radiating off of every bone in his body. obviously not because he’d made a joke, but because you’d laughed.

it wasn’t until saturday evening that everything unravelled. everyone had ended up at heeseung’s flat again, the same way they always seemed to. sunghoon had suggested ordering takeaway (again). jay had complained about the prices before ordering it regardless. jake and riki were arguing over a game neither of them seemed particularly good at, sunoo had somehow convinced heeseung to help him bake cookies despite the fact that neither of them appeared to know what they were doing, leaving jay and sunghoon occupying opposite ends of the sofa. you wandered into the other living room (which heeseung has fashioned into a bar of sorts) in search of something to drink. jay followed a minute later.

“can you pass me a glass?” 

you reached into the cupboard without looking.

“thanks.” he replied simply, and if you’d met his gaze, you’d have seen the slight raise of his eyebrows and the hint of a smirk playing on his face.

he leaned against the counter while you filled your own glass with water. there was a comfortable quiet between the two of you, broken only by the distant sound of riki insisting someone had cheated.

“so.” he started.

you looked over.

“so?”

jay shrugged.

“nothing.”

“…you’re doing that thing again.” you exclaimed, probably louder than you should’ve.

“what thing?”

“where you say ‘so’ because you actually want to ask something. that thing that all older women do.” you said, poking him. you thought maybe riki was rubbing off on you, making fun of jay’s mannerisms even though he was only a junior, not too far off of you. he didn’t even bother denying it, just rolled his eyes at you exaggeratedly.

“…are you and jungwon dating?”

the question landed so casually that, for a second, your brain didn’t register it. you just blinked up at him for a second.

“…what?” you muttered, eyes wide.

“you heard me.”

“jay.”

“yes?”

“…what?”

he frowned slightly, as though you were the confusing one.

“i’m just asking.” he smiled, poking at you as if to reassure you. he didn’t expect you to have an expression on your face akin to that of someone who’d just been stabbed.

“why?” you said, forcibly narrowing your eyes as you tried to steel yourself. 

“because you spend half your week together.”

“we study together.”

“you also get coffee afterwards.”

“because we’re already there.”

“and then you walk each other home.”

“…we live in the same direction.”

jay just hummed in response, doing that annoying, all-knowing thing with his eyebrows again.

“interesting.”

“what is?”

“how you’ve got an answer for every single one.”

you opened your mouth. closed it again. before you could muster up another aimless defence, sunghoon wandered into the living room.

“what are you two talking about?”

jay answered before you could.

“whether she and jungwon are dating.”

sunghoon paused.

“…i thought they were.” he said casually.

your heart stopped. you actually thought this in your head before coming to the gross realisation again of how childish you probably seemed. sunghoon turned to glance between you and jay, looking genuinely confused.

“wait…”

his eyes moved between you and jay again.

“…you’re not?” he almost exclaimed, shock painting his features.

“…nope!” you said, popping the p in a desperate attempt to seem unbothered.

“oh.”

“…my bad.” he sounded almost disappointed.

you stared at both of them.

“…why would either of you think that?” you muttered, bringing your cup to your lips in a quiet plea that they’d take that question rhetorically.

much to your dismay, jay just gave you a look that bordered on incredulous.

“because every time one of us asks where you are, the answer is jungwon.”

“because he’s put almond pepero on the ‘essentials’ section on heeseung’s shopping list. and we all know you’re the only one who likes them.”

to your horror, sunghoon continued counting on his fingers.

“because i’ve seen him smile more in the last month than i did during the whole first year.”

“because you both look for each other before anyone else when we all meet up.”

your mouth opened. nothing came out. jay’s expression softened almost immediately, a twinge of regret in his eyes.

“hey.” he nudged your shoulder gently.

“i wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“…i know.” you mumbled, now even further embarrassed realising he’d probably noticed the flush on your cheeks.

“just forget i asked.”

you nodded. you tried to smile. you weren’t sure whether it looked convincing. because the problem obviously wasn’t that jay had asked. the problem was that, for the first time, you couldn’t stop replaying everything he’d just said. you did look for jungwon first. you’d never noticed that. and much more terrifyingly, had he?

jungwon had always preferred kitchens to living rooms. not because there was anything particularly interesting about washing dishes or collecting empty glasses, but because kitchens gave him something to do. there was a certain comfort in keeping his hands occupied while conversations carried on around him. from the sink, he could still hear everyone laughing from the other room, hear riki loudly accusing jake of cheating at whatever game they’d inevitably started, hear sunoo protesting about something that was almost certainly insignificant.

it was familiar. comfortable. he liked that. he was rinsing the last of the glasses when footsteps approached behind him, quick enough that he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. riki had never been particularly subtle.

“avoiding us already?”

jungwon glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his attention to the sink.

“i’m just washing dishes.”

“that’s not what i asked.”

he smiled faintly to himself. “i know.”

another pair of footsteps followed a moment later, slower this time. heeseung. without a word, he picked up a tea towel and began drying the plates jungwon passed across the counter. it was something the two of them had done often enough that neither of them thought about it anymore. for a while, the three of them worked quietly. or, more accurately, jungwon and heeseung worked quietly while riki stood nearby looking as though he were waiting for the perfect opportunity to interrupt.

it didn’t take long.

“so…”

jungwon didn’t look up.

“…what?”

“where’s y/n?”

the question was so casual that it took him a second to process, he frowned slightly in response.

“in the living room?”

“no.” riki shook his head.

“she went to get a drink.”

“…okay.” jungwon said blankly, obviously confused.

“and you didn’t follow her.”

jungwon finally looked up.

