m

"thank you! i love you, seoul!"

but the moment you stepped behind the heavy velvet curtain of the wings, the smile vanished. the stage lights were replaced by the buzzing atmosphere of the backstage corridors. the adoring screams faded into the chaotic chatter of staff, coordinators, and dancers rushing past you.

reaching your private dressing room, you let out a breath you felt like you'd been holding for hours, slamming the heavy door shut behind you to block out the noise.

you walked over to the vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror bordered by bright bulbs. your makeup was flawless, your hair perfect, but the eyes staring back looked frayed at the edges.

"yn."

you jumped, your hand flying to your chest. in the corner of the room stood hayoon, your head manager. normally, hayoon was a whirlwind of energy, loudly organizing schedules or humming along to your tracks. right now, she was dead silent, her knuckles white as she gripped her phone.

"hayoon," you breathed, trying to laugh it off. "you scared me. what are you doing— why are you lurking in the dark?"

when she didn't answer and looked down to lock her gaze on the screen of her phone, your smile faltered. the cold drop of dread, a feeling that had become all too familiar over the last three months, pooled in the pit of your stomach. "what is it? did another post go viral? did someone make another fake rumor?"

"no," hayoon whispered. she then looked up, and the anxiety in her eyes made your breath hitch. "it's... it's not an online rumor." before she could stop you, you crossed the room and snatched the phone straight out of her hand.

"yn, wait, don't look—"

your eyes stared at the screen. it was an anonymous direct message sent to hayoon's personal business account. attached to it was a photo that made your heart stop.

the image was taken from a security camera perspective—or rather, someone hiding in a corner. it showed the interior of the elevator in your highly secure apartment building. in the photo, your own back was turned, wearing the exact hoodie you had worn yesterday morning when leaving for rehearsals.

you looked so tired yesterday. the elevator smells like your perfume. come home tonight. don't keep me waiting.

the phone slipped slightly in your trembling fingers. the security gates, the keypad locks, and the heavy glass doors of your premium complex had failed.

they knew exactly where you slept. they had been standing right behind you.

"we've already called the police, and the building security is reviewing the footage," she said frantically, grabbing your cold hands. "but yn... mr. han just called. he wants you in his office. now."

later, when the heavy, frosted-glass doors of the office slid open, the silence that greeted you was heavy. han, your ceo, had his tie loosened, jacket draped messily over a chair, and he was pacing the length of his office. on his marble desk laid scattered security reports and a tablet displaying the very photo you had just seen on hayoon's phone.

"yn," he called, stopping his pacing the moment you stepped into the room. his voice lacked its usual calmness. "sit."

you chose to remain standing. you crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to anchor yourself. "i'm fine," you lied, forcing your voice to remain steady. "the elevator photo... yes, it's creepy. but we can handle this thing quietly, right? we can change my keypad lock. i'll get a dual-authentication system. we can hire a private security form to patrol the lobby of my building. there's no need to make a scene or alert the press."

you desperately wanted to downplay it. in your world, a loss of control was fatal. if the media caught wind of a serious security breach, your upcoming comeback would be delayed, your sponsors would panic, and your fragile grasp on a normal life would slip away entirely.

han let out a humorless laugh, rubbing his temples. "do you think a new keypad lock is going to stop this person, yn? you think this is just a fan who got lucky?"

"they didn't just take a photo," he spoke when you tried to intrude, voice dropping into a harsh whisper. he walked over to his desk, picked up a clear evidence bag, and held it up. your breath caught in your throat. inside the plastic bag was a delicate, silver charm bracelet—one you had noticed missing from your jewelry box three days ago.

"our team found this on your doormat twenty minutes ago," he said, eyes drilling into yours. "they didn't just see you enter the elevator. they have been inside your apartment. they could have watched you sleep. they took your things, and they left this as a reminder that they can touch you whenever they want."

the room seemed to tilt. the air left your lungs, and a cold, sickening wave of nausea washed over you. the only place on earth where you could drop the idol mask had been violated.

"this is no longer a matter of image or anything," han continued, placing the bag on the desk with a heavy thud. "this is a matter of survival. i cannot, and will not, let anything happen. which is why i took matters in my own hands."

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. "what do you mean?"

"i've hired a private, full-time bodyguard for you. he is highly trained, elite, and committed. from this moment on, he will be with you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. he goes where you go. he sleeps in your guest room. he will protect you."

anger, sharp and defensive, flared up through your fear. the thought of a stranger invading the tiny sliver of privacy you had made you feel utterly suffocated. "no," you shook your head. "no, please. a stranger living in my apartment? i'll feel like a prisoner. i can't live like that. i don't need a babysitter."

"i'm not asking for your permission, yn," he answered coldly before pressing the button to his desk intercom. "bring him in."

the heavy doors behind you clicked open, swinging inward with a slow gravity. you spun around, breath catching as a tall silhouette stepped into the room.

describe him how you wanted, but he was undeniably imposing. he wore a crisp, tailored black suit that looked like armor on his broad shoulders, hugging a powerful frame built for violence. a dark silk tie was knotted perfectly at his collar, and his hands were loosely clasped in front of him.

but it was his face that made you freeze. striking features were cast in an expression of stone, dark eyes swept the room—not with the wide-eyed awe of a fan, but with the cold precision of someone scanning for threats. his gaze passed over the furniture, paused briefly on the bag on the desk, and finally landed on you. there was no flicker of excitement. no recognition of the worldwide-famous idol standing in front of him.

"yn, this is jongseong. you can call him jay," han introduced from behind you, his voice returning to a position of authority. "former elite special forces, top of his class in private intelligence security. i paid quite a grand amount of money to break his contract with a foreign embassy to bring him here, so i hope you respect him."

jay took two steps forward, polished dress shoes echoing softly against the marble floor. he stopped exactly three steps away from you, close enough for you to feel the aura radiating off him, but far enough to respect boundaries.

he bent at the waist, executing a perfectly angled bow. "it's an honor to meet you, yn-ssi."

you stared at him, chest heaving slightly. up close, you could see a faint, jagged scar cutting just below his left jawline, disappearing into his collar. he looked lethal and, worst of all, he looked like a reminder that your freedom was gone.

"he will accompany you back to your apartment tonight," han continued, ignoring the fury radiating off your posture. "his bags are already in the car. jay, she's all yours. keep her safe."

jay straightened up, dark eyes looking back onto yours. "understood, han-nim," he replied quietly.

you clamped your jaw shut, a toxic mix of terror, violation, and burning resentment swirling in your gut. without a word, you spun on your heel and marched out of the office, desperately trying to outrun the shadow that you knew was already following right behind you.

the heels of your boots clicked sharply against the concrete of the private garage. you kept your strides long and fast, hayoon scurrying to keep up on your left, her head buried in a tablet as she quietly arranged a route back to your apartment.

but no matter how fast you walked, you could hear the heavy rhythm of another set of footsteps behind you. you didn't need to look back to know jay was there. you could practically feel the weight of his gaze, a pressure between your shoulder blades.

just as you reached the sleek black van waiting in the vip bay, you stopped dead in your tracks. hayoon nearly stumbled, blinking up at you. "yn? is everything—"

you didn't look at her. instead, you spun around and faced the man. jay stopped instantly, looking down at you with that same infuriating, unreadable expression.

"look, jay— or whatever your name is," you snapped, crossing your arms tightly. you injected every ounce of the persona you used to fend off overly aggressive executives into your voice. "i don't care how much money my ceo paid, or what kind of elite background you have. i value my privacy and my space. having a stranger breathe down my neck at all times is going to drive me insane."

from the corner of your eye, you saw hayoon go pale, silently waving her hands for you to stop, but you ignored her. you stepped closer to him, tilting your chin up to look him dead in the eye.

"i don't need a fucking babysitter," you whispered, voice trembling slightly with a mix of fury and exhaustion as tears started to swell in your eyes. "so here are the rules. you stay ten steps back at all times. you don't speak unless spoken to. and when we are in my apartment, you pretend i don't exist. got it?"

the silence that followed was suffocating. the hum of the garage's ventilation system felt incredibly loud. jay didn't flinch. he didn't get defensive, nor did he apologize. he just stared down at you, his dark eyes absorbing your outburst calmly. for a second, you wondered if he was even human.

then, he leaned forward just an inch, enough to let you know he wasn't intimidated by your stardom. "my job isn't to babysit you, yn-ssi," he said quietly. "it's to keep you alive."

before you could process his words, he stepped past you. he reached out and opened the heavy sliding door of the van, shielding the top of the frame with his large hand so you wouldn't bump your head.

he gestured inside, "please get in, yn-ssi. we are exposed out here."

your jaw tightened, a sudden lump forming in your throat. the anger was gone, replaced by a sobering reality. without a word, you climbed into the back of the dark van, feeling smaller than you ever had in your life.

the crushing weight followed you all the way home, morphing into a heavy awkwardness the moment the door of your apartment clicked shut behind the two of you.

your apartment had always been your sanctuary. it was a private world where you could shed your idol image and simply breathe without a camera tracking your every movement. but the moment jay crossed the threshold, the air in the area shifted. suddenly, that sanctuary of yours felt like a cage.

in the weeks that followed, you learned that living with a bodyguard was less like having a roommate and more like being haunted by a highly disciplined ghost. jay was a lethal presence, yet he managed to move with a terrifying lack of noise.

you quickly became aware of the changes in your environment. the most jarring was the entryway. every morning, when you stumbled out of your bedroom, your eyes would dart to the genkan. there, positioned next to your chaotic pile of sneakers, sat a single pair of polished black dress shoes.

jay occupied the guest room at the end of the hall, but he barely seemed to leave a footprint. he never touched your things, never stayed in the living room, and never cooked. yet, his presence was absolute.

you would wake up at five am for an early broadcast, creeping out into the dark hallway in your oversized sweatpants and messy hair, only to freeze. there he would be, already standing by the kitchen island. he was always dressed in a sharp black suit, tie knotted perfectly, looking as if he hadn't spent the night sleeping but rather standing on standby.

and because his quiet invasion of your apartment rattled you so deeply, you decided to fight back the only way you knew how.

by freezing him out completely.

if you had to endure him at home, you were going to make sure he got nothing from you on the job. you erected a towering wall of silence, treating him less like a human being and more like a piece of security equipment you had been forced to carry around.

over the next few weeks, your daily interactions devolved into a routine of short rejections.

when the van picked you both up in the early hours of the morning, jay would sit up straight in the front passenger seat. he would look at you reflection in the rearview mirror, deep voice slicing through the quiet cabin. "is the temperature okay, yn-ssi?"

you wouldn't even look up from your phone. "it's fine."

during a chaotic music show promotion, while the room hummed with the frantic energy of stylists, jay stood like a statue by the door. when a loud burst of laughter echoed from the hallway, he would subtly shift his weight, his eyes darting to the entrance before turning to you. "are you expecting any guests today?"

you would lazily flip the page of your magazine, voice dripping with indifference. "nope."

even at the end of a grueling, fourteen-hour day, when the back exit of a recording studio was swarming with a sudden crowd of fans, he would hold the heavy door open by a crack, assessing the perimeter. "do you want to take the lower parking level to avoid the crowd, yn-ssi?"

you would pull your cap down over your eyes, stepping right past him without a glance. "whatever."

you kept waiting for the icy routine to break him. you kept waiting for his mask to slip, for a flicker of annoyance to cross those eyes, or for him to finally snap and complain about your attitude. you wanted him to show a weakness, a shred of frustration that proved you were getting under his skin.

but it never happened.

realizing your silence couldn't break him only fueled a stubborn and childish desperation to try another tactic. if you couldn't freeze him out, you would outrun him. you needed to prove, if only to yourself, that you still owned your life. you needed to find a single crack in his perfect appearance.

thus began a stealthy game of cat and mouse across the venues of seoul.

the first real attempt happened during a wardrobe fitting for an upcoming awards show. the styling room was a claustrophobic maze of clothing racks, rolling mirrors, and frantic designers. jay, respecting your privacy, stood guard just outside the main door. spotting a narrow exit in the back, you gave your head stylist a quick smile. "i need a second to get something. don't let anyone in."

before she could question you, you slipped through the exit, slipping into a dim hallway. your heart hammered against your ribs, a thrill of pure adrenaline rushing through your veins as you turned a corner, then another, convinced you had finally bought yourself five minutes of unmonitored freedom.

you took a sharp left toward the main lobby only to freeze. there, standing quietly beside a row of vending machines at the end of the hall, was jay.

he was simply standing at ease, calmly adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. as your boots clicked to a halt, his dark eyes lifted to meet yours. he simply executed a brief nod and stepped smoothly into stride behind you.

you tried again a week later at a broadcast station during a live music special. the corridors were a nightmare, flooded with dozens of backup dancers, staff pushing heavy equipment cases, and massive idol groups rushing to and from the stage. taking advantage of a sudden wave of a twelve-member boy group passing between you and jay, you veered sharply down a corridor, blending into the sea of stage outfits.

you darted down a flight of stairs, ducking into a quiet room on the lower level. breathless, you let out a laugh, leaning your back against the closed doors.

you had done it. you had actually lost him.

turning around to look for a bottle of water, your voice caught in your throat. jay was already inside the room. he was standing by the emergency exit door on the opposite wall, hands loosely clasped in front of him. he looked up from his watch, his face a flawless mask.

"the blueprints for these older broadcast stations are confusing, yn-ssi," he said, deep voice completely level, as if he were merely discussing the weather. "but the emergency stairwells all lead to this corridor. please let me know if you require a change of scenery next time, so i can sweep the room beforehand."

you realized with a sinking dread that you weren't dealing with some babysitter. it hung heavily in the air, enduring through the grueling weeks of promotional schedules and bleeding right into the suffocating confinement of a thirteen-hour flight.

you sat in the plush business class cabin, staring blankly out the window at the blanket of clouds. you had your armor on—the black hat pulled low, a white medical mask covering half your face, and dark glasses hiding your bloodshot eyes. it was the standard idol uniform for survival.

across the aisle, jay sat in perfect posture. while you had spent the flight tossing and turning, he had remained alert, eyes fixed on the flight tracker screen or subtly scanning the cabin whenever a flight attendant walked past. you were still determined to ignore him, keeping your face turned toward the window.

hayoon hurried up from the economy class section the moment the seatbelt sign clicked off after landing, her face tight with worry as she bent down to whisper in your ear.

"yn, i just got a text from the ground team," she said, voice trembling slightly. "your flight information was leaked a few hours ago. the arrival lobby is... it's bad. there are hundreds of fans and fansites already blocking the gates. the airport police are trying to deploy extra security, but it's completely gridlocked."

a familiar spike of anxiety pierced through your chest. you closed your eyes, taking a slow breath. just another arrival, you lied to yourself. just walk fast and keep your head down.

you stood up, adjusting your hat. as you stepped into the aisle, jay moved instantly, his massive frame shifting to block the path ahead of you, creating a small pocket of space. he didn't look at you, keeping his eyes trained on the exit doors of the aircraft.

"always stay right behind me, yn-ssi," he commanded quietly. "do not stop walking for any reason. no matter what happens, keep moving."

the walk through the terminal felt like marching into a pressure cooker. even from a distance, the echo of chanting and cheering bounced off the ceilings, growing louder and more overwhelming with every step you took.

the moment the automatic doors of the arrival lobby slid open, the volume of the crowd hit you.

it wasn't a violent riot, but the density of the crowd was staggering. a sea of fans, casual onlookers, and paparazzi stood packed behind the ropes, a wall of phones and cameras instantly raising into the air. the blinding white strobe lights of flashlights exploded across your vision, turning the path ahead into a dizzying blur.

"yn! look over here!" "just one glance, please, yn!"

you ducked your head, keeping your eyes locked on the floor, trying to match jay's steady pace. flanked by hayoon and your other manager, you tried to maintain the facade, but the space was rapidly shrinking.

and suddenly, the crowd spilled into you.

a wave of bodies closed the gap, and the momentum instantly separated you from your team. hayoon was cut off, pinned behind a group of fans trying to hand you gifts, while your other manager was pushed several steps ahead, desperately trying to clear a path that was closing up just as fast.

within seconds, you were completely trapped, your breath catching as the lights and voices began to blur into an inescapable drone.

before the panic could fully drag you under, the flashing lights vanished. a massive frame violently cut through the sea of bodies, blocking out the glare of the cameras. the sudden scent of cedar and rain enveloped your senses as jay stepped directly into the eye of the storm.

he didn't hesitate. he didn't ask for permission.

with unyielding authority, he wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders. his hand, large and remarkably warm, gently but firmly pressed against the back of your head, tucking your face securely against his chest. he used his entire upper body to create a physical canopy over you, shielding you from the intrusive lenses and reaching hands.

"step back. move away, please," jay's voice boomed. it wasn't a shout, but the force of his tone made the fans nearest to you instinctively shrink back.

he became an immovable barrier. you could feel his frame take the rough jostling of the crowd as he began to move. his muscles braced against the weight of people pushing forward, yet his steps never faltered.

pressed against him, your ears were filled with the steady thud of his heartbeat. you clutched the fabric of his suit jacket with white knuckles, letting him bear your weight as he carried you through the press of the crowd.

jay didn't slacken his grip for a second, moving you with him until the door of the van appeared in your blurred vision. he guided you inside, his large hand protecting your head from the frame, and dove in right behind you.

the sound of the door sealing shut brought an immediate silence. the tinted windows instantly cut off the flashing lights, reducing the swarming mob outside to muffled noise as the driver slammed on the gas and the van surged into the open street.

you were finally safe.

but your body hadn't received the memo. you sat curled up in the corner of the plush leather seat, your chest heaving as you tried to draw in enough air. you wrapped your arms tightly around your torso, trying to force your body to stop shaking, staring blindly at the floor mat as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

a soft rustle broke the quiet of the car. a heavy yet warm weight settled over your trembling shoulders. you blinked, realizing jay had shed his suit jacket and draped it over you.

a moment later, a cool bottle of water appeared in your line of sight. "drink," he ordered.

you raised your head slowly. he was kneeling slightly on the floor of a moving van to bring himself down to your eye level. his eyes, usually so cold, were searching your face with a quiet intensity. his hands were steady as he loosened the cap of the bottle for you, but you noticed the slight tension in his jaw.

you reached out, hand shaking so badly your fingers brushed against his warm knuckles as you took the water.

he leaned in just a fraction closer. "i've got you. you're safe now, alright?"

you stared at him, the bottle pressed against your palms. looking into his eyes, you felt a sudden, strange warmth bloom beneath the terror. the icy wall you had built so carefully around your heart started to shatter.

the fracture only widened during the silent ride back to the complex, and it dismantled your thoughts once you were finally behind closed doors.

the entire evening passed in a blur. as you stood under the streaming water of your shower, washing away the dirty feeling, your mind refused to reset. every time you closed your eyes, you didn't see the flashing cameras or the surging crowd.

you felt the weight of his arm around your shoulders. you heard the deep cadence of his heartbeat against your ears.

even later, as you padded around the kitchen in your softest oversized pajamas, the apartment felt entirely different. you found yourself glancing toward the hallway leading to the guest room. for weeks, his presence had felt like a suffocating invasion. but tonight, it felt like an anchor.

by midnight, the apartment was completely dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the seoul skyline filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. the silence was deafening, and the leftover adrenaline kept sleep out of reach. you needed to do it. you needed to clear the air.

taking a slow breath, you stepped out of your bedroom and walked down the long hallway.

stopping right outside the guest room door, your hand curled into the fabric of your sleeves. suddenly a wave of intense nervousness washed over you. what am i even doing? you through, your mind spiraling into a mess. it's midnight. he's off the clock. am i being weird? he was just doing his job. he's paid to do this.

you raised your hand, your knuckle hovering a mere inch away from the dark wood, debating whether to just turn around and sprint back to your room.

before you could make a choice, the door suddenly clicked and swung open. you gasped softly, taking a step back.

jay stood in the doorway. and for the first time since you had met him, the armored monument was gone. he wasn't wearing the sharp black suit or the tie. instead, he was in a simple, loose-fitting black t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. his dark hair, normally seen styled back, fell softly over his forehead, brushing against his eyebrows. the casual look softened the sharp angles of his face, making him look dangerously human.

he froze for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes widening slightly as they swept over your pajama-clad frame, before his professional mask quickly slipped back into place.

"yn-ssi," he said, his deep voice carrying a raspy edge from the late hour. he instantly stepped to the side, adjusting his posture out of habit. "is everything alright? did security report a breach?"

"no," you denied quickly. "no, nothing's wrong. i'm fine."

jay blinked, his gaze softening just a fraction as he looked down at you. "then... do you need anything? i can get you some water or check around the building if you're having trouble sleeping."

"i don't need you to check on anything, jay," you breathed, a genuine smile finally breaking through your nerves. you took a half-step closer, looking up into his eyes. "i just... i came to say thank you for today. at the airport."

he went entirely still, chest rising and falling with a slow breath. he bowed his head slightly, the movement formal despite the casual clothing he had on. "there's no need to thank me, yn-ssi. i was simply executing my duty. keeping you out of harm's way is my job."

hearing that rigid response made something twist in your chest. "stop doing that," you murmured, tilting your head.

he paused, brows furrowing slightly. "doing what, yn-ssi?"

"that," you pointed out, gesturing vaguely to him. "calling me 'yn-ssi' and the whole stiff bodyguard thing. we live together, jay. you just dragged me out of a crazy crowd today. i think we're past honorifics."

he shifted his weight. "well, your ceo's protocols dictated that i maintain a professional boundary—"

"i don't care about his protocols," you interrupted gently. "when it's just us, call me yn."

the hallway fell into a thick silence. jay stared down at you, jaw tightening slightly as if he were physically fighting against years of training. the casual drape of his t-shirt shifted as he let his arms drop to his sides, the distance between you feeling small in the dark. he swallowed, vocal cords clicking in the quiet. "alright," he mumbled, the mask slipping just enough for you to see the warmth hidden underneath. "yn."

the way your name rolled off his tongue sent a fluttering warmth straight to your chest. it sounded completely different without the corporate weight attached to it—softer, heavier, and too intimate.

"and... one more thing," you added, voice dropping into a quiet murmur. you looked down at your hands, fingers relentlessly tugging at the edge of your sleeve. the stubborn pride that had sustained you for weeks was gone, leaving you exposed. "i'm sorry."

jay didn't answer. he waited, his attention anchored on you.

"for these past few weeks," you confessed, forcing yourself to look back up and meet his eyes. "i was awful to you. when i called you off on your first day, the cold answers, trying to get away from you... i was treating you like the enemy when you were just trying to do your job. it was really childish. i'm sorry."

for a second, you thought you saw the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. it was a look so devastatingly handsome on his usually stone-faced expression that it caught you off guard. "you don't need to apologize," he said softly. he leaned his shoulder lightly against the doorframe, a gesture so casual it made your heart skip a beat. "i knew what i was signing up for. and for what it's worth... your escape attempts weren't entirely terrible. you actually almost had me at the broadcast station."

a laugh escaped your lips, the last remnants of the day's tension finally disappearing. "almost?"

"almost," he repeated, his dark eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. then, his expression grew serious again, the gaze holding yours. "i know this is a lot. having your life upended, having me in your space. i don't expect you to like it... or like me. but you never have to apologize for being stressed, yn."

hearing him use your name again, so naturally this time, made your chest flutter in the best way possible.

you nodded, taking a reluctant step back down the hallway. "goodnight, jay," you whispered.

"goodnight," he replied, his deep voice wrapping around you like a blanket. he stayed standing in the doorway, watching over you with that same protective aura, but the cold look was gone.

as you turned and walked back to your bedroom, the apartment didn't feel like a cage anymore. and as you finally climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin, you realized you weren't afraid of the intrusion anymore.

when your alarm blared at six am, the lingering peace from the night before was instantly put to the test.

your mind instinctively braced for the uncomfortable dance of avoiding the stranger living in your guest room. but as you padded down the hallway while rubbing your eyes, the tight knot in you stomach didn't tighten. if anything, it loosened.

the kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the windows.

jay was already there, standing by the island. he was back in his work uniform, looking as neat as ever. but the tension that usually radiated off him was noticeably absent. his shoulders were relaxed, and his posture, while still authoritative, lacked the edge of the previous weeks. as your slippers scuffed against the hardwood floor, he turned his head. "good morning, yn."

the name left his lips smoothly, without a trace of hesitation, as if he had been practicing it. "morning, jay," you murmured, stepping fully into the kitchen.

usually, this was the exact moment you would snatch a glass of water, keep your head down, and go straight back to your bedroom until it was time to leave for the car. instead, you walked right up to the kitchen island and pulled out one of the barstools, sitting down with a small sigh.

jay paused, eyes tracking your movement with subtle surprise. "did you manage to sleep?" he asked, pushing a mug across the surface toward you. an aromatic steam of chamomile and honey rose to your nostrils.

"a little," you admitted. wrapping your hands around the warm glass. "better than usual, actually." you took a slow sip, looking at him over the rim. "you?"

"i don't need much sleep," he replied. "used to it by now."

"right. super bodyguard powers," you teased lightly, testing the waters. a twitch tugged at the corner of his lips. it wasn't a full smile, but it was enough to soften his sharp features. "something like that."

you took another sip of the tea, leaning your forearms on the marble counter. "honestly, jay... how do you do it? you spent weeks standing around like a statue, never touching my food, never even using the couch. do you just turn off like a robot when i go to sleep?"

he let out a low breath. it was a sound so close to a chuckle it made your heart do a backflip. "old military habits," he responded simply with a small shrug. "back then, staying on guard was normal. when i took this job, they told me to stay out of your way and do my work quietly. so... i tried to stay out of your hair."

"well, you kind of failed," you rested your chin and looked at him with a smirk. "you were way too scary to ignore. i honestly thought you were some secret agent sent to judge my messy life."

jay glanced down at the counter where your abandoned mug, an old snack wrapper, and stray lyric pages that laid scattered, then back up at you. "i did notice the lyric sheets on the floor," he said dryly. "nobody warned me i'd be protecting someone this messy."

your jaw dropped dramatically. "hey! that's my creative process. bodyguards aren't allowed to judge that."

"i'm not judging, yn," he argued. "i'm just observing."

a comfortable silence settled over the kitchen, the weight now light unlike how it used to be. "anyway... hayoon's picking us up at seven," you brought up. "recordings all day, then a late studio rehearsal."

"i know," he nodded once. "i already checked the traffic, and i talked to the venue manager to make sure we used the back entrance."

you looked at him—really looked—taking in the sharp cut of his suit, the quiet confidence in his eyes, and the effortless way he kept everything running smoothly just to keep you safe. "thanks, jay."

he gave a gentle nod, "anytime."

over the next few days, the quiet truce bled into every corner of your routine, completely changing the air between you whenever you stepped out into public.

by thursday, you were backstage at a major network studio for yet another music show recording.

the prep room was a noisy and cramped disaster. stylists were frantically steaming out outfit options, makeup artists were surrounding you with brushes and hairspray, and your managers were yelling over the noise to coordinate.

in the past, jay would have stood right outside the door or leaned against the far wall in silence. but today, he was inside the room, standing only a few feet from your vanity. his posture was still straight and alert, but he seemed more at ease. when hayoon squeezed past him holding three massive garment bags, jay reached out to take two of them off her hands, hanging them up for her without being asked.

"okay, tilt your head up for lip gloss," your makeup artist instructed, dabbing a soft tint across your lips.

you tilted your chin up, eyes catching jay's reflection in the mirror. he was scanning the room, but the second he noticed you watching him through the glass, his eyes met yours. you offered him a small smile, which he returned with a nod.

"hey, jay," you called out later on over the sound of a hair dryer, turning around in the revolving chair once the artist stepped back. jay shifted his focus entirely to you, taking a small step closer. "yes, yn?"

"hayoon brought way too much food today," you pointed toward the overflowing table near the couch. there were boxes of food, fresh fruit, and iced drinks meant for your team. "grab a sandwich or something. you've been standing there for three hours."

hayoon froze in the middle of checking her ipad, blinking in utter shock as her eyes darted between you and jay. even the stylists in the room went silent. everyone knew how fiercely you had tried to ignore jay for the past weeks, so seeing you casually offer him food was like watching a completely different person.

"i'm on duty, yn," he said softly. "i don't need to eat while watching over the area."

"it's just a sandwich, jay, not a security breach," you teased, leaning back in your chair with a soft laugh. "and the only area you're watching right now is full of clothing and makeup."

hayoon cleared her throat, looking like she had just witnessed a miracle. "uh... yeah, jay, seriously. help yourself. she never shares her sandwiches, so take it before she changes her mind."

a faint smile appeared on his face. he walked over to the table, grabbed a sandwich, and held it up slightly toward you in a toast. "thanks," he said. you smiled back, turning back to the mirror as the hairstylist resumed her work.

by the time the weekend rolled around, you had grown more used to jay. it was four-thirty am on saturday, and the world outside was still pitch black. your schedule for the day was brutal. you had a pre-recording followed by a fan sign event on the other side of the city.

you stumbled out of the apartment lobby, half-asleep, wrapped in a hoodie that felt way too heavy for your exhausted frame. your eyes were burning, your brain felt like a mush, and the thought of putting on a bright persona in less than two hours made you want to crawl straight back into bed.

jay opened the van door for you, holding a hand over the top frame to make sure you didn't bump your head in your zombie-like state.

"morning," you mumbled, climbing into the leather interior and slumping into your usual seat. "morning," he replied, sliding in after you and closing the door.

you closed your eyes, resting your forehead against the cool glass window, waiting for the dreaded morning nausea and caffeine headache to kick in.

"here," a deep voice muttered beside you.

you opened your eyes. jay was reaching toward the cup holder in front of you, placing a tumbler right in your line of sight. you blinked, looking at the cup, then up at jay's face. "what's this?"

"iced vanilla latte," he answered. "with oat milk."

you sat up a little straighter, taking the tumbler into your hands. it felt cool against your palms, but the warmth of the gesture hit you. you took a sip, and your eyes widened slightly. it wasn't too sweet, and you could taste the exact oat milk brand that never messed up your stomach.

"wait..." you glanced at jay, bewildered. "where did you get this? it's four in the morning."

"there's a twenty-four hour place two blocks over" he rested his hands in his lap. "i walked over while you were getting dressed."

"jay, you walked two blocks in the dark just to buy me coffee?" you asked, a laugh escaping your lips. "you know hayoon just grabs whatever's at the studio, right?"

"i know that," jay said. "and last time, you took one sip of it, realized it was regular milk, and set it down for the rest of the day."

you froze, the cup held halfway to your mouth. "you... noticed that?"

"it's my job to notice," he shrugged. but the way his eyes held yours in the dim light of the van said something entirely different.

from the front seat, hayoon turned around, looking back at the two of you with surprised eyes. "wait, jay... she didn't even tell me she stopped drinking regular milk. how did you figure that out?"

"i just paid attention."

a flustered heat bloomed in your cheeks. you took another long sip of the latte just to give your hands something to do, trying to hide the small smile threatening to break across your face. "you really don't miss anything, do you?" you leaned your head back against the seat, feeling a hundred times more awake than you had only minutes ago.

"not when it comes to you," jay replied. the statement was delivered with his usual calm tone, but in the closed space of the moving van, it felt heavy and somewhat intimate.

"well..." you started, tapping on the tumbler with your fingertips. "for the record, it's perfect. thank you, jay."

he glanced over at you, a warm look washing over his face. " it's my pleasure."

the unspoken ease from that day carried you through the rest of the week, but slow progress didn't mean the boundaries had vanished.

it was late thursday evening, and you were stuck in a dance studio at the agency headquarters, running through the choreography for your upcoming comeback for the last three hours. sweat was dripping down your neck, your limbs felt like lead, and your throat was dry.

jay stood in his usual position by the door, framed by the mirrors. he had been standing there silently, his sharp eyes tracking every move, every jump, every stumble.

"alright, let me see it from the chorus again!" your choreographer shouted from the front of the room, clapping his hands sharply. "yn, your feet were kind of off. pick up the pace."

you wiped your damp forehead with the back of your hand, taking a heavy breath. "got it. one more time."

"actually," the choreographer corrected smoothly, looking at his watch, "let's do three more times. we need this clean before tomorrow's camera test."

you swallowed down the lump in your throat, nodding reluctantly. your knees were aching, but this was the job. you fell back into your starting position, waiting for the track to play. suddenly, a commanding voice cut through the speakers.

"she needs a break."

the music cut out instantly. the choreographer blinked, startled, turning around to look at the corner of the room. jay had stepped away from the door, taking a slow pace into the center of the floor. his expression was unreadable, but his shoulders were squared.

"excuse me?" the choreographer asked, a subtle edge entering his voice. "we're in the middle of a session."

"she's been practicing for hours without water," jay pointed out, completely unfazed by the annoyance. he didn't look at the choreographer. his eyes were fixed on you, noting the tremor in your knees. "her form is slipping because of physical exhaustion. pushing further right now increases the risk of an injury. take fifteen minutes."

the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. bodyguards were hired to protect idols from crowds and stalkers. they should never interfere with agency staff, and they certainly didn't dictate schedules.

"jay..." you murmured softly, cheeks burning as every pair of eyes in the room darted between you and him.

the choreographer frowned, opening his mouth to pull rank, but the composure radiating off jay made him pause. jay didn't yell pr raise his voice, but the menace in his posture made it clear he wasn't asking for permission. "fifteen minutes," the choreographer finally muttered, waving a dismissive hand as he picked up his tablet. "everyone take fifteen."

as everyone dispersed to do their own things, jay walked directly over to where you were standing. he reached down, picked up your towel and a fresh water bottle from the cooler, and handed them to you. "drink," he commanded quietly.

you took the water, but instead of opening it, you looked up at him with your brows pulled together. the room was almost empty now, but the air felt heavy with tension.

"jay... you can't do that," you whispered, keeping your voice low so the remaining staff couldn't overhear.

jay paused. "you were about to collapse, yn."

"i know my limits, jay," you said gently, though there was a clear line in your tone. "i appreciate that you're looking out for me. i really do. but that's my choreographer. when you step in like that, it makes me look unprofessional, and it puts you in a bad spot with my management."

jay stared down at you. for a second, his expression revealed a flash of protective frustration. he tightened his jaw, taking a slow breath. "i understand," he looked at the floor. "i overstepped. i apologize."

"you don't have to apologize," you murmured, softening as you noticed the faint tension in his hands. you cracked open the water bottle and took a long sip, giving him a reassuring look. "just remember... we're still at work."

jay give a single nod, stepping back. "understood."

the rest of the rehearsal passed in a blur. jay had remained by the door like an absolute statue, eyes fixed on the room, but he didn't interrupt again. true to your word, you pushed through the remaining routines, though every muscle in your body was screaming for help by the time your choreographer finally called it a night at eleven pm.

around thirty minutes later, the agency building was practically abandoned.

you were sitting on the cold floor of the dance studio, leaning your back against the mirror. your sneakers were kicked off, your hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and you were far too exhausted to move.

a quiet scuff of dress shoes broke the silence as jay walked back into the studio, carrying a small paper bag. he stopped a few feet away from where you were sitting, looking down at you with that familiar gaze. "the van is waiting downstairs whenever you're ready," he added, deep voice carrying a quiet softness that echoed. "no rush."

"give me a few minutes," you groaned softly, tilting your head back against the mirror and closing your eyes. "my legs feel like jelly."

instead of standing guard by the entrance like he usually did, he did something that caught you completely off guard. he unbuttoned his suit jacket, set the paper bag on the floor, and folded his massive frame down, sitting on the floor a few feet away from you.

you opened your eyes, blinking in surprise as you looked over at him. seeing a man in a crisp suit sitting cross-legged on a dance studio floor at midnight was an endearingly absurd sight. "what's in the bag?" you asked, nodding toward the brown paper.

jay reached in and pulled out a bottled honey tea and a small container of sliced fruit. he set them down on the floor between the two of you, right within your reach. "sugar and hydration," he answered simply. "since you didn't eat dinner."

you stared at the bottle, then gazed at his dark eyes. "jay," you mumbled, taking the food he had given. "about earlier... during practice."

"you were right," he interrupted quietly, his voice dropping into a rumbling hum. "i let my personal judgment interfere with your work. it won't happen again."

hearing him say personal judgment made your chest flutter.

"i wasn't mad that you cared," you said softly, looking down at the bottle in your hands before meeting his gaze again. "i was just trying to protect you. my management... they're strict. if they think you're overstepping, they'll surely replace you. and i—" you paused, the words catching in your throat as you realized how much you had come to rely on him. "i don't want another bodyguard, jay."

jay went completely still. his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. "they won't replace me," he shook his head, voice carrying a conviction that made you blink. "i'm not going anywhere."

you looked at him for a long moment, taking in the steady, unshakeable sincerity in his eyes. there was still a boundary between you—you were still the idol, and he was still the man hired to stand in front of danger for you. but sitting on the floor of a dance studio at nearly midnight, that line felt thinner than ever. "good," you whispered, a tiny smile playing on your lips as you cracked open the bottle of tea. "because i don't think anyone else knows how to make my coffee order."

a faint curve softened jay's lips, eyes crinkling just a little at the corners. "then i'll make sure i keep the job."

the silence settled back over the studio, but it wasn't heavy anymore. it felt somewhat easy. you looked over at him still sitting a few feet away, keeping that professional cushion of space between you. "you know," you murmured, shifting and pulling your knees up to your chest, "you're sitting way over there like i'm going to bite."

jay blinked, a faint flicker of surprise passing over his features. "i'm giving you space."

"well, don't," you shrugged, then patted the floor next to you. he hesitated for a moment, eyes searching your face to see if you were serious. but finding no hesitation in your expression, he let out a low breath. he slid closer until he was sitting right beside you against the mirror. the warmth radiating off him was immediate, filling the space beside you. you could smell the subtle, comforting scent of his perfume.

"better," you murmured, leaning your head back. "so, since we're stuck here until my legs start working again, tell me something about you. real stuff. not the bodyguard stuff."

jay looked straight ahead, thinking. "there's not much to tell. my life before private security wasn't very interesting."

"i frankly don't believe that," you countered, nudging his arm lightly with your shoulder. "you spent years in the military. you look like you were born holding a weapon. but what did you actually want to be when you were a kid? don't tell me you wanted to be a suit-wearing wall."

a tiny huff of a laughter escaped jay's chest, the rare sound making your stomach do a soft flip. "a mechanic," he replied quietly. "my grandfather had an old garage outside the city. when i was ten, i spent the entire summer trying to rebuild an old motor. took me three months, covered in oil every day."

you turned your head to look at his side profile, fascinated. "a mechanic? really? why didn't you stick with it?"

"life happened," he responded, though there was no bitterness in his tone, just a calm acceptance. "the military paid for my training, and after i got out... security was where my skills fit best." he turned his head to meet your gaze. "it turns out i'm good at keeping things safe."

"you are," you agreed, voice barely over a whisper. "too good, sometimes."

jay stared down at you, gaze lingering in your eyes, then tracing the curve of your tired face. "what about you?" he asked quietly, turning the question back to you. "before the stages, the hair, the makeup... who were you?"

"just a kid who liked singing in her bedroom," you smiled faintly, looking up at the high ceiling. "i thought being an idol meant just singing and dancing all day. nobody tells you about the flashing cameras, the lack of sleep, and especially not the feeling like— like you belong to everyone except yourself."

you stopped, suddenly realizing how heavy you words sounded. you bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed for opening up so suddenly. "sorry. that was dramatic."

"no," jay denied immediately. his tone was gentle and so fiercely grounded, it cut right through your sudden insecurity. he shifted slightly, his large hand resting on the floor just an inch away from yours. "it's not dramatic. you work harder than anyone i've ever seen, yn. you're allowed to be tired."

hearing him say that—validating the quiet struggle you hid from your fans, your managers, and the entire world—made a strange warmth blossom in your chest. "thanks, jay," you murmured, tilting you head up to look at him.

his eyes held yours in the bright lights of the empty studio, the unspoken connection between you stretching thick and sweet.

it took another twenty minutes just to gather the energy to stand up. and by the time you arrived back to the apartment and the elevator dinged on your floor, your body had officially given up. the exhaustion hit you all at once.

you managed to stumble through the front door, barely registering the warmth of the room. but instead of making it down the hallway to your bedroom, your knees gave out at the living room. you dragged yourself over to the large sofa and collapsed onto it, burying your face directly into the pillows.

"yn," a voice called out. you let out a muffled groan into the cushion, completely immobilized by fatigue. "can't move. leave me here to die. tell hayoon i tried."

a low sigh echoed in the quiet living room, followed by the heavy steps of dress shoes against the floor. jay stood over the sofa for a moment, taking in the sight of you buried under your oversized coat, clinging to a pillow like a lifeline.

he crouched down beside the sofa, bringing himself eye-level with you. "you can't sleep like this," he said. "your coat is dirty, and you'll ruin your back with that position."

"too tired," you mumbled, rolling in your position as your eyes remained stubbornly closed. "too heavy."

"i'll help," he whispered. without waiting for an answer, jay reached out. his warm hands worked with gentle care as he unzipped your heavy coat, peeling the thick material off your shoulders. you let out a quiet sigh of relief as the heavy weight lifted away, unburdening you.

then, jay shifted down toward your feet. he rested your foot lightly on his knee, his fingers working to untie the knot on your boots. he pulled them off one by one, setting them neatly beside the coffee table. through the thin material of your socks, the touch of his hands were warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary as he carefully rested your feet back onto the edge of the sofa.

he stood back up to his full height, looking down at you as you buried your cheek deeper into the sofa cushion. "can you walk back to your room?" he murmured.

"no," you whimpered, barely coherent, your arm flopping uselessly over your face. "my legs are broken. sofa is my new home."

"it's twenty steps away, yn," he said, amused. "twenty steps too many. if i stand up right now, i'm going to melt into the floor like a puddle. just leave me here. i'm one with the cushions," you argued faintly into the pillow.

a chuckle escaped jay's chest. "alright," he whispered. "have it your way."

before your sluggish brain could process what he meant, jay leaned down over you. one of his large, warm hands slid effortlessly beneath your knees, while the other braced firmly against your back. with zero effort, he lifted you completely off the sofa and up into his arms.

your eyes snapped wide open in shock, a soft gasp catching in your throat as your heart suddenly hammered against your ribs.

the shift in gravity was seamless. up close, his strength was staggering. you weren't small, but to jay, you were weightless. you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself, your breath hitching as your chest pressed against his.

he was solid and warm, smelling intoxicatingly like expensive perfume. you could feel the steady beat of his heart right beneath your cheek. up close, you took in the fine details you were usually too shy to notice—the faint shadow of a stubble along his jawline, the breadth of his chest beneath his suit, and the focused intensity in his eyes as he held you like you were fragile.

"jay," you breathed out, voice a tiny murmur right next to his hair. "i've got you. keep holding on to me," he whispered back smoothly. his voice was a low rumble in his chest that vibrated straight into yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

he didn't strain, his breathing didn't even change pace, and his step didn't falter once as he carried you down the hallway.

"you're ridiculously strong," you admitted softly, your face sinking slightly deeper into the crook of his neck, unable to resist the sudden craving to be closer to his warmth. "is this part of the job description too?"

"carrying exhausted idols?" he questioned, eyes flickering down to meet yours. "only when they refuse to walk twenty steps."

"i was genuinely incapacitated," you protested weakly, though a helpless smile curved your lips. "you're just showing off now."

