let's go back to life.

Convince this man that his value as a human being isn't dependent on how useful he can be to someone else. That he deserves to be appreciated and respected. That his kindness shouldn't be mistaken for weakness or taken advantage of. That being chosen means absolutely nothing if the person choosing you doesn't treat you with care. 

And sure, it would be great if he developed a life ruining crush on you somewhere along the way. Two things can be true at once.  

Also, since you’re no longer bothering yourself with the obligation to respect his bitch of a girlfriend, you feel free to flirt as hard and as shamelessly as you deem fit. 

And boy, oh boy, has it been fun. 

Unfortunately for Jisung, your full time flirting is deeply flustering. Fortunately for you, the universe seems quite pleased with your plans to spoil him rotten and even fated the two of you to end up in the same class this semester! 

Environmental Consciousness was never going to be at the top of your list, but it's quickly become your favorite. Sitting next to an adorable, studious Jisung for an hour and a half twice a week has proven exceptionally beneficial to your well-being. And your mission. 

“What's this?" he asks, carefully lowering himself into his usual seat beside you.

Except this time, there's something unusual waiting on his desk.

You swivel toward him in your chair, unable to hide your grin as he examines the cup with the cautious curiosity of a puppy discovering a new toy.

"Just something I picked up on the way here," you say casually. "I saw it and thought of you."

"A boba tea?"

"Mhm."

He turns the cup in his hands, reading the label. "Milk tea reminds you of me?"

"Almost exclusively.” 

Jisung stabs his straw through the top and takes a tentative sip.

His eyes widen.

There it is.

That brief flash of delighted surprise he never quite manages to hide when something makes him happy.

Before he can stop himself, he takes another sip.

"It's strawberry taro!” 

"Of course it is,” you reply nonchalantly. “That's your favorite."

He pauses. Then slowly turns toward you, brows furrowed but eyes still sparkling and delicious like the boba in his drink. 

"How do you know that?"

"You told me, duh.” 

"I did?"

"Yeah.” 

"When?"

“Umm, about two – no, three weeks ago, maybe?” 

"No way, I would've remembered that." 

"Yeah, you were talking about how the boba place near your dorm keeps running out of taro, and you were bummed because you hadn't had any in a long time.” 

Jisung blinks, the memory slowly taking shape in his mind. "You remember that?"

"Why wouldn't I?” 

Because he just said it in passing, tucked somewhere between complaining about assignments and ranking fictional characters in terms of survivability during a zombie apocalypse. Because he wasn't expecting you to actually listen. Because people don't usually remember little things like favorite drinks or offhand comments, the tiny preferences that make up the shape of a person. Especially not when they belong to him. 

He looks at the cup again, turning it in his hand when he notices something strange about the label. 

“Wait a second, this isn't from that boba shop.” 

“Oh, you're right,” you reply as if also just noticing. “They were still out. So I went to the other one.” 

“You mean the one on the other side of campus?” 

“Yeah,” you say as if that should be expected. But then your expression changes. “Crap, did I get the wrong one? Their menu is different, so I just picked what looked like–” 

“No, it's perfect!” he quickly assures you. “I just…I don't usually go to that one because it's not worth the really long walk and really long lines.” 

"You're worth it, Sungie."

You say it so matter of factly. Like it's so obvious.

Like the sky is blue, and water is wet, and Han Jisung is worth going out of your way for just because.

Judging by the expression on his face, this information is completely new to him.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then lets out a quiet laugh of disbelief instead, as though the idea of someone thinking he's worth the effort has short-circuited his ability to speak.

You tilt your head cutely, hair cascading effortlessly over your shoulder, immediately introducing Jisung to a brand new problem.

Your neck.

Has it always been that pretty? Or is he just imagining things?

"Earth to Jisung, you still here?"

Instead of answering, he gives a single nod and seals his useless lips around the straw.

You watch a few boba pearls race up the clear plastic and disappear into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully, eyes fixed very intensely on absolutely anything that isn't you to mask his fluttering heart.

Unfortunately for him, the growing pink tint across his cheeks is a considerable giveaway.