“…was i supposed to?”

the grin that spread across riki’s face immediately made him suspicious. heeseung noticed too, hiding a smile behind the rim of his glass. 

“he genuinely doesn’t realise,” riki muttered, sounding almost impressed.

“realise what?” jungwon almost exclaimed, frustrated now.

instead of answering immediately, heeseung rested the plate he’d been drying on the counter and regarded jungwon thoughtfully.

“when was the last time the two of you weren’t together for more than a day?”

jungwon just blinked. the question felt oddly specific. he thought about it for a moment. lectures, the library, coffee after studying, group dinners, another study session.

“…i don’t know.”

the answer came more honestly than he’d intended. because he genuinely couldn’t remember. somewhere over the last month, seeing you had become part of his routine. not in a way he’d ever consciously planned. you were simply… there. thursday afternoons belonged to the library now. if one of you finished class early, the other usually received a message asking whether they wanted to start studying sooner. if you both happened to be on campus longer than expected, one of you would inevitably suggest grabbing something to eat before heading home. none of it had felt unusual. it still didn’t. friends spent time together, and that was all.

“exactly,” riki said, sounding far too smug and pleased with himself.

jungwon frowned, which riki took as a sign to continue.

“that’s exactly my point.”

“…i don’t know what your point is.” 

“you never do.”

heeseung laughed quietly, folding the tea towel over one shoulder.

“he means that you’ve become close.” heeseung finally chipped in, fond look ever present in his gaze when regarding you or jungwon.

“we are close.” the words slipped out defensively before jungwon had really considered them. he paused, then looked back down at the sink.

“…i think.”

heeseung’s expression softened.

“you don’t have to sound so unsure.”

jungwon wasn’t unsure, that wasn’t the problem. he knew the two of you had become friends. good friends, probably. it was just strange hearing someone else say it aloud. because once they did, he found himself replaying the last few weeks in his head. you reaching across the table without asking to steal his pen, the way you always thanked him, even after he’d insisted you didn’t have to. the fact that you now complained whenever he skipped lunch, as though it had somehow become your responsibility to make sure he ate. he hadn’t noticed any of those things changing. they simply had.

“she’s good for you.” heeseung said it so matter-of-factly that jungwon looked up again.

“…what do you mean?”

“you seem happier.”

jungwon almost laughed.

“because i’m helping someone study?”

“because it’s her.”

the kitchen fell quiet. jungwon looked away first, he didn’t really know how to answer that. he liked spending time with you. that much was obvious. you made difficult afternoons feel lighter somehow. studying, something he’d always considered a solitary task, had become something he looked forward to instead of simply getting through. you made him laugh. more than he’d expected. sometimes without even trying. but that didn’t mean anything, did it? before he could untangle the thought, riki nudged his shoulder.

“you’re a lucky bastard, you know.”

jungwon looked at him.

“she’s pretty.” he continued, heeseung rolled his eyes in response, exasperated with riki’s instinct to always state the obvious.

“and she’s really really nice. everyone likes her.” there wasn’t any jealousy in his voice, just simple certainty.

“she could’ve asked loads of people for help.” heeseung added, much to jungwon’s dismay.

“yeah, well, she asked me.” jungwon almost snapped back, frown deepening further.

“exactly.” riki smirked.

“that’s what we’re saying.” heeseung added on.

jungwon opened his mouth before closing it again. but it was true, you had. for reasons he still didn’t fully understand. before he could think about it any longer, riki ruined the moment completely.

“seriously, hyung.”

he grinned.

“if i were you, i’d be feeling pretty lucky.”

jungwon rolled his eyes, reaching over to swat him lightly around the back of the head.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i know.”

riki rubbed the back of his head dramatically despite the fact that the hit had barely registered. heeseung only shook his head, amused. neither of them pointed out the faint colour settling across jungwon’s ears. neither of them needed to. because jungwon was already wondering why a perfectly ordinary conversation had left him thinking about you. not about your coursework, or the next tutoring session. just you. and for the first time since the two of you had become friends, he found himself lingering on the thought much longer than he meant to.

somewhere along the way, jungwon stopped feeling like someone you were trying to get to know. for months, he had existed at the edge of your life. someone you recognised before you knew him. someone whose name you heard often, whose face you saw across lecture halls and at group dinners, but never someone you expected to become important to you. now, you couldn’t remember the last time you went an entire day without speaking to him. it wasn’t intentional. that was what maybe made it worse. there had never been a conversation where the two of you decided to become close. no dramatic turning point where you suddenly realised you were friends. it had happened in the quiet spaces between everything else. a message after a lecture because you’d both complained about the same assignment, a five minute conversation that somehow became forty, a walk back from the library that became a regular thing because your routes happened to overlap. you had started knowing things about jungwon that you never would have noticed before. aside from the obvious, everyone knew he was smart. everyone knew he was reliable. everyone knew he was the person people went to when they needed help understanding something complicated. you knew the smaller things. you knew he always checked the weather before leaving the flat because he hated being caught in the rain, you knew he got quieter when he was tired, not because he was upset but because he was saving what little energy he had left for anybody else that needed it, you knew that when he was trying not to laugh, he pressed his lips hard together like he was physically stopping himself.

you knew he pretended not to care about things he absolutely cared about. and somehow, those were the things that made him impossible not to like. which was becoming a bit of a problem. because you were starting to notice him in ways you hadn’t before. you realised it one evening in the library. not in some huge, overwhelming way. you weren’t staring dramatically across the table, suddenly struck by how much you liked him… it was much more inconvenient than that. you were working through a practice question, completely stuck despite having already read through the explanation twice. jungwon was beside you, typing something into his laptop while occasionally glancing over to check your progress. you had gotten used to that, his quiet attention. the way he never interrupted unless he thought you genuinely needed help, the way he somehow knew when you were about to give up before you even admitted it.