"maybe a little."

when he reached your bedroom, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped in. he walked over to your bed, slowly bending down to set you onto the soft mattress. he didn't drop you or rush to pull away. he lowered you down with agonizing care, holding you close until your head hit the pillow.

as he began to pull his arms back, your fingers lingered against his shoulders, reluctant to let go. jay went still above you, hands resting on either side of your head on the mattress, trapping you in his breathtaking orbit.

in the dim moonlight pouring through your bedroom window, his eyes searched yours, blown wide and dark. the space between your faces was impossibly small, so close you could feel the warm brush of his breath against your lips.

"thank you, jay," you muttered, heart pounding loudly in the quiet room. "for carrying me."

jay stared down at you, gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before rising back to meet your eyes. "i'll always carry you if you need me to, yn."

slowly, jay reached down, pulled the heavy blanket up over your shoulders, and gently tucked you in. his knuckles brushed lightly against your cheek as he pulled his hand back, the fleeting physical contact lingering like a spark against your skin.

"go to sleep," he whispered softly.

"goodnight, jay."

the long flight to paris was quiet, the main cabin lights dimmed to a soft blue as the plane coasted thirty-five thousand feet above the ground.

the label had spared one expense, booking a cluster of business class seats for your team. hayoon and your main stylist were already fast asleep a few rows ahead, completely passed out from the relentless pre-departure prep.

that left you and jay sitting side-by side in the middle paired seats.

the small privacy divider between your seats had been drawn back, creating a tiny bubble in the darkened cabin. the low hum of the jet engines drowned out the rest of the world, making every breath feel magnified.

you pulled your knees up to your chest, swaddled in an oversized cream cardigan, staring blankly at the flight map glowing on your screen.

8 hours remaining.

a tight knot of anxiety fluttered in your stomach. the fashion gala wasn't just another schedule. the luxury brand you represented expected absolute perfection, and the international press was notoriously ruthless.

"you're overthinking."

you turned your head. jay had leaned back in his seat, his suit jacket off and folded neatly beside him. in just his crisp white shirt with the top button undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearm, he looked less like a bodyguard and more like a dangerously attractive traveling companion.

"is it that obvious?" you asked, resting your chin on your knees as you looked over at him.

"you've been tapping your thumb against your knee for twenty minutes," he replied. his eyes were fixed on you, attentive despite the late hour. "and you haven't touched your water."

you let out a soft breath, looking down at the condensation forming on the glass in your cup holder. "it's just... paris is a lot, jay. the fittings tomorrow, the front-row press, the paparazzi at the airport... the label made it very clear that one minor slip will be fatal."

jay shifted in his seat, turning his body slightly toward yours in the narrow space. "let the label worry about the press," he said. "my only job in paris is keeping you safe and grounded. everything else is just noise."

"what if the noise gets too loud?" you whispered. "what if i mess up, or choke during the interviews?"

"you won't," he reassured with zero hesitation, voice filled with so much certainty it made your chest ache. "i've seen you work, yn. you're brilliant at what you do. but if it gets overwhelming, you don't look at the cameras, and you don't look at the crowd."

"then, what do i look at?"

jay leaned in closer, eyes holding your captive. "you look at me. no matter how loud it gets, i'll be standing right where you can see me. i won't let anyone crowd you, and i won't let you fall."

a sudden, sharp jolt of turbulence shook the heavy aircraft, causing the plane to dip slightly. you let out a startled gasp, your hand instinctively reaching across the small gap between your seats. without thinking, your fingers clamped onto jay's forearm.

his flexed muscle beneath your grip went rigid, solid as marble. before you could pull back and apologize, jay turned his arm, his large warm palm opening to meet yours. his long fingers wrapped securely around your hand, giving it a steadying squeeze. "it's just the air current," he comforted you softly, thumb tracing a comforting arc over the back of your hand. "it's okay."

the plane smoothed out almost immediately, but neither of you moved.

your heart began to rapidly beat against your chest—not from the turbulence, but from the electric heat radiating off his palm. the touch was different from when he had carried you to your room last week. back then, you had been to exhausted to process it. now, wide awake in the quiet of the plane, every nerve ending in your hand was aware of his skin against yours.

you looked down at your hands laced together, then slowly looked back up at his face. jay was staring down at your joined hands. a faint flush was creeping up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the open collar of his shirt. his chest rose and fell with a slightly heavier breath, his usual unflappable composure visibly cracking under the physical contact.

he swallowed hard, eyes flickering up to meet yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your breath catch in your throat.

"your hand's really warm," you murmured, throat suddenly feeling dry.

he cleared his throat, thumb pausing its gentle movement against your knuckles, though his grip didn't loosen. "is... is it too much?" he asked quietly, voice carrying an edge of nervousness. "i can pull back if—"

"no," you interrupted quickly, fingers tightening around his. a shy smile tugged at your lips as you saw the unshakeable bodyguard looking genuinely flustered over holding your hand. "don't. it... helps, actually. keep holding it."

jay stared at you for a long second, taking in your soft smile, before the tension in his shoulders finally melted away. a quiet breath of relief escaped his lips. "okay," he nodded. "i won't let go."

you leaned your head back against the plush seat cushion, your fingers intertwined with his.

that quiet warmth lasted until the wheels of the plane hit the tarmac of the airport.

the moment the plane docked at the gate, the bubble popped. jay gently released your hand, stepping back into his professional skin so fast it was almost dizzying. he buttoned his suit jacket and adjusted his posture. the flustered man from the darkened cabin was gone, replaced once again by the unyielding man.

"stay close to me," he instructed quietly as you gathered your things. when you exited the aircraft and headed toward the terminal exit, your heart pounded. "the local security reported a larger crowd than anticipated."

hayoon walked up beside you, clutching her tablet with a panicked look. "yn, the french team says there are at least three hundred fans and fifty photographers waiting at the exit. the agency wants you to do a quick wave, but don't stop."

"got it," you breathed out, trying to steady the sudden flutter in your chest.

the sliding doors of the exit opened, and the quiet airport atmosphere instantly vanished, obliterated by a deafening wall of sound.

"yn! yn! over here!"

flashes exploded like blinding white lightning, dozens going off simultaneously. the roar of shouting fans, screaming press, and heavy shutter clicks echoed off the marble floors. high-powered camera lenses thrust over the metal barricades, barely three feet from your face.

you put on your practiced, dazzling smile, raising a hand to wave as you moved forward, but the crowd pushed against the barricades. the local french security guards struggled to hold the line as aggressive paparazzi began surging past the barriers, backing up to snap close-ups.

suddenly, a push from the side sent the crowd surging forward. a heavy camera lens almost clipped your shoulder.

before you could flinch, a figure stepped into the gap effortlessly. in one swift, fluid motion, jay extended his broad arm, wrapping it securely around your shoulders and tucking your head right against his chest. he turned his body, using his shoulders and back as a human shield to block the blinding flashes and invading cameras.

"back up! step back, please!" his voice bellowed out, an impressive english accent slipping out.

the authority in his tone made two aggressive paparazzi instantly freeze and stumble backward.

sunk into the side of his suit jacket, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the blinding terror faded. you couldn't see the flashing lights anymore—only the dark fabric of his lapel. his arm around your shoulder was tight, protective, and immovable.

just like what happened in the airport last time.

he didn't just lead you through the crowd. he carried your momentum, guiding your steps smoothly across the chaotic area toward the car. "it's okay. you're okay," he murmured down into your hair, voice low and calm despite the madness raging around you. "a few more steps. the car is right there."

a sleek black sedan was idling at the curb with its door held open by a local driver. jay ushered you inside first. you slid across the black leather seat, breathless, your cheeks flushed. jay then ducked into the car right behind you, slamming the heavy door shut.

the deafening noise of the airport vanished instantly, replaced by the dead silence of tinted, soundproof glass. outside photographers had their lenses nearly pressed against the dark windows, but they couldn't see in.

you slumped back against the seat, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. jay turned to you immediately, his hands hovering over your shoulders, eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of distress. "are you alright? did anyone touch you? did you get hit?"

"no... no, i'm fine," you gasped out, looking up at him.

that mask of his was slipping again, revealing the concern underneath. his tie was slightly loosened from the physical push of the crowd, a stray strand of dark hair falling over his forehead, and his chest was heaving as he stared down at you.

"jay," you whispered softly, reaching out to touch his wrist. "i'm okay. you got me out."

jay looked down at your hand on his wrist, taking a slow breath to force his surging adrenaline down. his shoulders finally dropped, but he didn't pull away. in fact, in the tight area, his broad frame was still leaned in far too close, his knees practically resting against yours. "you're shaking," jay mumbled, eyes softening as he looked down at your hands.

before you could say anything, he reached up with his free hand. his fingers were slightly warm as he gently brushed a lock of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

an electric heat zipped straight through your stomach. your breath caught, a hot blush instantly creeping up your neck.

jay seemed to realize what he had just done a second too late. his fingers froze right by your jaw, his own throat working as he swallowed hard. a rosy tint appeared across his cheekbones. he slowly pulled his hands back, resting them on his lap. "sorry," he muttered quickly. "i... stray hair."

"it's fine," you squeaked out, clutching your bag a little tighter in your lap to hide how flustered you were. you swallowed, trying to find your voice. "you... you were really fast back there. and fluent in english."

a smile played at the edge of his lips. "military deployment in europe. you pick up a few things."

"right," you nodded, shifting on the leather seat, though you didn't actually move any further away from him. "well, for a second back there, i thought you were going to throw one of those photographers over your shoulder."

he let out an exhale that was almost a laugh. "i considered it."

you looked over at him, taking in his slightly disheveled hair and the loosened tie. the panic from the airport mob was gone, replaced by a fluttering tension that made the air feel heavy. "you told me in the plane," you whispered, leaning in. "when the noise gets too loud, i look at you."

he froze. his eyes flickered down to your lips before rising back to meet your gaze, filled with an intensity that made your pulse race. "and i'll always be right here for you to look at, yn," he promised.

the promise lingered in the air for the rest of the drive, wrapping around you like a warm shield even after the car pulled into the private underground basement of the hotel.

the hotel was pure, dizzying parisian opulence. your label had booked the entire top floor for the agency's executive team, but your personal space was a massive suite featuring grand gilded mirrors, towering marble fireplaces, and sweeping velvet drapes.

for three hours, the suite was a chaotic hive of activity. stylists, tailors, and managers bustled in and out, unboxing bags, adjusting rack after rack of fashion pieces for tomorrow's fitting, and barking updates over their phones. through it all, jay stood by the tall doors of the foyer.

by ten pm, the last bit of staff had finally bustled out, leaving behind a stack of schedule printouts and a suffocating silence.

you stood in the center of the massive living room, still wearing your soft travel clothes, feeling small and utterly dwarfed by the size of the room. the exhaustion of the flight and the lingering adrenaline from the airport had finally caught up to you, settling deep into your bones.

a soft knock at the open suite door broke your trance. jay stepped inside, carrying out his final security sweep for the night. he checked the heavy balcony latches, inspected the connecting door to the adjacent staff room, and verified the lock on the main entrance. "everything is secure," he said, turning back toward you. he had finally taken off his suit jacket, wearing just his dark waistcoat over his white shirt, his holster snug against his side. "i've checked with hotel security. the floor is restricted, and no one gets past the elevator without a pass."

"thank you, jay," you murmured, offering him a tired smile. "you should get some sleep too."

"my shift is just starting," he replied, walking toward the front door. "i'll be right outside in the hallway until the morning team arrives at six."

you blinked, stepping forward slightly. "wait... in the hallway. for like, eight hours?"

"it's standard protocol in public hotels," he explained, voice entirely matter-of-fact. "it keeps a visual barrier between you and any potential hotel intruders."

"jay, there's massive sofa right there," you said, gesturing toward the velvet couch in the living room. "the suite is huge. you don't have to stand in a cold corridor all night."

jay paused with his hand on the door handle. "i can't stay inside the suite overnight, yn," he responded to your offer. "if anyone from your label or the hotel staff sees me coming out of your room in the morning, it creates a massive risk for your reputation. i won't let my presence compromise you."

your heart did a painful twist. he wasn't thinking about his own comfort or how tiring an eight hour hallway shift would be. he was focused on protecting you, even from the whisper of a scandal.

he stepped backward into the carpeted hallway, giving you a slow, reassuring nod before pulling the door closed.

you were left alone in the suite. the silence in the room was loud. you walked over to the front door, standing only inches from the polished wood. you raised a hand, resting your palm flat against the cold surface.

without thinking twice, your fingers wrapped around the handle. you turned it and pulled the door open. jay jumped slightly, instantly turning around. his posture snapped back, eyes wide with immediate concern. "yn? is something wrong?"

"yes," you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest and stepping right into the doorway. "something is wrong. i can't sleep."

"do you need me to call room service? or get hayoon—"

"i need you to stop being so stubborn," you interrupted, cutting him off. you looked down the long and empty hallway, then looked right up into his eyes. "jay, the morning team isn't coming until six am. hayoon explicitly told me everyone is sleeping until eight because of jet lag. besides, nobody is walking down this hall at one am."

"yn, protocol—"

"the protocol doesn't care if you drop from exhaustion before my biggest schedule of the year," you argued gently as you took a small step closer to him. "you flew for more than ten hours, got shoved by paparazzi, and spent three hours standing in my room while stylists screamed at each other. you need to rest too."

jay stared down at you, jaw set in a hard line. "my job is to keep you safe—"

"and my job right now is asking my bodyguard to step inside so i don't spend the whole night worrying about him standing outside my door," you leaned your shoulder against the doorframe. you looked at him through your lashes. "are you really going to make me sleep alone in this giant, creepy hotel room?"

jay let out a long breath through his nose. his shoulders dropped an inch, his composure cracking under your stubborn persistence. "you're unbelievable."

"i take that as a compliment," you grinned, stepping back into the suite and holding the door wide open for him. "come inside, jay. please."

he stood in the hallway for one last second, searching your face. seeing the genuine warmth and resolve in your eyes, he finally gave in. he stepped over the threshold into the room, and you quietly pushed the door shut, locking it. "i'll take the sofa," he said quietly. "if you need anything—"

"jay," you murmured, walking over to the linen closet by the hallway and pulled out a hotel blanket and a soft pillow. you walked back over and handed them to him, your fingers brushing his as he took them. "thank you for coming in. seriously."

he nodded once. "goodnight, yn."

"goodnight, jay," you whispered, a soft blush warming your cheeks as you walked toward your bedroom.

you closed your bedroom shut. you changed into a pair of cotton pajamas, slipped under the heavy blanket, and closed your eyes.

an hour passed. then two. despite the plush mattress and the physical exhaustion dragging at your limbs, sleep refused to come. your mind was racing—replaying the chaotic atmosphere in the airport, worrying about the schedule tomorrow, and of the man resting on the couch just outside.

feeling the walls closing in, you quietly slid out of bed. the living room was nearly pitch black, save for the faint silver moonlight filtering through the windows. on the sofa, jay was lying on his back, long legs stretching past the armrest. he had unbuttoned his suit jacket, his white shirt slightly rumpled, and his even breathing suggested he was finally asleep.

you tiptoed across the carpet, heading toward the glass doors that led to the balcony. as gently as you could, you lifted the latch and slid the door open.

click.

the tiny sound of the latch was almost silent, but the moment you stepped onto the cool terrace, you heard a swift rustle of fabric behind you. before you could even take a full breath, the balcony door slid open wider, and jay's tall shadow stepped into the moonlight.

"yn?" his voice was still rough with sleep, thick in the quiet night. his eyes scanned the balcony before landing on you. "is everything alright? is someone out there?"

"no, no," you whispered quickly, turning around and wrapping your arms around yourself. "just jet lag. couldn't sleep."

he relaxed his guard, letting out a long breath. the midnight breeze swept across the balcony, blowing a strand of his dark hair across his forehead. without his usual composure, standing on a balcony at two am, he looked vulnerable—and ridiculously handsome.

a sudden gust of wind blew off, making you shiver visibly in your thin pajamas.

without a second thought, jay reached behind him, grabbing his suit jacket from where he had draped it over the sofa back. he stepped back out, moving behind you with quiet strides.

"you're going to catch a cold." he draped his jacket around your shoulders. the fabric was warm and drenched in his scent. you pulled the lapels tight around your chest, melting into the heat of it. "thank you," you muttered, looking up at him over your shoulder.

other than stepping back into the room, jay rested his large hands against the iron railing right beside you, looking out at the city skyline. below, the streets glistened like glass under the yellow streetlights, and in the distance, the eiffel tower glowed against the dark sky.

you leaned your elbows on the railing next to his, your shoulder lightly resting against his arm.

"is paris everything you thought it'd be?" you asked, watching the faint mist drift over rooftops. "or is it just another city on a security detail map for you?"

he let out the smallest chuckle you'd ever heard. "most cities look the same when you're looking at them through a rearview mirror or behind a cordon line. buildings, roads, and potential threat points." he paused, eyes softening slightly. "it's rare i actually get a second to just stand still and look at one."

"so look," you murmured, leaning your head back slightly to glance up at his profile. "no cameras, no agency reps, no threats. just paris. what do you see?"

a genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "i see a city that takes its streetlights very seriously. and a lot of chimney pots."

your let out a soft laugh into the cool air, shaking your head. "you really have zero romantic bone in your body, don't you? what's the threat level of an eiffel tower light show?"

"a mild distraction," he shrugged, turning his head to look down at you. "it's a perfect time to commit a crime because nobody pays attention to their surroundings while staring at sparkles."

"you're hopeless," you giggled, burying your lower face slightly into the collar of his jacket. "what do you do when you're not guarding people? do you ever just... sit on a porch and do nothing?"

"i ride my motorcycle," he said quietly. "usually early in the morning before traffic starts. long highways with nowhere in particular to be."

you blinked, shocked. "you ride a motorcycle?" you asked. he nodded, "i do."

you tilted your head, "why did i picture you just standing in a dark room recharging like a robot?"

a low laugh came from him—a rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "i have hobbies too, yn. i read. i cook when i have time."

"you cook?" you raised an eyebrow, genuinely fascinated. "what's the signature dish of a top-tier security guard?"

"stew," he answered without missing a beat, a tiny glint of humor in his eyes. "simple, hard to ruin, plus it lasts three days. not exactly michelin star standard, but it works."

"i'd take a bowl of home cooked stew over those five course dinners any day," you admitted wholeheartedly, resting your chin on your hands as you leaned over the railing. "you have no idea how much i miss normal food. half the time, hayoon even counts out my almonds."

jay's smile faded slightly, replaced by an attentive warmth. he shifted his weight, turning his frame toward you. "what's the first thing you want to eat when this whole tour is over?"

"convenience store ramen," you answered right away, a dreamlike sigh escaping your lips. "the cheap spicy kind. at three in the morning, sitting on those plastic chairs outside under the streetlights with a soft-boiled egg."

he looked at you for a long beat. in the slightly dim light, his eyes held a softness that made your chest tighten.

"deal," jay murmured. "deal?" you asked, perking up an eyebrow.

"when we get back, after the show schedules end," he started. "i'll take you to the convenience store at three in the morning. i'll buy the ramen, and i'll make sure nobody bothers you while you eat it."

you stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his offer. it was such a mundane thing, but coming from him, it felt like the most luxurious promise in the world. "you'd really do that?" you whispered. "sit outside in the freezing cold while i eat junk food?"

"i've stood in worse places," he replied, his fingers on the railing shifting just a little closer to yours. "besides... you deserve to just exist for an hour without being an idol."

in the cool air, wrapped in his heavy jacket with his broad shoulder resting warm against yours, the heavy stress of tomorrow faded into nothingness for a while.

but when the sun rose again and the real test was about to begin, the stress washed over you once again.

the suite was finally empty after hours of chaos. the styling team had just rushed out the door to catch their transport to the venue, leaving you standing alone in front of the large mirror.

you barely recognized the woman staring back at you.

your label had pulled out all the stops for fashion week, dressing you in a silk, floor-length gown in a deep shade. the off-shoulder sleeves draped elegantly over your upper arms, exposing the line of your collarbones. but the true detail was the back that completely got cut away to expose your spine, held together by a tiny clasp at the nape of your neck. your hair was swept up into an updo to display the design, and your makeup was flawless.

you looked every inch the global idol the world expected to see.

picking up your small clutch, you walked toward the entrance door of the suite. your heart wasn't hammering only for the cameras waiting at the venue. it was also for the man standing on the other side.

you turned the handle and pulled the door open, stepping out into the carpeted hallway. jay was standing by the elevators, speaking quietly into the microphone at his wrist. when he heard the door click, he turned around, and the words he was speaking immediately died in his throat.

if you thought jay looked handsome in his standard suits, seeing him in a meticulously tailored black tuxedo was devastating. the sharp cut of the dark fabric emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and chest, while the white shirt and black bowtie made him look more like a high-society heir.

you stood there, suddenly aware of how bare your shoulders and back felt in the cool air.

jay didn't move. his hand slowly dropped to his side, eyes sweeping over you—taking in the draped silk, the exposed slope of your shoulders, and the long line of your neck before finally landing on your face. he breathed heavily, gaze darkening, making the air between you feel incredibly thin.

"is it... too much?" you asked nervously, shifting your weight. "they wanted something good for the cameras, but i feel a little bare."

jay swallowed hard, the movement visible above his bowtie. he took a slow step toward you, as if pulled by a magnetic force he couldn't fight. "no," he murmured. "it's not too much." he stopped just two feet away, looking down at you with an expression so unguarded it made a hot blush explode across your chest and neck. he wasn't looking at an idol or a client. he was looking at you.

"you look..." he started, voice trailing off as he shook his head slightly, trying to clear the fog in his brain. "you are absolutely beautiful, yn."

the honesty in his voice sent a blinding jolt of electricity straight to your heart. "thank you," you breathed out, voice trembling slightly. you looked up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips. "you clean up pretty well yourself."

a faint grin appeared at the edge of his lips. and for a second, he looked like he wanted to close the final two feet between you and forget the event entirely.

instead, the elevator chimed at the end of the hall, breaking the spell. jay blinked, the harsh reality of his job snapping back into place. he cleared his throat, adjusting his tuxedo cuffs. "the car's waiting downstairs," he said as he stepped aside and extended a hand toward the open elevator doors. "stay close to me tonight."

"always," you replied, brushing past him.

the drive to the venue felt like a surreal blur. sitting side by side in the dimmed seat of the sedan, the heat between you was palpable, even if neither of you spoke. jay sat beside you, eyes continually scanning the streets, but every time the streetlights washed over the car, you could see his jaw clenching.

when the car finally turned onto the venue, the night exploded into blinding light. hundreds of press outlets, fan sections, and security barricades lined the grand staircase. high-powered spotlights illuminated the area, cutting through the dark city.

when the car rolled to a halt at the edge of the red carpet, jay ducked out first. the moment he stepped outside, a barrage of flashbulbs went off. he opened your door, holding his hand over the frame.

"eyes on me until you reach the photographer's mark, alright?" he instructed quietly, his voice slicing through the roar of the crowd as he reached to offer you his steady arm. you nodded and placed a hand on his forearm, feeling the muscle beneath the fabric.

the moment your heels hit the carpet, the sound was deafening.

"yn, over here!" "look to the left, yn!" "yn! beaux-arts magazine!"

flashes erupted in a continuous, blinding wave. shutter clicks buzzed like a hive of hornets, echoing. fans shrieked from behind the metal barricades, waving hand banners and lightsticks.

you let go of jay's arm to take your place on the step, turning smoothly to the wall of lenses. you threw back your shoulders, allowing the silk gown to drape perfectly against your skin, and put on your practiced smile.

to the global press and the thousands of cameras, you were the star of the evening.

but behind the blinding white flashes, the overwhelming noise began to swarm in your ears. the dizzying lights started to merge into a disorienting glare. your heart accelerated inside your chest, your breath catching in your throat as the familiar wave of anxiety threatened to break your smile.

look at me. his voice from the airplane played in your mind.

glancing slightly to the side, your eyes searched the dark perimeter. standing just off the edge of the carpet was jay. he stood like an immovable pillar in his tuxedo, hands resting in front of him, eyes locked onto you. amidst a sea of screaming strangers, his gaze was unwavering.

the moment your eyes met his, the chaotic flashes and roaring noise faded into a background hum. the tension in your shoulders melted.

you gave the cameras one final and radiant smile before stepping off the mark and moving up the steps that led to the main entry doors. jay fell seamlessly into step two paces behind you, broad shadow sweeping over the carpet as he flanked your side.

as you reached the doors, jay reached past you to push them open. for a second, as you passed through, he leaned down close to your ear, his warm breath fanning across the sensitive skin of your bare shoulder.

"flawless," he whispered, low enough that only you could hear.

a sudden, thrilling shudder ran straight down your back as you stepped inside the ballroom, leaving blinding lights behind.

inside the venue, the air was warm, sweet with the scent of white orchids, expensive perfume, and vintage champagne. golden chandeliers cast a rich glow, illuminating the sea of international fashion royalty.

to anyone watching, you were navigating the room with effortless grace. you accepted glass flutes of champagne, posed for shots with famous directors, and offered elegant small talk to brand executives.

after hours of back-to-back introductions, the main hall became suffocatingly packed. a crowd of vips and photographers began surging around the central area, choking the narrow passageway leading toward the private lounge.

"excuse us," jay sounded from right behind you, calm yet commanding enough to make people step aside. he stepped up beside you to clear a path through the dense crowd. because of how tightly squeezed the guests were, there was barely any clearance between the tabled and the people around them.

to keep you from being jostled by anyone, jay stepped closer—so close you could feel the heat radiating off his chest.

slowly, he raised his hand. instead of hovering, his large palm settled gently against the small of your back, making your breath hitch in your throat.

his hand rested right over the exposed skin where your gown was cut away. his skin was a grounding contrast against the soft silk of your dress. a jolt of hot electricity shot straight up to your neck, making your toes curl inside your heels.

you glanced up at him through your lashes. jay was looking straight ahead, his jaw set in an impassive line as if he were simply performing a protocol. but as your eyes traveled up to his face, you caught the subtle heavy breathing. his throat worked as he gulped, and a dark flush had crept up the back of his neck beneath his shirt collar.

when you finally broke through the crowd into a quieter area, jay slowly slid his hand away from your back. the sudden loss of his heat felt like a cold breeze against your skin.

"the private lounge is just around the corner," he mentioned. "you can catch your breath there."

"thanks to you," you mumbled softly, cheeks flushed as you looked at him, the ghost of his touch still burning against your skin.

you then turned the corner into the dimly lit hallway toward the lounge. the muffled sound of music and chatter echoed softly, giving you a rare second to catch your breath away from the sea of people and cameras. before you could even step through the doorway, a slurred voice called out to you.

"ah, the star of the night!" a european fashion investor in his late fifties wearing a velvet suit and holding an empty champagne glass stumbled out from the door. his eyes locked onto you, a wide grin spreading across his features. "i've been trying to get an introduction all evening," he purred, taking fast steps toward you. "you look stunning in that dress. truly breathtaking."

you instinctively took a step back, keeping your professional smile firmly glued to your face. "thank you so much. it's an honor to be here tonight—"

"no, no, don't be so modest," he interrupted your words, stepping even closer. before you could react, he reached out, hand moving toward your shoulder to pull you into an unwelcoming embrace. "come, let me introduce you to my associates. we should discuss your next campaign over a real drink—"

but before he could finish his sentence and touch you, jay stepped in between you. his frame completely cut off the investor's path and shielded you from view. his movement was so fast it caught the investor off guard, making the man stumble backward. "step back, sir," jay ordered.

the investor blinked, face flushing with anger as he looked up at the towering bodyguard. "who the hell do you think you're talking to? i'm one of the primary sponsors for this entire gala! move out of my way."

the man made a mistake of trying to push past jay's shoulder because jay didn't even flinch—not even the littlest bit.

he took a step closer, eyes narrowing into a terrifying stare. "you've had too much to drink, sir," he pointed out in a calm voice, yet each word was delivered with terrifying precision. "you will turn around, step back into the lounge, and keep your hands to yourself. am i clear?"

the fury coming from jay was so palpable it made the air thick. the investor looked away from jay, the anger in his eyes instantly evaporating into fear.

"r—right," he muttered, backing up and raising his hands defensively. he quickly turned on his heel and disappeared.

jay didn't turn around immediately. he stood there for a long beat, chest heaving with controlled breaths as he forced his adrenaline back down. the professional veneer he had worn all night was gone and now replaced by an intensity he couldn't hide anymore.

slowly, he turned around to face you. his eyes scanned your face frantically. "are you alright?" he questioned, voice carrying a breathless edge. "he didn't touch you, right?"

you shook your head as you looked at him. your heart started pounding, not from fear of the investor, but from the sight of jay fiercely defending you. "no, i'm fine."

jay looked down at you, swallowing a lump in his throat. the restraint holding him back was fraying by a thread. "we're leaving. i'll have the driver bring the car around the private exit."

"okay," your voice was small.

he extended his hand, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist and guided you down the back corridor toward the private exit.

later on, when the car finally pulled into the hotel's private underground garage, jay was out the door in an instant, opening yours and extending his hand. the moment your palm met his, his long fingers closed firmly over yours, guiding you through the elevator and up to your floor without letting go until you reached your suite.

waiting inside were your lead makeup artist and hairstylist, looking completely exhausted from the long night.

"oh, thank god you're back!" hayoon gasped, taking your clutch and ushering you to the vanity they had set up in the living room. "we've been waiting to get this makeup off you before we go to sleep."

for the next twenty minutes, jay stood guard in his spot by the foyer while the stylists got to work. they quickly pulled out the hundreds of hairpins holding your updo together until your hair fell in soft waves past your shoulders. with soft cotton pads, they wiped away the makeup, leaving your skin clean and glowing in the lights.

"alright, that's the face and hair," hayoon sighed as your stylists began cleaning up. "the gown is super delicate silk, so just unhook the back clasp yourself when you're ready to slip into bed. hang it on the padded hanger in the closet after that."

you nodded, listening carefully to get everything correct soon. "i will. thank you, hayoon. goodnight."

"goodnight. get enough sleep, okay?" she smiled at you. and with a final wave, hayoon and the stylists gathered their heavy bags and bustled out the front door.

you stood in the center of the living room, feeling completely stripped down. your hair was down, your face was bare, but you were still wearing the gown.

jay stepped back inside. he had loosened his bowtie, unbuttoning the top collar of his shirt. his eyes found yours across the room. "i'll be right out here," he said. "if you need anything before you go to sleep."

"thanks, jay," you whispered, holding his gaze for a beat before turning toward your bedroom. you left the door cracked halfway open so the warm light from the living room spilled across the floor.

exhaustion settled deep into your bones, heavy and dragging. you walked over to the nightstand, throat feeling completely parched after hours of talking to people and smiling for the media. the crystal water carafe sat beside a glass.

with shaking hands, you lifted the carafe and tipped it over the glass. but your fingers, stiff and numb, slipped. the glass tipped over and fell with a sharp sound. "oh—!"

a sudden deluge of cold water splashed violently across the nightstand, surging over the edge and spilling down the front side of your outfit. the liquid soaked through the fabric, turning it dark and heavy.

panic surged through you. the gown. it was a one-of-a-kind haute couture piece on loan, worth more than a sports car. and silk was ruined by water spots if left to set.

"shit, shit, shit," you muttered under your breath, gathering the dipping fabric in your hands to keep it from soaking through any further.

you reached up behind your neck to unhook the clasp so you could strip the dress off immediately, but your hands were slippery and trembling. you blindly fumbled at the nape of your neck, nails catching uselessly against the tiny hook. it wouldn't budge. in fact, in your frantic movements, the tiny hook jammed tightly.

before you could even call out, heavy footsteps echoed across the floor. the bedroom was pushed wide open, and jay's frame filled the entryway, eyes wide and scanning the room for danger.

"yn! what happened?" he demanded as he looked over at the spilled water, and then to you.

"i—i dropped the glass," you stammered, holding the cold silk away from your body, shivering as the cold liquid seeped against your skin. "it spilled everywhere. the gown is getting soaked, but the back clasp is jammed. i can't get it off."

you gulped, then asked, "can you help me?"

for a second, jay froze. the urge to retreat into his professional boundary was warring violently with the need to take care of you. and slowly, visibly, the bodyguard yielded to the man.

he closed the distance between you with deliberate strides, boots making no sound against the thick rug. as he stepped up behind you, the smell of him enveloped you, warm and grounding. "don't move," he mumbled. "let me look."

you let out a shaky breath, letting your arms drop to your sides. you stood still as he loomed right behind you.

his large hands lifted, approaching your skin with caution. the pads of his thumbs finally made contact with your skin to feel for the jammed clasp. his breath caught in his throat. his hands froze against your neck for a second before he forced himself to focus.

"is it stuck?" you inquired, voice trembling as you looked down at the floor, aware of how bare your back felt against him.

"the hook caught the thread lining," he replied, voice vibrating right near the shell of your ear. "i'm afraid if i pull too hard, i'll tear the silk. i have to unloop it."

"do you always have to be this precise, or is unhooking dresses part of your security training?" you joked, a small laugh rumbling from your chest to mask the wild pounding of your heart. a quiet chuckle left jay, the sound sending a wave of heat through you.

"they don't teach this in the military," he murmured, knuckles accidentally brushing against the soft skin behind your ear as he worked the stubborn knot. "and no... i'm not usually this precise."

your breath hitched. "you're not?"

"no," he whispered, fingers fumbling with the clasp. his face was inches away from your hair, resulting in his warm breath fanning gently across your bare shoulder, making goosebumps erupt over your skin. "with anyone else, i'd probably just cut the thread and be done with it. but i don't want to ruin anything that's yours."

the quiet honesty in his voice hung heavy in the air. the dripping water, the ruined gown—all of it faded into insignificance. there was only the heat of his hands, the sound of your shared breathing, and the unbearable tension between you.

soon enough, the small click of the clasp releasing echoed through the room. the heavy silk immediately loosened around your collarbones, sliding an inch down your back. you reflexively gathered the front of the gown against your chest with a hand, holding it tight to keep it from slipping any further.

you slowly turned. his face was mere inches from yours, his sharp jawline set so hard the muscle was visibly twitching. "jay..." you called with a small voice. "are you always this careful with your clients?"

jay's dark eyes flickered down to your shoulder, then to your lips, before snapping back up to meet your gaze. for three agonizing seconds, the air in the room felt devoid of oxygen.

then, his eyes turned cold. it was like watching an iron curtain drop over his face. he took a sharp step backward, creating space. he didn't answer your question. he didn't even look you in the eye. instead, he turned slightly toward the doorway, hands smoothing down the front of his shirt. "you should change into something dry so you don't catch a cold. i'll tell hayoon to laundry the dress first thing in the morning."

you stared at him, stunned by the sudden wall he had just thrown up. "jay, wait—"

"i'll be right outside like always," he cut you off, voice clipped and distant as he made a move toward the door. "get some rest, yn. you have more activities tomorrow."

"look at me."

jay stopped mid-step with his back still to you. his massive shoulders were rigid, hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

"jay," you repeated, taking a step toward him. "look at me and tell me that. tell me i'm just a client."

"you are my client, yn," he replied, voice strained, though he still refused to face you. "my job is to ensure your physical safety. nothing more, nothing less. i stepped out of line tonight by invading your personal space, and for that, i apologize. it won't happen again."

the textbook corporate answer made a disbelieving laugh escape your lips. "you're lying," you whispered, stepping around him until you were standing directly in his path, forcing him to look at you. when his eyes finally locked onto yours, he swallowed hard. and for a mere moment, he cracked, revealing a storm raging beneath his stiff posture.

"yn, step back," he warned softly. "please."

"no," you denied stubbornly, standing your ground, looking right up into his tortured gaze. "why are you pushing me away? why do you act like caring about me is a crime?"

"because it is!" the sharp roar tore from jay's chest. he took one sudden step forward, his body completely towering over you, closing the distance until his chest was practically pressing against yours.

"it is a crime, yn," he rasped out, eyes burning with a fire as he looked down at you, breathing ragged. "because my only job, the only thing i am supposed to do, is keep you alive. i'm supposed to look at a crowd and keep you away from any possible danger. i'm supposed to look at people and see threats. i am not supposed to spend every second of every day losing my fucking mind wondering if you're cold, or if you've eaten, or if you're smiling at someone else."

he raked a hand through his hair, dragging it back with an agitated groan, pacing a tight circle before rounding back to you.

"do you have any idea what the last four months have been like for me?" his voice dropped into a desperate whisper. "watching you stand under those cameras every night, seeing you look so pretty in those dresses, feeling you lean against me when you're tired... i'm falling apart, yn. i crossed a line the second i stopped seeing you as a client and started seeing you as the only thing in this miserable world i care about."

he stopped right in front of you, hands hovering in the air near your waist, trembling violently with the effort of keeping himself from pulling you into his arms.

"i'm scared," he confessed, voice breaking on the last word. "because if i'm looking at you, if i'm thinking about how much i want to touch you, how much i want to keep you... then, i'm not doing my job. and if something happens to you because i was distracted by how much i love you, i will never, ever, recover."

jay stood frozen before you, his broad chest heaving, hands hovering midair as if terrified that if he touched you, he would break the final thread of his control. his eyes were filled with desperation, searching your face for any kind of disgust or reaction.

rather than that, you felt a wave of overwhelming warmth flood your heart. you then raised your free hand and placed you soft palm directly against his cheek.

jay flinched at the contact, a sharp gasp catching in his throat. his skin was burning hot beneath your fingers, his sharp jawline tight as a bowstring. he looked down at you like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the fall.

"you idiot," you whispered softly, letting out a breathy laugh as a tear slipped down your cheek. "you absolute idiot."

jay blinked, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "yn..."

"do you really think you're the only one losing your mind?" you asked, voice trembling with an emotion so deep it made your knees feel weak. you smoothed your thumb gently across his cheekbone, feeling the pulse leaping beneath the skin. "do you i think i look for you in every crowd because you're good at your job? do you think i feel safe on those planes and red carpets because of your security credentials?"

he stared at you, his breathing shallow, completely paralyzed by the gentle touch of your hand.

"i look for you," you confessed, looking him dead in the eye with no effort to hide anything anymore. "because you're the only real thing in my life. because when the entire world is screaming and flashing lights in my face, catching your eye is the only thing that keeps me breathing. i haven't seen you as just my bodyguard for a long time, jay. i'm completely, hopelessly in love with you."

his breath hitched violently. the relief that washed over his features was breathtaking. the fear in his eyes melted away and replaced by a flame that made your pulse race.

"say that again," he rasped out.

"i love you, jay," you whispered sweetly, closing the tiny remaining distance between you until the toes of your bare feet brushed his boots. "i love you, and i don't give a single fuck about the rules."

jay let out a gut wrenching groan, and the months of restraint and professional boundaries evaporated into thin air.

his hand shot forward, cupping the back of your neck with a possessive tenderness, long fingers threading deeply into your hair. his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against his solid chest.

before you could even catch your breath, he bent down and captured your lips in a deep kiss.

a quiet gasp escaped your mouth against his, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, claiming you entirely. it was an explosive, electric collision of everything you both had been suppressing. his lips were hot, demanding, and entirely intoxicated by you.

you let go of the gown completely, letting the heavy silk crumple and fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you only in your undergarments. you threw both of your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, fingers entangling in his soft hair.

jay shuddered against you as he felt the soft curve of your waist and chest pressed directly against his white shirt. his hand on your back pressed you impossibly closer, his thumb stroking the bare skin with a desperate heat as if proving to himself that you were really here, really his.

he pulled back for a second, just enough to catch a deep breath, his forehead resting against yours. his eyes were blown wide, glazed with pure devotion. "there's no going back from this," he murmured. "you know that, right? once i cross this line... i don't think i can let you go."

"good," you whispered, fingers tightening in the hair at the nape of his neck. "don't ever let me go, jay."

a sharp exhale tore from his chest as the last remaining shred of his legendary discipline shattered into dust.

before you could blink, jay's hands slid down from your back, calloused palms sweeping over the curve of your hips. with effortless, terrifying strength, he lifted you completely off your feet. you let out a soft gasp, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, pulling yourself flush against him.

he took three steps toward the massive king sized bed in the center of the room. he lowered you onto the sheets gently, immediately following you down. the size and weight of his frame shadowed over you, trapping you beneath him in a cocoon of expensive cologne and blinding heat.

his lips found yours again, deeper, hotter, and entirely unchecked. the kiss was no longer cautious—it was a hungry and feverish demand, his tongue tasting every inch of your mouth while his hands mapped out the bare skin of your waist, his thumbs pressing firmly into your hips to hold you right where he wanted you.

you arched your back into his touch, a helpless whimper catching in your throat as his lips trailed down from your mouth, leaving a trail of fire along your jawline, down the exposed curve of your neck, and onto the sensitive hollow of your collarbone.

"jay," you gasped out, hands dragging desperately down his broad back, clutching at the thin cotton of his shirt.

"i've dreamed about this," he groaned against your skin, voice dropping into a rough growl right near your ear. his hands moved up, fingers entangling in your locks, holding your head and tilting it back as his eyes locked onto yours. "every night in the hallway... every time i watched you leave... i was losing my mind."

he shifted, one of his heavy thighs sliding between yours, the solid press of his body sending a wave of pure heat straight to your core. his fingers trailed down from your collarbone, brushing agonizingly slow over your bare stomach, making every nerve ending in your body flare to life.

"tell me what you want, yn," he growled low, knuckles lightly tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "tell me, and i'll give it to you."

"want you... to make me feel good."

hearing your words, with a small groan, he crashed his lips back onto yours. the kiss was feverish, full of desperation and broken composure. his mouth moved from yours, trailing small kisses from your jaw to your neck, biting slightly on the skin before soothing it with his tongue. the feeling of his teeth received a whimper from you.

he looked at your chest before locking his eyes with yours. "can i...?" he asked for permission. and when you nodded, he wasted no time reaching and unclipping your bra, throwing them elsewhere you couldn't care less of.

when your breasts were freed, he took a moment to stare at them before taking his hesitant hands to cup them. you let out a soft sigh at the feel of his slightly rough hands on them, arching your back as a sign you wanted more.

seeing your reaction, jay leaned down and flicked a bud with his tongue. you hissed, hand moving to grip on his upper arm.

he took it in his mouth instantly, suckling on them as he fondled with the other. you threw your head back at the pleasure, a moan escaping your lips. he then moved to the other, giving it the same stimulation.

"love your tits, yn... fuck," he breathed out. he left one last peck before going down to your stomach.

the pace he held was painfully and annoyingly slow, making you squirm. "mmh... fuck, jay, please— just... just touch me," you pleaded, growing impatient. he chuckled lowly, the sound giving you shivers. "patience, baby. wanna take my time with you," he said before continuing his actions, receiving a whimper from you.

when he finally reached the waistband of your panties, he hooked his fingers around it and slowly pulled it down. with your legs spread, he got a clear view of your aching vagina. "shit... what a pretty pussy," he praised, fingers finding your clit. you shut your eyes and whined, "ah—! jay... more, pleaseee."