Unfortunately for you, watching him try and fail not to blush is ridiculously cute.

You rest your jaw in your hand, elbow propped on the desk as you watch him.

And watch him.

And watch him.

So much so that your previously retracted title of “stalker” may need to be revisited. 

Eventually, Jisung glances over. The moment his eyes meet yours, he freezes.

"What?” 

“Nothing.” Just a soft, enchanted, fond smile. "I like seeing you happy, that's all.” 

Jisung bashfully lowers his gaze again, taking another long sip of his drink, sucking as many boba pearls as he can into his cheeks before chewing. 

Then he swallows, hard. 

Slowly, his eyes lift back to you. The bewilderment on his face is straight comical. Like he just spent the last thirty seconds buffering before his brain finally loaded. 

And for a brief, gloriously adorable moment, you watch it unfold across his face in stages: confusion, recognition, disbelief.

"You called me Sungie."

"Oh." You blink innocently. "Is that not your name?"

He narrows his eyes at you, lips pressing into a flat line to show he's not impressed with your antics. (Jokes on him – his dimples show when he does that.)  

"You know that's not what I mean."

“No, I'm pretty sure that's your name.” 

“No, I'm pretty sure you're just flirting with me again,” he says, voice softening. 

You lean in slightly, chin still in your hand as you give him a playful smirk. “You say that as if you don’t enjoy being flirted with.”

“I don't.” he responds, mirroring your body by resting his chin in his hand as well, leaning in just a bit closer.

“Liar.” 

“I really don't.” 

“Oh wow, that was almost convincing,” you say pretending to be impressed. “But your cute little smile kinda gave it away. Wanna try again?” 

He presses his lips together and clears his throat in an attempt to regain composure.

"I don't like your flirting," he insists, voice steadier but still soft as butter. 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” you sing-song. 

“What are you, a third grader?” 

“No,” you shrug, “but the kid who beat you in League last week was.” 

Jisung's smile immediately falters. He stammers, trying to come up with a comeback, but before he can, you reach out and poke his nose. His eyes cross to follow your finger, and you pull it back with a playful hiss.  

"Ooh, you might need some aloe for that burn, babe," you giggle with a teasing smile. 

“Hey, some of those kids are ruthless!” he defends, pushing his glasses up his nose – which only makes you want to boop it again.  

"Oh, come on,” you roll your eyes. "He was, like, ten."

"Thirteen!” 

"Whatever,” you sit back, arms crossed in a mock show of superiority. “How hard can League be if you're losing to middle schoolers?”

“You wanna go?” Jisung suddenly asks, voice full of that competitive energy you’d expect from a professional athlete. 

“You're not serious.” 

He leans in that much closer, offering a handshake that looks more like he’s about to set up for an arm-wrestling match. 

“I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life.” 

You eye his hand cautiously. He’s not usually like this, but you’re not mad. Competitive Jisung? Kinda super hot. 

“Alright, nerd.” You shake his hand with an equally confident smirk. “You're on.” 

“Have you ever even played League before?” he asks. 

“Pfft,” you scoff, shaking your head. “No. But that doesn't matter. I'm still gonna wipe the floor with you.” 

“Dream on,” he quips. "But we'll have to schedule your humiliating defeat for tomorrow or Thursday.” 

“Why can't I beat your ass today?"

“I've got a date with Minji.” 

Your hand slaps over your mouth and you jerk forward. “Sorry, gag reflex.” 

Oh, shit. That was too much, wasn’t it? 

Aw fuck, come on! Things were going so well! The banter was bantering. You swear you saw a romantic sparkle in his eye at the idea of playing League together. And now you’re going to have to traverse Jisung defending his stupid girlfriend again.

You brace yourself for the usual, sickening “don’t talk about her that way” speech. 

But instead, he starts laughing. 

Not the polite chuckles or amused huffs you've grown accustomed to. But a genuine, unrestrained laugh that bubbles up from deep within his gut, spilling out without any attempt to hold it back. 

Then suddenly he's laughing so hard he can't seem to breathe.

His giggles climb higher and higher until the sound disappears altogether. He doubles over in his seat, one hand clutching his stomach while tiny tears gather at the corners of his eyes.