“you’re doing that thing again.” he whispered, breaking the silence.

you looked up.

“what thing?”

his eyes moved briefly to your notebook.

“you’re staring at the paper like it’s a death sentence or something.”

you looked back down.

“feels like one.”

a small smile appeared on his face. that tiny reaction you had somehow become weirdly proud of causing. jungwon didn’t often laugh loudly. he didn’t have the dramatic reactions that some of your friends did. but when you made him smile, it felt like you’d earned something. which was ridiculous, you knew that. still.

“you’re impossible,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly.

“and yet you keep tutoring me.” you whispered back, scrunching up your nose as you did so.

“that’s because i’m nice.”

you looked at him, really looked at him with that quizzical glare he’d come to love.

“that sounded suspiciously like you were complimenting yourself.”

“i was stating a fact.” he muttered back, flush rising to his cheeks as he suddenly turned his head back to his laptop.

you giggled under your breath.

and that was when it hit you. not because he looked particularly different, or because something magical happened. just because you realised you wanted to remember this. you wanted to remember sitting in this library with him, you wanted to remember the way he looked when he was trying to defend himself, you wanted to remember the sound of his voice when he was amused. and that was when the thought finally settled.

oh. you liked him. and not in the vague way you liked people, the way you liked your friends. you liked jungwon. and instead of feeling terrifying, the realisation was strangely calm. like your brain had finally caught up with something your heart had already known for weeks.

after that, you didn’t suddenly become a different person. if anything, you became more yourself around him. because now that you knew why you enjoyed being around him, you stopped trying to explain it away. you stopped pretending that you didn’t look forward to thursdays. you stopped pretending that you didn’t check your phone more often when you knew he might message. you stopped pretending that you didn’t notice when he walked into a room. and maybe you became a little less subtle. not intentionally. you just found yourself wanting to make him smile, wanting to hear his little laugh, wanting to see the moments where he forgot to be reserved. you teased him a little bit more. you stole his pens more often despite having your own. you sent him random messages that had absolutely nothing to do with studying. sometimes he replied immediately. sometimes it took him hours because he was busy. but he always replied. and every single time, you caught yourself smiling. which was embarrassing because you had never been someone who cared this much about a notification.

jungwon noticed. he wasn’t sure when it started. at first, he thought nothing of it, you had always been friendly. that was one of the first things he had noticed about you. you made people feel instantly comfortable, you talked to literally everyone, you remembered names with an ease he wished he had about him. you smiled at strangers like it was the simplest thing in the world. so when you started saving him a seat before he arrived, he assumed you were just being considerate. when you started bringing him into conversations more often, he assumed you were making sure he didn’t get left out. when you started teasing him more, he assumed you were simply comfortable. all of those explanations made sense, because they were true.

but jungwon was also beginning to realise there was a difference between how you treated everyone else and how you treated him. you were still yourself, but there were moments. small ones. like the way you sometimes seemed to look for his reaction after saying something funny. like how you remembered things he mentioned once and brought them up weeks later, similar to what he did with you. how you had somehow learned his coffee shop order without him ever telling you, however simple it was.

he noticed. he noticed everything. that was the problem. because the more he noticed, the harder it became to convince himself that you were just being friendly. and he didn’t know what to do with that. jungwon had never been someone who rushed into things. he liked certainty, he liked understanding situations before acting on them. but with you, everything felt slightly unfamiliar. because he understood assignments and he understood programming, he understood problems with clear and correct answers. he didn’t understand why he felt disappointed when you had to leave early, he didn’t understand why he checked his phone more often than usual after sending you a message. he didn’t understand why, whenever everyone was gathered together, he always seemed to know where you were without trying. and he definitely didn’t understand (and was beginning to feel very frustrated by the fact) why he had started looking forward to fucking tutoring sessions of all things even when there was usually very little actual tutoring involved.

“you’re coming tonight, right?”

jungwon looked up from his laptop. you were standing beside the table, your bag already over your shoulder.

“coming where?”

you stared at him.

“jungwon.”

he blinked up at you before realising.

“oh.”

“game night.” you said, smiling at him and pumping your fist with excitement. right. the group had been planning it for nearly a week, he knew that. he just hadn’t connected the reminder to the fact that you were the one asking.

“yeah, sure, i’m coming.”

“good.” you replied, flashing him a toothy grin. your answer came too quickly but you didn’t seem embarrassed by it. if anything, you looked pleased.

“because i need someone on my team.” 

jungwon raised an eyebrow.

“you lost last time.” he deadpanned, glare flat but not devoid of a soft affection behind it, an affectionate which he secretly hoped you wouldn’t miss.

“because everyone cheated.” you whined, before remembering to keep your voice down.

“everyone?”

“everyone.”

“including me?”