"as you wish, beautiful."

he took no time to kneel, leaving a kiss on top of your pussy. you clenched around nothing at the feather-light peck. jay poked out his tongue, dragging a long lick from your hole to your clit, making your hip buck up to his face. "tastes so fucking good," he mumbled before immediately diving in, leaving no space for you to prepare.

you threw your head back on the bed with a loud cry. your hand reached to grip his hair. "agh—! jay, shit!" you spat, thighs quivering from the sudden pleasure. he grunted at the taste of you, "so fuckin' sweet." he gripped onto your thighs, keeping them in place when you started closing them around his head.

to top it off, he inserted two fingers into your hole, curling them in an instant. your back arched off the bed. you let out a choked gasp, fingers tightening and tugging on his hair. he pumped his fingers in and out at a punishing speed, tongue sucking on your clitoris.

it felt so good. too good.

you looked down at him, and the view you received was breathtaking. jay's eyes were already looking up at yours, his hair was tousled, and his nose and chin were all covered and glistening from your juices. it only turned you on more, grinding your hips.

"close... 'm close—" you managed to mumble. "yeah? you want to cum?" jay hummed, voice sending vibrations through you. you nodded with a whine.

"cum for me. cum all over my face, baby."

you moaned loudly as you climaxed, body jerking. your pussy tightened around jay's fingers as you let go.

as you came down from your high, you evened your heaving chest. jay slipped his fingers out without forgetting to suck them clean. "god, yn. you looked so hot coming all around my fingers like that," he whispered seductively. you couldn't give a proper response, too blissed out.

he straightened, leaning down to close the distance between you again. you returned the kiss, able to taste yourself on his tongue. jay leaned back, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. "you okay? want to keep going? no pressure, baby, we can stop right here if you want."

you shook your head. "n—no... want more... please," you looked up at him through your eyelashes. your sweet voice intoxicated jay, "okay. anything you want."

in the blink of an eye, his shirt was off, revealing his toned body that he'd been hiding all this time. your breath caught in your throat, blinking once. he laughed softly at your reaction, "like the view, hm?" he asked. you rolled your eyes with a grin, "don't be so full of yourself, jay"

he bent down to give you a single peck before working on his pants, sliding them down along with his boxers. his thick, hard, throbbing cock slipped out, slapping against his stomach. it was thick, red, and veiny, you nearly drooled at the sight. you sat up, and when jay felt your fingers wrapping around his shaft, he let out a moan. "shit... your hands—" he grunted, gritting his teeth.

but when you started stroking him, he held your wrist, making you stop your movements. "just lay down, baby. want to focus on you tonight."

so you obliged. you shifted toward the middle of the bed, laying back down. jay climbed up on the bed, kneeling between your legs. "do you have a condom?" he questioned. "no. want you raw inside me, jay," you answered in a small voice.

he smirked, "naughty girl."

he took a hold of his dick, lining it up with your pussy. the skin-to-skin contact made you shudder. he started grinding against you, the head of his cock brushing your clit every once in a while. "put it in, baby, please," you croaked. he smiled, "anything you say."

he lined up with your entrance. afraid to hurt you, he slid in halfway first. the stretch of his length was burning, but it felt incredible. "hah—" you sighed shakily. jay grunted, "ngh— so tight," he mumbled to himself before biting his lip.

he looked at you sincerely, "is it too much? can i keep going?" his voice was soft, full of care. it made your heart flutter how he cared for you in such a situation. "yes, please keep going," you whimpered.

he nodded before pushing in, then burying himself to the hilt, resulting in the both of you moaning. you felt so full. "my god, jay. so big... so full," you gasped, rolling your eyes back. "yeah? mmh, you're so tight around me," he growled.

jay slowly pulled back, leaving the tip in, then pushed himself back in. you cried out, fingers gripping tightly onto the sheets. "agh—! moremoremore," you chanted.

fulfilling your needs, jay started thrusting in and out of you softly. he gripped onto your waist. "feel so good around me." and suddenly, he moved quicker, making you whimper uncontrollably. he continued to fuck himself into you, grinding slightly every time he bottomed out, the movement making him go deeper.

"harder, jay. please... need it so bad," you moaned out. he grinned, "god, you're going to make me lose my mind."

he propped himself up and held your thighs open with his hands. he drove himself inside you harder, the sounds of your skin slapping against each other filling the room. you threw your head back, "jay! nghhh, so good!" you screamed, unable to contain your sounds.

"mhm... you're such a good fuckin' girl, baby. taking my cock so well," he praised.

the nickname made you clench around him, receiving a groan from him. "shit— do that again," he ordered. when you did, he scrunched his eyebrows and left his mouth open. the mere sight of him made you moan. he looked so fucked out—hair messy, abs tensed, and you caught a little sliver of drool on the tip of his lips.

the room was so hot it made you dizzy. you bit your lip hard, you swore you could taste your blood. "jay! i'm gonna cum again!" you whimpered. "yeah, fuck... you going to cum around my big cock?" he whispered, cocking an eyebrow at you.

you nodded, "mhm, please!"

he grunted, thrusting harder to reach his climax. "mmh— wait for me, baby. you can wait just a little longer, right?" he asked ever so softly, bending down to land a kiss on your neck. "you're a good girl, right?"

you nodded quickly at his words, "mhm! yeah, yeah, i'm a good girl— you're good girl—!"

he smiled, satisfied. "fuck, yeah. my good, beautiful girl," he muttered, shoving in and out of you with an even faster pace, if that was even possible. you couldn't think anymore, the pleasure taking over your mind. "i'm close, yn, fuck—" he threw his head back.

"come with me."

at his words, you quivered. you released with a moan, tightening around him unconsciously. jay's pace faltered slightly as he gave one last thrust, shooting his load inside you with a loud groan. the both of you breathed, chests rising and falling deeply. jay's body limped, falling to lay down beside you, cock slipping out.

you laid tangled in the white sheets, breathing slowly evening out as the wild adrenaline in your veins melted into a deep exhaustion. beside you, jay shifted. he pulled the blanket up over your shoulder, tucking the soft fabric around your chest to protect you from the cool night air.

he gathered you against his bare body, his muscular arm sliding beneath your waist to draw your body flush against his solid frame. you rested your head right over his heart, listening to the steady thud of his pulse. his fingers gently smoothed the damp strands of hair away from your forehead and face. "how are you feeling?" he asked.

"perfect," you whispered, voice tired. you pressed a soft, lingering peck against the skin of his collarbone. "just a little tired."

"i know, baby," he mumbled against your temple, resting his lips gently against your skin for a long moment. "just rest. i've got you."

he shifted carefully, propping himself up on one elbow so as not to disturb you. he reached for a washcloth that rested on the bedside table. with painstaking care, he wiped the traces of sweat from your neck, shoulder, and chest. every brush of the cloth was accompanied by a press of his lips against your skin. "jay," you breathed out. "you don't have to..."

"i want to," he muttered, eyes shining as he looked down at you. he set the cloth down and cradled your jaw in his hand, thumb caressing your cheekbone. "for months, all i could do was watch over you from a distance. i had to pretend i didn't care. taking care of you now... it's all i want."

the unfiltered honesty in his voice broke down the very last piece of your heart. you reached up, placing your hand over his.

he laid back down, pulling you tight against his side. he tucked your head beneath his chin, wrapping his arm around you so completely that you felt sheltered from the outside world. his thumb drew circles against your hip. "go to sleep, yn. i'm right here."

you let out a long sigh, burying your face into the crook of his neck. with the beat of his heart beneath your ear, you finally closed your eyes and drifted off.

when you finally woke, the sunlight was already streaming through the curtains, painting the bed in warm light.

you stretched lazily, hand reaching out across the sheets to find the familiar feeling of jay—only to meet empty linen. you blinked your eyes open, sitting up slowly. a momentary flutter of anxiety touched your chest before you caught the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wafting into the bedroom.

slipping out of bed, you wrapped jay's oversized shirt around yourself, rolling the sleeves up past your wrists and letting the hem fall to your mid-thigh. it smelled intensely of him, the warmth grounding you immediately. stepping out on bare feet, you walked silently into the living room.

standing by the dining table was jay. he was wearing a simple t-shirt and dark trousers, hair still damp from a quick shower. he had his back turned to you, completely focused on arranging a room service breakfast tray that had gotten delivered. in the center of the table stood a small glass vase with a yellow sunflower he must have requested.

you leaned against the doorframe, a soft grin spreading across your face. as if sensing your gaze, jay turned his head.

the moment he saw you, the edge in his posture disappeared. a smile broke across his sharp face, a quiet happiness you had never seen him in before. "good morning, beautiful."

he set down the things he was holding and crossed the room. the moment he reached you, his hands settled gently on your waist, pulling you flush against him. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that tasted of clean mint and sweet coffee. it wasn't rushed or full of caution, it was deep and full of an unfiltered joy that made your heart soar.

"good morning," you muttered against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and rising on your tiptoes to press another quick kiss to his jawline. "i woke up and thought you ran away."

a rumble left his chest, "not a chance. you're stuck with me now."

he pulled back just enough to look down at you, eyes dancing as his gaze dropped to the large shirt hanging off your shoulders. "though i have to say," he added, thumb lightly rubbing the bare skin of your hip where the shirt split open, "that shirt looks significantly better on you than it ever did on me."

you flushed and giggled. "it's really comfy. and it smells like you."

"keep it," he said. he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your hair, his calloused fingers lingering against your cheek. "come on. i had room service bring up breakfast before hayoon starts blowing up your phone."

he took your hand, lacing his fingers firmly through yours, and led you over to the dining table. he pulled out the chair for you with effortless charm, pressing a warm peck to the top of your head before settling into the chair beside you.

as nice as it was, the peace of that morning didn't last long. by two in the afternoon, the suite's serene tranquility had been thoroughly replaced by the usual hurricane of a busy day.

the vast, modern art museum was a maze of soaring concrete walls, towering glass installations, and harsh studio strobes. flashes fired in blinding bursts, echoing through the space along with the frantic voices of french art directors, lighting technicians, and your team bustling about with clipboard. "hold that angle! shift the main light a little to the left! come on, everybody, we have five minutes before the press junket crew arrives!"

standing near the base of a pillar paces away, jay didn't blink. to the team in the room, he was the definition of intimidation and discipline. he stood in his sharp dark suit, shoulders squared, hands clasped in front of him, face carved out of stone. his eyes scanned the busy hall, assessing every crew member and wandering people stepping near.

no one would ever guess that a few hours ago, the same man was ever so gently feeding you your breakfast.

you sat perched on a prop chair under the blinding spotlights while a stylist fussed with the collar of your blazer. taking a small breath, your eyes looked through the crowded room until they found him in the shadows. and he felt your gaze right away, eyes locking onto yours through the sea of moving crew members.

you caught his eye, taking advantage of a moment where the team wasn't surrounding you. keeping your face calm and expression neutral so no one else would notice, your lips barely moved as you silently mouthed across the room, "i miss you."

his eyes softened for a second. he subtly shifted, turning his back slightly to hayoon who was walking nearby. checking his surroundings quickly, he looked right back at you. his jaw barely moved, but his lips formed the words, "ten minutes."

you tilted your head, "and then?"

a tiny muscle twitched in his jaw. he kept his hands clasped firmly, maintaining his stance for the room, but his gaze kept yours possessively. his lips moved slowly, "i'm taking you."

a dizzying wave of heat surged through your veins. your heart did a violent flip against your ribs, and a smile almost broke through your professional composure before you caught yourself and looked down at your lap, your cheeks burning.

"alright, final poses for the press preview!" the director shouted, stepping in front of the camera rig. you immediately sat up straight and delivered a flawless look straight into the lens.

afterwards, the ride back to the hotel had been a torturous exercise in restraint. trapped in the backseat of the car with hayoon reviewing tomorrow's schedule, you and jay couldn't exchange a single word. he sat in the front passenger seat this time, eyes glued to the side mirrors. but every time his eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, the tension thickened.

the second the doors to the suite clicked shut and hayoon's footsteps faded down the hallway, the heavy silence of the room snapped.

you barely had time to kick off your painful high heels before a pair of large hands settled firmly around your waist from behind. jay pulled your back flush against his chest, burying his face into your shoulder with a long exhale. the icy bodyguard vanished in a single heartbeat, replaced by the man who had been starving for you all afternoon. "finally," he pressed a warm kiss to the sweet spot right below your ear.

"ten minutes, huh?" you teased, turning in his arms to look up at him. you reached up, fingers going to the knot of his dark tie, loosening it with ease. "guess it had to be two hours instead."

"two hours too long," he groaned. he didn't waste another second, slipping his hands beneath your knees and lifting you off your feet. you wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you the few steps over to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you right into his lap.

he didn't rush to anything. he just held you there, arms wrapped securely around your waist, tucking your head beneath his chin. "you were incredible today," he murmured, fingers stroking your back. "watching you under those lights... it took everything in me not to drag you out of there."

"i felt you watching me," you admitted, breathing in the comforting scent of cedar and clean cotton. "it was the only thing keeping me sane there."

he reluctantly let go of you, taking your hands in his. he rubbed his broad thumbs in slow circled over your palms and the sensitive skin between your fingers, working out all the tension you'd been holding throughout the day. a soft sigh escaped you, "jay... you don't have to pamper me like this."

"i want to, pretty," he replied raising your hand and pressing a kiss right to the middle of your palm. he stared at you for a moment, expression shining with a warmth that made your heart swell painfully tight. "i told you. when it's just the two of us, taking care of you is the only thing that matters."

the grounding comfort of that quiet evening didn't shield you from the relentless pace of your promotion schedule, though. just two days later, the setting shifted to a soundstage on the outskirts of the city for a live session broadcast.

when your manager stepped away to the green room to approve the broadcast's international distribution rights, jay seized the moment.

without breaking his performance, he caught your eyes and tilted his head towards a darkened area hidden behind the massive panels. you took a slow breath, casually stepping off the lighted stage to "adjust your monitor pack" while the floor director was distracted by a microphone issue.

before you could even react, jay pulled you into the narrow space. his hand settled at the small of your back as the other hand came up to cup your jaw. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

a gasp escaped your throat against his mouth. you threw your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him as close as physical space would allow. the adrenaline of being mere feet away from crew members and your entire team made the kiss feel more addicting.

jay groaned low in his throat, thumb caressing the skin behind your ear, deepening the kiss until both of your chests were heaving against each other in the dark.

"jay..." you breathed, pulling back a little, lips flushed and eyes heavy with heat. "hayoon... she's going to notice i'm gone."

"i know," he rasped, his forehead resting heavily against yours as his eyes searched yours in the dim shadows. "i just need thirty seconds with you. i couldn't handle seeing your there and watching you sing for another minute without touching you."

his hand slid down from your jaw, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. he pulled out a silver ring—a personal heirloom you had seen him wear on his finger whenever he was off-duty. taking your hand, he slipped it into your palm, closing your fingers tightly over it. "keep it with you," he raised your knuckles to his lips, giving them a small peck. "a reminder that no matter how many people are watching you... i'm the one right behind you."

your heart did a violent flip. you squeezed the cool ring in your hand, giving him a smile. "i'll keep it safe."

footsteps echoed over the flooring right outside, accompanied by the muffled voice of hayoon calling your name. and in a blink of an eye, jay stepped back, creating a distance and adjusting his earpiece as if he had just escorted you into the backstage alcove for a security sweep. "clear to re-enter the stage, yn," he said.

the heavy ring jay had slipped was kept in your bag throughout the trip, even until the thirteen-hour flight back to south korea.

but as the heavy iron security gate of the agency's private underground garage rolled shut behind the van, the coziness of paris vanished into the damp chill of seoul.

the second the engine cut out near the elevator bay, jay stepped out of the front passenger seat. as he scanned the dark parking area, his jaw was set in an unyielding line. "perimeter clear. team two, cover the stairwell access," he clipped out into his wrist mic.

hayoon stretched with a groan. "god, i hate these late night arrivals. come on, let's get you upstairs to the main office to sign off on the tour schedule, then we can finally send you home."

jay opened the heavy door, extending a hand to steady you as you stepped onto the slick concrete floor.

for a split second, as your fingers brushed his palm, your eyes met his. you searched his gaze for the man who kept you grounded the whole trip. he was there, but it was buried under layers of sharp alert. he gave your fingers one tiny squeeze before releasing them completely. "keep close to me, yn," he instructed as you started walking. "the cameras on the east side are under maintenance tonight."

hayoon walked a few steps ahead, tapping her phone as she pressed the button for the elevator. "sign-off should only take a few minutes upstairs, then—"

a sharp clatter echoed from the dark recess behind a massive pillar to your right.

before your brain could even process the sound, jay moved. "get back," he ordered, hand forcefully driving you behind his frame, shielding your entire body with his own.

out from the shadow of the pillar sprinted a figure in a black hoodie, face obscured by a medical mask. his eyes were wide, bloodshot, and completely unhinged. "yn!" he shrieked. in his right hand, reflecting the lights, was a utility knife. "you're back! you're finally back to me!"

he lunged directly for you, the blade raised high, ignoring the massive wall of a man standing in his path.

jay didn't retreat. driven by a combination of his years of training and a terrifying desperation to protect the woman he loved, he stepped directly into the attack line.

as the stalker slashed down, he grabbed his wrist with blinding speed, his hand locking around the man's arm like a vise. without missing a beat, jay drove his left elbow hard into the man's ribs with a sickening crack, instantly shattering the man's momentum. but before he could even scream in pain, jay executed a violent takedown. he twisted the man's arm back, forcing the blade to clatter, and slammed him onto the floor.

jay was on top of him in a heartbeat. he pinned the struggling, sobbing stalker to the floor with a knee driven into his shoulder blades. "don't move! don't you fucking move!" jay snarled, voice trembling with a rage you had never heard from him before.

"jay!" you gasped out, voice shaking as you took a timid step forward, tears pricking in your eyes. "jay, stop!"

your voice broke through the haze consuming him. he blinked rapidly, head snapping around to look at you. his eyes swept over your trembling body. "backup to the garage, now," he barked into his mic. "intruder subdued. call local police immediately."

and within seconds, the screech of tires and shouting security personnel flooded the basement, tearing the man away and cuffing him as police lights began flashing against the walls.

within thirty minutes, you were whisked up the elevator to the top floor. the moment the doors to han's office opened and you stepped inside, han nearly dropped his handset. "thank god," he managed to breath out. "yn, are you alright? police are handling the press. tell me—"

"i'm fine," you responded. "not a scratch."

he let out a shuddering sigh, turning his gaze toward the man standing behind you. "jay... jesus christ," he said. "if your instincts hadn't been that sharp, if you were even half a second slower... i don't even want to think about what would have happened. you saved her life tonight. i owe you everything."

jay offered a nod, eyes fixed on the windows. "i was doing my job," he replied, voice devoid of emotion. "it should never have come that close to begin with. the maintenance protocol was breached. i'm submitting a security failure report before morning."

han nodded, "we'll review security protocols tomorrow. right now, get her home safely. take the car through the private residential tunnel."

the drive to your apartment was conducted in a suffocating silence. jay didn't speak a single word. he drove this time, both hands locked onto the steering wheel, knuckles white against the dark leather. but there was an ice, impenetrable wall built up around him, so thick it felt like the air in the car had frozen over.

the moment the door of your apartment slicked shut, you expected the tension to break. you expected him to pull you into his arms, to hold you close.

instead, he froze. he didn't take off his suit jacker, nor did he unbutton his collar or loosen his tie. he stood near the door, posture as stiff and formal as a stranger's. "jay?" you called, turning around to face him. "are you... okay?"

"the residence is secure, yn-ssi," he said evenly, eyes fixed on the wall behind you, refusing to meet your gaze. a cold knot formed in your stomach. you took a step toward him, reaching out to touch his arm. "jay, stop calling me that. talk to me. you saved me tonight—"

the moment your fingers neared his sleeve, he took a step backward. "i am on duty until the morning team arrives," he continued. "i'll be outside in the hallway. please make sure the balcony doors remain locked, and get some rest."

"jay, look at me," you pleaded, voice breaking as tears started forming in your eyes. "please."

for a mere second, his eyes shifted toward yours. and what you saw in them cut deeper than any words could have. beneath the stoic mask, his eyes were shadowed with agony. in his mind, those moments in paris had dulled his sharp edges, making him hesitate down in that garage. he believed his personal love for you had almost cost you tour life.

he swallowed hard, "goodnight, yn-ssi."

and without waiting for your answer, he turned on his heel, stepped out into the hallway, and let the door click shut between you—putting a wall back between his heart and yours.

the days following that night in the garage, the secret paradise you and jay had built was gone. in its place stood a suffocating wall of pure professional protocol.

every interaction felt like a heartbreak. on set at television studios, jay performed his duties with robotic perfection. he checked your dressing room, stood guard near doors, and escorted you everywhere—yet he was more distant than he had been on his first day on the job.

he would avoid you in any way possible. he never made eye contact with you, and never even bothered to help you if any kind of physical touch was involved.

to anyone looking into han's office, the tall man standing at attention before the massive oak desk looked like the picture of composure.

but inside jay's head, it was a silent war. every time he closed his eyes, he saw that garage. he heard the metallic clatter of the blade, the manic eyes of the stalker, and he felt that sickening, split second freeze in his own heart.

i hesitated, the thought burned through his chest like hot acid. down in that dark corner, he hadn't reacted like a bodyguard but like a terrified man watching the center of his universe face destruction. and he couldn't afford to love you if it meant getting you killed.

"jay, be reasonable," han said, leaning back in his chair with a troubled sigh. he tapped his pen against a crisp set of documents. "you're the best head of security this agency has ever hired. you disarmed a threat in under five seconds. the press is calling it a miracle, the board is thrilled with you, and yn is completely unharmed. why on earth are you handing me a reassignment request?"

"my performance in the garage was compromised, sir," jay stated. "i allowed a threat to enter the primary perimeter before initiating defensive maneuvers. my emotional assessment of the client's safety is no longer objective."

han frowned, leaning forward as his eyes narrowed. "emotional assessment— jay, you've been working too many shifts. you're exhausted. take two days off. let the others handle tomorrow—"

"no, sir," jay interrupted, voice carrying a quiet, desperate authority than made han pause. "a temporary leave will not rectify the vulnerability. i'm formally requesting a full transfer. i have already drafted a recommendation for sector seven. their senior operative, seojun, is highly decorated and entirely objective."

han stared at him for a long moment before letting out a frustrated breath and picking up his pen. "if i sign off on this, there's no coming back, jay. you'll be reassigned to a corporate asset in singapore by the end of the week. you won't be on her detail ever again.

good, jay thought, even as a jagged blade twisted violently in his gut. she'll be alive.

"understood, sir," jay replied with a nod. "please sign the transfer authorization."

and it was well past midnight when you heard the news yourself. you walked down the hallway after rehearsal, holding your phone to check for any updates. not too far away, han was stepping out of the side stairwell, a thick folder tucked under his arm. he was on his phone, voice carrying clearly down the empty corridor.

"i know it's sudden," he said. "jay hand-delivered the transfer papers this afternoon. he's stepping down as her primary guard... sector seven is sending operative seojun to take over."

you froze in your tracks. "look, i tried to talk him out of it," han continued. "he won't budge. says his judgment is compromised. he's getting reassigned to singapore by the end of the week—"

the rest of his words faded farther, but the silence he left behind felt like a physical blow to your chest.

jay was erasing himself from your life.

your blood turned to fire. the sadness that had been weighing down your heart for the past few days burned away, now switched by a wave of fury. he was making this choice for you. he was deciding that his love was a weakness, that your connection was a flaw to be excised, and he was planning to go away without even giving you the dignity of a goodbye.

turning on your heel, you marched straight back toward the practice rooms. you didn't need to ask where he was. you knew him. you knew that while the secondary guards covered outside, jay would be doing his final inspections inside.

as you rounded the corner toward the main studio at the end of the hall, you saw the thin strip of yellow light. you reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

there, jay stood near the sound system, checking the area with a tablet in hand. the second the heavy doors swung shut behind you, his shoulders went rigid. he didn't turn around right away. he took a measured breath, closing his tablet before turning to face you. "yn-ssi," he called. "it's late. rehearsals ended an hour ago. you should be heading back."

"singapore, jay? really?" you asked, voice ringing sharp through the room.

a small hitch caught in his breath, but his face remained carved out of marble. "i don't know what you mean—"

"don't lie to me!" you snapped, taking two fast steps toward him. "i just heard mr. han on the phone. hand delivered transfer papers? operative seojun taking over? you leaving for singapore by the end of the week?"

jay's jaw tightened, eyes fixing on a point over your left shoulder, stubbornly refusing to look directly into your eyes. "my assessment is correct," he admitted. "operative seojun is highly qualified. his protocols are superior, and he has no personal history that could interfere with his work."

"personal history—" you let out a harsh laugh in disbelief, tears of frustration streaming out. "is that what paris was to you? fucking personal history? a flaw in your security metrics?"

"it was a mistake," he clipped out. "my primary duty is to keep you breathing. down in that garage, i hesitated. i let my feelings cloud my tactical response. if i am distracted because i am thinking about how to hold you, how to protect my own heart... i'm a liability to your life."

"you're a coward!" you shouted. jay flinched, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. "call me whatever you want, yn-ssi. but by weekend, my job ends. you'll be safe."

"i won't be safe, god damn it, jay!" you cried out, taking another step forward, closing the distance he desperately tried to maintain.

with trembling fingers, you held up your left hand, where his heavy silver ring sat gleaming under the lights. "what about this, jay?" your voice broke. "you slipped this ring into my hands and told me it was a reminder that you'd be right behind me at all times. was that a lie? was it just another shitty security protocol?"

his eyes snapped down to the ring, his breath locking in his throat. the sight of his band resting against your soft skin hit him like a blow, threatening to shatter every wall he had built.

"i don't want a perfect shield, jay! i want you!" your tears spilled over your eyelashes, fast down your cheeks. "do you have any idea how terrifying it is to stand on those stages? to face thousands of screaming people, never knowing who is safe and who wants to hurt me?"

jay's breath hitched, eyes flickering to meet yours, the mask beginning to fracture under the weight of your raw vulnerability.

"the one and only reason i can stand under those lights, the only reason i can sing without shaking, is because i know you're standing there," you whispered, hands trembling. "knowing you love me isn't a distraction, jay. it's the only thing that gives me the courage to survive this life."

you looked up at him, "so if you walk away now... if you board that plane to singapore... you aren't saving my life. you're breaking it."

the heavy silence that followed your words stretched across the empty studio. for a long second, jay couldn't move. he stood completely frozen, breath deepening each passing second, eyes staring into yours as the weight of your tears crashed over him.

suddenly, a noise escaped his throat—a sound raw with days of suppressed torment, guilt, and unrelenting love.

before you could draw another breath, jay closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. his hands cupped the sides of your face, fingers tangling slightly into your hair as he yanked you against him, knocking the air right out of your lungs. he bent his head down, pressing his forehead hard against yours, whole body trembling against yours like a structure on the verge of collapse. "god, yn..." he rasped. "don't say that... please, don't say that to me."

"it's the truth," you sobbed, hands coming up to clutch tightly at the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to his chest. "it's the truth, jay."

"i was terrified," he whispered, his hot breath fanning across your flushed skin, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears as he looked down at you. "when i saw that blade... when i realized how close he came to taking you away from me... my heart stopped. i felt weak. i felt like every second i spent loving you made me slow, made me reckless."

his thumb slid up to gently wipe the tears from your cheekbones. "i thought if i walked away, if i put someone colder between you and the world, you'd be safe," he murmured. "i was ready to burn my own life to ashes if it kept you breathing. but i can't... god, help me, i can't survive watching another man stand in place."

"then don't let him," you whispered fiercely, reaching up to hold his jaw. "stay with me. fight for me. love me."

jay closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if your hand was the only thing keeping him grounded in the dark. a deep sigh wracked his broad shoulders, washing away the cold person he had forced himself to be, leaving only the man who belonged to you.

he slid his arms down, wrapping them tightly around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest, placing his head into the crook of your neck. "i'm tearing up the transfer," he said against your skin, pressing a deep peck to the side of your neck that made your heart flip.

"no seojun. no singapore. nothing that steps between us."

one year later.

the roar of thousands of fans was still ringing in your ears, a deafening ocean of cheers that echoed off the stadium after the final confetti cannon had fired.

outside the exit, the rainy seoul night was a sea of blinding camera flashes and shouting press. it was the encore of your world tour, and the world saw an idol at the peak of her career.

right at your shoulder stood jay. dressed in that black suit of his, shoulders squared and sharp eyes scanning the crowd, he looked impenetrable. "keep moving forward," he rumbled smoothly as he cut a path through the media surge, guiding you toward the van.

later on when the door of your apartment swung shut, the silence of your private sanctuary washed over you like a warm blanket, swallowing the faint echoes of the screams you had heard.

the posture jay had maintained all evening finally softened. he unbuttoned his suit jacket, shedding the heavy fabric and tossing it over the back of an armchair. he reached up, pulling his tie loose with a slow tug, unfastening the two top buttons of his shirt to reveal the collarbones beneath. he rolled up his sleeves up his forearms, kicking off his shoes before turning to look at you.

"come here," he muttered.

without a moment's hesitation, you closed the distance, stepping straight into his frame. his arms locked around your waist, sweeping you off your feet. you let out a soft laugh, burying your face in the familiar scent of him. he carried you across the room to the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions and pulling you right into his lap.

he bent his head down, burying his face into your hair and letting out an exhale that seemed to drain the last drops of tension from his massive frame.

"you know," you started, resting your chin against his shoulder, "for a second out there by the barricades, i thought you were actually going to snap that reporter in half. you were giving him the scariest death stare ever."

a rumble of amusement vibrated in his chest. he pulled back to look at you, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. "he shoved a giant microphone right in your face," he recalled with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "he was way too close. honestly, you should be thanking me for being in my best behavior."

"oh yeah, suuuper great of you," you giggled, reaching up to trace the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the light rasp of a stubble against your fingertips. "pretty sure mr. han almost had a heart attack when you blocked the camera with your hand out of nowhere."

"he's fine. he'll live," he replied with a shrug, leaning into your hand and letting his eyes flutter shut to enjoy your touch. "besides i've got my priorities straight."

"is that so?" you smiled, thumb lightly tracing his lower lip. "and what are those?"

he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, before finally brushing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss that felt like pure relief. "keep you safe," he mumbles against your lips. "love you unconditionally. and make sure you know you're stuck with me forever."

"sounds like a lifetime sentence, big guy," you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"yeah, well... you're not getting rid of me now."

© 2026 wonarchy. all rights deserved.

Sunoo walked over, a bright smile breaking across his face as his hands moved fluidly into sign. “You’re going to school with me,” he signed, the relief clear in his eyes.

A wave of warmth washed over you. Smiling back, your fingers quickly spelled out your response “I’m excited!”

Stepping onto campus, the immediate weight of curious stares hit you. You could see the subtle shifts in posture, the hands raised to cover mouths, and the rhythmic motion of students whispering to one another—words you couldn't hear, but could feel all the same.

Noticing your tension, Sunoo quickly stepped into your line of sight, his hands moving with calm, reassuring precision “Don’t be nervous.”

Giving your shoulder a quick, protective squeeze, he led the way through the crowded hallway toward the counselor’s office to sort out your class schedule and learning accommodations.

"Sunoo! Hi," the counselor greeted warmly, looking up from her desk.

Sunoo offered a polite smile, leaning slightly against the counter. "This is my sister, Sunha," he said, introducing you proudly. "She's transferring here, and I wanted to ask about setting up her accommodations—she's deaf."

"Oh my goodness, of course!" the counselor replied, her expression softening into a welcoming smile. "Your mother called and informed me ahead of time, so everything is already arranged. We've assigned a dedicated sign language interpreter who will attend all of her classes with her to translate the professors' lectures in real time. We just recommend that she sits in the front row so she always has a clear line of sight."

"Okay! Thank you so much!" Sunoo said, giving the counselor an appreciative nod.

Turning to you, he caught your eye and gave a gentle, familiar gesture with his head, signaling for you to follow him out into the hall.

As you stepped into the lecture hall, the ambient hum of the room quieted down. The professor paused mid-sentence, turning toward the door. "Oh, hello there," he said warmly.

Sunoo nudged you gently, catching your attention before bringing his hands up to sign “This is your class. The counselor said to sit in the front so your interpreter has a clear view of you.”

You gave a quick nod, glancing up at the professor before turning back to Sunoo with a slight, hesitant look.

He understood your silent plea instantly. Turning to the professor, Sunoo spoke up: "She just needs a little help finding her seat."

"Ah, of course," the professor said, smiling warmly as he gestured toward an open spot near the front. "You can sit right over there, next to Sunghoon."

Sunoo’s eyes briefly flicked toward the desk—and the dark-haired boy sitting there with an unbothered, indifferent slouch—before he turned back to face you. Bringing his hands up, he signed carefully “He says you can sit over there, next to Park Sunghoon.”

You walked down the aisle toward the front row, every step feeling a little heavier under the weight of Sunghoon’s quiet, intense presence. He was slumped back in his chair with his head down, resting on his arm, looking completely detached from the world around him—and clearly not paying a single second of attention to the lecture.

Slinking into the empty chair beside him, you carefully set your bag down, trying your best not to make a sound or disturb the heavy, distant vibe radiating off him.

As you settled into the desk, a young woman took the seat directly across the small aisle from you, giving a warm, reassuring smile. She signed smoothly “Hi, I’m your interpreter for this class.”

Relief washed over you. You signed a quick thank you back, turning your attention toward the front of the room as she seamlessly began translating the professor's spoken lecture into steady, fluid hand motions.

For the first fifteen minutes, everything went smoothly. But out of the corner of your eye, you could feel Sunghoon shift.

He slowly lifted his head from his arms, dark hair falling messy over his forehead, and turned his gaze toward you—or rather, toward the rapid, silent conversation happening between you and your interpreter. His sharp eyebrows knitted together in a slight frown, his icy expression unreadable as he watched your hands move.

Catching his stare, you froze for a second, your hands hovering mid-air. You gave him a small, polite nod, hoping to diffuse whatever annoyance he might have had about the distraction.

Sunghoon didn't nod back. He just stared at you for a heartbeat longer with that cold, unbothered expression, before slowly rolling his shoulders and leaning back in his seat, his eyes tracking every movement of your hands with quiet, unreadable curiosity.

"You're the girl from my physics class," Sunghoon said, stepping up to your table in the library.

You kept staring down at your open textbook, completely oblivious to his presence.

"Hello??" He took a step closer, raising his hand to snap his fingers right near your ear. Still, nothing. You just flipped to the next page, scanning your notes.

Sunghoon scoffed, a spike of irritation breaking through his usual cool facade. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a sharp, bitter edge.

Reaching out, he tapped his knuckles heavily against the wood of your desk to force your attention.

boardwalk-level vibrations rattled through the table, making you jump. You spun around, wide eyes locking onto his annoyed scowl. You looked at his moving lips in confusion, completely unable to process what he was saying.

"Hey! Back off!"

Sunoo came rushing over, stepping firmly between you and Sunghoon, his posture defensive. He glared up at the campus heartthrob with pure heat. "What is wrong with you? She wasn't ignoring you—she's deaf!"

Sunghoon froze, his sharp expression shattering in an instant. His mouth opened slightly, his eyes flicking from Sunoo's angry face down to you. The harsh, arrogant air around him completely vanished, replaced by an awkward, uncomfortable silence as the realization sank in.

Sunoo didn't wait for a response. He turned his back on Sunghoon, dropping to eye level with you. His hands moved in swift, practiced sign “Are you okay? Did he scare you?”

You blinked, still taking in the heavy tension in the air. “I’m fine,” you signed back, your hands steadying as you looked past your brother’s shoulder. “I just didn’t hear him.”

Behind Sunoo, Sunghoon stood completely still. The annoyance that had been written across his features was entirely gone, replaced by a rare, uncomfortable flicker of shock. His hands lingered awkwardly near his pockets, his eyes shifting from your moving fingers up to your face. For a guy who usually owned every room he walked into, he suddenly looked entirely out of his depth.

"Look, I..." Sunghoon started, his usual smooth tone rough around the edges. "I didn't know."

Sunoo didn't even look back at him. "Just leave her alone, Sunghoon. She doesn't need your attitude on her first day." He reached down, grabbing your bag, and gestured for you to stand.

You gathered your notebook, giving Sunghoon one last, tentative glance. He was still staring, his jaw slightly set, but his dark eyes were no longer cold—just unreadable, tracking your every move as Sunoo led you away into the quiet stacks of the library.

"She's deaf, huh..." he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet library.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging a hand down his face as a heavy wave of embarrassment washed over him. He felt like a complete idiot.

The signs had been right there the whole time. The front-row seating, the girl sitting right next to you moving her hands in steady rhythm, the way you kept your eyes glued to her instead of the professor—it all made total, blinding sense now. He had just been too wrapped up in his own world, too busy acting like the untouchable campus cold-guy, to even notice what was right in front of him.

He looked over toward the direction you and Sunoo had disappeared in, the sharp, arrogant edge he usually wore completely shattered. For the first time in a long time, Park Sunghoon was genuinely at a loss.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

You were walking down the main hallway toward your next class when a shadow stepped directly into your path. You stopped short, looking up to find Sunghoon standing in front of you, looking decidedly less composed than usual.

Before you could react or look around for Sunoo, he reached into his bag, pulled out a thick spiral notebook and a black pen, and scribbled something across the blank page in quick, messy handwriting.

He flipped the notebook around, holding it up at your eye level.

I'm sorry. I didn't know you were deaf.

You looked at the handwritten note, then up at his face. The usual arrogant, cold demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a tense, genuine anxiety as he waited for your reaction, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You pulled a pen out of your pocket, reaching over to tap the paper. Sunghoon held the notebook steady, watching intently as you wrote directly beneath his dark handwriting.

It's okay.

You handed the pen back and looked up, giving him a small, quiet smile to reassure him.

Sunghoon looked down at the short message, then back up at you. The visible tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a subtle, almost imperceptible softening around his eyes. He gave a brief, hesitant nod, taking the notebook back as the busy hallway moved around the two of you in silent motion.

He paused for a second, looking like he was debating whether to turn around and leave, but instead, he flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and started writing again.

I'm Sunghoon, by the way.

He turned the page toward you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, waiting.

You took the pen from his hand once more, the tips of your fingers brushing slightly against his. You leaned over the paper and wrote your name in neat, clear script Sunha.

When you showed it to him, a faint, almost hidden smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—a rare break in his usual icy mask. He pointed to your name on the paper, then tapped his chest, giving you a firm, silent nod of acknowledgment.

Just then, the bell for the next period vibrated through the floorboards under your feet. Students began moving past the two of you in a fast, chaotic current.

Sunghoon reached out, lightly grabbing the strap of your backpack to steady you as someone bumped past. He held up his notebook one last time, writing quickly See you in physics.

With a final look that felt far gentler than anything you'd expected from the campus douchebag, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing in the hallway with a strange, warm flutter in your chest.

You watched his tall frame weave through the bustling crowd of students until he vanished around the corner, unable to hide the small smile creeping onto your face.

The campus douchebag—the guy everyone warned you to stay far away from—had just stood in the middle of a packed hallway, nervously writing in a notebook just to apologize to you.

It was a stark contrast to your old school, where people preferred to stare, laugh, or completely ignore your existence. Sunghoon’s handwriting had been messy, and his delivery was awkward, but the effort was real. For the first time since transferring to XO University, the knot of anxiety in your stomach finally began to loosen.

During break time you went to the cafeteria with Sunoo, seeing Sunghoon sitting down somewhere with a cheerleader. Sunoo followed your gaze and then looked back at you "he's no good" he signs.

"Why?" You ask. "He's a douchebag, he broke so many girls' hearts," Sunoo signed back swiftly, his hands moving with sharp, protective energy. "He acts like he's too good for everyone on this campus. Trust me, Sunha, you want to stay as far away from Park Sunghoon as possible."

You looked back across the crowded cafeteria. Sunghoon was leaning back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the table while a brightly dressed cheerleader giggled and leaned into his side. He looked completely unbothered, just like he had in class, occasionally tossing out a brief word or smirk that kept her entirely hooked.

As if sensing your eyes on him, Sunghoon suddenly turned his head. His dark gaze swept over the crowd, locking right onto you.

The girl beside him kept talking, but Sunghoon completely stopped paying attention to her. His eyes stayed fixed on you, a flick of something quiet and unrecognizable passing through his expression.

Sunoo tapped your shoulder sharply to break your line of sight, blocking your view of him. "Eat your food," Sunoo signed, giving you a stern, big-brother frown. "I mean it. Don't waste your time thinking about him."

You stared down at your tray, your mind racing. A douchebag? It was hard to reconcile Sunoo’s warnings with the guy who had just stood nervously in the middle of a chaotic hallway, carefully scribbling apologies in a notebook just to make sure you were okay.

Looking back toward his table, you caught him glancing your way again—ignoring the girl still chatting excitedly beside him. The moment his dark eyes met yours, he didn't give that aloof, arrogant smirk Sunoo talked about. Instead, he just held your gaze for a quiet, subtle second before giving you a small, almost imperceptible nod.

You looked back at Sunoo and brought your hands up, signing back carefully “He seemed nice to me.”

Sunoo sighed, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. "That's how he gets people, Sunha. He acts cool and distant, does one bare-minimum nice thing, and suddenly everyone falls for it. Just... be careful, okay?"

You nodded to appease your brother, but as you picked up your fork, you couldn't shake the feeling. Maybe Sunghoon really was a total jerk to everyone else—but the extra effort he made just to communicate with you felt far too genuine to fake.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of unfamiliar classrooms and new faces, but your mind kept wandering back to that brief exchange in the hallway—and the notebook page with your name written in dark ink.

When the bell for your final period rang, you walked into the physics lecture hall, feeling a nervous flutter in your chest. The room was already half-full. Taking a breath, you headed down toward the front row.

Sunghoon was already sitting at his desk. He wasn't slumping or resting his head on his arms this time. He was sitting up straight, looking directly at the door as if he’d been waiting for you to walk in.

As you approached, he reached down and pulled the chair next to him out, leaving the spot completely clear for you.

You walked over and sat down, pulling your notebook out of your bag. Beside you, Sunghoon didn't say a word. Instead, he slid a folded piece of paper across the smooth wooden desk, resting it right next to your pencil case.

You opened it up. Written in his messy, unmistakable handwriting was a short message:

Did you eat lunch?

You looked over at him, surprised. Sunghoon kept his face stoic, looking straight ahead toward the professor's podium, but you could see the faint, subtle tension in his jaw as he waited for your reply.

You picked up your pen and quickly wrote beneath his line:

I ate with my brother.

Sliding the paper back across the desk, you watched his reaction out of the corner of your eye.

Sunghoon unfolded the note, his eyes scanning your words. A subtle shift went through him, his brows knitting together in brief thought before he picked up his pen and started scribbling again.

Your brother? The guy who yelled at me in the library?

He slid it back to you. You couldn't help the small, amused smile that tugged at your lips. You leaned over the desk and wrote:

Yes, Kim Sunoo. He's very protective.

When Sunghoon read it, he let out a short, silent huff through his nose—a mix of a sigh and an amused chuckle. He glanced sideways at you, his dark eyes softening as he tapped his pen against the desk and wrote one last response:

I noticed. He looks like he wants to fight me.

You read the words, and before you could hold it back, a soft, bright laugh escaped you.

Sunghoon, who had been watching you carefully from the corner of his eye, completely froze.

Seeing your face suddenly light up—the way your shoulders shook slightly, your smile bright and entirely genuine, and the way your eyes crinkled with amusement—hit him like a sudden physical blow to the chest. For a second, the busy lecture hall around them just faded away. He swore his heart actually skipped a beat, stumbling over itself in a way he had never felt before.