He doesn't have anything beside him to smack, so he settles for shoving your shoulder instead, nearly knocking himself out of his chair in the process. 

When Jisung laughs, he laughs with his whole body. Every inch of him is involved. His shoulders shake. His head drops forward. His arms flail uselessly in a poor attempt to regain control of himself.

You love it. You're in love with it. 

Because right now he's completely authentic. Completely uncensored. So unequivocally Jisung. 

At first, you thought you'd seen this before.

Back at the diner, he laughed then too. Enough that you went home thinking you'd caught a glimpse of the real Han Jisung hiding beneath all the awkwardness and nervous smiles.

Apparently, you were wrong.

Because that laugh? That was just the trailer. A sneak peek. This is what happens when he completely forgets to be self-conscious.

No overthinking. No second-guessing. No carefully measured responses.

Just pure, unfiltered joy.

God, if he wanted you to fall in love with him any faster, all he had to do was ask.

Honestly, your slapstick gag wasn't even that funny. A little funny, sure maybe. Definitely worthy of a chuckle or maybe even a snort.

But this? This feels like someone who just really needed to laugh. 

You wonder if he ever laughs like this around Minji. 

Probably not. For some reason, you can't imagine her appreciating this version of him. The loud version. The messy version. The one laughing so hard he’s probably forgotten what he's laughing about. 

Her fucking loss. He's beautiful. 

After a few moments of gasping for air and wiping tears from under his eyes only to crack up again at the sight of himself, Jisung manages to calm down enough to form words. 

“Sorry…” he says, breathless. “That was…I mean, you’re ridiculous sometimes.”

With a hum of agreement, you fold your arms on the desk and rest your cheek on them, peering up at him with a soft smile. “...so cute.” 

Jisung watches you for a moment before almost absentmindedly folding his own arms on the desk too, resting his cheek against them so he can be eye-level with you. 

"I haven't laughed like that in forever,” he admits with a cough. “Don't tell Minji I laughed at her.” 

“Take a drink, giggles.” 

Because he’s a good boy and mostly listens to you, he sits up enough to take a sip of his milk tea. Then he lays back down onto the desk, seemingly more than content to just be near you in the quiet, happy mess of this moment. 

Jisung’s expression softens into a gentle, warm smile. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer, filled with a tenderness that was once shy, but has grown more confident. Which can only mean one thing… 

He's changing. 

The flirty attention that used to make him flustered, nervous, and insecure has instead become what makes him feel safe and valued and attractive. It’s like you’re watching him shed layers of self-doubt, revealing a version of himself that’s more assured, more at ease, more willing to laugh. 

And it's all happening because he’s beginning to see himself the way you see him – worthy, valuable, and undeniably special. Not because someone else determined he is. But because he intrinsically is. 

Of course, that means you’ll have to up your antics and your flirting, pushing just a little beyond what's the typical comfort zone for “friends”, but if it’s helping him believe in himself more, it’s worth every playful challenge. 

The corners of his lips curl upward naturally, and you feel a little flutter of happiness settle deep inside your bones. For a brief moment, looking into each others eyes like this, everything feels right. 

"...thanks," he mumbles.

"For what?"

"The boba,” he takes a breath, “and for making me laugh.” 

Something warm spreads throughout your chest seeing him accept the kind of treatment he should have been receiving from his partner all along. 

"Of course.” 

"You remember a lot of things about me, huh?” 

"Why shouldn't I?" you reply bravely. "It's the bare minimum when you're falling in love with someone.” 

“Yeah, I guess….wait, what–!?” 

“Shh,” you cut him off, sitting up and pointing to the front of the class, “the professor is starting.” 

You look ahead, but you don't miss that Jisung can't seem to keep his eyes from drifting to you the entire class period. 

Eventually, you glance sideways. Only to catch him immediately jerking his gaze back to the front every time. 

Oh, yeah. Subtle as a gun. 

:: 

There’s something about you that draws Jisung in. Something he can’t quite explain, even though he’s spent countless hours lost in his own head trying to figure you out.