“especially you.” you whispered back after hesitating a little.

he shook his head, but he was smiling. and you noticed. of course you noticed. you felt like you noticed everything about him now. however, the thing you didn’t notice was the way he watched you walk away. or the way he smiled slightly to himself when he realised he’d started looking forward to the evening for a reason that had nothing to do with the silly games jake and heeseung put him up to.

by now, nobody questioned where jungwon would be sitting. it wasn’t something that had been decided. there had never been a conversation where someone had pointed at an empty chair and declared it his, or where you had officially claimed the space beside him as yours. it had simply become another one of those small, unnoticed habits that appeared when people spent enough time together. the same way sunghoon always complained about being hungry approximately ten minutes after eating. the same way jay pretended he wasn’t invested in whatever game everyone was playing despite somehow knowing every rule. the same way jake always arrived a little bit late and acted as though everyone else had been waiting up specifically for him. and the same way jungwon always ended up beside you. sometimes you noticed it, sometimes you didn’t. that was probably what made it feel so natural. there was no awkwardness anymore. no carefully choosing where to sit, no wondering if you were bothering him, no hesitation before sending him a message that had nothing to do with coursework. at some point, jungwon had stopped being someone you were trying to get comfortable around. he was just someone you were comfortable with. which was arguably much more dangerous. because once you got used to someone being there, you really started noticing when they weren’t.

game nights had become a regular occurrence in heeseung’s flat. not weekly, because everyone had enough assignments and deadlines to make that impossible, but often enough that it had become part of everyone’s routine. the first few times, you had still felt like you were unwelcome, entering someone else’s space. jungwon, heeseung and riki lived together, and although you were friends with all of them, there had always been something slightly different about being in their home. it was where jungwon existed outside of uni. where he wasn’t the person sitting at the front of lectures with a laptop open and a notebook full of impossibly neat handwriting. here, he was different, softer. he wore old t-shirts and pyjama shorts instead of structured outfits. his hair was usually messy from running his hands through it while studying. he complained more than people would expect, especially when sunoo purposely chose the most frustrating games possible.

it was strange how much you liked seeing those parts of him. not because they were really that surprising, but because they were his. you had spent so long knowing him as someone everyone admired from a distance that getting to see the ordinary parts made you feel oddly special. tonight was no different. you were sitting on the floor between the sofa and coffee table, surrounded by half-finished drinks, snacks and discarded game pieces. everyone was talking over each other, which meant nobody was actually listening properly. except jungwon. he always listened, you had noticed that early on. even when he wasn’t actively involved in a conversation, he was paying attention. he remembered details people mentioned casually. he noticed when someone looked uncomfortable and quietly changed the subject. you had once asked him how he remembered so much. he had just looked genuinely confused, as though he hadn’t realised he did it, it was just so ingrained in his being, to care for others. that was probably one of the things you liked most about him. he never seemed to understand how thoughtful he was.

“you’re overthinking it.”

you looked beside you. jungwon was looking at your cards.

“you don’t even know what i’m thinking.” you frowned.

“yes, i do.”

“you’re very confident.”

“you’ve been staring at the same card for three minutes.”

you looked down, then back at him.

“that doesn’t mean anything.” you pouted, glaring slightly at him now over the top of your deck. he just smiled in response. 

you should have been used to that by now. his tiny grins, just for you. the way he was much funnier than people gave him credit for because most people never stayed around long enough to notice. but you weren’t, not really. because every time he made you laugh, some part of you still felt ridiculously pleased that you were the one who got to see that side of him. which was a thought you tried not to examine too closely.

the thing about liking jungwon was that it hadn’t changed your friendship. that had surprised you. you had expected the realisation to make everything feel different and much more complicated. like suddenly every interaction required careful consideration. instead, you had simply become the tiniest bit more aware. you noticed when he pushed his glasses further up his nose while reading. you noticed how he always checked whether everyone had arrived before starting anything. you noticed that he never took the last of whatever odd snack jake had bought over from the table unless someone specifically told him to. you noticed that he always walked slower when leaving places with you. that last one had taken you a while to figure out because jungwon never made a show of it. he never said he was waiting, he simply adjusted his pace. and somehow, you always ended up walking together. you wondered if he knew he did that. you wondered if he realised how many little things he did that made you feel important. you also used to wonder if you were the only one who noticed, which now you suspected was false after jay’s earlier interrogation. you were right. you realised this when you returned from the kitchen with two drinks and found everyone looking at you. well, not everyone. specifically just jay, sunghoon and sunoo. which was somehow worse.

“what?” you murmured, your voice lacking any real bite because of the probably too loud sigh that followed it.

sunoo immediately looked away too quickly for your liking.

“nothing.” he said, voice an octave higher.

“that was suspicious.” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“you’re suspicious.” he snapped back, sticking his tongue out immaturely.

“that doesn’t even make sense.”

“exactly.”

you stared at him blankly, then forced your gaze upon jay, who seemed like he was trying very hard not to smile.

“why are you all being weird?” you whined.

“we’re not.” sunghoon muttered, wiggling his eyebrows in that annoying way he often did.

“you are.” jay whispered at you, smug expression still pasted onto his sharp features.

before the conversation could continue, riki interrupted from across the room, completely unaware that he had saved you from being questioned further. or maybe he was aware. with riki, it was impossible to tell. you sat back down, handing jungwon his drink without thinking. only after you had done it did you realise you’d remembered exactly what he liked. again. not because he had told you, but because you just knew. jungwon accepted it with a quiet thank you, looking down at the cup before glancing back at you.

“you remembered?”

the question was innocent, he just sounded oddly surprised. you weren't quite sure why when he did the same kind of thing tenfold when it came to remembering your preferences and favourite things. but something about it made you feel a disappointed. because you weren’t sure why it surprised him so much.

“of course i did.” you shrugged forcibly, doing a bad job of feigning nonchalance.

you said it before you could overthink it. for a moment, jungwon just looked at you. then his expression softened.

“right.” he replied, face now weirdly blank other than the remaining fondness in his eyes.

that was all, just one word. not worth overthinking, you repeated in your head like a mantra.

later that night, when everyone had started leaving, you found yourself standing near the front door with jungwon. it wasn’t unusual because he always walked you out. sometimes he walked you home. sometimes he didn’t, depending on how late it was and how much work you desperately urged him to finish. you peeked out of the open door to see that it was raining lightly.