He quickly faced forward, swallowing hard and gripping his pen a little tighter.

The untouchable, arrogant guy who never gave anyone the time of day was suddenly painfully aware of how fast his pulse was racing just from making you smile. He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to hide the faint, embarrassed heat creeping onto his ears as the professor walked into the room.

Even as the lecture began and your interpreter took her seat, Sunghoon found his eyes drifting away from the chalkboard, stealing quiet, subtle glances at you for the rest of the class.

You stood by your locker, placing a thick textbook into your bag, completely unaware of the heavy footsteps approaching behind you.

Suddenly, a tall, broad shadow loomed over you. You turned around, bumping back against the cold metal doors as three heavy-set guys from the school’s football team completely cut off your exit.

"Would you look at that? A hot new girl all alone," the guy in the varsity jacket said, leaning one hand against the lockers right beside your head, trapping you. His lips were moving fast, a sleazy, confident smirk plastered across his face. The two guys behind him laughed, crossing their arms as they backed him up.

You looked from one guy to the next, your stomach dropping into a tight knot. You couldn't read his lips—he was talking too fast, slurring his words together, and standing way too close.

“I don’t understand,” you signed quickly, shaking your head, your eyes wide with rising panic as you backed up as far as the lockers would let you. “Please move.”

The guy just chuckled, mistaking your frightened silence and fast hand movements for playfulness. "What, playing shy? Don't be like that, sweetheart," he sneered, reaching a hand out to grab your wrist.

Before his fingers could even touch your skin, a hand clamped onto his wrist with a bruising force, shoving it roughly back.

"Touch her again and see what happens," a cold, lethal voice sliced through the hallway.

You looked past the jock's shoulder to see Sunghoon standing there. His dark eyes were absolute ice, his jaw clenched tight, and the relaxed, easy demeanor he usually wore was completely replaced by pure, terrifying rage.

"Why? You wanna have some fun with her instead?" the guy laughed, looking back to dab up one of his friends.

He didn't even get to finish the gesture.

Sunghoon’s fist connected solid and sharp against the guy's jaw. The impact echoed through the hallway like a crack of thunder, sending the jock stumbling sideways into the bank of metal lockers before crashing heavily onto the linoleum floor.

The hallway instantly fell into a shocked, suffocating quiet. The other two jocks backed up fast, their eyes wide as they looked between their friend groaning on the ground and Sunghoon, whose chest was heaving with pure rage. His knuckles were already turning red, his dark eyes pitch-black with fury as he glared down at the guy on the floor.

"Get up," Sunghoon spat, his voice deadly low. "Get up and say it again."

Neither of them moved. Realizing Sunghoon was out for blood, the two friends scrambled to haul their buddy up by his jacket, hurrying him down the hall while he clutched his bleeding lip.

Sunghoon stood there, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek. He took a heavy breath, slowly letting the adrenaline settle, before he turned back toward you.

The moment his eyes landed on your wide, terrified face, the violent anger completely drained out of him. He looked down at his own bruised hand, then back at you, stepping closer with a rare, desperate urgency in his stance. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his notebook, and wrote in fast, frantic strokes before holding it up to you

Are you okay? Did they hurt you?

You shook your head quickly, letting him know you were unhurt, before bringing your right hand to your chin and moving it forward toward him.

"Thank you."

Sunghoon’s eyes widened slightly in realization. It was one of the few basic signs he had spent all of yesterday frantically looking up on his phone, and seeing you use it brought an immediate, visible wave of relief over his face.

The tense edge in his shoulders finally eased. He looked down at his bruised knuckles, then back up at your face, giving you a small, quiet nod. Taking out his pen again, he wrote at the bottom of the page in careful, clear letters.

Always. Let's get out of here.

He stepped beside you, placing himself firmly between you and the open hallway, and silently walked you all the way to the school exit to make sure no one else bothered you.

When you reached the front entrance, the cool afternoon breeze brushed against your face. You turned to Sunghoon, intending to wave goodbye, but he stopped at the top of the concrete steps, looking down at his hand. The skin over his knuckles was split and swelling, turning a angry shade of purple.

He noticed you staring at it and quickly tucked his hand into his jacket pocket, attempting to play it off with a dismissive shrug.

Before he could pull away, you reached out and gently caught his forearm. Sunghoon froze completely, his gaze snapping to where your small hand held his sleeve.

You unzipped the front pocket of your backpack, pulled out a small pack of tissues and a bottle of water, and motioned for him to sit down on the wide brick ledge near the entrance.

Sunghoon hesitated for half a second before obeying without a word. He sat down and reluctantly pulled his right hand back out of his pocket, extending it toward you. His hand was trembling ever so slightly—not from pain, but from how close you were sitting next to him.

You carefully poured a little water over a tissue to douse it, then gently dabbed at the faint smear of blood on his knuckles.

Sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat. He kept completely still, refusing to move a muscle while his eyes stayed fixed on your profile—the focus in your expression, the way your dark lashes framed your eyes, and the sheer care in your soft touch.

When you finished, you tapped his palm to let him know he was good to go, looking up to catch his eye.

Sunghoon swallowed hard. With his left hand, he slowly pulled out his notebook and wrote one simple question before sliding it onto your lap:

Can I walk you home?

You glanced around the crowded schoolyard, knowing Sunoo was probably looking for you right now—and would absolutely throw a fit if he saw who you were with. But looking back at Sunghoon, sitting quietly on the cold brick ledge with his bruised knuckles and hopeful eyes, you couldn't bring yourself to turn him down.

You looked straight at him and gave a slow, gentle nod.

A subtle, breathtaking smile broke across Sunghoon's face—not his usual arrogant smirk, but a real, rare smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He quickly stood up, slinging his bag over one shoulder, and pulled out his phone to type out a quick message on his notes app before holding the screen out for you to read.

I'll carry your bag.

Before you could even think to sign a decline, he was already reaching over and carefully lifting the heavy backpack from your shoulders. He adjusted the straps over his own arm, offering you a subtle nod toward the main gates.

As the two of you began walking side-by-side down the sidewalk, bathed in the soft orange glow of the late afternoon sun, you pulled out your phone and quickly shot a text to Sunoo

You: Heading home! Going to take a quiet walk by myself today, don’t worry about picking me up.

You slid your phone back into your pocket, matching Sunghoon's steady, comfortable pace as he kept himself on the street side of the sidewalk, keeping a close, protective guard over you the entire way.

The neighborhood was quiet, the autumn breeze rustling through the trees as the two of you walked in a comfortable silence. Sunghoon kept his pace slow, matching yours, occasionally checking his phone or notebook to write short thoughts to share with you.

Nice weather today.

Is your house far?

Don't worry about your bag, it's not heavy at all.

Each time he flipped the page to show you, you’d smile and type back on your phone or use simple signs he’d slowly begun to pick up on. Watching his stoic, intense demeanor melt away into thoughtful patience felt like discovering a completely different person than the one the rest of the school talked about.

As you turned down your street, you pointed toward a cozy, two-story house with a white fence at the end of the block.

Sunghoon’s steps slowed down as you approached the front gate. He carefully slipped your heavy backpack off his shoulder and handed it back to you. As your hands brushed over the straps, he held out his phone screen, showing a pre-typed note:

Thanks for letting me walk with you. I hope your hand didn't get too tired texting me.

You let out a soft, silent giggle, shaking your head before pointing to his wrapped knuckles and signing, 'Thank you for protecting me.'

He caught the gesture immediately, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. He gave you a soft nod, taking a step back toward the sidewalk.

Just as you reached for the gate latch, the front door burst open.

Sunoo stepped out onto the porch, his eyes widening in complete shock when he saw who was standing at the end of the driveway. His expression flipped from confusion to pure, unadulterated outrage in less than a second.

"What is HE doing here?!" Sunoo signed furiously, his hands practically flying through the air as he stormed down the porch steps toward the gate.

Your hands moved quickly, signing back to Sunoo with urgent, sharp precision before he could get any closer.

"He was walking me home! He saved me from a bunch of jocks that cornered me at school!"

Sunoo froze mid-stride at the bottom of the porch steps, his mouth slightly open as he processed your words. His furious gaze snapped from your hands to Sunghoon, then down to Sunghoon’s swollen, bruised knuckles, and finally back to your wide, earnest eyes.

The protective anger radiating off Sunoo flickered, replaced by a complex mix of surprise and hesitation. He crossed his arms, his jaw shifting as he looked Sunghoon up and down.

Sunghoon didn't flinch or act smug. He stood his ground by the gate, looking straight at Sunoo with a steady, quiet seriousness. He slowly raised his left hand, bringing his fingers to his chest, and bowed his head slightly toward your brother—a silent gesture of respect and an unspoken promise that he meant no harm.

Sunoo let out a long, heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. He looked at you, then back at Sunghoon, signing to you with much softer hands "Are you really okay? Did those guys touch you?"

You shook your head quickly, signing back "I'm fine. Sunghoon stopped them before anything happened."

Sunoo looked back at Sunghoon. He didn't offer a smile, but the tension in his posture visibly eased. He gave Sunghoon a single, stiff nod of acknowledgement. "Thanks," Sunoo mouthed clearly, keeping it simple enough for Sunghoon to read his lips.

Sunghoon offered a subtle nod in return, taking a step back toward the street. He pulled out his phone, typed a brief note, and held the screen out for you one last time before turning to leave

See you tomorrow, Sunha. Get some rest.

Sunoo closed the front door behind you, the click of the latch sounding loud in the quiet entryway. He turned around, his arms crossed over his chest, his protective big-brother stance back in full force.

"Next time don't lie to me," he signed clearly, his face serious. "I was worried sick when you said you were walking home alone."

You looked down, feeling a pang of guilt. You brought your hands up, signing back carefully. "I'm sorry. I just knew you'd freak out if I told you I was with him."

Sunoo let out a quiet huff, his posture softening slightly as he walked toward the kitchen. "Because I care about you, Sunha. I don't want anyone taking advantage of you, especially not someone with a reputation like his."

He set two glasses of water on the counter, handing one to you before meeting your eyes again. "I mean... I'm glad he was there for you today with those idiots. I really am. But just promise me you'll be careful. People like Sunghoon don't usually change overnight."

You took a sip of water, the memory of Sunghoon's soft smile and bruised knuckles flashing through your mind. You nodded to reassure Sunoo, but deep down, you couldn't help but wonder if there was a completely different side to Park Sunghoon that no one else had ever taken the time to see.

That night, you lay in bed with your phone resting on your chest, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet of your room felt different now. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Sunghoon stepping between you and those jocks, or the intense focus in his dark eyes as he laboriously wrote out notes just to speak with you.

Your phone buzzed against your hand.

You picked it up, expecting a reminder notification or a text from Sunoo about tomorrow’s schedule. Instead, a new message from an unknown number glowed on the screen:

Unknown: Hey. It’s Sunghoon. I asked the class group chat for your number… hope that’s okay.’

A second message popped up right after:

Sunghoon: Did you put ice on your wrists? Those guys grabbed you pretty hard.

A faint smile spread across your face as you typed back:

You: My wrists are fine, really. What about your knuckles? Did you ice those?

Three little dots appeared on the screen, disappearing and reappearing as he typed, deleted, and typed again.

Sunghoon: I forgot, I was busy making sure you got home safe.

You bit your lip to suppress a soft laugh, resting your chin on your pillow as you tapped out your response

You: Go ice your hand, Sunghoon. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.

Sunghoon: Only if you let me walk with you to physics again

You: Deal. Goodnight, Sunghoon.

Sunghoon: Goodnight, Sunha.

You locked your phone and hugged it to your chest, rolling onto your side. Outside your window, the night was quiet and still, but for the first time since transferring to XO University, the daunting unknown of tomorrow didn't feel scary at all.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

The morning light poured through your bedroom window, waking you before your alarm even had the chance to go off. For the first time since transferring, you didn't feel that heavy, anxious knot in your stomach about going to school.

When you walked downstairs, Sunoo was already at the kitchen island, buttering toast. He took one look at your face and raised an eyebrow, setting his butter knife down to sign "You're up early. And in a good mood. Should I be suspicious?"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and signing back "I just slept well. Ready to go?"

The walk to school was quiet, Sunoo keeping a close eye on you, but as soon as you stepped through the double doors of the main entrance, your eyes subconsciously began scanning the crowded hallway.

You didn't have to look for long.

Standing right by your locker, leaning casually against the metal doors with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, was Sunghoon. He looked sharp, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead, completely ignoring the curious glances from students passing by.

The moment he saw you walk down the hall, his stoic posture relaxed. He pushed off the lockers and stepped toward you, pulling his right hand out of his pocket—which was now neatly wrapped in clean white bandage tape.

Sunoo immediately stiffened beside you, crossing his arms and letting out a loud sigh, but he didn't try to stop you as you stepped forward.

Sunghoon looked at Sunoo first, giving your brother a respectful, subtle nod, before turning his gaze entirely onto you. He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen once to reveal a pre-typed message:

Good morning. I iced my hand like you said.

You couldn't hide the soft, warm smile that broke across your face. You brought your hands up, signing clearly "Good morning. It looks much better."

Sunghoon didn't understand the exact signs, but he recognized the bright light in your eyes. He gestured toward your first class down the hall, holding his arm out slightly to walk beside you, silently waiting to see if you'd let him accompany you.

Later, Sunoo cornered Sunghoon against one of the lockers "okay spill, what's your plan with my sister?" He says.

Sunghoon didn't flinch. He slowly leaned back against the cool metal of the locker, keeping his gaze steady on Sunoo. The usual aloof, unbothered smirk he gave anyone who tried to confront him was nowhere to be found.

Instead of reaching for his notebook, Sunghoon looked Sunoo straight in the eye, his dark eyes fierce and completely unyielding.

"I don't have a plan," Sunghoon said, his voice low, clear, and cut with a lethal seriousness. "I'm not playing a game with her."

Sunoo held his ground, his arms tightly crossed and his jaw set. "You could have any girl in this school, Sunghoon. Sunha isn't a curiosity or a project. She's been through enough adjustments moving here, and if you're doing this just because she's 'different'—"

"I'm learning sign language for her," Sunghoon interrupted flatly, his tone cutting Sunoo off instantly.

He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and shoved the screen toward Sunoo's chest. It was open to a sign language app, showing hours of logged practice and a streak that started the exact day Sunha transferred.

"I don't care about anyone else in this school," Sunghoon continued, his jaw clenching tight as he held Sunoo's gaze. "She laughed yesterday. I want to make sure she stays safe, and I want to see her laugh like that again. That's it."

Sunoo stared at the phone screen, then back at Sunghoon's intense, dead-serious expression. The angry, protective wall Sunoo had built up all week flickered, caught completely off guard by the raw honesty in Sunghoon's voice.

Silence stretched between them in the busy hallway. Finally, Sunoo let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair and dropping his arms.

"She has trouble reading lips when people talk too fast," Sunoo muttered quietly, turning his gaze toward the end of the hall. "And she hates loud places. Don't take her anywhere noisy if you ever take her out because the vibration makes her ears hurt."

Sunghoon blinked, a subtle hint of surprise softening his sharp features.

"I'm still watching you," Sunoo added, pointing two fingers at his own eyes, then at Sunghoon. "You step out of line once, and I won't care how hard you hit those jocks yesterday."

Sunghoon offered a single, genuine nod. "Understood."

Sunghoon stood in front of his full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of his black button-down shirt. His heart was hammering against his ribs in a way that felt entirely alien to him. He’d faced down rival school crews, aced exams without studying, and never blinked—yet the thought of tonight had his hands practically shaking.

He raised his hands, going through the motion for the hundredth time that evening.

“You look beautiful tonight. Will you go out with me?”

His phone buzzed on his bed. He picked it up to see a incoming video call from Sunoo. He immediately swiped to answer, holding the phone up to face height.

On the screen, Sunoo leaned in, squinting critically. "Alright, show me again. And make sure your palm orientation is right this time, or you're going to tell her she looks like a shoe."

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but he took a deep breath, setting his posture straight. He clearly, slowly executed the signs—paying close attention to the fluidity of his wrists, the facial expression, and the pacing Sunoo had drilled into him over the past few weeks.

Sunoo watched intently, his critical expression slowly melting into a smirk. He crossed his arms and gave a single, approving nod over the screen. "Not bad, ice prince. Your 'beautiful' was actually smooth. She's going to lose her mind."

"It's correct? You're sure?" Sunghoon asked, his voice low, needing absolute certainty.

"It's perfect, Sunghoon. Now stop sweating through your nice shirt and go pick up my sister. The restaurant reservation is at seven."

Sunghoon closed the app, taking one last look at himself in the mirror. He had booked a private dining room at a quiet, high-end restaurant on the edge of the city—no loud music, no clattering kitchen noise, no crowds. Just dim lighting, soft ambiance, and a table for two.

Twenty minutes later, Sunghoon was standing outside your front door. He rang the bell, his breath hitching as the door opened.

When you stepped out into the porch light, dressed up for what you thought was just a casual dinner, Sunghoon completely forgot every word of English and ASL he had ever learned. You looked stunning.

He didn't pull out his phone. He didn't reach for a notebook.

Instead, Sunghoon took a small step forward, his dark eyes fixed entirely on yours. He lifted his hands into the warm evening air, his movements careful, delicate, and full of effortless grace as he signed directly to you:

“You look beautiful tonight.”

He paused, his chest rising and falling as he swallowed hard, before continuing with the sentence he had spent two long months preparing for.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

For two months, you had watched Sunghoon use sticky notes, phone screens, and simple gestures to communicate with you. You had seen him struggle through basic signs, laughing together when he got them wrong. But seeing him stand on your porch now, dressed in a sleek black shirt, executing two full, fluid sentences with such precision and emotion in his eyes, hit you directly in the chest.

The silence around you wasn't just quiet—it felt sacred.

Your eyes welled up with unexpected heat, a soft, breathless gasp escaping your lips. You looked from his hands back up to his face. Beneath his composed posture, you could see the slight tremor in his jaw, the subtle, anxious pulse in his neck as he waited for your answer, utterly vulnerable in a way he had never been before.

Slowly, a bright, radiant smile broke across your face—the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle, the very smile he had spent weeks dreaming about.

You raised your hands, signing back with gentle, clear movements: "I would love to."

Sunghoon’s shoulders dropped an entire inch as he let out a long, heavy breath he seemed to have been holding forever. The nervous tension melted instantly, replaced by a warm, breathtaking smile that made him look younger, softer, and entirely yours.

He didn't say a word. He stepped off the porch, holding his hand out to you. When you placed your fingers in his palm, his grip was firm and gentle, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand as he led you to his car.

The drive to the restaurant was peaceful. He held your hand over the center console the entire way, occasionally glancing over at you with a quiet, contented look in his eyes.

When you arrived, he guided you into a secluded, private dining room set far away from the bustling main floor. Warm, dim ambient light washed over a small table set for two, shielded from the heavy noise of clattering plates and loud conversation.

Sunghoon pulled out your chair for you, carefully waiting until you were comfortable before taking his seat across from you.

As the waiter handed you both leather-bound menus, Sunghoon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, elegant notebook—not his usual beat-up class pad, but a nice one—and set it on the table between you, accompanied by his phone already set to a text interface.

He looked at you, his dark eyes glowing softly in the warm lighting. He lifted his hands, taking his time to sign carefully:

“Tonight is just for us. No rush. No noise.”

He then tapped his chest, pointing to you, and signed the phrase Sunoo had helped him perfect just hours ago

“I am so glad you said yes.”

You looked across the small, candlelit table, feeling a warm flutter in your chest that completely erased any remaining nervous tension. The soft amber glow of the room reflected in his dark eyes, making the usually stoic high school heartthrob look entirely focused on just one person: you.

You lifted your hands, signing back with a gentle, playful tilt of your head "You practiced a lot, didn't you?"

Sunghoon’s lips twitched into a sheepish smile. He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks dusting with a faint pink hue as he picked up his pen and quickly wrote in the notebook

Sunoo made me practice for two hours straight before I came over. He threatened to fight me if I messed up the signs.

You let out a soft, airy giggle, shaking your head. You reached over the table, your fingertips lightly resting on his wrapped knuckles—the faint fading scar from two months ago still visible underneath.

Sunghoon looked down at your hand, his smile softening into something deeply tender. He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours across the crisp white tablecloth. He didn't let go, even as the waiter discreetly brought over a selection of quiet, elegant dishes and poured water into your glasses.

Throughout the meal, conversation flowed with a seamless rhythm that felt completely unique to the two of you. Sunghoon used his newly learned signs for simple thoughts, switching to fast, fluid typing on his phone when he wanted to tell you longer stories about his figure skating training or how much trouble he used to get into with his teammates. In return, you typed back, teaching him new signs along the way. Every time he picked up a new gesture, his face lit up with that quiet, rare pride he only ever showed around you.

As dessert was cleared away, the restaurant settled into a deep, peaceful quiet.

Sunghoon gently squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to his face. He sat up a little straighter, taking a slow, steadying breath. Slowly, carefully, he raised his free hand and began to sign, his movements deliberate, precise, and filled with an undeniable sincerity

“I used to think the world was too loud,” he signed, his gaze locked entirely on yours. “But with you... it’s quiet. And I like it.”

He paused, resting his hand over his heart before completing the phrase

“I really like you, Sunha.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the gentle weight of his words hanging in the warm air between you. You squeezed his hand tight, leaning forward over the table, and signed back with a soft, radiant smile

“I really like you too, Sunghoon.”

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

"You better treat my sister well sunghoon or I swear I will end you" Sunoo signs and says as you two enter the campus hand in hand.

Sunghoon didn't even flinch. Without breaking his stride or letting go of your hand, he slowed his pace just enough to look Sunoo dead in the eye as the three of you crossed the front courtyard.

Instead of his usual stoic silence, Sunghoon squeezed your hand a little tighter, brought his free hand up, and clearly signed directly to Sunoo in front of half the incoming morning crowd.

“I will.”

Sunoo stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he stared at Sunghoon in absolute shock. The fact that Sunghoon had just used sign language—publicly, confidently, and without an ounce of hesitation—to answer him left Sunoo completely speechless for the first time in his life.

A subtle, victorious smirk touched the corner of Sunghoon's lips. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening instantly as the morning sunlight caught his dark hair.

He lifted his hand again, signing to you with a smooth, effortless rhythm.

“Ready for physics?”

You couldn't help the bright, breathless laugh that escaped you, glancing back at your brother, who was still standing near the fountain, shaking his head with a reluctant, exasperated smile. You turned back to Sunghoon, squeezing his hand tight, and signed back:

“Always.”

As you two walked through the double doors together, ignoring the whispers and shocked stares of the surrounding students, Sunghoon leaned down slightly, resting his forehead briefly against yours with a quiet, contented sigh—making it clear to the entire school that he wasn't hiding a single thing anymore.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The autumn air had grown crisp as dusk settled over the park near your house. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of lavender and pale pink.

Sunghoon was sitting beside you on a wooden bench tucked away under a large oak tree, far from the main path. Your hands were resting between you, fingers loosely intertwined. His thumb traced gentle, rhythmic circles over the back of your hand, a quiet habit he had developed over the past few weeks.

You looked up at him, catching the way the warm twilight softened the sharp angles of his face. Sensing your gaze, Sunghoon turned to look at you, his dark eyes instantly reflecting that familiar, quiet tenderness.

He carefully let go of your hand and raised both of his, taking his time to sign with painstaking neatness

“Cold?”

You smiled, shaking your head, and signed back "No. It's nice."

Sunghoon looked at you for a long moment, the cool breeze blowing a few strands of dark hair across his forehead. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, typing something quickly before turning the screen toward you

Can I tell you something? But you can't laugh.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes as you nodded.

He slid the phone back into his pocket, took a slow, steadying breath, and raised his hands again. His movements were slightly hesitant, his cheeks dusting with a faint pink that had nothing to do with the chilly weather.

He signed slowly, pausing between each word to make sure he didn't mess up

“I... practiced... how to... ask...”

He stopped, biting his lower lip, looking adorably flustered as he lost the sign for the next word. He let out a soft, self-effacing sigh, shaking his head at himself.

Before he could reach for his phone again, you gently reached out and cupped his cheek with your warm hand.

Sunghoon froze completely. His dark eyes widened slightly, his breath catching in his throat as your thumb lightly brushed over his cheekbone. The usual confident, protective guy who faced down whole groups of jocks suddenly looked entirely helpless under your touch.

You brought your other hand up, signing one simple, clear question right in front of his face

“Can I kiss you?”

Sunghoon’s jaw dropped just a fraction, a silent, breathless gasp escaping him. He didn't use sign language. He didn't reach for his phone or notebook.

Instead, he leaned forward, his hand coming up to gently rest against the back of your neck, his fingers tangling softly in your hair. He closed his eyes and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, sweet, and unbelievably tender kiss.

It was soft and hesitant at first, as if he were holding back all the intensity he carried inside, afraid to startle you. But as you leaned into him, his grip on the back of your neck tightened just enough to pull you closer, deepening the kiss into something warm, deep, and breathless.

The quiet around you seemed to expand, the rustle of autumn leaves and the cool breeze fading into complete insignificance.

When he finally pulled back, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath fluttering warm against your lips. His eyes fluttered open, dark and shining as he looked down at you, a soft, breathtaking smile gracing his features.

He lifted one hand between your faces, his index and middle fingers tracing a light, gentle sign right against your cheek.

“Perfect.”

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

Four years passed like a quiet, beautiful dream.

Graduation came and went, leading into university life where the initial whispers and stares faded into distant memories. Sunghoon’s stoic reputation had long since dissolved, replaced by the constant, undeniable presence of a guy who simply adored you. He spent every free hour studying, figure skating, and sitting beside you in quiet library corners, his hands constantly moving in the silent, fluid language he had made entirely his own.

On a cool, golden autumn evening, Sunghoon took you back to the exact same bench under the large oak tree in the park.

The air was crisp, leaves fluttering down around you just like they had four years ago. Sunoo was "discreetly" hiding behind a nearby gazebo with a camera—a deal Sunghoon had arranged weeks in advance after nearly undergoing another brotherly interrogation.

Sunghoon turned to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He looked stunning, dressed in a sharp tailored suit, his dark eyes brimming with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

Slowly, deliberately, he let go of your hands and raised his own. He didn't rush. His hands moved with effortless, breathtaking grace, executing every sign with perfect clarity and profound emotion

“Four years ago, you taught me that the world didn't need to be loud to be beautiful,” he signed, his gaze locked entirely onto yours. “You gave me a quiet place where I could just be myself. I want to build that quiet, beautiful life with you forever.”

Sunghoon dropped to one knee on the bed of fallen leaves. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate platinum ring that caught the soft lavender twilight.

He didn't look down at the ring. His eyes stayed fixed on your tear-filled eyes as he raised his left hand, signing one final, sacred question with complete, unwavering confidence

“Will you marry me?”

A breathless, joyful laugh escaped your lips as tears spilled down your cheeks. You dropped down to your knees right in front of him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close.

Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief and pure happiness. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin tenderly before pulling back just enough to capture your lips in a deep, sweet, and lingering kiss.

Behind the gazebo, a distinct click-click-click of a camera shutter echoed through the trees, followed by Sunoo giving a quiet, proud thumbs-up.

When Sunghoon pulled away, his broad smile was the brightest you had ever seen. He gently slid the ring onto your finger, kissed the back of your hand, and held you tight against his chest as the sun dipped beneath the horizon—knowing that whatever the future brought, your world together would always be perfectly, beautifully understood.

You felt him before you saw him. That was the thing about Jay - he didn’t walk into a room so much as claim it, and the air always felt different before he did.

“You came alone.” His voice slid in low near your ear, close enough that you felt it more than heard it over the music.

“I came with friends,” you said, not turning around yet, though every nerve in your body vibrated as they tuned to him.

“Mm.” A pause, unhurried, the kind of pause that meant he already knew the answer didn’t matter. “Doesn’t look like you’re with them now.”

You turned then. Up close he was worse… better… than the pictures ever managed. Dark hair damp at the temples like he’d just showered and hadn’t bothered to fix it, because why would he, when it worked exactly as it was. Silver rings caught the light as he reached past you, not touching, just resting his hand on the bar at your hip so you were boxed in without him ever laying a finger on you.

It was clear that people could recognize him, but it didn’t matter. He had his eyes on the prize, and couldn’t care less about having an audience.

“People are staring,” you peeped.

“Let them”

Your eye contact darts between his irises as you try to pretend absolutely nothing is out of the ordinary about this interaction.

His hand moved from the bar, finally, fingers grazing your wrist so lightly it might have been an accident, except nothing about Jay was an accident.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said.

You told yourself one drink was harmless. You told yourself that again after the second, when his knee found yours under the bar and neither of you moved away, and after the third, when the room had gone soft and golden at the edges and his hand had settled at the small of your back like it had always belonged there.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he suggests, no force in his tone.

You allowed him to take you to his house, falling in and out of drunk dream thinking about maybe having sex with the most sought out man in the city.

He guides you to the door as you text your friends your whereabouts, making sure they don’t worry.

As soon as the front door closed, clothes started coming off. He lead you to the bedroom without separating your lips.

Soon, your man’s biggest fear came true as his late night call to you went unanswered, and there was clearly no chance of you and Jay stopping anytime soon.

“hey,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “we can stop whenever. you know that, right? nothing happens unless you want it to.”

you nod, cheeks already burning. “i want to. i just… i’ve never done anything like this before.”

jake’s expression softens even more. he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your lips again.

“i know, baby. that’s why we’re going slow. i’m gonna take care of you.” he shifts so he’s lying beside you instead of over you, giving you space while still staying close. “can i take this off?” he asks, fingers lightly tugging at your shirt.

you swallow and lift your arms. he undresses you carefully, like you’re something precious, pausing after every piece to check your face. when you’re finally bare in front of him, you instinctively try to cover yourself. jake gently catches your wrists and kisses each one.

“don’t hide. you’re so pretty it makes me a little stupid, you know that?” his voice is low and honest. “look at you. soft everywhere. perfect.”

the praise makes your stomach flip. he notices the way your breath hitches and smiles, small and private.

he starts with your neck. slow open-mouthed kisses that travel down to your collarbones, then lower. when he reaches your breasts he takes his time, licking and sucking gently, learning what makes you squirm. every little reaction earns more soft words.

“that’s it… just like that. you’re doing so well for me already.”

by the time he settles between your legs, your heart is hammering so hard you can feel it in your throat. jake notices. he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and looks up at you through his lashes.

“still okay?”

“yeah,” you whisper. “just nervous.”

“i know. i’ve got you.” he nuzzles against your inner thigh, breathing you in. “i’m gonna go really slow. if anything feels weird or too much, you tell me right away. i’ll stop. no questions.”

you nod again. jake smiles against your skin, then gently coaxes your thighs further apart. the first brush of his tongue against you is so light you almost think you imagined it. a soft, warm drag through your folds that makes your hips twitch in surprise.

“easy,” he soothes, hands settling on your thighs to keep you open. “just feeling you. you taste so good already, baby.”

he licks you again, still barely there, getting you used to the sensation. every pass of his tongue is deliberate and gentle. when he finally circles your clit for the first time, your whole body jolts. a tiny, broken sound leaves your mouth.

jake groans softly like the sound itself is a gift. “there she is. that’s my girl. feels nice?”

“y-yes…”

“good. i’m gonna keep going right here, okay? nice and slow.”

he keeps his word. his tongue works over your clit in soft, steady strokes, never too fast, never too much pressure. every time your thighs try to close he rubs soothing circles into them and murmurs more praise.

“you’re doing perfect. just breathe and feel it. let me make you feel good.”

when he sucks gently, your back arches off the bed. jake hums in approval, the vibration making your toes curl. one of his hands leaves your thigh so he can lace his fingers through yours, giving you something to hold onto.

“that’s it, squeeze my hand if you need to. you’re so sensitive… so sweet. i could stay down here for hours.”

you’re trembling now, overwhelmed in the best way. the wet sounds of his mouth on you feel filthy and intimate at the same time. jake notices when your breathing starts to pick up and eases back just a little, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs until you settle again.

“still with me?”

“mhmm.”

“can i use my fingers too? just one. i’ll go slow.”

you hesitate only a second before nodding. jake rewards you with another soft kiss right over your clit, then carefully slides a single finger inside you. the stretch is new but not painful — just full, strange and a bit warm. he keeps his mouth gentle on your clit while he works the finger in and out, curling it slightly to find the spot that makes your breath stutter.

“oh— jake—”

“i know, baby. i know. you’re taking it so well. look at you… letting me touch you like this for the first time. so brave. so good for me.”

the combination of his tongue and that careful finger slowly builds something tight and glowing low in your stomach. jake talks you through every second of it.

“you’re getting close, aren’t you? i can feel you clenching around my finger. it’s okay. you can let go. i want you to come on my tongue, sweetheart. wanna feel it.”

your free hand flies to his hair. he doesn’t stop you. he just keeps the same steady rhythm, soft suction on your clit, finger stroking that perfect spot inside you, voice low and encouraging the whole time.

“that’s my girl… come on. let me have it. you’re safe. i’ve got you.”

the orgasm rolls through you in strong, shocking waves. you cry out softly, thighs trembling around his head, hand tightening in his hair. jake moans against you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted and works you through it with the same gentleness, only slowing when you start to twitch from sensitivity.

he presses one last lingering kiss to your clit before moving up your body, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. his eyes are dark and soft all at once when he looks at you.

“you did so well,” he whispers, brushing damp hair away from your face. “so beautiful when you come. i’m so proud of you.”

you’re still trying to catch your breath, eyes shiny, body loose and warm. jake gathers you into his arms and pulls the blanket over both of you, tucking you against his chest. one hand strokes up and down your back while he presses kisses to your temple.

“how do you feel?” he asks quietly.

“…good,” you manage. “really good. a little shy still.”

jake smiles into your hair. “that’s okay, baby. shy is cute on you.” he tips your chin up and kisses you soft and slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “thank you for trusting me with that. with you.”

you bury your face against his neck, smiling despite the embarrassment. jake just holds you tighter, still murmuring quiet praise against your skin, still gentle, still perfectly patient.

for your first time, you decide, you couldn’t have asked for anyone better.

© jongst4r, 2026

You have been waiting for this moment for months, even years. You are finally moving out. It is because of college, but still, it is a new beginning far from home — a brand-new chapter in your own space. A mix of excitement and nervousness settles in your chest, because living alone requires a lot of responsibility, and you are not sure if you are ready to handle it all.

For the past five minutes, you have been staring at the mountain of boxes crammed into the trunk and backseat of your car like a game of Tetris. You are wondering how you are going to carry so many boxes up to the third floor where your apartment is. With a deep breath, you finally grab one of the boxes, and immediately stagger under its weight.

"Maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience" reads the sign taped to the elevator doors.

Drops of sweat form on your temples, down the back of your neck, and pool on your spine, making your shirt stick to your skin. Of course it would be hot as hell on the day of your move, and of course the elevator wouldn't be working — talk about lucky.

You take another deep breath, hug the box against your chest, and begin climbing the stairs slowly, careful not to lose your balance.

Your arms are trembling and your breathing is almost as heavy as the box by the time you finally reach the first floor, forcing you to set it down for a moment to rest. But just as you pick it up again, mentally preparing for the next flight of stairs, the sound of footsteps coming down from above catches you off guard.

A man is coming down the stairs. He’s tall, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. His jaw is sharp — probably sharper than any knife you’ve ever seen. He looks so put-together that you suddenly feel embarrassed by your sweaty face and disheveled state.

Seeing you, he stops immediately, his eyebrows furrowing with mild concern. "Whoa. Let me help you with that." His voice is low and smooth, the kind of voice that sends a shiver down your spine before you can stop it.

You blush, heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. "Oh, you don’t have to. I can manage—"

"I insist," he replies gently, waiting with his hands hovering, giving you the choice. You let him take the box, and the relief is immediate — your arms practically sing in gratitude. He lifts it as if it weighs nothing, cradling it against his chest with just one arm — the same box you were struggling to carry with both. "I’m Jay, by the way."

You quickly wipe the sweat from your forehead and try to fix your hair because you want to look at least a little presentable for the incredibly good-looking man helping you. "Thank you so much. I’m y/n. I’m moving in today, to apartment 3B."

Jay’s expression softens, and a warm smile spreads across his face. "3B? That’s interesting. I live right next door, in 3A." He nods toward the stairs. "Looks like we’re neighbors." He gestures ahead. "After you."

You both climb the remaining stairs together and your heart still pounding. You can’t tell if it’s from the physical effort earlier or from his company. Because of the nerves, the words start tumbling out before you can stop them.

"I’m starting college this week. I got accepted and everything, and I was so excited when I found this apartment. It’s the first time I’ve ever lived away from home, so I’m really thrilled… but also kind of terrified? Like, what if I get lost on campus? What if my classes are way harder than I expected? I brought way too much stuff, I’m kind of attached to my things, you know?" You let out a breathless laugh. "Sorry, I’m probably talking too much. I get really chatty when I’m nervous."

Jay glances at you as you walk, the box still balanced effortlessly in his arms. He doesn’t look annoyed — in fact, he seems amused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You’re not talking too much. It’s a big change, but you’re doing great."

You bite your lower lip, watching him as you climb. There is something intriguing about him that sparks your curiosity. "And you? Are you a student too, or…?"

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, I’ve already graduated. I work at a company downtown." He says it casually, offering no further details — which only makes you even more curious.

You reach the landing of the second floor and have to stop to catch your breath, while Jay doesn’t even seem slightly winded — it’s honestly impressive. "My parents helped me pack my bags, but they’re hours away now. It’s exciting, though. New city, new people. I just hope I don’t ruin everything."

"You won’t," Jay says gently. "Everyone feels like that at the beginning. The nervousness is normal. Besides, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. You’ll find your rhythm." He sets the box down carefully in front of your door. "Ready for another round?"

The words hit you like a spark. "Ready for another round." And before you can help it, your mind immediately drifts, imagining Jay on top of you, his strong body pressing you into the mattress, that same low voice murmuring the question against your neck while his hands pinned your wrists above your head. Heat flooded your face and settled lower in your belly.

You quickly shake your head, trying to push the thought away, desperately hoping your blush isn't too obvious. "Yes, let's do it."

He carries the rest of the boxes for you, going up and down the stairs multiple times. Meanwhile, you keep rambling nonstop about what you are studying, where you are from, and how you are feeling about this new phase of your life. He listens as if he genuinely cares, and even though you can’t quite place the age difference between you two, you feel surprisingly comfortable with him.

When the last box finally makes it through the door, you stand in the hallway with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Jay. Honestly. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

"Glad I could help. Moving is a big step. If you need anything else, I’m right next door." With that, he returns to his own apartment, leaving you surrounded by a sea of boxes that will clearly take hours to unpack.

A few days pass. You unpack — not everything, just the most important things. Your first classes are overwhelming. You get lost twice, accidentally walk into the wrong lecture hall, and sit through an entire lecture on quantum physics before realizing your mistake. But as embarrassing as it was, that mistake ended up leading you to a guy named Jake, who turned out to be incredibly nice and cute.

Now you are standing outside Jay’s door with a plate of cupcakes in your hands, ready to properly thank him for helping you with the move. The thing is, you can’t really bake; you tried making the cupcakes yourself but ended up burning the batch, so you had to go to the bakery on the corner to buy a box of them instead. They look a bit too professional, but since he doesn't know about your complete lack of kitchen skills, you're confident he won't suspect a thing — especially since you took them out of the box and arranged them nicely on a plate just to be extra safe.

You knock on his door, your heart pounding hard in your chest. He opens it a moment later, and his face lights up when he sees you. "Hey, neighbor," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "How are classes going?"

"Good," you reply, pushing the plate forward with a little too much force. "Great, actually. I only got lost twice today, which is an improvement." Your smile widens. "I brought these for you. For helping me with the move. I made them myself."

He looks at the cupcakes, then back at you, this time raising an eyebrow. "You made these?"

"Yes," you say, nodding firmly with your chin held high, trying to look confident. "From scratch. All by myself. I’m pretty good at baking."

He picks up one of the cupcakes and examines it, narrowing his eyes as he brings it closer to his face. You feel your determination starting to crumble.

"Really?" he asks with a smile, clearly testing how long you will keep up the lie. "From scratch?"

You hold his gaze for three whole seconds before you look away in embarrassment. Your shoulders drop and your face turns as red as a tomato. "Okay, fine. I bought them at the bakery on the corner. I took them out of the box so you would think I’m a functional adult who knows how to bake." You laugh at yourself. "I tried making them the other day, Jay. I set off the smoke alarm. I’m a danger to this entire building."

He throws his head back and laughs — not mocking you, but with a genuine, warm laugh that makes you feel less embarrassed about pretending you had baked the cupcakes. "Oh my God, you actually burned them?"

"I once burned noodles. I’m a total disaster in the kitchen."

He steps aside, still smiling, and gestures for you to come in. "Alright, come in. I’ll split one of these ‘homemade’ cupcakes with you. It’s the least I can do for someone who put so much effort into the task."

Your mom’s voice whispers in the back of your mind: "Don’t talk to strangers and definitely don’t go into their apartments, sweetheart." But is he really a stranger? He is your neighbor who carried all your boxes without complaining, and the way he stands there holding the plate of cupcakes with that smile makes you not hesitate at all.

You follow him inside. He leads you to the kitchen, grabs two small plates, and carefully unwraps a vanilla cupcake, splitting it in half before sliding one piece toward you.

"Have a seat," he says, pointing to the stool by the kitchen island.

"So, you mentioned you work downtown? What exactly do you do?" you ask as you sit down.

"I’m a lawyer," he replies, taking a bite of his half and nodding in approval. "Good choice of bakery, by the way."

You laugh, biting into yours. "A lawyer. That makes a lot of sense. You have this… I don’t know how to say it without sounding weird, but you have this organized vibe. Like you’re really good at arguing without even raising your voice."

His smile widens. "People have definitely told me that before that I have a ‘courtroom voice.’ It’s just my normal voice, only lower and slower. People tend to listen when you don’t yell."

"You’ll have to show me someday. If I ever get in legal trouble, I’ll know exactly who to call."

"Please don’t get in legal trouble. But if you do, I’m your guy."

The conversation flows just as easily as it did on moving day, and before you know it, you’re venting about your annoying professor, how massive the campus is, and all the times you’ve already managed to get lost. Between all the talking, the cupcakes completely disappear, leaving the coffee he made to sit cold and barely touched in your mug. There’s just something about him that instantly puts you at ease.

Despite the age gap, he never talks down to you or makes you feel small, which makes talking to him completely effortless. It’s just so comforting to have someone around who listens to you with that much care and attention — especially when he happens to be incredibly good-looking, leaving you totally hooked since the very first day.

As he walks you to the door when you finally get up to leave, he snatches a pen and a post-it note to scribble something down. Before you know it, he’s pressing the paper into your palm, his fingers brushing lightly against yours and sending a sudden warmth to your cheeks as he says, "Here’s my number, in case you ever need anything."

"Thank you," you say, smiling a little too wide.

He nods. "Anytime. Seriously. Don’t be a stranger."

────────

The grocery bags dig painfully into your fingers as you stand in the lobby, staring at the elevator doors that are still under maintenance. You look at them as if a miracle might happen — maybe if you stare for one more second, God will take pity and finally fix it. Nothing happens, of course, which makes you let out a long sigh of frustration. It has been days since you moved in and the elevator is still not working.