The layers around you are seemingly endless. One moment, you're cute. The next, you're flirting. And then, suddenly, you're walking three miles just to bring him his favorite boba tea because it reminds you of him.

Who does that!? Crazy people, that's who. 

You're crazy. In a really attractive way. 

Even more, Jisung feels crazy when he's with you – crazy at ease, crazy shy, crazy confident, crazy himself. 

When he's with you, he feels like he’s worth more than he probably is. Somehow, you’ve planted this idea in his head that he’s supposed to be praised just for existing. When in reality, that’s not true. There’s the bare minimum, and then there’s whatever kind of treatment you give him. 

“Princess treatment.” That's what you called it once. He's your “princess.” 

He prefers Sungie. But he’d also be lying if he said he doesn’t find your other term of endearment just as flattering (maybe even more so). 

Spending time with you feels effortless, even with his heart hammering in his chest the whole time. Definitely more than he should admit, especially since he's spent more time with you than anyone else these past few months. 

Including…in the library when he was supposed to be on a study date with his girlfriend. 

God, that scene hasn't left his mind since. He was…fuck, he was so lost in that moment. No wonder he hasn't been able to find his way back to himself yet. 

All he can remember clearly are your words swimming inside his head and the shape of your lips when you got close to him… 

And when you held his hand? Oh my god, it was like a current of electricity bringing his whole body alive. His skin burned where your fingers intertwined, and he felt jolts of lightning surge through his veins, like every nerve ending was overloaded at once – holy shit, no wonder so many guys chase you. 

Every heartbeat was amplified, in perfect time with yours. And for a moment, all he could focus on was that connection. On how your hand fit so perfectly in his, as if it was made for him. 

And when you looked into his eyes, his whole world stopped. Every word you said was genuine and selfless. He's never had someone feel so strongly about how he's being treated, how he's living. 

Unsure of how to react to your passion, Jisung finds himself replaying your words in his mind at every moment. 

“How am I supposed to respect someone who treats you like that?”

"You say you're lucky. But I think you've got it backwards…she's the one who's lucky to have you.” 

“Get ready to have your ass properly flirted with, nerd. I'm gonna show you how you should be treated." 

Not only did you leave a lasting impression in the library, but you’ve continued to leave impressions every time he sees you. The boba tea, the cute nicknames, going on errands together, remembering his schedule, making him laugh, sending him random texts just to “check in.”  

There has to be a limit, right? Like, some point where you draw the line, when you realize enough is enough. Eventually, you’ll get tired of doing all these things for someone who isn’t offering any benefits in return. And then, perhaps, you’ll slowly back away or just cut him off entirely.  

That’s usually what people do in situations like this, isn’t it? But Jisung gets the feeling that you’re different somehow. That’s not the kind of person you are.  

But what is he kidding? Someone like you wanting someone like him? It’s a joke, a tease, a bit, a laugh. 

Unless…it’s not. And maybe, just maybe, you’re actually falling for someone like him. Which, again, circles him right back to CRAZY.  

The war continues on in his head as he walks. 

He looks down at Minji’s hand tucked in his, slender fingers intertwined and swinging gently in the air. She's wearing a chunky ring on every other finger, so they don't slot with his perfectly. And her hand is overly relaxed, so much so that if he let go, she would probably slip right out of his grasp.

All of this makes him feel very small. Tiny. Like he’s just a shadow in what’s supposed to be a shared moment. He can’t say he feels nothing, because he does feel gratitude and a small hint of affection. 

But it’s not lightning strikes. 

He follows the line of her arm up to her face, where she’s currently glued to her phone, talking animatedly to one of her friends about some guy they hooked up with and wanting “every steamy detail.” 

He watches her smile at her screen, gasp at juicy reveals, and ask more questions than he's gotten in what feels like forever. Never thought it was possible, but turns out he can be a third wheel on his own date. Or, at least, what he had intended to be a date. 

He’d planned to take Minji to the mall because she loves the mall and never once has refused the opportunity. But she said she’d gone yesterday with her friends and didn’t want to go again today. 

So, he suggested a casual walk through the park, just some quiet time to enjoy the weather and each other's company. 