“i didn’t bring an umbrella.” you said sheepishly. jungwon just glanced towards the coat rack.

“i have one.”

“you don’t have to walk me.”

he looked at you. not confused, just slightly surprised. as though the idea had never occurred to him. 

“i know.” he replied blankly.

there was a pause. you immediately thought about backtracking, embarrassment probably evident on your face at how you seemed to just expect him to follow you to your accom, so used to it by now that you didn't even think of the other possibility. a feeling akin to shame burned at the back of your neck. then, he picked up his jacket.

“i want to.”

the relief that spread across your features was palpable. you hoped he didn't notice. jungwon said things like that so naturally, without hesitation, without realising how much weight they carried for you. you just smiled.

“okay.” you said so quietly it was almost a whisper. 

the walk home was quiet. not awkward, never really awkward anymore. you talked about small things. things that wouldn’t matter tomorrow. complaints about assignments. something stupidly funny jake had said to him earlier. a random story sunghoon had told you and sunoo about his crazy ex. ordinary things. you found yourself thinking that ordinary things with jungwon never really felt ordinary. and beside you, jungwon was having a similar thought. he had spent most of his life believing that comfort was something you built alone. in a quiet room, a familiar routine, a predictable schedule. he had never expected another person to become part of that. but somehow, you had. and the strange thing was, he didn’t feel like you had interrupted his life. you felt like you had always been there. when you reached your building, you turned back towards him.

“thanks for walking me.”

jungwon shook his head.

“you don’t have to thank me every time.”

you smiled.

“i know.”

a small pause, which you’d both seemed to be accustomed to by now. then, almost unconsciously, he smiled back. and neither of you noticed how long you stood there before saying goodbye, neither of you noticed that you were both reluctant to be the first person to leave. but maybe that was the thing about something becoming important. you didn’t always notice the moment it happened. sometimes, you only noticed when you realised you didn’t want it to stop.

the dinky coffee shop you two had discovered months ago had become quieter as the afternoon wore on. the lunchtime rush had disappeared almost an hour ago, leaving behind only the occasional student hiding from the rain outside and a few people scattered amongst the tables with laptops propped open in front of them. neither of you had noticed how late it was until one of the baristas began wiping down the empty tables nearby, a subtle reminder that perhaps spending nearly four hours discussing coursework wasn’t entirely normal behaviour. not that either of you minded. you couldn’t remember when studying had stopped feeling like studying when it was with jungwon. assignments still frustrated you and deadlines still came far sooner than they should have, but somewhere along the way, the time between arriving and leaving had started disappearing far too quickly. it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate whether you enjoyed the afternoons themselves or simply enjoyed spending them with him. if you were being honest with yourself, you had known the answer for a while now.

it was still strange thinking about it sometimes. not because it felt wrong or overwhelming, but instead because it felt so obvious in hindsight. you wondered if everyone else apart from jay and sunghoon had figured it out before you had. judging by the increasingly knowing looks from the rest of your friends whenever his name appeared in conversation, you suspected they probably had. you smiled faintly at the thought as you closed your notebook, reaching across the table to collect the loose sheets of paper that had somehow migrated onto his side over the last few hours.

“i think we’ve done enough work for today,” you sighed, stretching slightly in your chair.

jungwon looked up from his laptop, his expression softening into something quietly amused.

“we’ve been here longer than some of my lectures.”

“exactly my point.”

he laughed quietly before also beginning to pack his things away. over the last few months, you had grown used to moments like these. comfortable silences had become second nature between the two of you now. there was no pressure to fill every moment with conversation anymore. it was nice. you had begun to realise recently that your favourite part of the week wasn’t thursday afternoons themselves. it was the fact that they belonged, in some small way, to the two of you. uni was unpredictable and busy and constantly changing, but somehow this, whatever it was, had remained untouched by all of it. you knew that probably meant more to you than it should. probably meant more to you than it did to him.

“everyone keeps asking me about you, by the way.”

the words left your mouth casually as you zipped your bag shut. it wasn’t entirely untrue. all of your friends, not just your mutuals, had become increasingly interested in jungwon’s existence over the last few months, much to your embarrassment.

his eyebrows lifted slightly as he glanced towards you.

“why?”

“i don’t know.” you laughed quietly. “they’re nosey.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

you smiled to yourself at his response before continuing to pack your things away. there was something about talking to jungwon now that felt so easy compared to those first few conversations. you didn’t overthink every sentence anymore. you had long since stopped wondering whether you were bothering him. he was your friend. hopefully more than that, if you were thinking positively. the thing was, lately, you had started wondering whether perhaps you weren’t entirely alone in all of this. there were moments where he looked at you for slightly longer than necessary, moments where he remembered things you were sure you had only mentioned once, moments where he would choose to stay just a little longer when neither of you really needed to. you weren’t foolish enough to assume that meant anything on its own. but, naturally, sometimes you wondered. perhaps that was why you foolishly felt brave enough to continue the conversation.

“you know,” you smiled, resting your chin briefly against your hand as you looked across the table at him, “jay’s like… convinced that there’s something going on between us.” you blurted out as quickly as you could, as if not to give yourself time to immediately regret it.

his expression shifted immediately into something slightly embarrassed.

“i know.”

“it’s getting difficult to convince people otherwise at this point.”

“is it?”