Your arms already hurt from carrying way too many bags. You definitely should have made two trips, but stubbornness won.

Reaching the second floor is pure torture; your arms are burning, those plastic handles are digging right into your palms, and the bags keep swinging awkwardly against your legs. Trying to stop and adjust your grip only makes things worse, to the point where you're seriously considering just sitting right there on the stairs and crying.

You finally collapse against the wall at the third-floor landing, letting the bags slide to the floor just to catch your breath. Right then, the door to 3A clicks open and Jay steps out — perfectly dressed for work with that annoyingly handsome lawyer look that instantly makes your stomach do a little flip.

He sees you immediately. For a second, his eyes take in the whole scene — your flushed face, the many overloaded bags, and the way you are leaning against the wall breathing heavily. A light, amused laugh escapes him. It is not mocking, just genuinely entertained, as if he expected nothing less from you.

"Carrying heavy stuff again?" he asks, walking toward you. "You really don’t learn, do you?"

Before you can even open your mouth to protest, he is already reaching for the bags, picking them all up at once as if they weigh absolutely nothing. His strong arms support the weight so effortlessly that his biceps press against the fabric of his dress shirt, making it completely impossible for you not to stare.

He turns and walks toward your door, carrying everything like it is nothing.

At your doorstep, Jay sets all the bags down carefully against the wall and turns to face you. His expression is calm, almost unreadable, but there is something more in it. You understand it the moment he starts speaking in a gently scolding tone. "You really shouldn’t carry so much at once," he says, crossing his arms. "It’s not safe and it’s clearly too heavy for you. Make two or three trips next time. Look at your hands, they’re all red. You were hurting yourself. Why? Because you’re way too stubborn, huh?"

You glance down at your palms, and they are red where the plastic handles dug in. "I was fine," you say, though even you do not believe it. "I almost made it."

"Don’t be stubborn."

"You sound exactly like my dad," you reply, crossing your arms to mimic him. "He’s always telling me I’m too stubborn for my own good."

Jay’s lips curve into a small smile. "Because you really are," he says with so much certainty that you cannot even argue back. "I’m serious. Next time, make multiple trips or just text me. I’d rather help than watch you struggle like that."

There is a protective tone in his voice that makes your cheeks warm with a mix of embarrassment and something else stirring low in your stomach. He is lecturing you like a child, but somehow it sounds kind of hot coming from him.

Then he glances at the grocery bags again. Now that the scolding is over, he seems to actually pay attention to what is inside them. He picks one up and looks inside — it is full of frozen meals, instant noodles, ultra-processed food, and canned goods. "Look, I know you’re in college now, but that doesn’t mean you have to live on processed food. It’s quick, sure, but you need real fresh stuff, not just things that come out of a can. Eating like this long-term isn’t good for you. You could get sick."

You blink, caught off guard by the extra lecture. He is fully in dad-mode now, and there is something strangely attractive about how seriously he takes it, like he is genuinely worried about you. "Okay, okay. I get it… I already told you I’m a disaster in the kitchen, so I just grabbed whatever is easiest so I don’t starve."

Jay’s expression softens a little. "I’m not trying to scold you. I just know how easy it is to fall into bad habits when you’re living on your own for the first time." He pauses and adds in a gentler voice, "If you ever need help in the kitchen, you know where to find me. I’m not exactly a chef, but I know how to make real meals."

Your mind wanders again because you can’t help it — you picture him in your kitchen, standing right behind you while teaching you how to cook, his hands guiding yours, the warmth of his body against your back…

"I’ll try to do better, I swear. Thanks for helping again. I think I owe you something now. How about brownies as a thank you this time?"

Jay shakes his head, chuckling softly. "You don’t owe me anything. Just be more careful next time." He glances at the heavy bags one more time. "Need help carrying these inside?"

You shake your head quickly. "I can handle it from here. I bet you’re busy, you look like you’re heading to work."

He checks the watch on his wrist. "Yeah, I have a meeting soon, but the offer stands anytime." Before turning to leave, he gives you one last firm look. "Take care of yourself."

After he leaves, you drag the bags inside, one half first and then the other, just like Jay suggested.

That night, you are sprawled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you open your contacts. You saved Jay’s number, of course, but you have been telling yourself you don’t need to text him. It is an emergency-only number, but then you think about him carrying your groceries, the effortless way he took them from you, and the gentle scolding in his voice. Before you can overthink it, you are already typing a message to him.

────────

It is already past midnight and you have been staring at the same page of your textbook long enough for your vision to blur. Your brain has officially given up — it is impossible to absorb a single word more after hours of studying.

You are about to slam the book shut to take out your stress on it and drag yourself to bed when a soft knock sounds at the door. Your heart jumps slightly because you were not expecting anyone, especially not at this hour.

Another knock.

You get up slowly, stretching your sore muscles, and walk to the door. When you open it, Jay is standing there, looking different tonight without his formal work clothes and lawyer posture. He is wearing a simple white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and is barefoot. He looks relaxed, holding a bottle of red wine — as if he made the sudden decision to knock on your door and came straight over without even putting shoes on.

"Hey," he says, his low voice making your stomach flip. His eyes scan over you, taking in your tired face, messy hair, and pajamas. Something in his expression softens.

"Hey," you reply softly, matching his tone.

"Hey," he repeats, then laughs when he realizes what he just did.

"Hey," you answer again, this time with a small smile. "You already said that."

"I know." He laughs again, shaking his head. "I just… it’s late."

"Very late."

"I know." He lifts the bottle slightly. "I bought this earlier today but… it’s no fun drinking alone."

You look at the wine, then back at him. The way he is standing there — messy hair, ridiculously handsome, and a little too soft — makes going back to bed suddenly seem like a very stupid choice. "Are you inviting me to drink with you?"

"I’m asking if you want to take a break. From everything."

The way he looks at you with those inviting eyes makes the decision easy, but you decide to tease him first. "I don’t usually drink with strangers."

"We’re not strangers," he says, his voice soft. Your teasing does not seem to faze him.

"We’re not exactly friends either," you reply, tilting your head and studying his reaction.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, almost lazy smile. "Then let’s change that."

You pretend to consider it for a moment, even though you were already fully committed the second you saw him at your door. "Mmm, okay. But let’s do it at your apartment. Mine is a mess."

His smile widens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Alright, whatever you want."

You grab your keys and follow him, also barefoot, to the door next to yours. His apartment is clean and organized as always, which makes the space feel strangely comforting. In the kitchen, he pours two glasses of wine and hands you one, his fingers brushing against yours for half a second and sending a spark through your body.

"Cheers," he says, raising his glass.

"Cheers," you repeat, gently clinking your glass against his.

You take a sip and let out a small, involuntary hum of appreciation — it is much better than you expected, probably the most expensive wine you have ever tasted. He gestures toward the living room. "Come on, let’s sit," he says, leading the way to the couch. You follow and settle onto his couch, trying to look more relaxed than you actually feel.

"This is nice," you say, taking another sip.

He sits on the other end of the couch — close enough to talk comfortably, but far enough to be polite. "It’s just wine." He takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his glass.

"I mean relaxing… not thinking about classes for the first time."

He nods, understanding. "You think about classes a lot."

"It’s pretty much my entire life right now," you admit with an awkward little laugh, taking another sip.

"I remember going through that too. Everything revolving around exams, assignments, and exhausting responsibilities."

You tilt your head, studying him. "You make it sound like ancient history."

"Sometimes it feels like it." He takes a sip, not breaking eye contact. "I still remember when I was in college. I used to think a bad grade would ruin everything." A dry laugh escapes him as he shakes his head. "There’s so much pressure."

Suddenly you find yourself wanting to know more about him, drawn by the experienced tone in his voice and posture. The wine is already loosening your tongue, so you ask. "How old are you, anyway?"

A small, playful smile appears on his lips. "I’m old enough."

You narrow your eyes, trying to hold back a smile. "That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one you’re getting." He takes another sip.

"That’s annoying," you say, leaning forward slightly and resting your elbows on your knees.

"Maybe I am annoying." He shrugs, but there is a sparkle in his eyes that tells you he is enjoying this.

"You’re avoiding the question," you accuse, pointing a finger at him.

"I’m protecting my privacy."

"From what? Your neighbor?" You laugh, raising an eyebrow.

"Especially from my neighbor."

You pout, pretending to be hurt. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

"Everyone has secrets," he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone.

"I don’t." You are not even sure why you say it. Maybe it is the wine, or the way he is looking at you right now.

"Everyone does." He holds his ground. "You have secrets too."

Your pulse quickens. "I don’t."

"Yes, you do."

You swallow hard. The air between you feels thicker now, charged with something you can’t quite name. You shift slightly on the sofa and notice how easy it would be to reach out and touch him. "So you have a lot of secrets, huh?" you ask, curious.

"Yes. Quite a few."

"Like what?" you press, wanting to see what he will give you.

"If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore." His lips curve into a slow, almost predatory smile.

"Touché." You raise your glass in an ironic toast, making him laugh.

A comfortable but heavy silence settles between you for a moment, thick with tension as you exchange glances and take slow sips. The wine is definitely doing its job — making your words come out slower, your laughter easier, and your body warmer.

"How old are you?" he asks, breaking the silence.

You blink, caught off guard. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You asked me, so I’m asking you back."

You smile, deciding to play his game. "I’m old enough."

A low, surprised laugh escapes him — rich and genuine. "That’s my line."

"I know." You take another sip to hide your smile.

"You stole my line."

You just shrug. "I borrowed it."

"That’s not how borrowing works."

"Yes, it is."

He laughs again. "You’re impossible."

"Am I? What else?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

"You’re something," he says, his voice dropping again.

"What?" You are not sure what he means by that.

"I don’t know yet." He keeps his eyes fixed on you. "But I’m figuring it out."

You feel your cheeks heat up and take another sip of wine to try to hide your reaction. Jay, however, keeps watching you, and you can tell he noticed.

"You know what I’ve noticed?" By now your voice is a little slurred, so you have to be careful with the words that come out of your mouth.

"What?" His wine glass is almost empty. He sets it on the coffee table and turns all of his attention to you.

You lean back on the couch, turning to face him more directly. Your knee brushes against his thigh, but neither of you pulls away. "You don’t talk much about yourself."

He tilts his head, frowning slightly. "Don’t I?"

"No. You listen, but you don’t share. Like, you’re dodging right now. You give answers, but you don’t really answer."

"Well, I’m trying to protect myself," he says simply.

"Protect yourself from what?" You lean forward, genuinely curious now.

"From getting too attached." The words are honest, and you definitely were not expecting them.

You stare at him, your hand frozen halfway to taking another sip. "From what?"

"To you." His voice is almost a whisper, making your pulse race and your skin flush.

"Why would you get too attached to me?"

He stays silent for a moment, his eyes tracing over you as if he wants to memorize every detail. "Because it’s easy to get attached to you."

"No, it's not," you say, shaking your head as a small, incredulous laugh escapes you.

"It is." His voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. "You just don’t see it."

You look away, feeling your entire body grow warmer. "You’re dodging again."

"I’m being honest." He leans forward slightly, and you can smell him now — a masculine scent mixed with the light sweetness of the wine.

You set your glass on the coffee table and turn to face him completely, the wine making you bolder. "You’re giving me half-answers. You’re telling me just enough to make me curious, but not enough."

He stays quiet for a moment, thinking. "What do you want to know?"

You hold his gaze. "Something real. Truly honest."

Silence stretches between you, thick with something heavy and suffocating that you can't quite name. Then he whispers, "I think you’re beautiful."

Your breath catches, and for a second you are not sure you heard him correctly. "That’s not—" you begin, but he interrupts you.

"It’s honest."

"You can’t just say that," your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"I just did." His gaze doesn’t leave yours for even half a second.

"It’s too… direct."

"You asked for it." He says it simply, like it is the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re a tease," you say, not sure if you are complaining or not.

"Wait until you find out what else I am. You want to know me? Then make sure you’re ready."

You do not know what to say or what to do, so you look away, your face burning.

When he finally walks you to your door, you are a little unsteady on your feet. He steadies you with a gentle hand on your waist, and the touch is enough to send shivers through your body. "I’m fine," you murmur, even though you are swaying slightly.

"You’re drunk," he says, smiling at your messy state.

"I’m a little tipsy," you reply, giving him a blurry-eyed look.

"You’re drunk."

"It’s the same thing," you mutter dismissively.

"No, it’s not." He is looking at you with that warm, steady gaze that makes your knees feel weak.

You smile, light and tipsy. "Yes, it is."

At your door, you miss the lock twice. He laughs softly before helping you. "Thank you," you whisper. "For this, for the wine, the company, and everything."

His lips curve into a small, warm smile. "Good night, old enough.:

You smile again — you seem to always be smiling when he is around. "Good night, old man."

You step inside, close the door, and lean against it with your heart racing and your whole body warm from the wine and his words — still smiling like an idiot.

A few minutes later, you are curled up in bed when your phone buzz on the nightstand.

────────

You have been tossing and turning on the mattress for what feels like hours — shifting positions, turning to the other side, but nothing helps. You can’t fall asleep — you mind refuses to stop, racing with thoughts about exams, deadlines, and the weight of all your responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. You need air, you need to feel like you are not suffocating in that apartment, surrounded by boxes you haven't even had the time to unpack yet. There are several unfinished notes on your desk that constantly remind you that you are not doing enough, no matter how hard you try.

So you go up to the rooftop. The cool night air hits your face and lets you breathe again.

The city is an endless sea of lights — countless tiny glowing points in the darkness that remind you how small you really are. You sit on the old bench near the edge of the roof, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them like a shield.

Your thoughts slowly begin to calm as the minutes pass, and the knot in your chest loosens just a little.

Then the door creaks open behind you.

You turn quickly, your body instantly on alert and your heart racing. And there he is — Jay. He is wearing sweatpants and a black shirt, something about this casual, almost domestic look makes your heart skip a beat. He sees you immediately and stops. Surprise flashes across his face for a second before it turns into that familiar half-smile.

"Can’t sleep either?" His voice is low, almost intimate in a way that makes you shiver.

You shake your head. "I have too much on my mind right now…"

He nods as if he completely understands — and he really does. Walking toward you, he stops at a respectful distance before sitting on the bench beside you — close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, but not so close that he invades your personal space. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." You shift over a little even though there is already enough space.

He leans back, looking up at the sky, which is beautiful tonight with a full moon and stars shining brightly. The silence stretches between you. He doesn’t force conversation; he simply sits there observing the sky and the city with you. The silence is not awkward — it is actually comforting, especially when you are with him.

"I can’t sleep," you admit, breaking the silence with words that slip out before you can stop them. "I try, but my brain just won’t stop. Every time I close my eyes, I start thinking about all the things I have to do, all the things I haven’t done, and all the ways I’m probably going to mess everything up."

"What’s on your mind?" His voice is gentle and patient as always, showing that he is ready to listen.

"Everything." You let out a shaky sigh. "College, exams, being away from my family for the first time… It’s a lot. I thought I was ready, that I could handle it. But sometimes it feels like I’m drowning and I don’t know how to swim. Literally."

"I know how that feels," he says after a long moment of silence. His eyes stay fixed on yours, and there is something raw in them — something honest. "I remember feeling exactly like that. Like everything was too much and I was too small to handle it."

"You’re talking about yourself. That’s new," you say softly. "You always ask about me, but you never—"

"You already have enough on your plate," he cuts in gently.

You blink, caught off guard. "What?"

"You’re stressed about college, adjusting to a new city, and far from your family," he keeps his gaze steady on you, his expression sincere. "You don’t need to hear about my problems too."

"That’s not how it works." You shake your head as something warm and confusing blooms in your chest. "We’re supposed to share things. That’s what—" You pause, searching for the right word. "That’s what friends do."

"I don’t want to burden you when you’re already dealing with so much, and I certainly don’t want to make it worse."

You stay quiet for a moment, his words stirring something you cannot quite name — but it feels good. "That’s really… kind," you finally say.

"I try." He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.

The silence settles again, and you sit together quietly for a while longer. Then, out of nowhere, he tilts his head and asks, "How’s your succulent doing?"

You laugh at the unexpected question. "You’re asking about my plant?"

"I remember you mentioned it." He turns toward you — fully turning his body — with a small playful smile on his lips. "I bet you gave it a name."

You shake your head, still smiling. "I haven’t named it yet… but it’s still alive, which is honestly impressive."

"You’re supposed to water it," he says in a gently scolding tone.

"I know." You look away, feeling a little guilty about slowly killing a plant.

"But you forget." There is no judgment in his voice, only warm amusement.

"I forget." You laugh — something you always do when you are with him. "I have a lot on my mind, okay?"

"You’re a plant killer." He smiles, making you grin even wider.

"I’m not a plant killer! I’m just… forgetful. It is surviving, which is more than I can say about myself sometimes."

Something in your words changes his expression. It is still gentle, but now there is a hint of concern. "You’re doing better than you think."

You don’t know what to say, so you just look at him, with the words stuck in your throat.

"Does the succulent at least have company?" he asks after a moment, his voice light as always.

You blink, confused by the sudden question. "What?"

"Other plants, maybe some flowers, something to keep it company. Plants get lonely too."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t think it gets lonely. It’s just a plant, after all."

"All living things have feelings. It definitely feels lonely," he says with so much conviction that you almost believe him.

"That’s not scientifically accurate," you reply, not entirely sure if what you are saying is accurate either.

"I never said it was." He shrugs. "I’m a lawyer. I deal with arguments, not facts."

"They’re the same thing."

"Not at all." He shifts closer to you on the bench, making sure you are listening. "Facts are objective. Arguments are subjective. I make a living turning subjective arguments into something that sounds like objective facts."

"That’s… something. And you’re so weird."

"I’m just concerned about your plant’s loneliness." His voice is incredibly serious, showing that he is taking this very seriously.

"You’re worried about my plant," you say, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, just like I worry about you."

You don’t know what to say again — Jay has a way of leaving you speechless. Your cheeks flush and you look away. "I’ve never received flowers before, anyway…" you say softly, the secret slipping from your lips.

Jay is not sure he heard you correctly. "What did you say?"

Even though you hesitate, you repeat it, louder this time. "I’ve never received flowers." You look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. "I had a boyfriend before, but he was an idiot. He never did anything romantic like giving me flowers or taking me for dates."

He stays silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you while your heart pounds loudly in your ears. He is thinking about something — you can tell by the way his jaw tightens. "Would you want to go on one? With me."

You stop breathing the moment you hear his words and everything around you seems to freeze. "What?"

"A date. A real date where I pick you up, open doors for you, and take you somewhere nice. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. It can just be two people spending time together. Whatever makes you feel comfortable."

Your heart is beating so hard you are sure he can hear it, your mouth is dry, your palms are sweaty, and the words feel stuck in your throat again. Jay is asking you out on a date — a real date. The age gap has been on your mind since the day you met — he is a lawyer and you are still trying to figure out how to live on your own, but every interaction with him feels safe, like he truly sees you.

"Jay, I—" You stop, taking a shaky breath.

"You don’t have to answer right now," he says gently, giving you time to think.

"No, I—" You take another deep breath, and this time the words come out steady. "Yes. Yes, I want that."

His face transforms — a slow, warm smile spreads across his lips and reaches his eyes, making your stomach flip and your heart race just like always.

"Great," he says softly. "I’ll plan something."

A shy laugh escapes you as the reality of it sinks in. "What do you like to do on dates? I’m sure you’ve been on plenty."

He leans forward a little, resting his elbow on his knee. "I want to know what you like. That’s what matters right now, tell me your preferences so I can plan something good for you."

As you think for a moment, you suddenly feel embarrassed by how limited your preferences are. "I’m kind of picky, honestly. I like pasta, I hate anything too spicy, and I don’t like overly sweet desserts. Oh, and I’m not a big fan of seafood unless it’s fried. Is that too much?"

Jay listens attentively, nodding as if he is absorbing every detail. "Not at all. Being picky isn’t a problem, it actually makes it easier to get it right." He pauses, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "You know, for someone who’s a disaster in the kitchen, you have very specific opinions, princess."

The nickname lands softly between you — affectionate and teasing, with a hint of warmth. Your breath catches, your face flushes instantly, and you lower your head to hide the redness in your cheeks and the smile forming on your lips.

"I… You can’t just say that," you murmur, looking at him through your lashes.

"Why not?" He is smiling even more now, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It suits you. You have high standards and you know exactly what you want, even if you pretend you don’t."

You cover your face with both hands for a second, peeking through your fingers. "You’re going to make me regret saying yes."

"Too late," he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. "You already said yes."

You lower your hands and meet his gaze, your heart racing in the best possible way. Jay stands up suddenly and offers you his hand. "Come on, it’s getting late and you have class tomorrow. Let’s get you back inside before you freeze."

You take his hand — which is so much bigger than yours — and let him help you up. He doesn’t let go afterward, his fingers stay intertwined with yours as you walk together toward your floor. The elevator is no longer broken, but you both take the stairs anyway, wanting to prolong the moment a little longer.

Stopping at your door, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand. “I'll text you about the date,” he says softly. "We’ll pick a night that works."

You nod, still feeling a little shy about everything. "Okay… Good night, Jay."

"Good night, princess."

────────

The next day, you are more nervous than you have ever been. Every notification on your phone makes your heart skip a beat, terrified that it is Jay confirming the date. Your stomach is in knots with a mix of panic and hope, even though you want to go on this date, you are still incredibly nervous about it.

Your phone buzzes while you are in the library trying to study. "Friday at seven? I’ll take care of everything. Just be ready for a proper night out."

The words "proper night out" send a shiver through you. He is taking this seriously, treating it as something special, even though he said it didn’t have to be romantic. Still, it means something. Smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt, you text back agreeing.

When Friday finally arrives, the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. In fact, they become even more restless as the time of the date gets closer. Hours before, you start getting ready — taking your time as you choose an outfit that makes you feel confident and beautiful. You spend extra time on your makeup, keeping it natural but enhancing your eyes and lips, making sure everything is perfect.

Exactly at seven, you take the elevator down. Jay had insisted on waiting outside the building instead of knocking on your door. "I want you to have the full experience," he had texted earlier, and the gesture made you smile despite your nerves. The moment you step out onto the sidewalk, you see him leaning against his sleek black car parked at the curb. He looks unfairly handsome in a tailored dark shirt and pants.

For a moment, he simply looks at you — slowly scanning from your face to your dress and back up again as his smile widens. "You look beautiful," he says, taking a step closer. "Really, truly beautiful."

Your cheeks flush quickly and a smile forms on your lips. "Thank you. You look really handsome too."

Before you can say anything else, he reaches inside the car and pulls out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. "I remembered what you said on the rooftop…"

The bouquet is perfect, wrapped so beautifully that it makes your chest tighten. "Jay…" you whisper as you reach out to take the flowers. "They’re beautiful. I don’t even know what to say."

Without thinking, you give him a grateful hug. His arms wrap around you immediately, one hand resting on your lower back while the other gently caresses the nape of your neck. "You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy tonight. That’s all I want."

When you pull away, still smiling widely, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and asks, "Ready to go, princess?"

You nod, holding the flowers like a lifeline. He opens the car door for you, waiting until you are settled before closing it gently. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he looks at you with a playful smile. "Seatbelt, please. Safety first."

You laugh and buckle up. "Such a gentleman."

"Only for you."

The drive starts peacefully, soft music playing in the background as you talk. He asks about your day and teases you lightly when you admit that you spent half of your class daydreaming about tonight and that it took you forever to choose what to wear.

You can’t stop stealing glances at him — the way his hands rest easily on the steering wheel, those large hands with long fingers, and the way he looks at you at red lights as if making sure you are still real.

After a few minutes, you notice the city lights fading and buildings giving way to trees. "Where are we going?" you ask curiously, realizing he has been driving for a while — much farther than you expected. "This is pretty far from our building. Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"

Jay laughs, keeping his eyes on the road. "I’m not going to kill you. I’m just taking you to a place I love, and I think you’ll love it too."

The drive takes about thirty minutes, but when you finally arrive, the restaurant leaves you breathless. You immediately understand why he chose it — it is cozy and elegant, with a stunning view of the city. He reserved a intimate corner table with the perfect view.

He pulls out the chair for you, and as soon as you sit down, he leans in slightly to whisper in your ear, "Relax, okay?"

The dinner unfolds perfectly. You order pasta — creamy, exactly the way you like it — and he chooses a steak dish, offering you a bite from his fork with a raised eyebrow that feels far more intimate than it should. You talk a lot, and he listens as always, head tilted and eyes focused only on you.

You tell him about the friendships you are making in college, about the strange noise your AC is making, and absentmindedly mention the doorman. "He’s nice, I think… but sometimes he looks at me like he knows something I don’t."

Jay’s expression shifts with something unreadable for half a second, but he quickly covers it with a soft chuckle. "He’s probably just in a bad mood. Or maybe he sees how much you’re distracting your poor neighbor."

You laugh. "Poor neighbor? You seem to be handling it pretty well."

His foot brushes against yours under the table. "Barely."

In the middle of the conversation, Jay’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, frowns, and silences it, slipping it into his pocket.

But a few minutes later, it buzzed again. Jay sighs. "I need to take this. It’s probably an emergency with a client. I won’t be long. I’m really sorry."

"Go ahead. I’ll be here judging the dessert menu."

He leans in and gives you a quick kiss on your temple before standing up. "I’ll be right back, princess."

The casual display of affection makes your heart race as you watch him walk away. While he is gone, you take a sip of your wine, observe the people around you, and study the dessert menu.

He returns after about five minutes, sliding back into his seat with an apologetic smile. "All sorted. Where were we?"

When the check arrives, Jay pays without hesitation, even though you offered to split it. Outside, the night air is cold, so he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when he notices you shivering. Then he pulls you closer for a moment, wrapping his arms around you. "Thank you for saying yes," he murmurs against your hair.

You look up at him, smiling. "That was the best decision I’ve made in a long time."

The drive back feels shorter than the trip there, unfortunately — you wish this moment could last forever. Jay keeps one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles that send shivers down your spine. You arrive at the building sooner than you would like, but instead of stopping at the curb, Jay drives into the underground garage.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thank you, Jay. For everything, the flowers, the dinner, the evening… I had a really great time."

He turns to you, that slow smile playing on his lips. "I’m glad, princess."

You reach for the door handle, but his hand moves quickly, wrapping around your wrist and stopping you. Your breath catches at the unexpected contact. "Wait, aren’t you going to thank me properly?"

You blink, confused. "I just did? The hug outside the restaurant and just now."

Jay chuckles, and his gaze shifts into something hungrier. "That was sweet, but I was thinking of something a little more fitting for the end of a perfect night."

Without overthinking it, you lean across the console and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," you whisper again, pulling back to see his reaction.

His smile widens. "Still not enough, princess. Come here."

He cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. The kiss starts soft, his lips meeting yours hesitantly, and you quickly melt into it, which makes him deepen the kiss while still keeping a slow, deliberate pace. His tongue traces your lower lip, and you part for him with a small sigh.

What begins as one kiss turns into many, you lose count as they grow more intense, hungry, and urgent.

Somehow, you end up climbing over the console. His hands guide your hips until you are straddling his lap in the driver’s seat. The space is tight and the steering wheel presses against your back, but you couldn't care less right now. His hands roam along your sides, sliding up your dress until they rest on your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles that make you whimper against his mouth.

You kiss him again and again, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging gently, which draws a low groan from him. That only encourages you — hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you. The friction makes you gasp, and Jay clearly loves the sight — he squeezes your thighs, encouraging your movements.

"God, you’re incredible," he whispers against your mouth between kisses. "So responsive… so perfect."

Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, breathing hard. "You deserve better than this, princess. Our first time shouldn’t be in a car like a couple of impatient teenagers."

You kiss him again, more intensely, nipping at his lower lip. "I don’t care, I want you right here."

He groans, sliding his hand into your hair to pull you into another hungry kiss. "You’re so eager, princess… and so perfect grinding against me like this."

His mouth moves down to your neck, sucking lightly and drawing more whimpers from you. Your movements become restless, rubbing harder, chasing friction. "Jay…" you whisper between kisses. "I need you, please."

His hands find the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up inch by inch with clear appreciation until he discards it onto the passenger seat. "Beautiful," he murmurs reverently as he stares at your tits. "So beautiful." He leans down, pressing hot, wet kisses along the soft skin, then his tongue circles one nipple before sucking it deeply into his mouth.

You arch your back, a moan escaping your lips. He gives the same attention to the other tit, licking, sucking, and grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth while his hand massages and caresses the first. “You taste so good,” he praises, his voice muffled. "These perfect tits in my mouth… you’re already trembling. So sensitive for me."

He kisses lower, along your sternum and ribs, then back up — worshipping every inch of you while you keep grinding against him. Your panties are soaked, and the friction against his hardness only turns you on more.

He waits until you’re trembling in his lap before he finally moves. Reaching between you, he lowers his pants and boxers just enough to free himself, and when he does, your eyes widen. He is big — thick and hard. The sight makes your mouth water and heat pool low in your belly.

Jay reaches into the glove compartment, fumbling for a condom. He tears it open and rolls it down his length with surprising skill while you watch, hypnotized and a little intimidated by his size and thickness. "You’re… really big," you say softly.

Jay notices your nervousness and caresses your cheek, trying to soothe you. "We’ll go slow, princess. I’ve got you. My good girl can take it."

He helps you shift your panties to the side, guiding you as you sink down onto him. The stretch is intense but delicious — you take him inch by inch, breathing deeply as he fills you completely, murmuring praises nonstop. "That’s it, princess… so tight, so good for me… so fucking perfect around me."

You bury your face in his neck as you sink all the way down, taking him completely until your ass is pressed firmly against his lap. "Oh God… you’re so, so big," you moan, still adjusting to the intense stretch.

The age difference flashes through your mind — he is older, more experienced, probably used to women who knew exactly what they were doing. You want to be good for him, so once you feel ready, you start moving — bouncing with almost frantic energy, desperate to please him. Your hips move and grind fast, determined.

"Easy, princess," Jay groans, gripping your hips to slow you down. "Slow… just like that. You feel incredible, but there’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere."

You moan, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "I just… you’ve probably been with so many others who were better at this. I want to make it good for you. I want to be the best—"

He cuts you off with a deep kiss, then pulls back to look into your eyes while still guiding your movements into a slower, deeper rhythm. "Hey, none of that. It’s just you right now, and you’re already the best, baby. Look at how perfectly you take me." He thrusts up gently to emphasize his words, drawing a moan from you. "You’re my princess."

You relax into his words and the rhythm he sets, moving your hips in deep, grinding motions instead of frantic bouncing. It feels even better this way — his thickness brushing against every sensitive spot inside you. "Like this?" you ask breathlessly, your voice shy but needy.

"Just like that," he praises, his voice rough. "So good for me. So wet… so tight. You’re perfect, listen to those pretty sounds you make."

You keep whispering to him the whole time — shy confessions and soft, breathless questions. "You feel so good, Jay… I feel so full. Does it feel good for you? Tell me if you’re enjoying it."

He groans, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass, then returning to your tits so he can lick and suck them while you ride him. "I love it. I love everything you do. The way you squeeze me… the way you say my name. You’re ruining me, princess."

The pleasure builds uncontrollably, intense and overwhelming, leaving both of you sweaty and breathless. He slides a hand between you to your clit, circling it with his thumb in time with your movements. You tremble hard, moaning and gasping, telling him how close you are, how good he feels, and how much you have wanted this since the day you moved in.

When you come, your walls pulse tightly around his thickness and your body shakes as you cry out his name. Jay follows right after, holding you firmly against him as he finishes into the condom with a deep groan, murmuring endless praises. "That’s it, come for me… so beautiful giving yourself to me completely… my perfect girl."

You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. He wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing your temple while his hands gently caress your back. "You okay?" he whispers after a while. "Was it too much?"

"It was perfect," you murmur, nuzzling into his neck. "Better than I imagined. Thank you for slowing me down when I got too excited. I probably embarrassed myself, right?"

He shakes his head lightly and laughs, then he gives you one last kiss on your temple and helps you climb back into the passenger seat, watching as you slip your dress back on. "Don’t forget these," he says, reaching for the bouquet.

You take it with a happy smile. "I wouldn’t dare."

He walks around the car to open your door and intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk toward the elevator. Once inside, he pulls you close and kisses you the entire way up to your floor.

"Your place tonight?" you ask against his lips.

Jay’s hand slides to your lower back, pulling you even closer. "Yes, because I’m not done with you yet. I need you in my bed. The thought of you in my sheets, smelling like me when you wake up… it drives me crazy."

The elevator doors open and he pulls you down the hallway toward his door, unlocking it effortlessly. The moment you are both inside, he takes the flowers from your hand, sets them on the counter, and turns to you with hungry eyes. "Come here," he growls, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. His hands cup your face first, then slide down your body. "Let me take care of you properly this time."

He leads you to the bedroom and there, he undresses you slowly, admiring and kissing every inch of exposed skin. When you are completely naked, he steps back and looks at you with pure admiration and desire. "Fuck, look at you… so perfect. Every curve, every inch… all mine tonight."

He removes his own clothes and guides you onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. His warm palms caress them, spreading you open even more. His mouth is on you immediately, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit before circling the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, savoring you. "Mmm, already so wet," the vibration of his voice makes you gasp. "You taste so sweet, princess. Like you were made for my mouth."

You let out a shaky moan, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. "Jay… that feels incredible. Oh God—"

He slides a finger inside you, curling it against that sweet spot while his mouth continues sucking and licking. The suction around your clit, the rhythm of his finger stroking that perfect spot deep inside — it all turns the pleasure into something deliciously overwhelming. He adds a second finger, then a third, carefully stretching you as he pumps them in and out.

Your hips move against his face as the pleasure intensifies. "Don’t stop… please, Jay, just like that," you moan, your voice breathless and desperate. He eats you out like a starving man — licking, sucking, and thrusting his fingers into you until your thighs shake around his head and you fall apart with a long, loud cry. You clench and pulse around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you.

Jay doesn’t stop right away, he keeps licking and fingering you through it, prolonging every sensation until you are limp and panting. Only then he drags his mouth up your body, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, and up your neck. "You taste like heaven," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could do this all night, make you come on my tongue until you go stupid."

He grabs a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on quickly over his hard, leaking cock. You reach down, wrapping your hand around his thick, hard length — stroking him slowly, feeling the weight, the pulsing heat, tracing the veins with curiosity. "I want it raw, Jay… I need to feel you, please."

He groans deeply, his hips pushing forward into your fist. "Baby… protection first, remember? I’ll still make you feel good even with the latex between us, I promise." After kissing your forehead, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes in inch by inch, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You feel a burning stretch as your walls slowly give way to him, every thick pulsing vein dragging against your sensitive insides. When he’s halfway in, you look down between your bodies and see the clear bulge pressing out against your lower belly.

He notices it right after and quickly slides a hand down to press against the bulge, feeling it move under his palm as he sinks deeper. "Fuck, look at that. You see how deep I am? My cock is rearranging your insides, princess. Stretching this tight pussy so you can see it from the outside."

Your hand joins his, pressing against the visible outline, feeling him move inside you from both the inside and the outside. He teases you mercilessly, thrusting slow and deep so the bulge shifts under your combined touch. "You’re taking me so well, like this pussy was made for my cock. So greedy, swallowing every inch."

He sinks the rest of the way in with a guttural groan, bottoming out completely. "Shit… so tight, so hot. You’re already milking me."

His thick cock fills you so completely that every movement presses against sensitive spots that steal the breath from your lungs. His thrusts start controlled and incredibly gentle instead of brutal force. One hand stays intertwined with yours above your head, while the other caresses your cheek, squeezes your breast, and lightly pinches your nipple before soothing it with his thumb. "You look like pure sin wrapped around me… My beautiful princess, creaming all over my cock, taking every inch like a good girl. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Jay… it feels so good. You’re so deep, I can feel you everywhere." He leans down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his hips move faster in a devastating rhythm that pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

You come hard around him, your walls fluttering and clenching tightly as you cry out. He does not stop, thrusting deep and steady, prolonging your orgasm until you are shaking. "Fuck, that’s it, come on my cock, baby."

Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a long, broken groan of your name as he cums, pulsing inside you. He stays buried deep for long moments afterwards, holding you close and covering your face, neck, and shoulders with soft kisses until both of your breathing steadies.

Eventually, he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and returns from the bathroom with a warm, damp cloth. He cleans you both gently, murmuring more praises the entire time. "You were perfect, princess. So responsive, so beautiful when you come for me." He pulls the sheets over both of you and wraps you in his arms.

Your head rests on Jay’s chest while his fingers trace a lazy path along your spine, down to the curve of your waist. Without a word, you shift, turning onto your side. Jay follows naturally, molding his body against yours from behind in a perfect spoon. His chest presses against your back as he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. You can already feel him half-hard again against the curve of your ass, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.

He nuzzles into the back of your neck, placing soft kisses there. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough in the quiet room.

"More than okay," you whisper back, pressing lightly against him. "I like feeling you close like this."

Jay reaches for another condom from the nightstand. You hear the faint rustle as he puts it on, then his hand returns to your body, tenderly caressing your side and hip. He lifts your top leg slightly, hooking it over his, opening you up for him. The thick head of his cock brushes against your entrance before he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until he is buried completely inside you.

"So good," he whispers against your neck, sliding a hand up to caress your breast. His fingers massage gently, his thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his touch.

He starts moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips, thrusting unhurriedly so you can feel every inch of his thick cock dragging against your walls. While he fucks you, his hand on your breast never stops worshipping it — squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally pinching lightly before soothing it with gentle caresses. And his mouth keeps placing open-mouthed kisses along the back of your neck, back, and shoulder.

You reach behind you, running your fingers through his hair as you move with him. "Jay… deeper like that feels so good."

His thrusts become a little deeper, but still controlled. "You take me so well every single time. Look at how perfectly you fit around me. I could stay inside you forever." His mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark while he continues playing with your breasts — pinching, rolling, and caressing until your nipples are deliciously sore. Only then he slid his hand down to your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. The combination of sensations is overwhelming and pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "You’re so close… I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me again, princess."

And you do. Your walls contract rhythmically around his thickness as you moan his name, your body trembling in his arms. Jay follows right after you, burying his face in your neck with a deep groan as he comes, filling the condom.

You turn your head slightly to capture his lips in a lazy kiss. "I feel so safe with you," you whisper. "And so wanted."

He stays inside you until the aftershocks fade, then carefully pulls out, discards the condom, and cleans you both once again with gentle care. He pulls the sheets up around you both and draws you back into his arms, spooning you again.

Jay’s hand rests tenderly on your stomach, tracing small circles there. You feel deeply in love and completely at peace as you start to drift off to sleep, safe in his arms.

Sunlight is already filtering through the curtains by the time you slowly wake up the next morning —.only to realize the space beside you is empty, even though the warmth of Jay’s body and the faint scent of his cologne still linger around. You stretch and sit up to look around the room, noticing one of his shirts draped over the back of a chair. Slipping it on, you pad barefoot out of the bedroom toward the kitchen, drawn by the rich aroma of coffee and food already filling the air.

Jay is at the stove, flipping eggs while a plate of toast and cut fruit waits for you on the counter. You walk up to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. "Good morning."

He turns off the stove and turns around, settling his hands on your hips. His gaze softens instantly when he sees you wearing his shirt. "Good morning, princess. You look way too good in my clothes."

You laugh softly and tilt your face up, expecting a kiss. He leans in but pauses with a playful look. "Ah, but you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. No good-morning kisses until after breakfast."

You pout and dramatically pull away. "Not even a kiss on the cheek? You’re so cruel."

With a sigh, he gives in — pressing a long kiss to your cheek, then another to your forehead. Before you can say anything, he effortlessly lifts you and sits you on the edge of the kitchen counter, standing between your knees. "There. Now I can look at you properly while I finish this."

As he moves around the kitchen, your eyes wander until they stop on the refrigerator. Something catches your attention — photos are held up by magnets, but one in particular stands out: a Polaroid of Jay smiling with his arm around a woman’s shoulders. You hadn't noticed it on your previous visits to the kitchen — you had been too focused on him. "Who is that?" you ask curiously, nodding toward the fridge. "The woman in the photo with you?"

Jay glances over while sliding a plate toward you. "That’s my sister. We don’t look much alike, I know. We’re actually half-siblings."

You tilt your head, studying the photo for another second. They really do not look very similar, but that is not unusual for half-siblings. "She looks nice," you say lightly, accepting the plate he offers. "Breakfast looks delicious, by the way. You really didn’t have to."

"I wanted to," he replies, stepping between your knees and stealing a quick peck. "After last night, it feels right to take care of you this morning… and maybe every other morning too."

You smile shyly. "Speaking of last night… it was incredible. You made everything feel so good, so right. I keep replaying every part of it in my head."

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "You were perfect, baby. I loved every second of it." He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth. "You’re so beautiful when you let go for me."

"You’re going to make it really hard for me to focus in class today." You take a bite of the toast, savoring it. "Oh, by the way, I’m going out with some new friends from college tonight. They invited me to a party, it’s a chance to get to know each other better outside of class."

Jay nods, resting a hand on your thigh and stroking it lightly. "Sounds fun. Just be careful, okay? Text me when you get there and when you’re heading back."

"I will," you say, stealing another quick kiss from him. "I won’t stay out too late anyway. I have an early class tomorrow."

He picks up a piece of fruit from the plate and brings it to your mouth, brushing his fingers teasingly against your lips. "You deserve to have fun… I’ll be here if you need anything when you get back."

You stumble out of your friend’s car a little after 1 a.m., waving goodbye as you sway on your feet. You make your way toward the building entrance and suddenly remember that you promised to text Jay — which you didn’t. So you call him to let him know you arrived and are heading up. In response, he says he is waiting for you.

When you reach the third floor, Jay’s door is already open and he is waiting for you. "Heyyy," you say cheerfully, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. "I’m back. Just like I promised."

Laughing Jay’s arms wrap around you automatically as he looks at you more closely. "You’re pretty drunk, princess. How was the party?"

"So much fun," you ramble, clinging to him tighter as he guides you inside and closes the door. "We danced, there was a shot game, and my new friends are so funny. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt." You tilt your head up, puckering your lips. "Kiss?"

Instead of a proper kiss, he gives you a quick one on your forehead. "You smell like a distillery and your shirt is soaked, what happened?"

You look down at the sticky stain on your shirt and pout. "Someone spilled on me. It’s gross. But I still want kisses, real kisses." You try to pull his face down, standing on your tiptoes. "I missed you all night. I kept thinking about you during the party… about how nice you were last night. We should do that again right now."

Jay gently holds your wrists to stop you. "Not tonight, princess. You’re drunk."

"But I want you," you beg, pressing closer, but he doesn’t give in at all. "You’re so hot, so gentle, and… big. Please?"

He shakes his head and guides you toward the bathroom. "No. Only when you’re sober and can remember everything clearly. Right now, I’m just taking care of you, okay?"

"Let’s get you cleaned up," he says gently once you reach the bathroom. Reaching for the hem of your wet shirt he carefully pulls it off, followed by the rest of your clothes.

"You’re always so gentle with me," you murmur, watching him adjust the shower temperature. "No one has ever been this gentle. I really, really like you, Jay."

He smiles softly and helps you into the shower, joining you still fully dressed so he can take care of you. Jay keeps one hand on your waist to steady you while the other runs soapy over your shoulders and arms.