That plan lasted all of three minutes before her phone rang, and suddenly, he was shoved into second place. 

Now, he's here, staring absentmindedly at her hand loosely hung on his hand and the surrounding couples in the park, none of which are on their phones. 

“Jisung?” 

Her voice breaks him out of his daze, his attention immediately locking back in on her. 

“Huh? Yeah?” 

She raises an eyebrow, holding her phone a little ways away for a moment. “What’s wrong?”  

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. 

“You dropped my hand.” 

“Oh,” he answers, lips parting in surprise when he looks down and, sure enough, notices their hands fallen away from each other. “Sorry, umm, it's getting a little sweaty. I didn't want to ruin your rings.” 

A lie. Jisung just lied. To his girlfriend. He's not a liar! And yet, he can't bring himself to be honest: that she makes him feel like an annoyance, a bother, an inconvenience. The conflict, although probably needed, seems futile to him. 

Minji sighs, annoyed, and turns back to her phone. “I'll call you back in a few.” 

“You didn't have to hang up,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah, I did,” she insists with another deep sigh – each one pressing a bruise into his chest. “Now, tell me what's wrong.” 

“But you really wanted to have that call.” 

“You're right, I did. But I hung up for you,” she says sassily, grabbing his hand again. “You're obviously upset. So, talk to me.” 

Why is he hesitating? She passed up her phone call to talk to him. He should feel prioritized and valuable. But actually, this feels far worse. Because now he's a nuisance, an irritation she’d rather ignore but can't. A problem she's obligated to deal with instead of a person she gets the chance to love. 

“Seriously? You're not going to share?” Minji asks in (what Jisung suspects was intended to be) a cute voice. “Come on, I cut my phone call short for you, and you're not even gonna tell me?” 

“Well…” Jisung finally speaks, guilt ridden to tell her something. “You know how I'm taking a coding class this semester?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I have this project that spans the whole class, and then I submit it as my final grade.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I have to write the code for my own app using my own original idea.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And I'm not sure what to do. I mean, I really like the class so far, and I want to get a good grade, so maybe I shouldn’t aim too high? But there's so many things I could do. Like, should I make the app for fun, or educational, or medical care, or business? I guess, I actually do have a lot of cool ideas now that I say it out loud. I just don't know which one to…” 

He glances over and sees Minji has pulled out her phone again, texting.  

“...choose,” he finishes softly. 

A brief silence settles between them as her thumb swipes over her phone screen, holding down for a second before sending whatever she found to multiple group chats.  

Once she notices Jisung has stopped talking, she turns her head back toward him. “Yeah? I'm listening.” 

He hesitates for a moment before asking, “What do you think I should make?”  

“I don’t know. That’s a tough one,” she hums thoughtfully. “You should make whatever you want. It’s your game, after all.”  

“So, you think I should make the app a game?”  

“Uh, sure! Yeah, that's what I meant,” she shrugs, eyes already gone back to her phone and whatever saucy reply she just got from the chat. “Umm, what level of the league thingy or whatever is this for again?” 

Is it bad he doesn't want to dwell on it any longer? Honestly, Jisung doesn’t really feel like talking at all right now, let alone thinking about deadlines and projects. 

So, instead, he does something that always works when he wants to avoid sharing or engaging – a way to deflect that has yet to fail him. 

“It's not important. How’s the guy your friend’s seeing?”  

And that’s all it takes.  

“Oh my god, he’s a piece of work,” Minji immediately replies, voice filled with character and emotion Jisung was never going to get any other way. “I swear, this is the craziest shit she’s pulled in a minute. I told her not to let him buy her drinks. I told her! And now, she’s got this guy on the hook for her, which is hilarious because he’s so not her type. But she's already bagged him like three times! I’m dying laughing at her, like, she’s actually insane for this—”  

She keeps talking, but Jisung tunes her out pretty easily once she gets going. Her rant will probably last for another fifteen minutes or so, the cycle repeating as he asks another question about Minji, her friend, or some guy, and she launches into another story.  