“a little bit.”

there was a brief pause as he packed away the last of his things. you weren’t sure what the fuck possessed you to say what came next. perhaps it was because things had been so good lately. perhaps it was because you were tired of wondering whether you had imagined every small moment between the two of you over the last few months. or perhaps it was simply because you liked him enough to be a little brave! you smiled softly, looking down at your notebook rather than at him.

“i don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “i don’t think i’d mind all that much.”

the words were deliberately vague. gentle enough that you could pretend they meant very little if you needed to. however, you realised they weren’t ambiguous enough to fully shroud your true intentions after mumbling them out. the silence that followed lasted only a few seconds. it felt significantly longer. jungwon seemed to have froze. for a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure he had heard you correctly. his mind immediately began trying to make sense of what you meant, each possibility somehow more terrifying than the last. he knew his friends joked about the two of you often enough. he knew people made assumptions about your friendship. except suddenly, sitting across from you now, he realised there was another possibility he had spent months refusing to acknowledge. you. liking him. the thought shouldn't have felt so shocking anymore. it still did. because if you liked him, then suddenly every feeling he’d spent months carefully ignoring demanded to be acknowledged in return. and jungwon had never been particularly good with uncertainty. friendships made sense to him because they had rules he understood. this didn’t. he didn’t want to lose what the two of you had now. he didn’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable or complicated. he didn’t want to ruin this.

“i don’t think…” he began quietly before stopping himself, hand reaching up to scratch awkward at the back of his neck. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

your smile faltered almost imperceptibly, a grimace attempting to fight its way through.

“oh.”

it was such a small sound that he almost missed it entirely. he rushed to continue, unaware that the conversation the two of you were having had become entirely different ones.

“i just mean…” he paused, struggling to explain thoughts he’d barely managed to understand himself. “things are good how they are.”

you pasted on what you thought was your best smile before he had the chance to notice your expression properly.

“yeah.” you replied, nodding your head almost feverishly so he really understood that you meant nothing by it, ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut.

well, at least you had your answer now. looking back, you supposed you should have expected it. jungwon had never really been someone who sought out change when he was happy. perhaps you had simply allowed yourself to become a little too hopeful over the last few weeks. it was embarrassing more than anything else. how stupid of you to have misread things so badly.

“you’re right,” you smiled quietly, standing from your chair and slipping your bag over your shoulder. “they are.”

jungwon just smiled back, relieved that you seemed to understand him. what he didn’t currently realise was that you’d heard blatant, painful rejection, when he’d simply meant to reassure you, and in turn, himself. somehow, that hurt you far more than if he’d simply said no.

if jungwon was really being honest with himself, he thought things had gone surprisingly well. he had spent the entire walk home from the coffee shop replaying the conversation in his head, wondering whether he had explained himself properly. he hadn’t. he’d hardly gotten out a full sentence, much less explained to you everything that was on his mind like a normal person. he knows why he said what he said, because things are good how they are. it had felt honest. reassuring, even, to him at least. and to you too actually! you had smiled afterwards, you had agreed with him. the conversation hadn’t become uncomfortable or tense or anything he had spent the previous five minutes worrying it might become. so, all things considered, he had gone home thinking he’d done the right thing. for approximately twenty-four hours. because the strange thing about spending so much time with someone was that you became accustomed to all of their little habits without ever consciously meaning to. they simply became part of his own routine before he had realised they were there. jungwon knew exactly how long it usually took you to reply to his messages. he knew that you hated studying in complete silence and always put together strangely specific playlists whenever assignments became particularly difficult. he knew that you had an endearing tendency to become more affectionate when you were excited about something, talking slightly faster and laughing a little louder than usual. he knew that when you were tired, you absentmindedly played with the sleeves of your jumpers while trying to stay focused. he knew these things in the same unconscious way that he knew the walk back to his flat or his coffee order or his timetable for the semester. he simply knew them. which was why he noticed almost immediately when something had changed. not enough for anyone else to pay attention to, just enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. the first few days afterwards, he convinced himself he was imagining things. you still smiled at him when you saw him. you still sat right beside him whenever the two of you studied together. you still laughed at his jokes, even the terrible ones that never seemed to land with anyone else. nothing had changed. except, somehow, everything had.

you’d stopped doing that stupid thing where you stole his pens. it was almost like tradition now, like a routine, however childish and intentional you both knew it was. that one shouldn't have bothered him nearly as much as it did. for the last few months, he had found himself bringing extras whenever the two of you studied together because you always seemed to lose yours or decide his were somehow better despite being exactly the same. the first tutoring session you’d had after the coffee shop, he had unconsciously placed two pens beside your notebook before he’d even sat down, like he always did. one of them remained untouched for three hours. he told himself he was being ridiculous for noticing, yet he noticed anyway. you thanked him more often now, which somehow felt worse than if you hadn’t thanked him at all. there was a distance in your gratitude that hadn’t existed before. before, your appreciation had always been accompanied by teasing or laughter or some dramatic declaration that he’d saved your degree. now, they sounded almost formal. 

you were still kind. still yourself. just… quieter around him. nobody else noticed it. of course they didn’t. you were exactly the same around everyone else. he watched you laugh so hard at something jay had said one evening that tears had gathered in the corners of your eyes, heeseung watching you fondly from the other sofa. he’d watched you complain dramatically to sunoo about an assignment you’d been putting off for nearly two weeks, riki mocking you right to your face, much to your feigned annoyance. he’d watched you lean comfortably against sunghoon’s shoulder during a movie when you’d become sleepy halfway through. and then he’d watched you be stirred awake by jake’s constant fidgeting on the other side of you. you hadn’t changed. not really. except somewhere along the way, you had become slightly more careful around him. and that was infinitely worse. he found himself thinking about it far more often than he cared to admit.