The alcohol in your system makes your emotions spill out easily before you can stop them. "I think… I think I’m falling for you," you confess, your tongue loose, making your cheeks flush. "Is that crazy? It feels too fast. I know I’m younger and still figuring everything out, but being with you just feels right. You make me feel safe, wanted, and special."

Jay pauses for half a second, processing what he just heard, but then continues washing you carefully — lathering the floral-scented body wash over your skin. "This smells like… girl stuff," you say, a little curious. "Is it yours?"

He looks away for a moment before answering. "It’s my mom’s. She left some things here the last time she came to visit."

"Ah," You rest your forehead against his chest as the water runs over both of you. "I meant it, though. About falling for you. Even if it’s too soon… I can’t help it."

Jay wraps his arms fully around you under the spray of water, holding you close — voice is full of affection when he finally replies. "Hey… look at me, princess." He gently lifts your chin. "What you’re feeling… I feel it too." Softly, he kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose. "We don’t need to rush or label anything right now. Just know that I’m here and I care about you a lot."

Even in your alcohol-fueled haze, his words calm the part of you that was worried you were moving too fast. "Really? You feel it too?"

"I do." He continues washing you carefully — your arms, your back, your sides — just taking care of you. "Being with you is easy. Natural. So let’s just enjoy it, okay? One day at a time."

Jay finishes rinsing you off and helps you out of the shower. Wrapping you in a towel he dries you gently before dressing you in one of his shirts. By the time he guides you to bed, you are already sleepy. He helps you lie down and you snuggle into the sheets, murmuring one last "I really like you" before falling asleep.

────────

The following days feel almost too good to be real.

You wake up in Jay’s bed, wrapped in his arms and wearing one of his shirts. He always wakes up before you to make breakfast and greet you with a good morning kiss and that smile that still makes your heart flutter. But on some mornings, you pull him back into bed to cuddle before classes and work, and without any argument, he makes time to make you feel loved.

When you get home from class, tired, Jay is already there to greet you cheerfully despite his own exhaustion. He texts you during the day, asking how your classes are going and reminding you to eat. When you are together, he pulls you in for slow, affectionate kisses — the kind that make your legs weak. Some nights you cook together as he tries to teach you how to make proper meals. Other nights he orders takeout and you eat on the couch while you tell him every detail of your day. He still doesn’t share much about himself, always dodging the subject, but you do not push — you don’t want to be invasive.

The sex is frequent — sometimes slow and worshipful, his mouth and hands adoring every inch of you until you are trembling and coming apart. Other times it is faster and more urgent — against the kitchen counter, in the shower, on the couch, in his home office. One night you try baking cookies together, ending up covered in flour and laughing as he kisses the mess off your cheek. Another night you start watching a movie cuddled together, but the movie is forgotten halfway through when clothes come off and he fucks you right there on the couch.

Suddenly everything feels so domestic — he now keeps an extra toothbrush for you, your notebooks are on his coffee table, and some of your clothes are scattered around his apartment. It is undeniable that you are falling deeper and deeper in love.

On a Sunday afternoon, you are studying on his couch while Jay is in his home office, working on a complicated case that demands his full attention. After hours buried in books and notes, concentrating is almost impossible. At this point, your mind keeps wandering to him without permission. When your brain finally gives up, you close the book with a dramatic sigh.

You walk down the hallway and peek into his office. Jay is sitting at his desk with his sleeves rolled up, looking unfairly attractive as he concentrates on reviewing some papers. "Jay?" you call, walking in without waiting for an answer.

He looks up, and the moment his eyes meet yours, the tension in his shoulders softens. "Hey, princess. How are the studies going?"

Boring." You take a few steps closer and don’t ask for permission — you simply climb into his lap, settling on his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a trail of kisses along his jaw, then his cheek and lips. "I missed you. Pay attention to me? Just for a little while?"

One of his hands rests on your waist while the other continues organizing the documents. "I’d love to, baby, but this case is a nightmare. There are documents everywhere. I’m going crazy with these."

You nuzzle into the curve of his neck and kiss him there. "You’ve been in here for hours… you deserve a break." Your hips move subtly against him, restless, the friction sending a spark through both of you. You feel him twitch beneath you, already starting to respond to your movements.

Jay’s grip on your waist tightens. "Princess…" There is a warning tone in his voice, bordering on frustration. But as you grind against him, you can feel him beginning to harden, and that gives you hope — you think he might give in.

"You’re really testing me today." He pulls you into a kiss, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. When he pulls away, it is with a frustrated sigh.

"That's the point," you whisper, smiling proudly against his lips as you continue grinding, slower this time, feeling him get even harder.

Jay curses under his breath, gripping your hips more firmly. No matter how hard he tries to hold back, he can’t, the desire is uncontrollable. He reaches between you and unzips his pants. "Fine, but you’re going to behave." He frees his hard, throbbing cock and pulls your panties and shorts to the side. This time there is nothing between you — no latex barrier, just him.

You sink down onto him slowly, and the new sensation hits you immediately — it’s different, hotter, more intimate. Every ridge and vein is raw against your walls, the skin-to-skin contact sends a shiver through your entire body and makes you moan as you settle fully onto him. The stretch feels deeper and more overwhelming than ever.

For a moment, it feels perfect — connected, raw.

But then his hands close firmly on your hips, holding you completely still. "Don’t move," he commands, his voice noticeably deeper and rougher. "Stay just like this. No grinding, no whimpering. I’m serious."

His cock pulses hot and heavy inside you, and you can barely focus on what he said. "Jay… oh my God, you feel—"

"I said don’t move," he interrupts, repeating it more harshly this time. His free hand returns to the stack of papers while the other arm stays wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place.

At first, you try to obey — resting your head on his shoulder and breathing deeply every time his cock twitches inside you, but the longer you sit there, the harder it becomes. You let out a soft moan as your hips twitch involuntarily. "Jay… please, just let me move a little bit."

"I told you not to move. Jesus, you’re really pushing it today." The irritation is clear in every word now, and his grip on your waist tightens even more. "I have a deadline. I can’t afford to get distracted like this."

Again, you try to stay still — you really do, until frustrated tears prick at your eyes — but your body betrays you with small, involuntary movements of your hips. "I’m sorry… I can’t help it. This is driving me crazy. I need you to move, please."

Jay’s jaw is tense and his breathing comes in heavy bursts — clearly fighting the urge to thrust up into you. "You think I don’t want to? You’re so tight and wet around me right now, but I can’t. I have work to do and you’re not letting me focus." His tone grows even harsher. "Stop squirming. Be a good girl for me and just sit there.”

But you do not listen — you roll your hips again, letting out a moan as he rubs against that sensitive spot inside you. "Jesus Christ. I told you I have work and this is fucking important."

"But I missed you and this is torture. Please, please just fu-"

He cuts you off sharply. "You always miss me, always need something. Kisses, hugs, my cock, my fucking attention. You practically live here now, your things are all over my apartment, you sleep in my bed like it’s yours. Isn’t that enough attention? You know what? I need you to get off so I can actually finish this case."

The words hurt, making your chest tighten — tears of frustration turn into something heavier and spill down your cheeks. "I didn’t mean to be annoying… I just wanted to be close to you."

"Yeah, well, wanting to be close to me doesn’t magically make my deadline disappear. I’m already behind because of distractions like this." His hand on your hip tightens even more, holding you completely still, the pressure bordering on uncomfortable. "You have your own apartment right next door. Just give me a few hours alone, for once."

You stare at him in disbelief at what you just heard. Suddenly the intimate position feels humiliating — the way you are still stretched around him while he looks at you like you are nothing but am annoyance. "You want me to leave? Like this… right now"

"I’m telling you to give me some space." With no patience left, he lifts you off him, leaving you empty and trembling. "Go to your place, take a nap, study, whatever. Just let me work."

You stand there with shaky legs, wiping away your tears, feeling small, vulnerable, and unwanted. With a quiet, trembling breath, you whisper, "…Okay."

It's past 9 PM when Jay finally steps out of his office, having finished dealing with that pile of papers. The silence hangs heavy now, normally you would be humming, curled up on the couch waiting for him, or laughing at something silly on your phone. Without you, the space feels too empty. He had been rude — way too rude — and he sees that now. He owes you an apology, so he walks over to your door, but just as he is about to knock, he notices the door is not fully closed — it’s slightly ajar, allowing him to hear low murmurs of voices.

Frowning, he pushes the door open a little more and steps inside, finding a guy standing right at the entrance to your living room, putting on a jacket. The guy turns at the sound of the door, his expression quickly shifting to surprise. "Ah, hi. You must be Jay. She talks about you a lot."

He looks over the other guy’s shoulder toward the couch where you are sitting with your knees pulled up. The guy cleans his throat, sensing the tension between the two of you. "I was just leaving… It was really nice talking to you." He gives you a small wave. "Text me if you need anything else, okay?"

You smile and wave back. "Yeah. Thanks, Jake. Drive safe."

As Jake heads for the door, Jay blocks his path. "Wait. What exactly were you doing here?"

Jake blinks, surprised by the sudden question. "She seemed pretty down when we texted, so I decided to stop by and check if she was okay. Anyway, I’m heading out. Nice to meet you, man."

He steps aside, letting Jake pass. The door closes behind him, leaving just the two of you in the suddenly too-quiet apartment.

You stand up, hugging yourself. "Jay… what are you doing here?"

The regret he felt for being so harsh with you is quickly replaced by jealousy and irritation. "I came because my place was too quiet without you. I started thinking maybe I was too hard on you earlier, but clearly you didn’t waste any time finding company."

You frown, confused by what he means. "He’s just a friend. I told you about him before, we met during my first week on campus when I accidentally walked into the wrong lecture hall. I was upset after you basically kicked me out, so I texted him. We weren’t doing anything, just talking."

Jay lets out a short, bitter laugh and steps closer. "Talking late at night like it’s a casual visit. You mentioned him before, of course, but I didn’t know you two were close enough for house calls."

The hurt from earlier mixes with frustration now. "You were so rude, Jay. You made me feel like I was an annoying pest who can’t function without your attention. I understand you’re stressed with work, but you didn’t have to push me away and kick me out like that. I felt embarrassed."

He closes even more of the distance between you, standing close enough that you can feel the jealousy radiating off him. "You’re the one who can’t sit still for five minutes without demanding something, climbing into my lap while I’m trying to meet a deadline, whimpering and squirming like a spoiled brat because you ‘missed me’."

You take a step back, but the couch hits the back of your legs. "I just wanted to be close to you."

"But the world doesn’t revolve around your need for attention. I love having you around, but today? You made it impossible for me to concentrate, and the second I ask for a few hours to actually get things done, you run straight to this Jake guy?" Jay doesn’t care that nothing happened — the image of another guy in your space, late at night, while you were upset, makes his blood boil.

"I didn’t run to him! I was crying when he got here and he just listened. Unlike you, who basically told me to leave because I’m too much."

Jay’s laugh is harsh this time, completely humorless. "Too much. Yeah, that’s one way of saying you’re a spoiled brat who demands attention every second, and the moment things get difficult, you replace me with whoever is most convenient."

Neither of you speaks for a long moment. You look away, Jay’s jaw clenches, and soon his gaze drifts from your face to the way you are hugging yourself, then lower, lingering on your bare legs. The jealousy is still burning in his chest, mixed with the memory of you sitting on his cock earlier, demanding attention, all needy.

"Come here," he says, nodding toward the couch.

You hesitate, biting your lip, which makes Jay exhale sharply and close the distance. His hand wraps around your wrist, guiding you toward the couch. "We’re not done talking about this."

He sits on the couch and pulls you closer until you are lying across his lap, your stomach pressed against his thighs. Your shirt has ridden up naturally, but he is not satisfied. "This is in the way." His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down and tossing them aside — leaving your ass completely bare for him.

Jay’s palm rests on one of your cheeks, squeezing the flesh possessively. "You’ve been pushing all day… needing attention, teasing me, and then Jake shows up at your place, and I’m supposed to just swallow that?" His fingers dig harder into the flesh. "You’re mine, and it’s time you learn what happens when you piss me off this much."

His hand makes slow circles over your skin, almost soothing. "How many spanks do you think you deserve for acting like this?"

Your heart races as you try to process his words — head turning slightly to look at him. "What? Are you serious?"

He meets your eyes with a firm, dark expression — one you have never seen from him before. "Very serious. You’ve been spoiled all day, teasing me on purpose. So tell me, how many do you think you deserve?"

You swallow hard, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I don’t know… Five? Maybe?"

Jay lets out a mocking laugh. "Five? That’s way too low, baby. You’re going to take twenty, and you’re going to count each one out loud. If you lose count or mess up, we start over. Understood?"

You hesitate but eventually whisper, "Yes… okay."

"Good girl." His hand lifts and the first spank comes without warning — firm and sharp, the sound echoing through the silence. You jolt, a surprised moan escaping you — heat spreads instantly across your bare skin, the sting stronger than you expected.

"One," you gasp.

He immediately rubs the spot in slow, soothing circles, calming the hot skin where he struck.

"Two," you say after the next spank lands on the other cheek.

Jay keeps a steady rhythm — delivering hard spanks followed by almost tender caresses. Then his fingers slide lower, tracing your wet folds, spreading them teasingly, brushing against your entrance, lightly circling your clit before pulling away.

"What a spoiled little brat," he murmurs during one of the pauses, rubbing your reddened cheeks while two fingers tease your slit again. "You’re already getting so wet… You like this, don’t you?"

You moan instead of answering, which earns you another sharp spank. "Five."

He continues, the spanks leaving marks and building heat across your ass. Now his fingers are dip inside you, moving with slow, shallow thrusts, curling just enough to brush that sensitive spot and make you clench around him desperately. But he always pulls back before you can get close to the edge.

"Six… seven… ah!"

By ten, tears prick your eyes, your thighs trembling as the sting turns into a pulsing heat.

Jay pauses longer this time, massaging your sore ass and spreading your cheeks so he can tease your entrance again. "You’re mine. When you need attention that badly, you come to me, even if I’m stressed, even if I tell you to leave." A finger pushes deep inside you, staying there while his thumb brushes your clit.

You lose track amid the overwhelming sensations and he makes you start over, just as he warned. "Back to one." During the restart, two more fingers slide inside you, moving in a torturous rhythm. "You feel how wet you are? This is what happens when you forget who you belong to."

"You’re mine. Your time, your attention, this body. I don’t share it." Spank. Soothe. Tease. "Say it."

"I’m yours," you moan.

"Louder." Another spank.

"I’m yours, Jay!"

When he finally reaches twenty, you are a trembling mess with tears streaming down your face. Jay finally pulls you up and turns you so you are sitting in his lap. His hands stay on your ass, carefully massaging the sore flesh and you press yourself against the hard bulge in his pants, burying your face in his shoulder. "You did so well, my good girl."

Jay lifts your chin, meeting your eyes. For a moment, he just looks at you — really looks at you — taking in your flushed cheeks and tear-streaked face. Then he leans in and kisses you. One hand remains on your sore ass, squeezing gently, while the other slides into your hair. He kisses you like he needs to claim every part of you — hungry, insistent, his tongue tracing your lower lip before sliding inside. You melt into him, moaning against his mouth as you start slowly grinding your hips.

He pulls back just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot below your ear. "Still so needy… even after all that." Then he kisses you again, deeper and hungrier, tongues sliding together with fervor. The hand on your ass slips between your bodies to tease your wet folds with light circles and shallow dips — keeping you right on the edge.

When he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connects you for a second before breaking. "On your knees, princess."

Obediently, you slide off his lap and kneel between his spread thighs. Jay looks down at you, one hand lazily stroking your hair as he frees himself from his pants — his cock springs out, thick, heavy, and already leaking at the tip.

"Open. Tongue out," he says, tapping your lower lip with two fingers. You open your mouth and obediently stick your tongue out. He leans forward and spits directly into your mouth. The warm, viscous saliva lands on your tongue, degrading in a way that makes you shiver. "Swallow that first," he instructs. You swallow while keeping your eyes locked on his. He nods with a satisfied hum. "Now show me how sorry you are for pushing me today."

You start with kisses along his length before dragging your tongue from base to tip. Jay groans, his fingers tightening in your hair, but he doesn't force you — not yet. His thickness stretches your lips as you finally take him into your mouth. He is big enough that you can only take about half before he hits the back of your throat. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking what does not fit in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck… that’s it," he murmurs, tilting his head back for a moment before his gaze returns to you. He doesn't want to miss a single second of this. "Look at me while you suck it."

You do, looking up at him with teary eyes, and the sight makes his cock twitch in your mouth. When you pull back to catch your breath, he slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, leaving strings of saliva connecting you, before guiding you back down. "Yeah, just like that… good girl."

Between bobs, when you pull back to breathe, you say breathlessly, "I’m sorry for distracting you and for Jake being here." Then he guides you down again.

Jay’s hips start moving, pushing a little deeper and testing your limits. Tears continue to prick your eyes from the stretch, but you keep going, hollowing your cheeks and moaning around him.

When he finally gets close, Jay’s grip tightens, his thighs tense, and his breathing becomes ragged. "I’m going to come. Don’t waste it, swallow everything." You nod around him, doubling your efforts and with a deep groan, he comes down your throat — thick, hot pulses that you swallow eagerly, not letting a single drop escape.

He pulls out slowly, a string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to the tip before it breaks. "Open your mouth. Show me."

You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to prove you swallowed everything. “That’s my good girl.”

He helps you up, pulls you back into his lap, and kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. Your hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you that makes Jay groan into your mouth, one hand sliding down to grab your bare ass and guide your movements.

"Still not satisfied? Such a greedy little thing." Even though he just came, his cock is already stirring again, hardening beneath you as your wet pussy slides along his length.

You gasp against his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Jay… I need you so bad."

He answers by kissing you again, but soon pulls back to meet your eyes. "Then take what you want."

You don’t hesitate, not even for a second. Rising on shaky knees, you reach down and align the thick head of his cock against your entrance, and slowly you sink down, gasping at the stretch and every inch that fills you. The lack of a barrier makes him feel impossibly thicker than the last time in his office — hotter, more intimate. The spanked skin of your ass burns as you settle fully against his thighs.

"Fuck," Jay hisses, his head falling back against the couch for a moment as his hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you fully impaled on him. "So wet… so fucking tight like this."

You start moving, rolling your hips in a slow, deep rhythm, the angle letting you feel every ridge and vein raw inside you, pulling broken moans from your throat. One of his hands slips under your shirt to caress one tit while the other stays on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh in time with your movements. The mix of pleasure and stinging burn makes everything more intense.

"That’s right," he growls, thrusting up to meet you. "This is what you wanted all day, isn’t it? My attention. My cock." You lean forward, kissing him messily while you bounce, moving your hips faster.

With a low curse, he wraps his arms around you and suddenly flips you, laying you down on the couch cushions, driving him even deeper which pulls a sharp cry from you.

Now he is on top, pinning you beneath him — one of your legs hooked over his shoulder as he starts thrusting into you with deep, powerful strokes — hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt each time and the lack of a condom lets you feel every raw inch.

Clinging to his back, your nails dig in as the pleasure borders on overwhelming. Jay’s face hovers above yours, his hair damp with sweat falling into his eyes. Rhythm falters for a second as he looks at you, something darker flashing across his face, the jealousy from earlier — the image of Jake leaving your apartment — has not disappeared. "Are you on the pill?"

You shake your head, breathless, barely able to form words between moans. "No, I’m not."

He thrusts harder, hitting deep against your cervix as if to emphasize the point. "Good," he growls, eyes locked on yours. "Actually, fucking perfect. Maybe I’ll knock you up tonight, put a baby in you so you won’t even think about another guy like Jake. You’ll stay right here with me, we’ll have a beautiful family, me, you, and our kids. No more distractions."

The words should have shocked you, but in the heat of the moment — with him fucking you raw, his body claiming yours completely — they only send a fresh wave of arousal through you. Moaning loudly, your legs tightening around his waist. "Jay… fuck—"

He groans at your reaction, his hips moving harder. "You like that idea, don’t you? My cum deep inside you, getting you pregnant so everyone knows you’re claimed." One of his hands slides down to press lightly against your stomach, as if he can already imagine it.

The couch creaks beneath you both, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet noises of him fucking you filling the room. Jay’s earlier irritation fuels every deep thrust, but so does possessiveness — the need to claim you completely after the stressful day. He presses you deeper into the cushions, his hips moving in a way that grinds against your clit with every stroke.

When you finally come, it is intense — your walls contracting tightly around his cock as you scream his name. Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible, and you feel the hot pulses of his cum filling you, thick and warm.

For long minutes, Jay simply holds you — kissing your neck, your jaw, your swollen lips — his cock softening slowly inside you, but as the minutes stretch on, you feel him coming back to life, pulsing against your sensitive walls. "Already?" There is a playful tone in your voice.

"I can’t help it." He moves, pressing one last kiss to your mouth before slowly pulling out. You moan at the loss, feeling his cum start to leak out of you, but his hand quickly reaches down to push it back inside you with two fingers. "Don’t waste it."

He leans back on the couch, stroking himself until he is fully hard again. "Turn around. Hands on the backrest."

You obey, your body trembling as you shift position, kneeling on the cushions, gripping the top of the backrest and arching your back slightly while Jay moves behind you, his gaze fixed on the evidence of the earlier spanking — your cheeks still red with visible handprints — as one of his palms smooths reverently over the heated skin before squeezing firmly.

"Fuck, look at this… Still so red from your lesson." His cock brushes against your entrance before he thrusts deep inside you in one powerful stroke, the new position letting him sink even deeper as the head of his cock presses against spots that make your toes curl drawing a loud moan from you while you grip the backrest tighter as he bottoms out.

Jay starts fucking you with firm, powerful thrusts — deep and deliberate, the couch creaking beneath you both — as every thrust makes your sore ass bounce and the red marks darken even more with the impact, his eyes unable to leave them while his thumbs press into the soft flesh, pulling you back onto his cock repeatedly.

"These marks… they look so good on you." Without warning, he lands a hard, stinging spank on your right cheek, the already sensitive skin making you cry out and clench hard around his cock as Jay groans at the sensation, his hips stuttering for a moment before he resumes his deep rhythm.

He gives your left cheek another spank, making you writhe and moan again as you push back against him desperately despite the burn — or maybe because of it — the mix of pain and pleasure making you even wetter, the previous creampie turning everything obscenely wet and messy.

"That’s it," he praises, smoothing his hands over the fresh marks he just added. "Squirm for me. I love how sensitive you are right here." He gives you one more spank, lighter this time but still enough to make you shudder, and immediately soothes the area with his hands, massaging the sore flesh while he continues thrusting deep and hard from behind.

Jay leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch beside yours while the other reaches down to rub tight circles on your clit. His chest presses against your back, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks between thrusts. "You’re going to take every drop again, princess. I’m going to give you my babies, keep you so full you won’t even think about anyone else."

When you come again — hard, your vision blurring from the overwhelming sensations — Jay follows right behind, burying himself deep with a groan and flooding you with another load of hot cum. He stays inside you for a long time afterward, thrusting slowly through the aftershocks.

Finally, he pulls out carefully and pulls you into his arms, stroking your back in slow, gentle movements. "You’re a mess, princess. Come on, let me take care of you."

He stands up with you in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. Once inside, he turns on the shower, adjusts the temperature, and removes the rest of both your clothes before guiding you under the hot spray with him where the water cascades over you both. Jay takes his body wash, lathers it between his hands, and runs them over your skin — being extra careful around your sensitive ass, massaging the foam in light circles that ease some of the sting.

"Maybe I was a little too rough tonight," he says, his hands moving along your thighs, cleaning away the evidence of the many rounds. "Work stress got to me, and then seeing Jake… I took it out on you more than I should have. You handled it really well, but I’m sorry if it was too much."

You lean back against his chest, letting the water rinse off the soap as you tilt your head to look at him. "It hurt… but it also felt good. In a weird way. I just hated feeling like I was bothering you earlier. I didn’t want to annoy you while you were working. I just… missed you a lot."

After rinsing you, he turns off the shower, wraps you in a towel first, then himself and dries you carefully, paying extra attention to your ass and rubbing some soothing lotion he finds in the cabinet. "There. Better?"

"Much better," you admit, reaching up to touch his face. "Thank you for taking care of me like this."

He leans down and kisses your forehead. "You make it easy to want to take care of you." Pulling you closer, his voice shifting to something even calmer and more sincere. "I don’t know what I’d do without you around. I can’t imagine coming home and not having you here like this. You just… fit. Right here with me."

You hug him tightly, burying your face in his chest. "I feel the same. I always want to be close to you because you make everything feel better."

Smiling against your hair, Jay guides you to the bed and pulls the covers back, lying down beside you to pull you close against his chest. One arm wraps around you securely, his hand rests gently on your ass — not squeezing, just warm and protective over the sensitive skin.

You snuggle even closer, your leg draped over his as exhaustion finally takes over completely. "Stay the night?" you ask sleepily.

"Wouldn’t dream of leaving," His fingers trace lazy circles on your back until your breathing evens out and you fall asleep.

Next morning you stir slowly, feeling the pleasant ache in your muscles and Jay’s heavy arm draped over your waist, his body curled protectively against your back. He feels you waking up and trails lazy kisses along your shoulder before moving up the side of your neck. "Good morning, baby," he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep as his hand slides to your stomach. "Sleep well?"

You turn in his arms, smiling despite the slight soreness when you move, and reach up to brush the messy hair from his forehead. "Yes… thanks to you."

He leans in and kisses you properly — slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes you melt. At this point, he couldn't care less that neither of you had brushed your teeth yet. "You were incredible last night. Let me make it up to you a little more with breakfast."

Jay borrows a pair of your sweatpants that look comically tight on his incredibly nice ass, making you laugh as he models them. In the kitchen, you work side by side like so many mornings before — he cracks eggs for scrambled eggs while you toast bread and slice fruit. Small touches are stolen throughout: a hand on your lower back as he reaches past you, a quick kiss on your temple when you hand him the salt shaker, a playful bump of his hip against yours.

"You’re in a good mood today," you tease, leaning against the counter while he plates the food.

"I can’t help it when I wake up next to you." He sets the plates on the table and pulls you in for another kiss before you both sit down.

After eating, you start getting ready for college and he for the office. Jay kisses you one more time before heading back to his apartment next door to get ready for work. You take a long shower and, once dressed in jeans and a comfortable blouse, you step out into the hallway at the same time he does, looking impeccable in his work clothes.

He quickly pulls you in for a proper goodbye, hands gently cradling your face as he kiss your forehead, lingering there for a long moment. "Have a good day at class. Text me when you’re done." With one last soft kiss on your lips, he pulls away with a smile. "See you later, princess."

College passes in a whirlwind of classes and notes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Jay — the way he holds you, the sweet words, the kisses. He has not sent many messages during the day, which is a little unusual, but you figure he must be busy at work.

When you finally get home in the early evening, you step into the elevator and press the button for the third floor. Just before the doors close, a woman you have never seen in the building before enters, but something about her face seems vaguely familiar.

The woman smiles politely as the elevator starts moving. Curiosity gets the better of you and before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Hi… do you live here? I’ve been in the building for about two months and I don’t think I’ve seen you around."

She nods, laughing lightly. "Yes, I do, but I’ve been away on a work trip. I’m a lawyer and a complicated case kept me out of town longer than expected. I actually got back this morning."

"Wow. That sounds intense… By the way, my name is y/n. Nice to meet you."

The woman’s smile widens. "Nice to meet you too. Jay has already told me about you. He’s mentioned his sweet neighbor a few times."

Your heart flutters with joy — Jay talked about you to the neighbors. It feels special, like proof that you are really becoming a bigger part of his life. "He did? That’s nice to hear."

The elevator dings on the third floor and you both step out together. A small flicker of confusion crosses your mind — she is going the same way — but you don’t think much of it. Maybe she lives farther down the hall.

Then you see Jay standing there and your face lights up immediately. He hadn't texted you all day, and seeing him now makes excitement bubble up inside you. You walk toward him with a radiant smile.

At the same moment, the woman also walks straight up to him. When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him — a deep, familiar, affectionate kiss. Jay’s hands settle on her waist automatically as he eagerly kisses her back.

The world stops.

Your feet freeze mid-step and everything inside you turns cold and numb. It takes a moment for your brain to process what you are seeing, but then the pieces fall into place with painful clarity. That was Jay’s wife. The woman in the Polaroid photo he casually said was his "sister." The late-night calls he claimed were from the office. The feminine body wash he said belonged to his mom. The distant restaurant he took you to on your first date, probably so no one nearby would recognize him. The way the doorman sometimes looked at you with that judgmental expression, like he knew something — he did. All the small inconsistencies you had ignored because you were so blinded by how gentle and attentive he seemed.

Every sweet word, every touch, every promise of "you’re mine" had been built on lies. He was married. His heart already belonged to someone else, and you had been nothing but a convenient distraction from the apartment next door — blind, eager, and so in love with the version of him he showed you that you never saw the truth.

Jay’s eyes meet yours over his wife’s shoulder, and for a fraction of a second, something like panic or guilt flashes across his face. The shock turns into pure pain, making you practically run to your door as you fumble for your keys while hot tears blur your vision.

You lean against the door, sliding down to the floor as sobs begin to escape you. Your chest hurts as if someone had ripped a hole in it. All the cute moments — the kisses, the touches, the date, the bouquet — turn ugly and humiliating in your memory.

You cry hard, knees pulled up to your chest, as disappointment turns into shame for having fallen so completely for the man who made you feel special, desired, and loved… and it was all a lie.

The thin walls allow you to hear muffled voices — his wife asking about his day, the normalcy of their conversation only making everything worse. You press your hands over your ears, trying to block out the sound, but the damage is already done. Your heart is shattered.

The man you had grown so attached to — the one who held you so tenderly after sex, who made you breakfast and promised more comfortable days like that — was someone else’s husband, and you had been the other woman without even knowing it.

YOU AND YANG JUNGWON WERE ENDGAME.

If there was anything that high school proved, if not the fact that most of your friends were two-faced snakes—it was that he and you were meant for forever.

You can guess that's part of the reason why he's knocking at your door again, flowers in his left hand and his phone in his right. He's drenched in depressing October rain, wearing that ridiculously adorable pout on his face.

Obviously. He knows you, and he knows how fast you drop to your knees when you see those lips curl downwards. It’s exactly why you’re holding onto the sides of your sweater, if only to stop yourself from turning that doorknob.

“I know you’re home, Y/N. Your lights are on.”

His voice is muffled through the thin wood. You take another peek through the tiny hole of your front door—his under-eyes airbrushed with a faint red, the tip of his nose all the same.

The hallway behind him stretches wide, empty, dim with decorated with wet footprints on it’s tiles. Jungwon stands in the middle of the corridor like he owns it, as if your next-door neighbours couldn’t take a step out and catch him here, sopping wet and holding flowers like this was a romantic comedy.

It looks like he’s not leaving anytime soon.

"You shouldn't have come." You respond. His ears perk up, head tilting towards the peephole. As if he can hear the hesitation behind your voice. The hurt on his face is impossible to miss. If only you weren't fresh out of the relationship, it'd make you laugh.

“Then why aren’t you telling me to leave?” He asks, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip at an attempt to soothe his anxiety.

A water droplet rolls down his temple, to his chin, and then drips onto his already soaked t-shirt.

“I just did,” you say. “Go away.”

Yang Jungwon was always terribly persistent when it came to you. Back in college, there were days where he’d lose all sense of responsibility and ditch his much needed study hours just to see his beloved girlfriend—it’s all sunshine and rainbows when he has you laid up in his sheets, no weight on his shoulders when he has your body pressed against his.

And perhaps this spoiled you. As ill-prepared as you were, you knew that Yang Jungwon taking up a job that required him to travel half across the world, multiple times a month, would do something to your relationship.

So, when employment rolls around and you’re finally split apart by your very different job scopes—the schedules, the time, the busyness of it all… it was only a matter of inevitability.

The silence used to be comfortable. It used to be the ones where your limbs could tangle together and kisses felt more lazy than anything else. Now, it’s just stretched thin over bad cell service, laggy FaceTimes and horribly mismatched timezones.

“Y/N,” he’s pleading now. The ceiling light of the sterile corridor outside is reflecting off his eyes, all glassy and persuasive. There’s also something uniquely dangerous about how he chose to wear a white tee under his leather jacket. “Please. I’m begging you, I just want to talk.”

He will not get you. You will not let him in, and you will stand firm on that.

“Please, baby. Let me see you.”

Fuck.

You take a step back from the door for a few seconds. This didn’t require a lot of thinking, apparently, because your mouth soon opened before you could even make your way back to the door.

“What do you want to talk about?”

You tiptoe to get a better, clearer view of Jungwon’s face in the glass. The arm that holds the flowers is now at his side—you can see the way his shirt clings onto his chest like this, peeking through the leather. A brief thought flashes in your mind, one that says ‘he must be freezing’, and to let him inside. You almost do.

Jungwon scrunches his nose, his free hand coming to wipe at it before he clears his throat and speaks up. “It’s been days, Y/N. You haven’t returned any of my calls, my texts. I’ve been worried.”

“Is that so? I’m fine, as you can hear from my voice. Now go home, it’s cold.”

“You don’t sound fine. Please, Y/N. I don’t want us to fight anymore.”

You let a scoff slip. “You don’t look fine, either. Even.”

Your response earns the faintest huff from him—it would’ve been a laugh in any other context, but now, his head just dips, shoulders slumping a fraction as rainwater continues to drip from his hair, sliding down in uneven trails.

“Can you just open the door?” Jungwon asks, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m not here to fight.”

He looks like a puppy that’s just been kicked to the curb. There’s a look in his eye that’s the equivalent of someone getting on their knees and practically begging, and you’re half convinced that Yang Jungwon might do just that.

He definitely would, wouldn’t he?

“Jungwon,” and for some reason—your left hand is on that doorknob. Despite already resolving that you wouldn’t let him inside your home. “I don’t want to fight, either. That’s why I want you to go away.”

“Do you still love me?”

Your voice barely reached him. “Jungwon—“

“Please.”

And perhaps that's why your friends describe you as the one to die first in a horror movie, or the last to have a spine, or simply the one who can't quite loosen her grip on a love she's carried for far too long.

The door pulls towards you, slowly, not without that signature creak and soft thud against your already-chipped wall.

Yang Jungwon stands before you, towering, drenched but significantly drier than thirty minutes ago when he was first begun loitering outside your door. His hair sticks in wet clumps to his forehead, temples, anywhere that’s too long.

The faint tremor in his body makes you want to pull him inside. Wrapping a towel around him to let him dry and sending him off would probably be a very good idea—there’s nothing between you now, no girlfriend-y duties to fulfil other than making sure he doesn’t freeze to death, though you’re sure that anyone (girlfriend or not) would do the same.

Jungwon’s eyes widen when he finally sees you. You’re leaning against the door like you’re expecting him to walk inside, and he does—though he keeps his head low and his shoulders squared as it happens.

“I’ll get a towel for you. Give me a minute.” You manage, back facing him. When you finally shut the door, your body turns back around, only to watch him standing in the middle of your living room like he has no clue where to go.

“Okay.”

His voice comes out quieter than you expect—like the gloomy cold has taken it’s place in his chest. Up close, it’s worse. Or better. You’re not very sure.

You can see everything now, without the distortion of glass or distance to soften it—the way the rain has dragged his hair down into uneven, damp strands against his soft skin. A few pieces curl slightly at the ends, darker than normal, dripping slow, accidental droplets that trace down the side of his face.

One of them slips along the sharp line of his jaw. Your eyes can’t help but to follow obediently.

It disappears beneath the collar of his shirt—if it can even be called that right now. It’s barely even visible with the white fabric being completely soaked through, plastered to him like a second skin.

It’s clinging to the planes of his chest—the faint definition beneath is dizzying, the steady rise and fall of his breathing being the only thing you can zero in on. It leaves very little to imagination, and you hate how quickly your gaze has to flick back up to his face like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

It’s most probably because it isn’t. Reminder that you should not be staring at your ex-boyfriend’s chest like he’s still yourboyfriend.

“You were going to get me a towel,” the corner of his lips twitches into a smile. “What happened to that?”

You swallow, pushing yourself off the door a little too quickly. Jungwon’s lips are pursed together, a faint blush painted across his cheeks, and he’s staring at you like he knows he’s got you.

“You’ll be fine,” you force a mocking smile and all Jungwon can do is let out a chuckle—you’re making your way towards the kitchen, his eyes following your figure as it moves further away from his.

You make your way into the kitchen with purpose that feels rehearsed now, with a mind that’s anything but steady. Yang Jungwon hasn’t been in your home in weeks, and you’ve begun to accept the fact that he might become a stranger to this place altogether. There’s still traces of him—in the bathroom, in your bed, on your study desk. The photos of your first trip together are still framed in the hallway, too.

The overhead light flicks on, too bright and exposing when Jungwon’s still staring into you. For a second, you busy yourself with nothing—hands hovering over the counter, opening a cabinet you didn’t need to open, closing it again just as fast.

Behind you, you can feel him. You don’t have to look to know his eyes never left you.

There’s a faint sound of movement—his shoes sliding against the floor, quieter now that they’re no longer dripping as much. He doesn’t follow immediately, though. He lingers, like he’s taking in the space, re-familiarising himself with something he still knows by heart.

By the time you reach for the glass, your fingers are already shaking.

It’s right where it always is—second shelf, slightly to the left—but you still fumble with it, knocking it lightly against the others before pulling it free. The sound is small, but in the quiet, it feels like the only thing you want to focus on.

You set it down on the counter, reaching for the water dispenser until—

“Still in the same place,” Jungwon says from behind you. “You kept it. My cat mug.”

The smell of rain is penetrates your nose almost instantaneously. “I kept most things.”

You can guess what he looks like this close, if you were to turn around right now. Dripping, cold, clothes still sticking to him like half an hour in the warmth did him no favours. His swollen eyes, flushed face, and lips that say ‘please’ like they know exactly what it does to you.

Your grip tightens around the mug. You click on the warm water option, and the dispenser starts heating almost instantly. A soft mechanical hum fills the silence before the first trickle hits ceramic.

Steam curls up from the mug in thin, wavering ribbons, dissolving into the air before it can settle anywhere. You don’t move to pick it up. Your hand stays there, resting against the counter, fingers still slightly curled from how tightly you were holding on a second ago.

“I didn’t think you would.”

You keep your eyes on the mug. “It’s a mug, Jungwon. Not that serious.”

“Y/N L/N.”

When you turn around, Jungwon’s leaning against the counter behind you. Close enough for you to see the outline of his abdomen through the fabric of his tee, but far enough not to her the chatter of his teeth and the shiver of his breathing. You still have to tilt your head to meet his eyes properly.

“What?” you ask, but it comes out flatter than you intend, like you’re trying to hold something back from your own voice.

It’s only after a painfully long minute of forcing yourself to look him in the eye, does he speak.

“I miss you.”

The arrangement of flowers are somewhere on the coffee table. His jacket must be hanging somewhere on the coat hanger, though, the wet fabric of his shirt refuses to let your attention stray anywhere else to confirm.

Right now, Yang Jungwon’s stood in front of you, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. You’re standing only one foot apart, your back pressed against the cold edge of your kitchen counter as his on the island—the cup of water stands stagnant behind you, waiting to be picked up.

The space between you feels thinner than it did seconds ago. Warmer, too. Charged in a way that makes your pulse pick up, where your body is suddenly too aware of every inch of distance left between the two of you, and also is desperately yearning to close it.

It would be nice to smell his cologne after weeks of trying to forget it. Every time you thought you did, it would waft around your apartment like a little ghost.

“Won—“

Up close, everything about him feels amplified. The damp fabric of his shirt has started to dry unevenly, clinging in some places, loosening in others, but still outlining him in a way that makes it hard not to notice. The subtle definition beneath, the steady expansion of his chest with each breath, the way his shoulders remain just slightly tense like he’s holding himself back from closing the rest of the distance all at once.

You know he wants to. There’s that half of you that wishes he just would.

“Please,” Jungwon murmurs. “Tell me you miss me too.”

His right arm reaches out—you don’t stop it. His thumb brushes the side of your hip, and you don’t stop it either. You don’t even think about pulling yourself away from the feeling of him on you again.

Jungwon knows what he’s doing.

His other arm follows suite, before they wrap around your waist completely—his large hands always had no issues doing this, pulling you in without any real effort—or perhaps you were always just drawn to him, like a magnet, unable to ever really stay away.

He exhales softly as he feels your warm body press against him. The sound brushes against your skin, and it reminds you of how wrong yet right this feels; your arms do what they’ve always known, wrapping around his torso like pushing him away was never an option.

He’s cold, and still, you melt anyway.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“You’ve already said that.”

His large hands are splayed across your back—his calloused fingertips from the dedication to the gym, his larger-than-before shoulders that stretch across your smaller frame—it’s just as overwhelming as the first day you met.

Your warmth hits him like a wave, and for a moment, his hands freeze. Your fingers come up to the blades of his shoulders, running against the tiny dips and rises of his muscles; tonight feels like anything but reality, and instead, it’s two months ago when things were still fine and Jungwon was still yours.

He swears he still is, and you try to forget it. Too much time apart does things to you that you’d rather shove down and erase completely—but when your ex-lover is cold, shivering, clinging to your body like it’s the only heat that could get his blood moving—it bubbles right back up. It simmers, boils over and spills.

“You’re freezing, Won,” you mumble, “I really think you should—“

And maybe you have familiarity to blame, or comfort or naivety, because you lean into Yang Jungwon’s touch just as easily as you pushed it away. His hands are coming up your waist, stopping right at your neck—and what else can you do in this moment other than stare into those big, pretty irises of his?

Jungwon’s hand settles firmly at the side of your neck, his palm warm despite the lingering chill in his skin. His fingers curve just enough for you to feel the faint pressure when you swallow, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his touch—and the moment he realises your breath is shaking, the glint in his eye makes you shiver.

His thumb drags slowly along the line of your jaw, then back again, slow, like he’s retracing something long committed to memory.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, breath ghosting against your lips as your foreheads touch. “Please, Y/N. Don’t shut me out again.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

For a moment, all you can focus on is how close he is—the warmth of his breath, the way his hand holds you just firmly enough to keep you there, the faint tension in his fingers like he’s bracing for you to pull away.

There’s nothing except for the low hum of the city, and your hearts echoing in tandem as his body presses closer against yours. The rain is merciless tonight, unrelenting, pounding against the glass doors of your balcony like it wanted to be let inside—for now, the warm yellow of your hallway lamp bathes you and Jungwon in that comfortable hue, a stark contrast to the blue cold outside.

His hands feel frozen against your skin.

“You’re always leaving, Jungwon,” you mutter, refusing to meet his eyes despite the distance. “Even when you’re in front of me, you’re gone. I never have all of you.”

He swallows thickly, eyes still locked on yours. Your irises peek through your lashes, blinking slowly up at his.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is the part where you fall to your knees for Yang Jungwon—the part which you tried endlessly to avoid up until today. It’s when the line between logic and everything else blurs, and all you can see is him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jungwon mutters, thumb caressing the patch of skin under your jawline. You lean into it like it means something. “We’ll talk about this. I can’t lose you—“

“Jungwon,” you interrupt, your touch firm over his knuckles, offering little resistance to the way he holds your jaw like this was all normal. “What good would it do us?”

He doesn’t respond immediately.