It's not that Jisung tries to avoid talking about himself, but it's hard to talk about himself when his partner smiles more at her friend’s spicy text messages than she ever has at him. He doesn't want to see her bored or annoyed. And she looks happiest when talking about herself and her friends. 

So, what starts as a walk in the park quickly turns into a one-sided monologue about her friend's sex life, making Jisung feel more invisible than ever. 

But she’s happy – that’s all that matters. So, the date is a success.  

Right?  

Yeah. As long as she's happy. No matter how much he sacrifices or how much he holds back, his greatest wish is for her to find joy, peace, and contentment in their relationship. That's what a boyfriend is supposed to provide. Even if it means putting his own feelings aside every time. 

Carrying that quiet sense of obligation when he's with Minji is just part of the deal. It's what he signed up for. He feels compelled to give her the better parts of himself – his kindness, his attentiveness, his gentle patience – because that’s what a boyfriend should do. Even when those efforts go unnoticed or unappreciated, it’s still his duty to treat her well, regardless of how she responds. 

Deep down, Jisung knows that love isn’t about keeping score or expecting gratitude, but…sometimes the fact that he’s constantly giving more than he’s receiving is hard to brush under the rug. 

But he has to push those feelings aside. His responsibility is to be better – more caring, more patient, more loving. Because that’s what it means to truly care for someone. 

Even if she doesn't care about— 

She does care about me…right? 

:: 

When they reach his dorm, Jisung hesitates in front of the door, his mind still racing. He gently swings her hand now that it's not holding her phone, a silent gesture filled with all his unspoken thoughts. 

Maybe he shouldn't be waiting so long to take the initiative based on the way Minji checks the time and sighs. But for the first time since they started dating, he's pausing, carefully weighing his feelings before asking… 

“Do you want to come in for a bit?”

A question Minji has heard at the end of every date he's taken her on, though he's usually more enthusiastic than this. 

Perhaps it's because, for the first time since they started dating, he's not expecting much from her. 

It’s not like she’s given any indication that she’s going to say yes or that she even wants to. Minji doesn’t crave Jisung the way he craves her, and he’s come to accept that. (Although it hurts more than he cares to admit.) 

He’s exhausted himself trying to understand her, trying to piece together what she wants or what she’s really thinking. Every effort feels like banging his head against a wall. Maybe this is just who she is – indifferent, detached, always a step ahead, always leaving him to wonder if he’s enough. 

Minji smiles softly and slides her arms around his shoulders, leaning in close so he can feel her breasts against his body. 

“I guess we haven’t cuddled or made out in a while, huh?” she hums softly, her pitying eyes drifting to his lips. 

He nods silently, feeling his cheeks warm when she moves in a little closer to brush their noses. 

“Does my baby need some attention?”  

He nods again, leaning into her a little more, instinctively chasing that closeness. 

For someone who openly lives for intimacy and knows that physical touch is one of his love languages, it’s rare for Minji to offer this kind of attention without a catch. 

So, when moments like this happen, Jisung can’t help but feel a little bit of excitement. Despite being an inexperienced nerd, he’s still a guy – one who yearns to make his partner feel all kinds of things. Fantasies, fairytales, desires hiding in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind. 

And he knows Minji would be down if she would take two minutes to listen. If he could only figure out why she always stops halfway. 

The theories about why she hasn’t slept with him after almost six months of dating haven’t changed since the last time he spiraled. He’s gone over every possibility, every excuse, every reason so many times he has a semi-permanent headache. 

Maybe it's his room? Maybe it's too messy? Maybe it's too cold? Maybe it's cursed? 

Maybe it's his bed? Maybe it's too firm? Maybe it's too small? Maybe it doesn't smell right? 

Minji can be rather particular. 

Maybe it's him? Maybe he's too quiet? Maybe he's too thin? Maybe he's too dorky? Maybe he's not good enough? 

As they step inside and his dorm door swings shut behind them, it becomes painfully obvious that this isn’t about his room or his bed. 

Before he can even process what’s happening, she’s on him. Minji’s hands bunch the fabric of his shirt, guiding him backward with a confident, relentless energy, shoving him onto the bed with a force that leaves no room for hesitation. 