“you’ve been staring at absolutely nothing for ten minutes.”

jungwon blinked before looking up from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen table. riki was looking at him suspiciously from across the room, eating cereal directly from the box despite heeseung’s careful placement of perfectly usable bowls right next to the boxes, to try and make it easier for him to just do the normal thing.

“i haven’t.”

“you have.”

heeseung looked up briefly from where he’d been making coffee before glancing between the two of them.

“you have.” he agreed through a grimace, much to jungwon’s dismay.

jungwon frowned slightly. “i’m just tired.”

“you’ve been tired for two weeks.”

“uni is difficult.”

riki snorted loudly from his seat.

“no, y/n is difficult.”

the words caught him so off guard that he nearly dropped his pen. heeseung, as always, looked considerably less surprised.

“i was wondering how long it would take for you to say it.” heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes.

jungwon just stared at both of them.

“…what?”

“you’re moping, won.” riki snapped, his tone of voice not matching the sympathetic look on his face.

“i’m not.”

“you’re staring into space all the time.”

“i do that anyway.”

“you’ve made coffee twice this week and forgotten to drink it.”

he paused.

“…that’s happened before.”

“not because you’ve been thinking about someone.” heeseung finally interjected, annoyingly all-knowing look in his gaze. jungwon went suspiciously quiet after that. because that wasn’t possible. was it? he’d spent so long trying not to think too carefully about his feelings for you that he had somehow missed when they’d become something entirely different. he missed hearing from you throughout the day. he missed the way you’d absentmindedly rested your chin against his shoulder while trying to read something on his laptop screen. he missed the familiarity of knowing exactly what you were thinking before you’d said anything at all. more than that, though, he simply missed feeling close to you. he found himself looking for you whenever he walked into a room before he’d even realised he was doing it. he knew immediately when something had happened that he wanted to tell you. he’d begun associating particular songs with you because you’d insisted on adding them to his playlists weeks ago. you had somehow become woven into the fabric of his everyday life so gradually that he’d never noticed it happening. and now, suddenly, he noticed your absence everywhere. perhaps the cruelest part of all of this was that he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong.

you were still there. you still smiled at him. you still sat beside him every thursday afternoon. but somewhere between two tuesdays ago and now, he had lost something he couldn’t quite name. for someone who had spent his entire life preferring certainty, he had never felt more confused. he was beginning to realise that things were no longer good how they were, and they hadn’t been for a while.

there was something particularly embarrassing about realising you’d been wrong. not devastatingly wrong or life-altering or anything dramatic enough to warrant crying over to your friends at two in the morning. just quietly, painfully wrong in a way that made you wish you could go back and shake yourself from three weeks ago. you weren’t upset with jungwon, you couldn’t be. that would imply he’d done something wrong when, if anything, he’d been much kinder than he needed to be. looking back now, you weren’t entirely sure where your confidence had come from that afternoon. maybe the months of small moments, insignificant accumulating into something bigger in your mind. perhaps it had been everyone else’s comments beginning to blur the lines in your head. or perhaps it had simply been wishful thinking.

whatever it had been, it had been yours. not his. that was the important part. you had offered him an open door and he’d quietly, gently closed it. that was all there was to it. it should have been easy enough to move on from.

the embarrassing part was that you found yourself replaying months worth of memories and wondering how many of them you had gotten wrong. moments that had made your stomach twist pleasantly suddenly felt different when viewed from another perspective.

of course he remembered your coffee order, because jungwon remembered everyone’s. of course he walked you home whenever it got late, because he was simply thoughtful. of course he stayed a little longer whenever the two of you studied together because he enjoyed spending time with his friends.

you hated how quickly your own thoughts began correcting themselves now. there had been a time, not even a month ago, where those moments would have made your heart race for entirely different reasons. now, they simply made your cheeks warm with embarrassment, hot shame burning in your gut.

perhaps that was why you had unconsciously started pulling back. not because you were upset or angry or trying to punish him for anything, but because liking someone who didn’t like you back was difficult enough without making yourself feel disgustingly foolish every time you looked at them.

you still wanted to be his friend. more than that, really. you couldn’t imagine suddenly removing him from your life after everything the two of you had become over the last few months. jungwon had become one of your favourite parts of uni so gradually that you hadn’t noticed it happening until it already had. that hadn’t changed simply because he didn’t feel the same way. you still smiled whenever he sent you something funny. you still looked forward to your thursday afternoons together. you still thought he was one of the kindest people you’d ever met.

you simply couldn’t afford to like him quite so loudly anymore. it was wierd, the little things you stopped yourself from doing without ever consciously deciding to.

you stopped reaching for his sleeve whenever you wanted his attention. you stopped sending him photographs of random things throughout your day simply because they reminded you of him. you stopped sitting quite so close whenever the two of you studied together.

small things. almost insignificant things. except they weren’t insignificant to you. because each one had been an unconscious expression of your affection before you’d realised what it was. you had never meant for him to become so woven into your everyday life.

some days were easier than others. there were moments where you forgot entirely and everything felt comfortably familiar again. then there were moments where he laughed quietly at something you’d said or looked at you with that same soft expression he always wore around you and your heart would ache just a little before settling once more.

you wondered if that feeling would ever completely disappear. hopefully, eventually, it would. for now, though, you thought friendship was enough. it had always been enough before you’d become so greedy for more.

maybe that was why you felt guilty sometimes when jungwon looked slightly confused whenever you thanked him for something or didn’t immediately steal the pen he’d unconsciously left beside your notebook.

because none of this was his fault, he hadn’t changed. you had.