His hand stills under yours, your fingers resting over his knuckles as if you could stop him, or maybe stop yourself. His gaze doesn’t leave your face, not even when you’re actively avoiding his.

There’s something in his expression now—more careful than before, fully aware of the fact that you’re no longer his. You could really kick his ass out if you wanted to.

He’s thinking carefully for once. Instead of just reaching for you, the way he always does.

“If it doesn’t…” he starts, voice lower, rougher than before, “if it doesn’t fix anything—”

He exhales softly, the sound brushing your lips again, closer; his thumb shifts under your jaw, tilting your face up just enough that running from him becomes impossible—it’s not like you’ve been putting in much effort to do that, anyway.

“Then let me have you like this,” he finishes. “One last time.”

His nose bumps against yours in that old, messy fashion that you’ve never nailed. Kissing Jungwon always involves not knowing how fast, how deep to go, because it always ends up in something more intimate than it starts out. For the first thirty seconds, your ex lover lets himself feel—feel what he’s lost for weeks, reminding, retracing.

Forty seconds, and he has his hands wandering all over your warm body like they have no idea where to stay.

Fifty, and they’re running down your back and slipping under that thin, too-tight baby tee that you always wear to bed—fifty-six, and his tongue is somewhere tangled with yours.

“S-shit—you taste so fucking sweet.” he mumbles against your lips before letting you press your body further against his—there’s multiple sirens going off in your head by this point, in which you deliberately ignore, as one does when they have someone like him against them.

Jungwon’s a mess by the time your legs hook around his waist. His hands do the work, looping around your thighs and lifting you up with no real effort: just a small huff from all your weight pressing against his chest, and a (very pathetic) moan that strangles itself out of his throat when you grind against his crotch.

“You missed me?” He smiles against your lips, and it’s an understatement when you say he’s just hungry for you. Doesn’t even give you an opportunity to answer, instead, going for the exposed patch of skin on your neck, laying so beautifully for him.

“W-Won,” you whimper when he sets you on top of your cold, sterile kitchen island—there were months prior to this where you made pasta together on this same surface. “Please—“

“It’s okay,” he says. “I got you.”

It’s not like you’ve never had sex before.

It’s just… you don’t really have sex with ex- boyfriends. Normally. Even so, given that fact, it doesn’t stop you from rutting against Yang Jungwon like your life depends on it, nor does it stop him from undoing the drawstring of your shorts and pulling it riiight down.

“See,” he kisses his teeth, a cocky smile growing on his face—it sends blood right up to your face, watching him watch you, feeling him feel his way into your panties. “All that talk about pushing me away. So pointless.”

His hand slips beneath the band, thick fingers running down your slit, between your folds before coming back up and applying that sickening pressure to your clit. “She miss me, too?”

You’re soaked through by the time Yang Jungwon gets his middle finger at your entrance—teasing, letting only the tip graze your insides. Your jaw’s locked, hung open from trying to draw even breaths into your lungs. “Wooonnn… please. Don’t fucking tease—“

“Aw,” he pouts, eyes flicking back down to where his large hand stretches the fabric of your panties thin. He’s refused to slip them off. Soaking the back of his hand in slick, he wonders—if only for a moment—how it would feel if it was his cock instead. “Don’t get needy on me now.”

You gasp when he pushes past that tight ring of muscle—his finger swallowed whole by your dripping cunt. It curls almost instinctively, intensively, because what kind of man would Yang Jungwon be if he didn’t memorise this?

“Right here,” he mumbles, head hanging low, observing the way the slippery slide of your walls let him pump his fingers so effortlessly. “Feels good, baby? Wanna tell me how much you missed it?”

“Shut.. s-shut up, fuck—“

You choke on a moan—your body’s going into a lock. From sitting upright on your elbows to back arching off the marble, your head’s thrown back when Jungwon adds another finger ‘just for fun’.

His middle and ring finger curl inside of you. The squelching sounds is too much to bear; heat is crawling up your neck like it wants you to drown in it, and as a response, your hands come up to hide the humiliation written all over your face.

“Getting shy on me?” Jungwon mutters, before his free hand darts to pry your wrists away from your cheeks. His fingertips are brushing against that spongy, tingly bundle of nerves inside your core—everything in the room seems reduced to the electrifying feeling that’s buzzing inside your veins, surging, making your head spin.

“Yeah,” his stupidly long fingers are starting to make you see a new universe now, “forgot how fast you cum on my fingers. So cute.”

“F-fuckfuckfuck,” you squeal—your body feels like it’s locking up. The only thing your mind lets you repeat over and over is Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon; Jungwon in that shirt that’s still wet, Jungwon that knows your body so well, Jungwon that’s making sure you cum on his fingers or face at least once before he does anything with himself.

You see it in the way his cock presses against the edge of the counter, and the pained expression on his face like he’s just about ready to come undone. It’s always like that with him, always ready to give you everything he can offer if it meant you felt good.

“Fuck, almost forgot how pretty you look like this,” Jungwon mutters under his breath, though you barely catch it with the angels singing in your ears. Your head thighs are spread shamelessly on the cold marble, juices dripping down your inner thigh and spilling over onto the shiny surface—in his eyes, it almost glistens. “Always so damn nasty for me. Look at you.”

The remark would’ve been embarrassing in any other context. It’s too bad that Yang Jungwon knows exactly how to push your buttons, knows precisely what words to spit out of that nasty mouth to get you salivating. It’s dehumanising, really. Animalistic, the way he has your mind reduced to just slush—and though he can get soooo mean, it just doesn’t matter when it gets you cumming all over his fingers by the end of the night.

Most of the night is spent in a haze. Your vision is blurry, but you most definitely remember some parts in passing. You remember sliding down to your knees and almost choking on how big Jungwon was, and how he made you sit on his face by the second hour—though, to be fair, that was a prerequisite.

You definitely remember how he peeled his shirt off, and how he picked you up again like you were nothing, and how he tossed you onto the bed like it didn’t physically hurt to be apart from him for that split second.

You remember how he laughed at you, only to lean in close and press a searing kiss to the exposed skin of your neck—trailing down, wet and hot, until his teeth could pinch the hem of your soaked panties.

You remember how he pulled them off, sliding them down your legs with nothing but a sinful smirk, pink lace caught between his pearly whites like it didn’t get your stomach churning all over again; pupils blown, face flushed red, heart beating in a frenzy when he uses his tongue to drop them onto the floor.

And you can’t, and will never forget the way he’s spreading your reddened thighs with his palms, fucking into you like this is truly the last time he’ll ever see your face.

Every thrust of his hips against yours knocks the wind out of your lungs. You feel him so impossibly deep that your throat feels clogged—the stretch makes your mind go numb, and God, how could you forget how big Yang Jungwon is when he’s bruising your poor cunt like this?

“Good fucking girl,” and his lips are pressed up against yours like it has nowhere else to go. “Made for me, I swear—so fucking perfect.”

His length pumps in and out of you with no real effort, all sloppy and squelching like there wasn’t anyone else in this neighbourhood to be considerate of. The backboard’s hitting the wall, chipping at the paint, and for a brief moment you let yourself roll your eyes at the thought of painting it over—just when you thought you’d never have to again.

“F-fuhhh…” you drawl, hands coming up around his neck at some attempt at stabilizing yourself. Every hit has your toes curling and your body rocking, nails digging into the flesh of his clean, well-sculpted back. “S-shit, Jungwon—feels so deep—“

“Yeah?” he laughs, low and short-lived before he feels you squeeezing on him. “Fuck, you’re so cute. Acting like you haven’t taken me everywhere in this apartment.”

You’re close to tears by this point. Your fingers tangle in his dark hair, now soaked in sweat instead of rain, and it should disgust you—it should be revolting, the way most people’s bodily fluids are, but you’re laid here anyway— glossy lips sucking on his neck, where you know he’s most sensitive, taking in his scent like it’s all you’ll ever know.

He smells so fucking good when he’s fucking you like it’s his life’s purpose.

You feel his pulse under your tongue. You also feel the way his cock is swelling up in your walls, taking up more and more and more of you, until you’re gasping for air and his pace is almost fucking frantic. Jungwon feels like he’s losing himself in you.

“See,” he moans, breath all hot and loud, leaning right into your ear like it isn’t the most filthy thing he’s done. “You’ll always belong to me.”

And as your friends would say: you did this to yourself. The desperate nods come as soon as the last word leaves his lips—your ears pick up on every grunt and huff from him, his big arms caging you in once again as you’re trying to recollect your thoughts. Everything’s too much, the room smells like sex and sin and everything you’ve resolved to stay away from, with the man you love right in the centre of it all.

“J-Jungwon, fuck, I can’t,” you gasp when you feel your throbbing clit dragging against his length, impossibly hard and aching for more of you. “We can’t do this—“

“Shhh,” and his hands are so, so gentle when they come up to caress your tear-stained cheeks. You’re sniffling like this isn’t the best high you’ve experienced in your life—you just lean into his touch, pathetic, staring into his pseudo-soft expression as if it had any real concern. “Yes, you can—and you will.”

Jungwon feels you clamp down on him just then, jaw going slack at just how heavenly your pussy feels. It’s criminal that he’s almost forgotten it, forgotten how well you take him, how good and pliant you get when he’s splitting you open—how you welcome him inside every time, despite all your little pleas and stubbornness.

He knows how to get to you. Yang Jungwon knows that nobody will ever fuck you like how he does, and that every man that comes after will have to remember that you belong to him before anyone else. They’ll have to remember that you get all shy when he whispers in your ear, or that you can cum just from his middle finger alone.

Everyone will know. They don’t have a choice.

“Fuuuck,” he rasps, nose bumping into your jaw as he breathes you in. You smell so much like him that he’s beginning to lose his very little composure remaining. “Gonna cum, Y/N—shit, I’m gonna cum—“

“Hngh, ‘m close too,” your arms find themselves tightening around him, desperately searching for something to hold onto. His muscles are flexing with every desperate rut, every frantic roll of his hips, and God, he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t going dumb at the idea of filling you up. You’d be all warm inside, his cock plugging you closed as he empties himself into your battered cunt, and you’d take every single drop of it like it was what you’ve always meant to do.

“God, I love you so much,” he whispers, and though it makes your eyes shoot open, you find yourself muttering the same phrase back to him. There’s something sweet in the way he leans in close, just to give you a tender kiss, and then the room flips upside down when his tongue is sliding at your bottom lip again; soon enough, he gets messy, and you’re moaning into each other like you’re the only two people on this street.

“Always mine, mineminemine,” Jungwon huffs. “Don’t ever forget it, mm? You belong to me.”

It crashes into you. Blinding, deafening, like something in you just exploded after the pressure’s built up for months.

You’re soaking him shamelessly, hot and dizzying—Jungwon’s moans sound like they’ve been clipped straight from a porno, disgustingly loud, and still: it makes your orgasm shake. Electricity is buzzing through you, and just what does your ex know to do when you’re crumbling like this?

Go deeper.

“Fuckfuckfuck—w-wait, Jungwon!”

Your pleas mean nothing. He’s being selfish, and he knows it. He doesn’t care if it’s too much, he doesn’t care if you’re crying because he’s too big, he doesn’t care if you’re going to cum on his cock for the fifth time in an hour.

Oh, and he definitely doesn’t care that you’re not together anymore. That’s never stopped him, has it?

“Shit,” his hips snap into you, ruthless, unforgiving, bruising your cervix like it’s personally wronged him. “Wanna get back together, mm?”

“You’re… hngh—you’re crazy, Jungwon!”

“Worth a try.”

the bathroom door clicks open just as you're tilting your head back under the spray, eyes closed, steam curling around you in thick, warm clouds.

you don't hear him at first, not over the white noise of water hitting tile, but you feel the shift in the air, the momentary chill as the door opens and closes again.

"baby?" his voice cuts through the haze, soft and questioning.

you peel your eyes open, wiping water from your lashes, and there he is. jake. still in his practice clothes, black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, gym bag dropped somewhere in the bedroom beyond.

he looks exhausted, shoulders curved inward, but his eyes light up when he sees you behind the frosted glass of the shower door.

"you're home," you say, smiling despite yourself. "i thought you'd be later."

"ended early," he mumbles, already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the lean muscle underneath, skin glistening with the day's effort "hyungs let me go first."

he steps out of his shorts and underwear in one motion, and you watch because you always watch, because he never fails to make your breath catch.

the shower door slides open, cool air rushing in before his body replaces it, all heat and solid presence.

"missed you," he murmurs, crowding you against the tile, hands finding your waist with the kind of familiarity that comes from months of mapping each other's bodies.

"you saw me this morning," you laugh, but your hands are already sliding up his chest, tracing the lines of his collarbones, the hollow of his throat.

"still missed you," he insists, nose brushing your jaw, lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear "always miss you when i'm not touching you."

the water rains down between you, hot and insistent, and you can feel him hardening against your stomach already, all that coiled tension from practice redirecting itself into something hungrier. but jake has always been patient. jake has always been the type to take his time.

"let me wash you," he says, reaching for the body wash, and you nod because you know what this is.

this is him unwinding. this is him settling back into his skin, into the version of himself that belongs only to you.

he works the soap between his palms until it foams, then spreads it across your shoulders, down your arms, his touch firm but unhurried.

he worships your collarbones, the dip between your breasts, the curve of your waist. every touch says you're mine, you're mine, you're mine.

"turn around," he says, voice dropping lower, and you obey, pressing your palms flat against the tile, letting the water cascade down your spine.

he starts at your neck, thumbs working circles into the tension there, then drifts lower.

his soapy hands glide over your shoulder blades, your ribs, the small of your back. he takes his time with your ass, kneading, spreading, making you squirm against him.

"stay still," he whispers, and there's that tone. the one that makes your stomach flip. "let me take care of you."

"yes," you breathe, forehead resting against the cool tile.

his hands slide between your legs from behind, soapy and slick, and he doesn't rush.

he washes you there too, thorough and intimate, fingers sliding through your folds with casual possession.

you gasp when he brushes your clit, hips jerking involuntarily.

"easy," he soothes, other hand steadying your hip. "i've got you."

he rinses you off then, hands cupping water to pour over your skin, watching the soap spiral down the drain. but he doesn't stop touching you.

his fingers stay between your legs, exploring now, circling your entrance with teasing pressure.

"jake," you whine, pushing back against his hand.

"what, baby?" he sounds amused, lips at your ear. "what do you want?"

"you know what i want."

"mm," he hums, pressing a single finger inside you, curling it just enough to make your knees weak. "i think i do. but i want to hear you say it."

"please," you manage, head falling back against his shoulder. "want you inside me."

"not yet," he says, and withdraws his finger, making you whimper at the loss. "want to play first."

he turns you around then, back against the tile, and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. he reaches up, adjusting the showerhead, and you realize what he's doing when he detaches it from the holder.

"trust me?" he asks, holding the handheld showerhead like a weapon.

"always," you say, and you mean it.

he starts at your feet, the water pressure dialed to a firm, pulsing stream. he moves it up your calves, your knees, the insides of your thighs.

the sensation is intense, almost too much, a constant drumming pressure that makes your muscles twitch.

"higher," he commands, and you spread your legs wider without thinking, giving him access.

the water hits your pussy and you cry out, hips bucking. it's different from fingers or a tongue, relentless and mechanical, spreading you open with hydraulic force.

jake watches your face, watches your mouth fall open, your eyes roll back.

"look at you," he murmurs, voice thick "taking it so well. such a good girl for me."

the praise sends heat spiraling through you, and you nod frantically, chasing the sensation.

he moves the stream in small circles, focusing the pressure on your clit, and it's overwhelming, too intense, but you don't want him to stop.

"please," you're babbling, hands gripping his shoulders for support. "jake, please, it's too much, please don't stop."

"never," he promises, leaning in to capture your mouth in a kiss that's all teeth and desperation.

"want to watch you come apart like this. want to feel you shaking."

he adjusts the angle, and suddenly the water is hitting that perfect spot, rhythmic and unyielding, and you're climbing fast, so fast, your nails digging into his skin hard enough to leave marks.

"that's it," he encourages, free hand cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple "let go, baby. i've got you. come for me, y/n. be my good girl and come."

the words push you over, and you shatter against him, crying out his name as your orgasm crashes through you, thighs trembling, vision going white at the edges.

he keeps the water there through it, drawing it out until you're sobbing, oversensitive, pushing at his chest.

"okay, okay," he soothes, turning the pressure down, discarding the showerhead to wrap his arms around you "you did so well. so perfect. feel good?"

"yeah," you gasp, clinging to him, still shaking "yeah, feel good."

he kisses your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose "want more?"

"want you," you say, looking up at him through heavy lashes "want you inside me. please, jake."

he groans, pressing his forehead to yours "fuck, the way you beg for me. kills me every time."

he lifts you then, hands under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his waist, back against the tile.

the position spreads you open for him, and you can feel him hard and hot against your entrance, still sensitive from your orgasm.

"ready?" he asks, always checking, always caring even when he's trembling with need.

"yes, yes, please," you chant, and he sinks into you in one slow, perfect thrust.

you both moan, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls. he fills you completely, stretching you in that way that burns so perfectly, and he stays there for a moment, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing hard.

"you feel incredible," he whispers "so warm. so tight. fuck, baby, you were made for me."

"move," you plead, rolling your hips against him "please, jake, need you to move."

he pulls out slowly, almost all the way, then slams back in, making you cry out.

he sets a rhythm that's deep and deliberate, each thrust angled to hit that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

the water is still running, cooler now, cascading over both of you as he fucks you against the wall. his hands grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, and you hope they do, hope you carry the marks of his fingers for days.

"touch yourself," he commands, voice rough "want to feel you squeeze me when you come again."

you reach between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, and the dual sensation of him inside you and your own touch has you climbing fast again, impossibly soon.

"good girl," he praises, watching your hand move "that's it. keep touching yourself. want you to come on my cock, y/n. want to feel you milking me."

his words are filthy and perfect, and you feel yourself tightening around him, the pressure building low in your stomach.

"jake," you warn, voice high and broken.

"come with me," he says, pace faltering, losing his rhythm as he gets close "come with me, baby. let's go together."

he thrusts harder, deeper, hitting that spot with precision, and you shatter, orgasm ripping through you with violent intensity.

you clamp down on him, and he groans your name, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, hot and pulsing.

he keeps you pinned there for long moments, both of you shaking, breathing hard, the water washing away the sweat and evidence of what you've done.

he kisses you then, soft and reverent, all the desperation gentled into something tender.

"love you," he whispers against your lips. "love you so much."

"love you too," you say, smiling despite the exhaustion in your bones.

he lowers you carefully, making sure you're steady on your feet before he reaches for the soap again. this time it's just cleaning, gentle and thorough, washing away the day, washing away the intensity until you're both just skin and warmth and easy affection.

he turns off the water and wraps you in a towel, drying your hair with the kind of care that makes your heart ache.

he carries you to bed after, still damp, and curls around you, nose buried in your neck.

"sleep," he murmurs. "i'll be here when you wake up."

you close your eyes, safe in his arms, and let the sound of his breathing lull you under.

⋆˚✿˖°

the television had long since shut itself off.

morning sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft strips, warming the living room just enough to pull you from sleep. you frowned slightly, still half asleep.

something felt off though. something was.. warm and comfortable

your cheek was pressed against something firm, your legs tucked beneath a blanket you didn't remember grabbing.

you shifted a little.

the movement earned a quiet groan from beneath you

“...dont,” a low, sleepy voice mumbled.

your eyes slowly blinked open. for a second your brain couldn't quite put the pieces together.

the couch, the blanket…

riki.

your eyes widened immediately.

you were practically curled against his side, one of your hands still resting loosely on his chest. sometime during the night, he'd slipped an arm around your waist, and neither of you had moved since

oh. my. god.

riki cracked one eye open “morning.” his voice was raspy and deep, evidence of just waking up

your heart started beating faster “good morning…” you mumbled quietly. a low chuckle rumbled through him. you felt the vibration of it from his chest. 

“.. i can feel your heartbeat on me doll” he teased ‘your quite literally right on top of me”

you sat up “i have no idea what your talking about” you murmured. he raised his eyebrows, followed by a laugh.

“what is it with you and always denying everything y/n?” 

he had a sly grin on his face as he looked at you.

before you could respond his phone began buzzing like crazy against the armrest of the couch. riki reached over and picked it up, looking at the screen, his eyes slowly widening.

you clocked his reaction instantly “whats wrong?” you asked carefully. 

“my sister asked why I'm not home,” he groans, putting his hands over his face and dragging them down.

you paused looking at him “just tell her your getting breakfast or something, i dont think she’ll care” 

he huffed, getting up from the couch “i better get going” he rumbled, stretching his arms up, emphasising his height over you.

“alright..” you mumbled getting up and walking to the door with him, letting him out

before stepping out he looked at you and paused, a sudden awkwardness hanging over the two of you “thanks.. for letting me stay” he thanked quietly.

you nodded your head “no big deal” you responded with a smile.

with that, you watched him walk out the house and into his car, making sure he leaves successfully.

you walked yourself to your bedroom, sleeping some more.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

silence.

It's been a couple days and you haven't really taken to riki since. you still go over to your best friend's house a lot but you rarely run into him in the house. when you do run into him, it immediately gets awkward. 

his gaze will linger on you and he’ll say a quick ‘hi’ then go back to whatever it is he was doing

it kinda hurts. even though you weren't expecting anything to come from it.

one day you're hanging out with your best friend.

“hes treating me really well, plus he's fine as hell” you both laugh. her relationship with james was starting to get somewhat serious. they didn't have a label on anything but they hung out more then friends would and it's very evident that she likes him. she’s down bad.

you smile at her “im happy for you, you deserve a man that can give you the world”

she flushes at your response “enough about me, has anything been going on with you?” she asks eagerly

your face drops slightly. you didn't want to assume that it would be okay to mention it in front of her.

“ah.. nothing y’know. same old, same old” your best friend frowns at this news.

“awe, im sorry babe” 

you shrug. you were used to it at this point, it's been forever since you could remember having a boyfriend, and the stuff with riki was still fresh and new, plus you haven't talked since.

your friend's face perks up suddenly. you give her a questionable look “i have an idea to cheer you up..” she says with a big smile on her face.

“james is going to another party tonight.. we could go with him?” 

you pause. you didnt want to intrude on their time.. but at the same time a party could fix a lot of your problems right now.

“..fine” you say with a sigh, but a big smile on your face. your friend starts cheering “i cant wait!”

you guys were both scrolling on your phone, till it hit you that you should probably bring some stuff with you to the party, however unfortunately you were out.

you knew you had to text riki. you didn't know why it made you nervous, but it did.

so you reached out anyway.

you huffed.

what was his problem? he's never denied before? plus “im busy..?” that's literally never been a problem before.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

you had on some fishnets under dark navy booty shorts. you had an oversized, off the shoulder black shirt, complimented with black shoes and silver jewelry.

as soon as you stepped inside, the usual party atmosphere hit you like a wall. blaring music, lots of people, lingering smells of weed and alcohol.

james was already by the entrance, grinning as he immediately wrapped an arm around your friends shoulders. he took a glance at you

“you actually came?” he smiled

“i cant say no to her” you teased, ruffling her hair. she huffed at you messing up her hair.

james chuckles, fixing it for her before looking over his shoulder “riki’s around here somewhere” he says to the both of you.

seriously..?

this is what he was so “busy” doing?

you try not to let it show on your face, you just nod. your friend huffs “and he didn't offer us a ride?” you chuckle at her antics.

as soon as james takes your best friend around, you're met with a familiar face.

“well, if it isn't riki’s mysterious friend”

you looked up, your eyes meeting jays. you laughed “i have a title now?”

“you remember my name, y/n?” he asks, putting an arm around your shoulders and walking with you to the kitchen. 

“its jay, you introduced yourself the last time i saw you” 

he smiled.

“so you were paying attention”

you guys continued talking as you grabbed a drink. nothing flirty, just two people genuinely getting along.

meanwhile, across the room, riki was having a conversation with heeseung and jungwon. heeseung interrupted their conversation “do i spy, with my little eye, jay getting a chick?”

they all start laughing, looking over to see jays back facing them, while he was in the kitchen. he could barely see who jay was talking to till he moved to the side slightly.

“well shit, isn't that your sister's friend, riki?” heeseung laughed, nudging his shoulder "the one that was at james’ place the other week?”

riki followed his gaze without thinking.

his eyes landed on you almost immediately. his face dropped slightly. he had zero idea you were gonna be here tonight, if he knew he probably would've met up with you earlier.

you stood in the kitchen with jay, both of you leaning against the counter with drinks in your hands. he watched as you laughed at something jay had said, your smile practically lighting up the room. jay laughed right back, nudging your shoulder playfully before reaching into a bowl of chips and offering it out to you.

“…yeah.” riki answered quietly, tearing his eyes away and taking a sip from his drink.

jungwon noticed the way riki’s attention kept drifting back toward the kitchen. he didn’t say anything at first, just followed his line of sight before glancing back at him.

“they seem to be getting along.” he commented casually.

riki shrugged one shoulder “guess so.”

heeseung hummed to himself "I didn't even know they knew each other like that.”

“they don’t.” riki answered almost instantly,the response came out a little too fast.

jungwon raised an eyebrow “…you sure?”

“they met once.” riki corrected himself, rubbing the back of his neck. “jay’s just friendly.”

“mhm.” jungwon tried to hide the smile creeping onto his face.

across the room, another laugh escaped you. jay had apparently said something stupid because you lightly shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes as he dramatically clutched his chest like you’d mortally wounded him.riki watched the interaction for a second longer than he should have before looking down at the cup in his hands.

he didn’t know why it bothered him, jay acted like this with everyone.he’d known the guy long enough to know he didn’t mean anything by it.

so why…

why did it bother him so much seeing you laugh with someone else?

heeseung watched the gears turning in his head before letting out a quiet laugh “…there it is.”

riki frowned “what?”

“nothing.”

“don’t start.”

“i haven’t even said anything yet.”

“you’re about to.”

heeseung looked over at jungwon with an amused grin “he knows me so well.”

jungwon chuckled “a little too well.”

riki rolled his eyes, already regretting standing anywhere near the two of them “seriously, can we not?”

“can’t help but notice…” heeseung started, pretending to think. “…you’ve looked over there at least six times.”

“i have not.”

“you definitely have.”

“i’m literally just standing here.”

“standing here while staring at her.”

“i’m not staring.”

jungwon tilted his head “…then what were you looking at?”

“the kitchen.”

heeseung blinked.

“…the kitchen.”

“yeah.”

“that’s your excuse?”

riki sighed “what do you want me to say?”

“the truth.”

“…which is?”

heeseung’s grin widened “that you’re jealous.”

riki let out a dry laugh “of jay?”

“yeah.”

“be serious.”

“i am serious.”

riki shook his head “he’s talking to my sister’s friend. why would i care?”

jungwon looked between riki and the kitchen again before humming thoughtfully “…i don’t know.” he paused just long enough to make riki look at him “you tell us.”

riki opened his mouth, then closed it.

he didn’t have an answer, because he honestly didn’t know.

he barely knew you.

 sure, you’d been buying from him for months.

sure, you’d kissed.

sure, he’d spent the night on your couch.

but none of that explained why every time jay made you laugh, he felt this irritating twist settle in his chest.

going back over to you and jay, you guys were having a nice and fun conversation.

“I think the boys are somewhere around, wanna go find them?” jay asked, looking around

you paused for a second, knowing that finding ‘the boys’ would also mean interacting with riki. 

“yeah sure, lets go”

jay led you around the house, till you finally made contact with them.

“aye! jay!’ jungwon cheered, dapping him up

you said hi to all of them, both your eyes and rikis eyes lingering on each other longer then they should've been.

“you guys wanna go outside and light up?” heeseung asked, to which everyone nodded and made their way into the backyard. 

you all sat on furniture the person who was hosting had.

you sat between jungwon and the armrest on the couch, a couple other people had come outside with you guys.

they all introduced themselves. you met jake, sunoo, and sunghoon.

it was really sweet how close all the boys were. they were all reminiscing stories from times when they were younger.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

after sitting outside for another few minutes, you stood up, brushing your hands against your jeans.

“i’m gonna grab another drink, i’ll be back.”

nobody questioned it, only giving you quick nods before falling back into their conversation.

the music inside was louder than it had been outside. people squeezed past each other in the kitchen while others crowded the hallways, laughing loudly over one another.

you had barely closed the fridge after grabbing a drink when a familiar voice stopped you.

“so…”

you froze.

“…do you wanna talk?”

you looked up just to be met with riki towering over you. “…about?”

he looked down at you, right into your eyes “are gonna act like we never kissed?”

you looked down embarrassed “you never reached out since then..” you mumbled

he chuckles slightly “a phone works both ways, doll” he moves a strand of hair out of your face, and grabs the bottom of your chin, tilting your head up so your meeting his eyes.

you huffed “well, how about when i texted you earlier and asked if you could supply me something?” you crossed your arms over your chest.

he lets go of your chin, exhaling “i was busy y/n, plus i don’t have what you usually get in stock right now”

you paused looking anywhere but in his eyes “..you could’ve said that”

the corner of his lip turned up “ill be more clear next time princess”

“wanna get out of here..?” he asks looking at you

your eyes widened “what? what about the guys?” 

he scoffed “i’d rather roll up with you, plus they won’t care i promise you”

you thought about it for a moment

 “fine”

he smiled as put his hand on the small of your back, leading you out the house.

you walked all the way to his car as he let you in the passenger seat before making his way into the drivers seat.

“wanna go to the park?” he asked as he started his car

you hummed, as he reversed out the house, begining to drive down the road.

the drive was quick and quiet. he played his usual music and you guys didn’t really talk till he pulled up to the park.

he stayed inside the car, just turning on the backseat lights.

he opened the center console, taking out some papers, a tray, a bag.

you scoffed, a smile on your face “well aren’t you prepared” 

he chuckled “you never know when you need a good smoke”

you watched him as he put the weed onto the paper, rolling it up on the tiny tray.

“..you smoke with all your customers?” you said, as you unbuckled you seatbelt, sitting comfortably in the passenger seat.

he gave you a playful stare, rolling his eyes “please, who do you think i am” 

you laughed as he rolled down the windows and opened the sunroof, before lighting the blunt in his hand.

he took a hit then passed it to you.

you inhaled the smoke slowly, feeling his gaze on you. you felt the smoke hit the back of your throat, a warm sensation in your chest as you exhaled.

you passed it back to him.

“so” he said, trying to initiate a conversation 

“so..” you responded 

he chuckled “you look really nice y/n” he said with a smile

you looked down, a small smile tugging at your lips. you weren’t expecting him to say that. usually riki was always so confident, always teasing you or acting like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“thank you,” you mumbled, looking back over at him. “you clean up pretty well too.”

his eyebrows lifted slightly, a grin forming on his face.

“pretty well?”

you rolled your eyes. “don’t make it a big deal.”

“i’m just saying, i’ll take the compliment.”

you laughed quietly, shaking your head.

after a beat, riki finally speaks

“so… did you like jay?” he asks

you raise an eyebrow at the sudden question “he’s nice” you say softly

riki hums

“…d’you like him?” he asks quietly

your eyebrows furrow “i barely know him riki?” you huff

he shrugs “just sayin..” he mumbles, before staring at you

maybe the high was getting to him, or you were overthinking, or it was a mix of both. you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flicking to your lips then back to your eyes.

you scoff “your shameless aren’t you?” 

he chuckled “i just know what i want” he says

you don’t even realize it but you lean in closer, you only realize once his hand comes up and cups your cheek, caressing near your ear

“such a pretty girl..” riki mumbles

you gulp as you feel your face grow hot

riki didn’t say anything more for a moment, his eyes flickering between yours like he was giving you one last chance to change your mind.

when you didn’t move away, he leaned in slowly, closing the small space between the two of you.

the second his lips met yours, everything else seemed to fade into the background. 

the music playing quietly from the car, the cool air drifting through the open windows, the fact that you were sitting in a parked car in the middle of the night, all of it felt distant.

this kiss felt different from the first one. 

there was no surprise, no confusion, no wondering what it meant. it was slower, softer, like both of you were taking the time to actually feel the moment instead of letting it pass too quickly.

your hand found its way to his sleeve, holding onto him slightly as he leaned closer. riki’s usual teasing expression was gone, replaced by something much softer, something you weren’t used to seeing from him.

the kiss deepens, riki's hand tangling into your hair as he pulls you closer across the center console.

the angle is awkward, cramped, but neither of you care. not when his tongue slides against yours with slow, deliberate strokes that make your head spin.

"fuck," he breathes against your lips, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. his eyes are dark, blown out, pupils swallowing up the brown. "you're gonna kill me, you know that?"

you don't get to answer before he's kissing you again, hungrier this time, like he's been starving for this.

his free hand finds your waist, thumb tracing the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up, and you shiver at the contact.

"riki," you gasp when he breaks away to trail his mouth along your jaw, down to your throat. he nips at the sensitive skin there, soothing it with his tongue. "the car..."

"too small," he finishes, voice rough against your neck. he pulls back, adjusting himself with a quiet curse before starting the engine. "your place. now."

it's not a question, but you nod anyway, breathless, already reaching for your seatbelt with trembling fingers. the drive back to your apartment is a blur of red lights and his hand on your thigh, thumb drawing maddening circles higher and higher until you have to bite your lip to keep from squirming.

by the time you stumble through your front door, the anticipation has coiled tight in your stomach, heavy and hot.

riki doesn't waste time.

the door barely clicks shut before he's crowding you against it, caging you in with his arms on either side of your head. he looks down at you with something that makes your knees weak. like you're the only thing in the world worth looking at.

"look at you," he murmurs, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "already so pretty, and i haven't even touched you yet."

he kisses you slow and deep, unhurried now that you have all the time in the world.

his hands roam your body, mapping out the curves of your waist, the flare of your hips, like he's memorizing every inch. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are heavy lidded, dark with want.

"bedroom," he says. it's half question, half demand.

you nod, taking his hand and leading him down the hall. your heart is hammering so hard you're sure he can hear it, but when you glance back at him, he's just watching you with that same intense focus, like he's waiting for you to change your mind.

you don't.

the moment you're in your room, riki's hands are on you again, turning you around to face him.

he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of the mattress, and you sit down hard, looking up at him from below.

the height difference is even more pronounced like this. he towers over you, broad shouldered and imposing, but his touch is gentle when he cups your face.

"you're sure?" he asks quietly, thumb stroking your cheek. "we can stop whenever you want, just say the word."

"i'm sure," you whisper, reaching up to tug at his belt loops. "want you, riki."

the groan that tears from his throat is guttural, desperate. he pushes you back onto the mattress, following you down to cage you beneath him. the weight of him is solid, grounding, and you arch up instinctively to feel more of it.

"so beautiful," he breathes, kissing along your collarbone, fingers working at the buttons of your shirt.

"so fucking beautiful, doll. you have no idea what you do to me."

he peels your shirt off, tossing it aside, and his eyes darken further at the sight of you in your bra. he runs a hand down your side, reverent, like he's touching something precious.

"perfect," he murmurs, lowering his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. "absolutely perfect."

his mouth is hot against your skin, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches. when he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, you lift your hips to help him, and he chuckles darkly against your throat.

"eager, aren't we?"

"shut up," you breathe, but you're smiling, and he swallows the sound with another kiss.

he takes his time with you, more patient than you've ever seen him. his mouth finds your nipple, sucking gently before swirling his tongue around the peak, and you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. he does the same to the other side, lavishing attention on you until you're squirming beneath him, desperate for friction.

"riki, please..."

"please what?" he teases, looking up at you with those dark eyes, lips swollen and wet. "tell me what you want, princess. i want to hear you say it."

"i want you," you whimper, arching up against him. "want you inside me, please..."

"fuck," he groans, resting his forehead against your sternum for a moment, breathing hard. "you're gonna be the death of me, i swear."

he sits back on his heels, pulling you up with him to rid you of your shorts and fishnets. his gaze drags over you slowly, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and you feel yourself flush under the scrutiny.

"gorgeous," he says simply, like it's a fact. like there's no room for argument. "look at you, spread out for me. you're a dream, y/n. a fucking dream."

he spreads your legs gently, settling between them, and you watch with bated breath as he leans down to press open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs.

he works his way up slowly, teasing, until his breath is hot against your center through your underwear.

"riki..."

"patience, doll," he murmurs, hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. "let me take care of you. want to taste you first."

the first swipe of his tongue has you crying out, hands flying to his hair. he's thorough, methodical, like he's savoring every second.

he licks into you slowly, building a rhythm that has you panting, writhing against the sheets.

"so sweet," he mumbles against you, the vibration making you moan. "so fucking sweet. you taste incredible, princess. can't get enough."

he adds a finger, curling it just right, and your back arches off the bed.

he keeps up the steady pressure, licking and sucking at your clit while his finger works you open, and you're spiraling quickly, heat building low in your belly.

"riki, i'm gonna..."

"let go," he encourages, looking up at you with dark, blown pupil eyes. "come for me, doll. wanna feel you."

it hits you like a wave, pleasure crashing over you so intensely you see stars. you cry out his name, hips bucking against his mouth as he rides you through it, gentle now, soothing you down from the high.

when you finally go limp against the mattress, he's kissing his way back up your body, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"good girl," he praises, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips. you can taste yourself on him, and it sends another shiver through you. "you look so pretty when you come apart. wanna see it again."

"your turn," you manage, reaching for his shirt. he lets you pull it off, and your breath catches at the sight of him. lean muscle and smooth skin, tattoos you didn't know he had tracing up his ribs.

"like what you see?" he teases, but his voice is breathless, strained. he's been holding back, you realize, and the thought sends a rush of heat through you.

you nod, hands moving to his belt. he helps you, shucking off his pants and boxers until he's as bare as you are.

you can't help but stare. he's gorgeous, all of him, and when he catches you looking, he doesn't tease. just looks pleased, proud even.

"for you," he says softly, climbing back over you. "all for you, doll."

he reaches for his jeans, pulling out a condom, and you watch with heavy lidded eyes as he rolls it on. when he settles back between your legs, you can feel him, hot and hard against your thigh, and you whimper at the anticipation.

"ready?" he asks, positioning himself at your entrance. he kisses you sweetly, tenderly, a stark contrast to the tension coiling between you.

"yes," you breathe. "please, riki. want you."

he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch. it burns a little, but in the best way, and you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his whole body trembling with the effort of going slow.

"fuck, you're tight," he grits out, hips finally flush against yours. "feel so good, princess. so fucking good."

he starts moving, slow and deep, dragging out every thrust until you're seeing stars.

his hands find yours, pinning them above your head as he picks up the pace, and the feeling of being completely surrounded by him. his weight, his scent, the sound of his ragged breathing in your ear. it has you spiraling again.

"look at me," he commands softly, waiting until your eyes flutter open. he holds your gaze, thrusting harder now, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. "stay with me, doll. wanna see you when you come."

you nod, breathless, overwhelmed by the intimacy of it.

he's watching you like you're the only thing that matters, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you've never seen before.

"you're perfect," he breathes, shifting his angle to hit that spot inside you that makes you cry out. "so perfect for me. taking me so well, princess. such a good girl."

the praise goes straight to your core, heat building again, coiling tighter and tighter. you can feel him getting closer too, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm.

"riki, i'm close..."

"me too," he groans, dropping his head to kiss your neck, your jaw, anywhere he can reach. "come with me, doll. let's go together."

he reaches between you, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, desperate circles, and that's it. you're coming again, harder this time, clenching around him as your vision whites out. he follows seconds later, burying his face in your neck with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he finds his release.

for a long moment, neither of you move. you're both breathing hard, tangled together in a mess of limbs and sweat, the room smelling of sex and skin.

riki eventually lifts his head, looking down at you with soft eyes.

"hi," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

you laugh, breathless and giddy. "hi."

he pulls out carefully, dealing with the condom before collapsing back beside you and pulling you into his arms. you tuck yourself against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back to normal.

"that was..." you start, not quite sure how to finish.

"yeah," he agrees, kissing your hair. "it was."

you lie there in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns up and down your spine. just when you think he might have fallen asleep, he speaks again, voice quiet and serious.

"i'm not gonna disappear this time," he says. "i know i messed up, not texting you back. but i want this. want you. if you'll have me."

you tilt your head up to look at him, and he's watching you with genuine vulnerability, none of his usual teasing bravado.

"i'd like that," you whisper, smiling when his expression softens into something like relief.

"good," he murmurs, pulling you closer. "because i'm not planning on going anywhere, doll. you're stuck with me."

you fall asleep like that, tangled together, and for the first time in days, everything feels exactly right.

⋆˚✿˖°

the guy walked into a lecture hall and half the girls in the room suddenly forgot how to breathe. he carried himself with this effortless, arrogant tilt of the head, completely aware of the eyes tracking his every move, his ego fed daily by whispered compliments and lingering stares. he was the university’s golden boy, untouchable, sharp, and brutally handsome

but to everyone's collective heartbreak, he belonged to you

​and god, you loved him so much it made your chest ache. you were the textbook definition of "girlier than most" you loved soft pastel cardigans, spent too long matching your ribbons to your tote bags. you were smart, a straight-A student doing a grueling dual-degree track, but you wore your emotions completely on your sleeve. a total crybaby, sunghoon used to tease, back when he used to press kisses into your hair to dry your tears

you’ve been together for two years. two whole years of being that couple. he had chased you first, pursuing you with a fierce, quiet intensity until you finally gave in. for twenty-four months, you were his world, and he was yours

​except, lately, the air between you had gone cold

​it started out small, a text left on read for six hours. the way he didn’t hold your hand in the car anymore because his fingers were glued to his screen, smiling at notifications he’d quickly lock away if you leaned in too close. you tried to tell yourself you were just being paranoid, that engineering was just getting stressful for him. but you weren't stupid, you could feel the space widening between you, a silent chasm growing larger with every passing day

​which brought you here. a chilly tuesday night, walking side by side through the campus park

the streetlamps threw long, warped shadows across the concrete. you shivered slightly, pulling your knit cardigan tighter around your shoulders, waiting for him to notice. usually, he’d grumble about you not wearing a proper coat and drape his oversized leather jacket over you. tonight, sunghoon just stared straight ahead, his hands shoved deep into his own pockets, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek

​"sunghoon," you said softly, your voice barely a breath in the cool night air. "are you okay? you've been really quiet tonight."

​he didn't stop walking, he didn't even look at you. "i'm fine, y/n. just thinking."

​you reached out, your fingers lightly brushing the sleeve of his jacket, desperate for any shred of the warmth you used to take for granted. "thinking about what?" you whispered

​finally, he stopped. they were right under the dim, buzzing glow of a streetlamp. when he turned to face you, there was no affection in his eyes. just a chilling, detached emptiness that made you want to turn around and run

​"we need to stop doing this," sunghoon said, his voice didn’t even shake. it was completely steady, cutting through the quiet night air like a blade

​you froze, your hand dropping from his sleeve. the cold air hit your bare skin instantly, but it was nothing compared to the ice suddenly flooding your veins. "stop doing what?" you asked

​sunghoon let out a short, sighing breath, tilting his head back to look at the dark sky before bringing his gaze right back to you. there wasn't a hint of hesitation in his eyes. "this, us. i’m tired of pretending, y/n."

​"pretending?" your voice cracked

"i like someone else," he said flatly. the world felt like it tilted on its axis

you stared at him, your chest heaving as the first tear spilled over, tracking down your cheek. "what... what do you mean? who?"