He stumbles, his body hitting the mattress with a grunt as she falls on top of him.  

Her kiss is nothing short of masterful. Lips confident and commanding, capable of turning even the most stoic of men into beggars. Her touch is precise, her presence overwhelming, and her skills unmatched. There's no question as to how she's able to command men the way that she does. 

It's hopeless. Jisung feels himself get drawn in within seconds, the weight of her body settled over his waist, the press of her hands on his chest as they drag down to the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath without permission. 

Jisung has never considered himself to have the most tempting body, but he often wishes that Minji would be inexplicably and irresistibly drawn to him. And in this fleeting instant, he allows himself to believe that she actually is.

With her hips not-so-gently rocking against him and her nails dragging down his chest, Jisung feels his world start to melt away and fall out of his mind. His eyes roll back into his head, and all the sensation on his skin amplifies at the feeling of her lips on his neck. 

This. This is what he's been craving. 

Although it may be embarrassing to admit out loud, in his heart, Jisung knows he's a hopeless romantic. He wants nothing more than to share any and every kind of intimacy with his person. To feel them in and around every part of him – emotionally and physically – and to make them feel just as encompassed by him. 

How often Jisung's pictured his first time is borderline delusional. Always with a girlfriend who’s kind, experienced, and able to guide him all the way through. The kind of girlfriend that could snap her fingers and have anyone she wants, but she chooses him anyway. The kind who's gentle but dangerous, sensual but eager, rough but caring. 

The longer Jisung lays underneath Minji’s touch, eyes shut and body heated, he can't keep convincing himself that it'll be like that with her. 

Minji’s not the type to guide. She's not the type to slow down or appreciate every inch of him. And she's not the type to care if he does any of that crap for her. 

Then comes a dangerous thought. His hands are on her waist, his hips matching her rhythm, but behind his eyelids, another face appears.

Not hers. 

“Fuck—” he mutters, his voice cracking. 

He tries to curse the image away, but you remain, like a stain in his mind he can't erase. 

Each time her lips brush against his skin, he feels you.  

Every time her hips grind against him, he feels you.  

Every time her hands glide across his abdomen and beneath his waistline, he feels you.  

You. You. You.  

Fuck! You're all he can think about. 

Minji lifts her head just enough to meet his gaze, a teasing yet proud smile curling on her swollen lips.

“You sound pretty,” she says softly, then shifts to sit upright on his lap, letting her weight settle right where he needs her most, yet offering no relief. “I'm going to go freshen up, okay? Don’t move.”

Damn, the agony of her dragging herself away is like peeling a sticker off paint. Jisung stays reaching for her, not wanting or even caring if she freshens up. They're already in it, why leave now? 

Then again, maybe it's a good thing he takes a moment to clear his head. Or at least, clear his mind of anyone else. 

Where did the thought of you even come from!? Of all the times to think about you, now is perhaps the most inconvenient and inappropriate. He can't have sex with Minji while thinking about you! And yet, no matter how hard he tries, every time he closes his eyes, he doesn't see his girlfriend…he sees you. 

Beautiful, caring, sexy, funny, charming, crazy you. 

Is he insane!? He's about to finally, finally have sex with the girl he's been bending over backwards to date. And his mind and heart aren't even in it! Sure, his dick is getting happy, but the rest of him feels…out of place. 

It’s as if her lips and hands are moving with familiarity, but not the warmth or urgency he believes is supposed to be present when you're about to make love to someone. 

When she touches him, he doesn't feel like she's touching deep inside his bones. He doesn't feel like she's reaching into his soul, let alone past the first layer of skin. Everything she does and says and kisses is on the surface. Nothing deeper. 

As if she doesn't even really…want him at all.  

The sudden sound of a phone vibrating against his side startles him to sit up. When he reaches over, he finds Minji’s phone lost in the comforter. It must have fallen out of her pocket when she climbed on top of him. 

He doesn't mean to, honest, he doesn't. Jisung isn't the type to snoop, and he's definitely not the type to invade someone else's conversation. But he gets a glimpse of the screen when it turns on automatically, and the texts just keep coming in. 