and if protecting your own feelings meant becoming slightly more careful around him for a little while, then you thought that was something you could live with.

jungwon couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so out of place.

looking back, he probably should have refused when heeseung asked him for what felt like the hundredth time if he wanted to tag along. in his defence, it had been a particularly long week and an even longer month. assignments had begun piling up again, he’d somehow managed to spill coffee over half of his notes two days ago, and, perhaps most embarrassingly of all, he’d spent the better part of three weeks pretending he wasn’t miserable whenever he noticed that things between you two had changed.

he was tired of moping around his apartment. riki had become particularly ruthless about pointing it out over the last fortnight and heeseung had long since given up pretending to be subtle whenever he brought your name into conversation.

apparently, staring sadly at your contact for twenty minutes before deciding against sending a message about a video he’d seen was gross and pathetic behaviour. at least according to riki. who was probably right as he knew a whole lot more about these things than jungwon.

despite that, jungwon had still voiced that riki’s assessment of his conduct was unnecessarily harsh. heeseung had wholly disagreed. which was how he’d somehow found himself accepting a drink from jake less than two minutes after arriving.

and then another. and then one he’d accepted entirely because he’d forgotten he’d already had two. he wasn’t drunk. he never really had been. well, at least, he didn’t think he was.

he was simply pleasantly warm and considerably more relaxed than usual, leaning against the kitchen counter while only half listening to whatever story sunghoon was currently telling him. the music was louder than anything he would ever willingly choose to listen to himself and there were significantly more people crammed into the house than he’d initially anticipated, but he was enjoying himself more than he’d expected. granted, he was doing his best to ignore the heavy smell of weed emanating off of jake.

he’d laughed more tonight than he usually did in an entire week. perhaps heeseung had been right after all.

“you should do this more often,” heeseung smiled, nudging his shoulder lightly as he handed him another drink.

jungwon looked down suspiciously at the cup before looking back at him.

“i’ve learnt enough from tonight to know that’s a terrible idea.”

heeseung laughed quietly.

“you’re surprisingly tolerable when you’re tipsy.”

“thank you.”

“that wasn’t entirely a compliment.”

before jungwon had the opportunity to respond, riki appeared between them carrying approximately four different bags of snacks tucked beneath one arm.

“he smiled at a stranger twenty minutes ago.”

jungwon frowned. “i was being polite.”

“you apologised when they walked into you.”

“…that’s also polite.” jungwon muttered back after a moment of hesitation.

“no,” riki laughed, “that’s just wierd.”

heeseung just smirked into his drink. there was something strangely amusing about watching jungwon slightly tipsy. he’d spent so much of uni worrying and overthinking and analysing every situation presented to him that removing even a small amount of that caution left behind him considerably softer than people expected. he laughed easier. smiled more readily. he allowed himself to simply exist amongst conversations rather than constantly listening from the outside of them.

he seemed lighter somehow. it really suited him.

“where’s y/n?” jungwon asked quietly before quickly taking another sip of his drink, pulling his cup up to his mouth with slightly shaky hands.

the three seconds of silence that followed were perhaps the most suspicious seconds of silence he’d ever experienced in his life.

slowly, against his better judgment, he looked up, only to be met with a slightly unsightly view of heeseung and riki garishly grinning at him, their eyes wide but gaze lacking the surprise that usually went hand in hand with this kind of exaggerated expression.

somewhere behind him, he was reasonably certain he could hear jake giggling, although, he could be mistaking it for a cough, courtesy of jake’s persistent tendency to inhale too quick.

“…what?” jungwon snapped, eyebrows furrowed.

“nothing,” riki replied immediately.

“you asked where she was before you’ve asked where literally anyone else is.”

“i asked where you were.”

“after i’d been standing beside you for twenty minutes.”

jungwon chose not to dignify that observation with a response. instead, he just looked towards heeseung expectantly.

“sunoo said she should be here soon.” heeseung said reassuringly, supportively placing his hand on jungwon’s shoulder. although, in hindsight, that may’ve just been to hinder his incessant swaying.

jungwon nodded absentmindedly before returning his attention towards the conversation around him. he didn’t think very much of it. after all, asking where you were wasn’t particularly unusual anymore. he was simply accustomed to knowing whether or not you’d be somewhere.

that was all.

at least, that’s what he’d spent the last three weeks desperately trying to convince himself. it was considerably easier to maintain that delusion when you weren’t standing in front of him.

he heard your laugh before he saw you. 

that wasn’t unusual either.

he thought he’d probably recognise your laugh anywhere now, which was perhaps a more embarrassing admission than he’d ever willingly make aloud. his head turned instinctively towards the front door before he’d consciously registered why and suddenly there you were, laughing quietly at something sunghoon had said as you slipped your coat from your shoulders.

you looked really pretty tonight. the thought came so quickly and naturally that it startled him slightly. you always looked pretty, obviously. he’d realised that a long time ago. he simply didn’t allow himself to think about it very often.

perhaps alcohol was significantly more dangerous than he’d initially given it credit for. he watched absentmindedly as you smiled brightly at everyone gathered in the room before your eyes eventually found his. the smile that appeared faltered slightly, but almost immediately afterwards became softer somehow.

“you’re here?” 

there was something oddly sweet about the genuine surprise in your expression.

“i’m beginning to regret it already,” he smiled quietly, suddenly all too aware of the heat on his cheeks and the smoky smell clinging to his hoodie.

you laughed softly at that before making your way towards him.

“that’s because you’ve only been here for an hour.”

he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d spent the last few days forcibly convincing himself things hadn’t changed all that much between the two of you.