[Jae] hey

[Jae] u busy? 

[Jae] got 25 min before my class 

[Jae] usual spot? 

[Jae] come on baby i miss u 

[Jae] dont tell me ur with that nerd again 

[Jae] ditch him already

[Jae] need u so bad baby 

[Jae] my hands just not the same 

[Jae] need ur mouth 

[Jae] fuck baby answer me

[Jae] im dying over here 

[Jae] dont make me beg 

[Jae] …again 

Can he even admit it? That a part of him figured as much. 

Without opening the texts, Jisung tucks the phone back into his blankets where he found it. Laying still as if nothing had happened. 

No. He can't bring himself to say it out loud. Minji isn’t about to, so maybe some foolish part of his heart doesn’t want to accept it either. If she never comes clean, then maybe he can keep pretending it’s not happening too, keep pretending everything’s fine?

Minutes pass in silence.  

Then, Minji steps out of the bathroom, hair tousled and face shimmering. She climbs back on top of him, her body pressing soft and warm against his. Without so much as a word or smile, her lips find his again, slow and deliberate, trying to ignite that familiar spark.  

But he can't feel anything now. Not even you. 

“Minji?” Jisung mutters against her lips, not waiting for a natural pause or for her to pull away. 

“Yes, baby?” 

“While you were in the bathroom…umm, something--"

A deep rumble of vibration suddenly echoes from somewhere inside his blankets, making them both freeze in surprise. Minji’s fingers fumble instinctively through the comforter as she searches for it. When she finally finds the phone and looks at the screen, her eyes widen, and she gasps softly, her breath catching in her throat.

“Oh no!” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a hard swallow. 

“My sister was in an accident. My mom needs me to call her,” she says hurriedly, placing a hand on his chest and trailing her finger along his septum. “I’m so sorry, baby, can we take a rain check?” 

This isn’t a breakup. So why does it feel like he’s about to let her walk out of his heart instead of his dorm room? 

“Of course. Go call your mom. Text me so I know you're okay?” 

“Mhm!” She quickly kisses his cheek and says she’ll text him later. But as he watches her skip away, he can’t shake the feeling that she’s much too giddy for someone who just got bad news.

He sits up in his bed in silence. Alone. 

So. This is what it feels like to be played. Cheated on. Used. Discarded. 

It's a lot more fragile than he anticipated.  

His heart feels heavy, but deep down, he probably always kind of knew the truth. He’s just background noise in her life, someone she keeps around for when she’s bored or lonely.

In the subconscious parts of his mind and heart, he prepared for this. But he’d prepared himself for something far worse than this quiet, lingering, persistent ache.  

Isn’t heartbreak supposed to cause a storm? To shatter his every reality and tear him apart at every seam?  

But no. His heart is breaking so slowly. Softly. Slipping through tiny cracks in ways he never anticipated, letting water seep in little by little. Just enough to cause panic, but not enough to drown him.  

He stares at the door she left through, feeling hollow, betrayed, and barraged with questions. 

How long has he been just a pawn in her game? How long has he been nothing more than someone she uses when it suits her? How long has he been blindly devoted while she ran around treating his loyalty like shit? Was any of it ever real? Was she ever into him at all?

He closes his eyes, trying to breathe, trying to process. But all he can feel is a gnawing emptiness inside his chest getting bigger, bigger. And he doesn't know how to stop it. 

There's no pretending or denying any longer. He’s just another player in her sick game. And no matter how much of himself he gives, he’ll never be more than that to her. 

He'll never be enough.

::

GF taglist: @nightmarenyxx @cepheus3 @strawberriesoup @kayleefriedchicken @hannamoon143 @0omillo0 @fly-you-dam-fools @urlocalmultigroupfan @inlovewithstraykids @felixleftchickennugget @hityoulikebahng @imfoive @imeverycliche @hannieslittlerockstar @staybabblingbaby @somber-reads @hyunjinxxs @straberieslee @brbwritingfanfic @velvetmoonlght @dearbisky @hwangjoanna @jeonginnieswifey @firstdivisiongirl @mikachux3 @pineapple-burgah @eyyyylucieeee