​"her name is sooha," he said, and for the first time all night, his expression shifted but it wasn't out of guilt. a tiny, almost imperceptible soften occurred around his eyes when he muttered her name, and it felt like a physical slap to your face. "we've been seeing each other for about two months now."

​two months, eight weeks and sixty days of him coming over to your apartment, kissing your forehead, letting you cook for him, all while he was coming from or going to someone else. the betrayal hit you like a physical blow, leaving you completely breathless. your knees felt weak, you couldn't stand straight

​you were sobbing now, big, quiet, trembling tears that shook your entire frame. you looked up at him through a wet blur, expecting to see a flicker of the boy who used to panic whenever you cried

​sunghoon just stood there, looking down at you and as he watched you fall apart, his posture actually straightened. seeing you completely wrecked over him didn't make him feel guilty, it fed his monstrous ego. he looked at your tears as proof of his power, a testament to how deeply he could affect someone

​"so that's it," he said, crossing his arms. "i'm not gonna lie to you anymore, it's over."

​"no," you gasped out, the word slipping past your trembling lips before you could stop it. you hated how desperate you sounded, but you were desperate. "no, sunghoon, please. just... give me one month."

​he frowned, his eyebrows snapping together in annoyance. "are you serious right now? y/n, i literally just told you i don't love you anymore. i’m with sooha."

​"i know!" you cried, burying your face in your hands for a second before looking back up, your eyes red and pleading. "i know. just... one month. don't break up with me until next month, please. after that, you can leave. you can do whatever you want, just give me thirty days."

​sunghoon scoffed, turning his face away in disgust. "this is pathetic. why would i do that? i want to be with her openly."

​"please, sunghoon," you begged, taking a step closer, your hands trembling by your sides

you didn't tell him why, you didn't tell him that in exactly thirty days, your flight out of the country was booked. you didn't remind him about the dual-degree program in Europe you'd gotten into. the one you'd excitedly babbled about two years ago when you first met, back when he actually listened to you. he obviously didn't remember it now

​he stared at you for a long, agonizing moment, weighing his options. "fine," he finally spat out, a harsh, arrogant smirk pulling at the corner of his lips

"one month. but let's get something straight, y/n. don't go demanding my time, don't text me asking where i am, and don't expect me to act like your perfect boyfriend. my affection is split now, and honestly? most of it is going to her. you don't get to protest, and you don't get to complain. take it or leave it."

​you swallowed the lump in your throat, wiped your wet cheeks with the sleeve of your pastel cardigan, and nodded. "okay," you whispered. "okay."

by the third day of the first week, any lingering hope you had left was completely dead

​the reality of the one month deal was so much uglier than you had anticipated. sunghoon didn't just split his affection, he completely turned it off. you were treated like an annoying ghost he couldn't wait to exorcise from his life

​it was a thursday afternoon when you saw a post on your feed about that new bakery cafe that just opened near the arts building, the one with the pastel blue storefront and the fluffy cloud pastries you’d been talking about wanting to try for months

normally, if you showed sunghoon a place like that, he’d roll his eyes, call it "too pink," but then immediately grab his car keys and pull his shoes on because he secretly loved indulging you​. so, swallowing your pride, you typed out a quick message

you: hey, do you want to check out that new cafe today? my classes finish at three

​hoon 🤍: can't. sooha wanted to go to that new pasta place downtown

​your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, a hot, familiar wave of frustration rushing up your throat. you wanted to throw your phone. you wanted to scream at him, to scream that you were still his girlfriend, that he promised you thirty days, that it wasn't fair

​but then you caught your reflection in the dark screen of your laptop. you saw your own tired eyes, and you remembered. thirty days. you only had to endure this for twenty-seven more days, and then you’d be on a flight across the world, leaving him behind forever. you couldn't ruin the plan

the next day: day four, started out weirdly different. you were sitting in your afternoon lecture, staring blankly at a slide about international trade laws, when your phone buzzed against your thigh. you figured it was yunjin asking what they should get for dinner, but when you unlocked it, your heart did a stupid, pathetic little flip

​hoon 🤍: i'll pick you up after your class. meet me by the outdoor basketball courts at 4:30

​it was the first time in a week he had texted you first. you hadn't even had to double-text him. a tiny, foolish part of you wondered if maybe he missed you, if maybe spending time with sooha made him realize what he was throwing away

​the only issue was the location. the outdoor basketball courts were on the complete opposite side of the campus, a massive trek from the humanities building. you’d have to walk down three long, winding corridors, and cut straight through the open park

​by the time the professor dismissed the class, it wasn't just raining it was pouring, a heavy, aggressive downpour that blurred the campus windows into gray sheets. you stood at the exit of the building, looking down at your canvas tote bag and your thin cardigan. you didn't have an umbrella. you’d forgotten it in the dorm

​but sunghoon was waiting, he was actually coming to get you

​so, taking a deep breath, you tucked your phone securely into the inner pocket of your cardigan and ran out into the rain

​the walk was brutal. within seconds, the freezing water soaked through your pastel clothes, making the fabric stick heavily to your skin. the wind was sharp, cutting right through you as you hurried down the empty walkways, the cold rain stinging your face and blurring your eyes. by the time you finally reached the outdoor basketball courts, you were completely drenched. your hair was matted to your neck, and your sneakers squelched miserably with every step

​the courts were completely empty, looking bleak and miserable under the heavy gray sky. there was a small metal bench under a half-broken plastic awning that barely did anything to block the wind

​you sat down, shivering violently, your teeth literally chattering as you pulled your knees to your chest to keep warm. you checked your phone. 4:35 PM

​you: i'm here!

you texted, your fingers shaking so badly you could barely hit the right letters​. you waited,ten minutes became thirty. thirty minutes became an hour. the sky started to turn a dark, bruised purple as the sun went down, the campus streetlamps flickering to life

the rain didn't slow down it just got colder, the damp chill seeping straight into your bones until you couldn't even feel your toes anymore

​by 6:00 PM, you had been sitting on that freezing metal bench for almost two full hours. your skin was pale, your lips felt blue, and a sharp, throbbing ache had started to form right behind your eyes. the tears that finally slipped down your face were warm against your freezing cheeks, but they were quickly washed away by the relentless rain

​you finally stood up, your legs shaking so badly you almost tripped over your own feet, and began the long, agonizing walk back to the dorms alone in the dark

the minute you walked through the door, giselle gasped, immediately dropping her laptop and rushing to the closet to pull out the thickest, most oversized blankets she could find. yunjin steered you straight into the bathroom, turning the shower on to a steaming, scalding hot temperature

​"get in there right now," yunjin ordered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury. "don't come out until you can feel your skin again."

​it took an hour under the hot water just to stop shaking. when you finally crawled out, dressed in yunjin’s thickest sweatpants and wrapped in three blankets, your phone buzzed on the nightstand

​your throat felt raw, a harsh cough tearing through your chest as you reached out a trembling hand to pick it up

​hoon 🤍: shit, y/n, i forgot. sooha called me right after i texted you

hoon 🤍: she needed someone to drive her to that nail art place across town because it was raining

hoon 🤍: sorry, hope you didn't wait too long

​a harsh, bitter laugh escaped your lips, turning immediately into another painful cough. hope you didn't wait too long. two hours in the freezing rain, while he was sitting in a warm car, waiting for another girl to get her nails done

by the second day of the second week, your fever had finally broken, leaving you with nothing but a lingering cough and an incredibly heavy heart. you were sitting at the edge of your desk, mindlessly staring at the rain-streaked window, when your phone buzzed

​hoon 🤍: i’m outside, let’s go to campus together

​you stared at the screen for a full minute. your ego told you to ignore it, to walk to class in the damp air just to prove a point. but the truth was, you were just so tired. the anger from the basketball court had faded into a dull, numb acceptance. you missed him. you missed the routine of him. so, swallowing down the bitter taste of pride, you grabbed your tote bag and headed downstairs

​his sleek, expensive car was idling by the curb, the engine a low, wealthy hum against the morning quiet. you walked up to the passenger door, a tiny, fragile sense of normalcy settling into your chest. you reached for the handle, pulling it open with a soft, practiced smile

​"hey—"

​"don't sit there." the words were cold, cutting you off before you could even fully open the door. sunghoon didn't look at you. his hands were resting casually on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed forward

​you froze, the door halfway open, the cool morning breeze hitting your face. "what?" you whispered, your voice catching in your throat

​"go sit in the back," he said, his tone entirely casual, like he was asking you to pass the salt. "sooha’s joining us. she’s getting picked up down the street, and she likes the front seat."

​it felt like a physical punch to the stomach. the sheer humiliation of it settled deep under your skin, hot and prickly. you stood there on the pavement, the door handle still in your hand, your eyes stinging instantly

​with a trembling lip and a heavy, robotic movement, you gently clicked the passenger door shut. you walked to the rear, opened the back door, and slid onto the leather seat. sitting in the back of your own boyfriend's car felt like the ultimate demotion

​two minutes later, the car pulled up to the corner of the humanities building and there she was

​sooha looked perfect. her hair was done in soft, effortless waves, her lip gloss catching the gray morning light as she practically bounced toward the car. she pulled open the passenger door and slid in, completely filling the vehicle with the sweet, suffocating scent of a floral perfume that wasn't yours

​"hi, baby," she purred, leaning over the center console

​and right there, right in front of you in the rearview mirror, sunghoon did something he hadn't done for you in months. a soft, genuine smile broke across his face, the kind of smile that used to belong entirely to you. he leaned in, meeting her halfway, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss right against her lips. it was so natural, so domestic, that it looked like they had been doing it for years

​you choked on your own breath, quickly turning your face toward the side window, staring blindly at the passing campus buildings. your chest was heaving, a tight, suffocating sob building up in your throat, but you forced it down until your throat literally burned

​for the entire fifteen-minute drive, you didn't exist. they talked about their weekend plans, laughed at inside jokes you didn't understand, and sunghoon’s left hand rested firmly on her thigh the entire time. you just stared out at the gray concrete, a ghost trapped in the backseat of your own life

by the sixth day of that same week, the silence was driving you crazy. you needed to know if there was even a single piece of the old sunghoon left inside that arrogant shell. so, you decided to push

​you: can we do dinner tonight? just to talk

​you expected a rejection, or worse, to be completely ignored. but to your utter surprise, his bubble popped up almost instantly

​hoon 🤍: fine, i made a reservation at that Italian place near the square. 7:30 PM. don't be late

​a reservation, he actually made a reservation. for a split second, your naive, bleeding heart let out a breath of relief. maybe he wanted to apologize properly. maybe the guilt had finally caught up to him

​you spent two hours getting ready. you wore a soft, cream-colored dress he used to love, painstakingly styled your hair, and did your makeup with extra care to hide the dark circles under your eyes from all the sleepless nights. you wanted him to see you

​you arrived at the restaurant at 7:15 PM. the place was beautiful, dimly lit, warm, filled with the soft clink of wine glasses and the murmur of couples laughing. the hostess led you to a small, intimate booth in the corner

​"just waiting on one more," you told her with a small, hopeful smile.

​7:30 PM. you texted him

you: i'm here! table 14.

​8:00 PM. the waiter came by for the third time, offering a polite but pitying smile. "can I get you a starter while you wait, miss?"

"no, thank you," you murmured, your fingers tightly gripping your glass of water. "he should be here soon. he’s probably just caught in traffic."

​9:30 PM. the restaurant was starting to empty out. the warm, romantic atmosphere now felt like a mocking theater stage, and you were the main joke. your phone sat on the white tablecloth, dark and completely silent. you hadn't even gotten a read receipt

​by 11:15 PM, the staff was starting to flip the chairs onto the neighboring tables. the waiter came back, his expression entirely sympathetic. "i'm sorry, miss, but we're closing up the kitchen."

​you paid for the untouched bottle of water, stood up on trembling legs, and walked out into the cool night air. but this time, the sadness didn't come. for the first time in two weeks, the crushing weight in your chest didn't turn into soft, pitiful tears. it turned into hot, blinding, volatile rage

​you didn't go back to your dorm. instead, your feet marched blindly toward the boys' upperclassmen residence. toward sunghoon’s apartment

​you didn't even knock. you knew the keycode, he’d never bothered to change it. you punched the numbers in with an aggressive, shaking hand and yanked the heavy wooden door open

​the living room was quiet, lit only by a single desk lamp. sitting at the kitchen island was jake, sunghoon’s roommate. he was the textbook definition of a quiet genius, glasses perched on his nose, surrounded by thick textbooks, always a bit stiff and awkward around people, though he’d always been perfectly polite to you

​the second the door slammed against the wall, jake jumped, his pen slipping from his hand. his eyes went wide behind his lenses as he took in your appearance, the fancy dress, the smudged makeup, the absolute aura of fury radiating off you

​"y/n?" jake stammered, half-rising from his stool. "hey... what's going on? are you okay?"

​you didn't even answer him. you didn't have the breath for it. without a word, you stormed right past him, your heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor as you marched straight toward the closed door of sunghoon’s bedroom.

​"y/n, wait—" jake called out, his voice sharp with warning, but it was too late. you threw the bedroom door open

​the sight inside made the blood in your veins instantly boil. sunghoon was sitting on his bed, his laptop open on his lap, and curled up right next to him, her head resting lazily on his shoulder, was sooha. they were watching a movie, a bag of popcorn sitting between them, looking like the picture-perfect image of a cozy, happy couple

​both of them snapped their heads up. sooha gasped, instantly pulling away from him, her eyes wide with manufactured innocence

​sunghoon’s expression didn't even soften into guilt. instead, his eyebrows snapped together, his arrogant features hardening into pure, unadulterated annoyance. "what the hell do you think you're doing, y/n? do you know how to knock?"

​"four hours," you choked out, your voice shaking violently, the rage finally cracking to let the agony leak through. "i sat in that restaurant for four hours, sunghoon! you made the reservation! you told me to be there!"

​sunghoon let out a harsh, mocking scoff, closing his laptop with a loud snap. he stood up from the bed, towering over you, his ego flaring up at the confrontation. "and? something came up. sooha needed help with her study guide. are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now?"

​"something came up?!" you screamed, the tears finally bursting past your eyelids, hot and furious. "you left me there! you didn't even text me! i looked like a fucking idiot in front of the entire restaurant!"

​"then don't look like an idiot!" sunghoon shot back, his voice rising, completely unapologetic. he took a step closer, looking down at you with total disdain. "this is exactly what i told you, y/n. this is the risk you chose to take. you’re the one who begged for this stupid month. you’re the one who wouldn't just let me go! no one is forcing you to stay with me, if you can't handle how things are now, then leave! you look completely ridiculous right now."

​the cruelty of his words felt like a physical slap. he was standing there, defending his cheating, turning the blame entirely on you because you had loved him enough to ask for time

​you stared at him through your wet blur of vision. you looked at sooha, who was sitting quietly on the bed, watching the drama unfold with a tiny, satisfied smirk hidden behind her fingers

​"i hate you," you whispered, your voice cracking into a broken, jagged sound. "i actually hate you."

​you turned on your heel and bolted out of the room. jake was standing there, looking incredibly uncomfortable but deeply concerned. he stepped into your path, his hands slightly raised. "hey... y/n, wait. it's really late, let me drive you back to your dorm you shouldn't walk alone like this."

​"no!" you sobbed out, pushing past his shoulder, completely unable to accept kindness from anyone associated with sunghoon right now

ever since that massive fight between you and sunghoon, his phone has been a ghost town. you used to be the first person he texted when he woke up, the one he’d spam with random memes or complain to about his day. now? absolute silence not a single typing bubble, no read receipts

​because sunghoon completely checked out. he packed up all his attention, his time, and his energy, and handed it over to sooha

​today isn't any different. it’s a random afternoon, and his lock screen lights up with a message from her

sooha: hey, can we go out today? i really want to clear my mind

and just like that, sunghoon is already grabbing his keys. there’s no hesitation, no second thoughts about how he left things completely broken with you. he’s entirely focused on being sooha's knight in shining armor

​the air in his car smells faintly of his expensive cologne mixed with the stale warmth of the afternoon sun. he turns the ignition, the engine humming to life as he hooks his phone to the dashboard and sets the GPS for sooha’s apartment

​at first, everything is fine. it’s just a typical, mundane drive. the radio is playing some low, ambient indie track that he isn't really listening to

then, the traffic slows to a painful, agonizing crawl​. sunghoon sighs, drumming his fingers against the leather wheel. he glances at the clock on the dashboard. rolling down the window a crack, he lets the humid city air fill the car, hoping it’ll snap him out of his annoyed mood

​finally, the lane moves. the car in front of him advances, and sunghoon presses his foot onto the gas pedal, moving forward into the intersection

​he doesn't even have time to blink

​from the peripheral vision of his right eye, a blinding flash of silver streaks through the intersection. a car is speeding way too fast, completely ignoring the red light, barreling straight toward him from the side street

​the sound of tires screeching violently against asphalt echoes for a split second, tearing through the quiet afternoon. sunghoon’s instincts kick in too late. his hands jerk the steering wheel to the left, his heart dropping into his stomach, a cold wave of pure terror freezing the blood in his veins

​CRASH

​the impact is deafening. it’s a sickening, metallic crunch that shatters the windows instantly, raining thousands of tiny glass diamonds into the air. the sheer force of the collision sends sunghoon's car flying, spinning like a useless toy through the air before it slams violently onto the hard pavement, flipping onto its side

​inside the wreckage, everything happens in horrifying slow motion. sunghoon’s body is thrown violently against the door, his head cracking hard against the frame. the airbag deploys with a loud pop, but it does little to stop the devastating momentum

​and then, silence

​sunghoon is slumped over the shattered steering wheel, completely covered in dark, warm blood that drips down his forehead, matting his dark hair and pooling on the cracked dashboard. his breathing is shallow, ragged, and weak. within seconds, the overwhelming pain numbs into nothingness as his vision fades to pitch black. he loses consciousness entirely

​outside, the world erupts into absolute chaos

​"oh my god! someone call 911!"

"is he alive?! look at the car!"

"hey, can you hear me?! stay with us!"

​bystanders run over in a panic, shouting, waving their arms, hands trembling as they dial emergency numbers. the scene is a total nightmare smoke rising from the crushed hood, the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline filling the air

​then, a weird sensation washes over him​. sunghoon opens his eyes. the blinding headache is gone, the agonizing pressure in his chest vanished. he blinks, looking around, feeling strangely light. he looks down at his hands, they’re completely clean, no blood, no scratches

​"ugh... what the hell happened?" he mutters, groaning in sheer annoyance as he pushes himself up from the ground. he ruffles his hair, thoroughly pissed off that his drive got interrupted by some idiot driver

​he looks around to see a crowd of people huddled around a overturned, wrecked car

​"hey!" sunghoon calls out, stepping toward a guy who is frantically talking on his phone. "hey, man, did someone hit me? what’s going on?"

​the man doesn't even blink. he keeps talking into his phone, his voice shaking. "yes, an ambulance, quickly! there's a guy trapped inside, he's bleeding out really bad!"

​sunghoon frowns, confusion clouding his features. "dude? i'm right here, walkie-talkie guy, look at me!" he steps right into the man's line of sight, waving a hand directly in front of his eyes

​nothing. the man walks straight through sunghoon's shoulder to get a better look at the wreck​

sunghoon freezes. a cold shiver runs down his spine. he turns around slowly, his chest heaving with a panic he can’t quite explain. he approaches a woman who is crying, stepping right up to her face, mere inches away. "excuse me? can you hear me? look at me, please!"

​she looks right through him, her eyes fixed on the car. sunghoon slowly follows her gaze. he looks through the shattered windshield of the flipped vehicle

​and his heart stops

​there, trapped in the driver's seat, covered in blood and looking completely lifeless, is him, his own body

​"no... no, no, no, this is a joke," sunghoon whispers, stumbling backward. his hands grip his own hair, his breathing turns erratic. his soul, his actual spirit had completely detached from his physical body. he's dead or dying. he’s a ghost. "this can't be happening, this is insane!"

"wow, now that was an absolute cinema-level crash. pure epicness." a sharp, drippingly sarcastic voice cuts through sunghoon's spiraling panic

​sunghoon snaps his head around. a guy is leaning against a nearby lamppost, completely unfazed by the horrific scene. he looks around sunghoon’s age, rocking a look that screams effortless arrogance. his skin has a flawless, warm honey glow, and his jawline is so sharp it could genuinely cut glass. he’s wearing an outfit that feels a bit too sharp for a casual tuesday, and his lips are curled into a highly amused, thoroughly punchable smirk

​sunghoon stares at him, dumbfounded. "you... you're talking to me?"

​"obviously. unless you see another floating soul having a mid-life crisis right now," the guy scoffs, rolling his eyes

​"who the hell are you?" sunghoon demands, his temper flaring despite the terrifying situation. "and why can you see me when nobody else can?"

​the guy stands up straight, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his jacket. he walks over to sunghoon with a slow, swaggering gait that matches sunghoon’s own usual arrogance. "i'm jongseong but you can call me jay and as for why i can see you..." jay flashes a sharp, knowing grin, his eyes gleaming with something ancient and dark. "i'm a grim reaper."

​sunghoon lets out a loud, mocking laugh, though it sounds a bit hollow. "a grim reaper? are you out of your mind? you're freaking delusional, dude. stop watching so many dramas."

​"oh, a skeptic. love to see it," jay chuckles, completely unbothered

​"i'm not dead," sunghoon snaps, turning his back on jay. "i just need to... i just need to get back in there. it’s a glitch, i'm going back."

sunghoon charges toward the wrecked car, determined to shove his spirit back into his bloody body. he lunges forward, trying to force himself through the shattered window, trying to merge back with his flesh and bones

​but he just passes right through it like smoke, stumbling out the other side of the car, landing awkwardly on the pavement. he tries again, more aggressively this time, grabbing at his own bloody shoulder, but his ghostly hands slide through his own skin like water

​from behind him, a loud, echoing burst of laughter breaks the air. jay is literally clutching his stomach, laughing so hard his eyes crinkle. "oh my god, please keep doing that. that is hilarious, you look like a bird flying straight into a glass window over and over again."

​"shut up!" sunghoon yells, spinning around, his face flushed with embarrassment and rage. "how do i get back in?! tell me!"

​jay wipes a tear of laughter from his eye, his expression suddenly shifting into something more professional, though the smug aura never truly leaves him. "look, buddy, here’s the deal. if that ambulance over there doesn't show up in time? i'm officially cutting your soul's silver cord and taking you upstairs or downstairs wherever you're headed."

​sunghoon’s face goes pale. "you're going to kill me?"

​"hey, don't blame the messenger," jay says, raising his hands in defense. "but lucky for you, your official death notice hasn't popped up on my phone yet. meaning, you're technically not scheduled to die today"

​sunghoon lets out a breath he doesn't even need to take, feeling a tiny sliver of hope. "okay, fine. then let me back in i need to go back to my life. i have things to do, i have to see sooha. i have to..." his voice trails off, his mind suddenly flashing to a memory of you, standing in the rain, crying during your fight

​"i want to go back," sunghoon insists, stepping closer to jay, his eyes dead serious. "make it happen."

​jay stops smirking. his eyes narrow into a sharp, piercing stare that makes sunghoon feel completely naked under his gaze. jay steps closer, tilted his head slightly, his tone dropping into something incredibly chilling

​"make it happen? wow, you really are an arrogant piece of work, aren't you?" jay whispers, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, but it’s entirely devoid of warmth. "you want to go back so badly... but you're conveniently forgetting something pretty major, park sunghoon."

​sunghoon blinks, a sudden wave of confusion washing over him. "forgetting what?"

​jay takes one more step forward, his shadow casting over sunghoon's spiritual form. "did you seriously forget? you forgot about the promise you made, didn't you?"

​sunghoon stands completely frozen, his mind racing as he stares into jay’s intense, unreadable eyes. a promise? what promise? he tries to rack his brain, searching through every memory, every corner of his mind, but nothing comes up. yet, looking at jay’s deadly serious face, a creeping sense of dread whispers that whatever he forgot. it was going to cost him everything

meanwhile, on the exact opposite side of the city,

​BANG

​the violent sound of your bedroom door slamming against the wall forcefully yanks you out of your deep slumber. your heart instantly leaps into your throat, your eyes flying open as you gasp for air, completely disoriented.

​"Y/N! WAKE UP! y/n, please, get up right now!" yunjin bursts into the room like a hurricane, her face completely pale, eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated panic

right behind her is giselle, who isn't even looking at you, she’s frantically scanning your room, grabbing your black denim jacket from the chair and throwing your wallet and phone into a canvas tote bag

​"w-what... what's happening?" you stammer, your voice thick and raspy from sleep. you try to sit up, but your brain is still foggy, sluggishly trying to process why your roommates look like the world is ending. "yunjin, you're scaring me, what—"

​"y/n, look at me. focus on me," yunjin interrupts, her voice trembling violently. she lunges onto the bed, her hands coming up to pat your cheeks with frantic, stinging slaps to force the sleep out of your system. "wake up, seriously, we need to go now."

​"yunjin, stop! why are you slapping me?!" you yell, pulling your head back, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird

​"it's sunghoon," yunjin says, the words tearing out of her throat in a broken sob. "he was in a car accident, y/n. a really, really bad one. he’s at the city hospital right now, we have to go."

​it feels like all the oxygen is suddenly sucked out of the room. the name sunghoon echoes in your mind, followed by accident, but your brain flat-out refuses to connect the two words. sunghoon? your sunghoon?

​"no," you whisper, your voice suddenly sounding miles away. "no, he’s... he’s fine. he’s with sooha. he—"

​"y/n, please, just put the jacket on!" giselle begs from the doorway, her voice cracking as she shoves the denim sleeves into your trembling hands

​the panic hits you all at once, a brutal, freezing wave that completely shatters your numbness

​the hospital smell hits you first, your sneakers squeak loudly against the polished white floors as you, yunjin, and giselle sprint toward the emergency waiting room. your eyes wild, scanning the rows of plastic chairs until you spot two familiar figures standing near the glass doors of the ICU

​it’s jake and heeseung. sunghoon's best friends look completely unrecognizable. jake is pacing a small strip of the floor, his skin a sickly, translucent white. his hands are shoved deep into his pockets, but you can see his entire frame shaking. he’s chewing on his bottom lip so hard it’s practically bleeding, his eyes staring blankly at the floor as he fights a losing battle against his own tears

next to him, heeseung is leaning heavily against the wall, his head tilted back, eyes tightly shut. his jaw is clenched so hard the muscles are jumping, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s trying to hold himself together

​the moment jake hears your frantic footsteps, he looks up. the absolute, raw devastation in his eyes tells you everything you never wanted to know.

​"y/n," jake chokes out, his voice dropping an octave, completely broken

​the tears you’ve been holding back for three weeks. the tears you swore you wouldn't cry today come crashing down like a collapsed dam. a loud, pathetic sob tears out of your throat, and your knees instantly give out. if it weren't for giselle catching you by your armpits, you would have collapsed right there on the dirty hospital floor

​"hey, hey, i’ve got you. breathe, y/n, please just breathe," giselle whispers frantically, wrapping her arms tightly around your shaking shoulders, pulling you into a plastic chair

but you can’t breathe. your chest is heaving, your vision completely blurred by a endless stream of hot, burning tears. you bury your face in your hands, your whole body convulsing with agonizing grief

​and then, through the blur of your tears, you see her. sooha is sitting just a few chairs down

​she’s completely neat, not a single hair out of place. her face is pale, and yeah, she looks kind of sad, maybe a little stressed by the sterile atmosphere but there isn't a single tear on her face. her eyes are completely dry. she’s just sitting there, hands neatly folded in her lap, watching the chaos

​yunjin marches straight up to sooha, her eyes blazing with pure fury. "what the hell are you even doing here?" she spits, her voice a lethal, venomous whisper that cuts through the waiting room. "he was on his way to you, this is your fault! get the hell out of here, you don't belong here."

​sooha shrinks back slightly, her bottom lip quivering in a perfectly practiced display of innocence. "i... i just wanted to make sure he was—"

​"i said leave!" yunjin barks, stepping closer, her hands curling into fists

​"yunjin, stop! don't do this here," giselle hissed, quickly letting go of you for a second to grab yunjin’s arm, physically pulling her back before a full-blown fistfight could break out in front of the nurses' station. "not right now."

​what none of them know is that they aren't alone

standing literally three inches away from jake, staring frantically into his pale face, is the spirit of park sunghoon

​"jake! jake, look at me, bro, i'm right here!" sunghoon yells, waving his hands wildly in front of his best friend’s face. "stop pacing, you're making me nervous! i'm fine! look at me!"

​jake just walks straight through sunghoon's chest to grab a paper cup of water from heeseung. sunghoon shudders as the cold sensation of jake’s physical body passes through his soul, leaving him feeling emptier than before

he spins around, looking at heeseung. "heeseung! please, tell me you can hear me. i'm not dead, okay? the doctors are tripping."

​heeseung just sighs, rubbing his tired eyes, completely ignoring the ghost screaming in his face

​"whew, rough crowd," jay's smooth, mocking voice floats from the corner of the room. the grim reaper is currently sitting casually on top of a vending machine, swinging his legs back and forth, holding a glowing digital ledger that looks like a sleek black smartphone. "told you, buddy. you're a radio station with no frequency right now they can't hear your broadcast."

​"shut up, jay!" sunghoon snaps, his frustration peaking

​just then, yunjin starts screaming at sooha. sunghoon’s eyes widen as he sees yunjin invading sooha’s personal space. a protective surge of anger flares in his chest. he charges over, throwing himself between them, trying to shove yunjin away

​"hey! back off her, you psycho!" sunghoon roars at yunjin, his face contorted with rage. "don't you dare touch her! she didn't do anything wrong! yunjin, i swear to god, if you don't get your hands off her—" his ghostly hands pass harmlessly through yunjin’s shoulders, leaving him panting with useless fury

​he turns to sooha, his voice softening into frantic desperation. "sooha, look at me. i'm right here. don't listen to her, okay? i'm fine." but sooha’s blank, tearless eyes are fixed entirely on the floor, not even glancing in his direction

​and then, sunghoon's gaze shifts. he looks over at the plastic chairs. he hears your broken, jagged breaths, sees the way your fingers are clutching your jacket like it’s a lifeline

​sunghoon lets out a heavy, irritated scoff, rolling his eyes so hard it looks painful.

​"oh, for god's sake, y/n," sunghoon grumbles, his voice dripping with an incredibly harsh, dismissive edge. "stop overreacting. seriously, you're making a whole scene for absolutely no reason. we aren't even speaking, why are you crying like someone died? it’s so dramatic, just go home."

​up on the vending machine, jay’s amused expression instantly vanishes. his eyebrows furrow as he looks down at sunghoon, slowly shaking his head in utter disbelief

​"wow," jay mutters under his breath, his sharp jaw tightening. "you really are a piece of work, aren't you? a complete and utter idiot."

hours bleed into one another. the sky outside the hospital windows turns from a hazy twilight to a deep, pitch-black night

​the red surgery light finally clicks off, and a tired doctor steps out, informing the group that sunghoon is stable. the impact was severe, but he managed to survive the worst of it. they’ve moved his physical body into a regular, private recovery room to monitor his comatose state

​the relief in the hallway is palpable, but the exhaustion is heavier. one by one, the group starts to thin out. sooha leaves first, offering a quiet, polite excuse about her ride being outside, which yunjin handles with a lethal glare

heeseung and jake stay for another hour, staring at sunghoon’s pale, machine-hooked body through the window before heeseung gently pats jake's shoulder, whispering that they need to get some rest and come back in the morning

​finally, it’s just you, yunjin, and giselle standing outside the quiet room.

​"y/n, come on. let’s go home," yunjin says softly, her voice completely spent from the day's anger. she places a gentle hand on your arm. "the doctor said he’s stable. he’s not going to wake up tonight. you need to sleep, you’re pale as a ghost."

​"yeah, let us take you back," giselle chimes in, her eyes pleading. "you've been crying for six hours straight, y/n. your body can't take this."

​you look through the glass pane of the door. sunghoon looks so small in that massive hospital bed, surrounded by beeping monitors and clear plastic tubes. the sight of him like that makes a fresh wave of quiet ache bloom in your chest

​you slowly pull your arm away from yunjin's grip, shaking your head. "no," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but completely unyielding. "i'm not leaving."

​"y/n, please don't be stubborn—" yunjin starts, but you cut her off, looking up with raw, sleep-deprived, swollen eyes

​"i'm staying, yunjin. please," you beg, your lower lip trembling. "just... let me stay with him, i can't leave him alone."

​yunjin and giselle exchange a long, heartbroken look. they know that tone. there is absolutely no changing your mind. with a heavy sigh, giselle hands you the tote bag with your wallet and phone

​"we'll come back first thing in the morning, okay? call us if anything changes. literally anything," giselle whispers, giving your shoulder a tight squeeze. yunjin gives you a sad, lingering look before the two of them turn around, their footsteps echoing down the long, empty corridor until the double doors click shut

days melt into each other until they completely lose all meaning

​you’ve basically moved into this sterile, cramped hospital room, transforming the hard plastic chair next to sunghoon’s bed into your temporary home. the heavy scent of antiseptic and bleach doesn't even make you gag anymore

​most of the time, you just sit there. you stare at his pale, unmoving face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curve of his eyelids with your eyes, wishing with everything inside you that they would just flutter open. and then, without even realizing it, the hot tears start spilling over again, blurring your vision until you have to look away, wiping your face with the damp sleeve of your oversized hoodie

​when the guilt and the ache get too heavy to carry, you try to distract yourself. you pull out your laptop, spreading your college textbooks across the tiny rolling tray table, attempting to type out essays for classes you haven't attended in days. but your brain is completely fried. you’ll read the same sentence five times, blink, and realize you haven't absorbed a single word. eventually, exhaustion wins. your head drops onto the hard edge of his mattress, your fingers loosely curling near his cold, unmoving hand, and you drift into a light, uncomfortable sleep, woken up every hour by the rhythmic, taunting beep of the heart monitor

​and the entire time, sunghoon’s spirit is right there. he stands on the other side of the bed, crossing his arms, watching you throw your life away for him. it completely bewilders him

he watches you type, watches you cry, watches you slump over in deep exhaustion. why is she still here? he thinks, his chest tightening with a weird, suffocating mixture of irritation and something he refuses to acknowledge as guilt

we literally ended things on the worst possible terms. she should hate me, she should be at home, sleeping in her own bed, totally glad that i’m out of her hair. why doesn’t she just get bored and leave?

​by the time the fourth day rolls around, something shifts in you. the crying spells have finally run dry, leaving you with a strange, hollow sort of energy

​you pull your chair closer to his bed, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. you look at his quiet face, and for the first time in days, a tiny, sad smile touches your lips

​"you're missing so much, you know," you whisper, your voice a little raspy from the dry hospital air

​and then, you just start yapping. you talk because the silence in the room is too loud, and if you don't fill it with the sound of your own voice, you feel like you'll lose your mind

​"class was honestly so miserable today, sunghoon. professor lee was going on and on about the midterm, and honestly, i think even he was bored of his own lecture. yunjin literally fell asleep right next to me and started snoring. it was so embarrassing, i had to keep coughing to cover it up."

​you let out a soft, breathy chuckle, your eyes crinkling at the memory. sunghoon’s ghost stands right beside you, his head tilted as he stares down at you, completely transfixed by the sound of your voice.

​"oh, and after class, i went to that little cafe down the street," you continue, your fingers absentmindedly smoothing out a crease in his hospital blanket. "the one with the really good iced americanos? yeah, i went there by myself. it felt super weird ordering just one cup. the barista asked where my 'tall, grumpy shadow' was, and i didn't even know what to say. i just told her you were taking a very long nap."

​sunghoon's breath hitches. a tall, grumpy shadow. that's what the cafe staff used to call him because he'd always stand right behind you, looking thoroughly annoyed with the world until you handed him his drink

​"afterward, me and giselle found this super sketchy tarot reading app," you say, a genuine smile breaking through your exhausted face. "we played around with it for hours, doing all these ridiculous future predictions. it told giselle she was going to marry a billionaire, which, honestly? totally tracks for her. it was so fun, sunghoon. we laughed so much."

​your voice suddenly drops, the playful energy evaporating into thin air as you look at his closed eyes. your fingers twitch, desperately wanting to hold his hand, but you keep them to yourself

​"but... the entire time, i just kept thinking about you," you whisper, your throat tightening up again. "the app said my future was full of 'waiting.' and it's right, i'm just waiting for you. please, sunghoon. just wake up already."

​your eyelids grow incredibly heavy, the weight of the four-day burnout finally catching up to you. within minutes, your voice peters out, your head dropping onto your arms beside his hip, your breathing evening out into a deep, heavy slumber

​sunghoon stares down at your sleeping form. his physical ears couldn't hear a single syllable, but his soul heard every single word, every little shift in your tone, every quiet breath. his chest aches. it’s a phantom pain, but it hurts so bad he has to take a step back

​unable to handle the suffocating atmosphere of the room anymore, and still entirely too stubborn to let himself soften up, sunghoon turns around and walks straight through the hospital wall

​he wanders out into the empty, moonlit courtyard of the hospital, the cold night air doing nothing to his ghostly body. he storms over to a stone bench and stands there, thoroughly frustrated

​"jay!" sunghoon shouts into the dark, empty air. "hey! grim reaper guy! get out here right now!"

​with a soft, shimmering ripple in the air, jay materializes, sitting cross-legged on the top of the courtyard brick wall. he’s holding an apple, tossing it casually in the air and catching it. "jeez, turn down the volume, will you? i was in the middle of a really good nap. what’s burning your soul today, kid?"

​"the promise," sunghoon demands, stepping closer, his knuckles white as he fisted his hands. "you said i forgot a promise. what promise? who did i make it to? tell me!"

​jay stops tossing the apple. he looks down at sunghoon, his dark eyes entirely unreadable, a cool, indifferent expression on his handsome face. he bites into the fruit with a crisp, loud crunch. "can't do that, buddy. cosmic rules and all that. if i just hand you the cheat sheet, it defeats the whole purpose of your little soul-searching journey."

​"i don't care about the cosmic rules!" sunghoon roars, his anger flaring. "i’m trapped in a body that won't wake up, my friends think i'm dying, and i'm losing my mind! just tell me!"

​jay doesn't say a word. he just chews slowly, giving sunghoon a look full of pity and mild annoyance

​frustrated beyond belief, sunghoon kicks a loose pebble on the ground, his foot passing straight through it. "fine, whatever. you’re useless," he grumbles, turning his back on the reaper. "i need to get out of here. i need a change of scenery before i go completely insane."

​"oh? going for a stroll?" jay asks, hopping down from the wall with effortless grace, landing silently on his feet. "where to?"

​"i want to see sooha," sunghoon says, his voice tightening. the thought of her suddenly blooms in his mind. "she hasn't been back to the hospital since the first day. she’s probably a total wreck, she's probably crying her eyes out at home, waiting for news. i need to check on her."

​jay lets out a low, amused hum, a dangerous smirk slowly creeping back onto his sharp lips. "sooha, huh? well, you can certainly try to go see her. you're technically tethered to the city right now, basically anywhere within the radius of your accident or where your physical body is. sooha's apartment is well within the boundary. lead the way, lover boy."

"sooha? i'm here," he calls out automatically, even though he knows she can't hear him. he doesn't even bother knocking, he just steel himself and walks straight through the heavy wooden door

​the words freeze completely in his throat. his entire ghostly form goes rigid, a cold, sickening shock rippling through his soul

​there, on the plush velvet sofa, is sooha. but she isn't crying, she isn't a wreck. she isn't looking through old photos of them or praying for his recovery. she’s wrapped tightly in the arms of some random guy sunghoon has never seen before in his life

the guy’s jacket is thrown carelessly on the floor, and sooha’s hands are buried deep in his hair, her lips pressed against his in a deep, frantic, incredibly enthusiastic make-out session. she giggles between kisses, a soft, breathy sound that sunghoon recognizes all too well, except it was never meant for someone else

​"mnh, stop," sooha whispers playfully, pulling back just an inch, a flush on her cheeks. "what if someone calls from the hospital?"

​"who cares?" the guy scoffs, leaning back in, tracing his hands down her waist. "the guy’s in a literal coma, sooha. he's not checking his phone anytime soon. let’s just enjoy the quiet."

​sooha hums in agreement, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him back down into another breathless kiss

​sunghoon feels like he’s been hit by a semi-truck all over again. his breath hitches, his eyes wide with horror and absolute betrayal. his chest feels like it’s being ripped open by bare hands

​"no... no, this isn't real," sunghoon whispers, stepping backward, his hands trembling violently. "sooha... how could you?"

​from the doorway, a loud, roaring burst of laughter shatters the heavy silence. jay is literally leaning against the doorframe, clutching his stomach, laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking violently. "oh my god! an absolute classic! 'he's in a literal coma, sooha!' whew, that is cold-blooded! pure cinema!"

​"shut up! shut the hell up!" sunghoon screams, spinning around, his face completely distorted with a mixture of raw heartbreak and humiliating fury. he can't stand to look at the couch for even another second. the sight of them makes him want to vomit

​without another word, sunghoon flees. he sprints out of the apartment, tearing through the walls, running as fast as his spiritual form can carry him, desperate to erase the image of sooha's betrayal from his mind

​he doesn't stop running until he’s back in the quiet, dark hospital courtyard, collapsing onto the grass, panting heavily even though his lungs don't need air. his chest is heaving, his heart or where his heart used to be throbbing with a brutal, burning frustration

​jay materializes beside him, finally wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, though his expression tones down into something a bit more mocking. "well, that was educational, wasn't it? turns out your little princess didn't even need a tissue."

​"i said shut up!" sunghoon yells, grabbing his own hair, his ego completely shattered into a million sharp, painful pieces

​he was such a fool. a complete, arrogant idiot. he had pushed everyone away, he had pushed you away for a girl who didn't even care if he lived or died

​while sooha was making out with another guy, you were sitting in a cramped, sterile room, starving yourself, crying until your eyes swelled shut, yapping about your day just to keep his lifeless body company. you were the one who stayed

​a sudden, violent surge of desperation hits sunghoon’s core. the frustration boils over, turning into a frantic, burning need. he doesn't want to be a ghost anymore, he doesn't want to watch from the sidelines. he wants his life back, he wants to fix the absolute mess he made

​"i need to wake up," sunghoon whispers, his voice cracking as he looks up at jay, his eyes wide with a manic, unyielding determination. "jay, i don't care what it takes. i don't care about the promise right now. i need to get back into my body. i have to wake up, now!"

before you know it, day 28 hits. it’s a heavy, suffocating number because it means you and sunghoon only have exactly two days left as a couple. twenty-eight days ago, before the shouting matches and the radio silence, you guys had made a stupid, desperate thirty-day agreement

​you haven’t abandoned him once, you’ve practically lived in this tiny, sterile hospital room. the only times you ever leave are when you absolutely have to run to a morning lecture or dash back to your apartment to grab a fresh change of clothes. the rest of your life, your studying, your meals, your quiet breakdowns happens right here in the plastic chair by his bedside

​tonight feels different, though. the air in the room is thick, almost grieving. sunghoon’s spirit is leaning against the wall, his eyes tracking you as you move around the space. he freezes when he notices the corner of the room

your heavy backpack is fully zipped. your favorite oversized hoodie, the one you usually leave draped over the sofa, is neatly folded on top of a canvas tote bag. everything you own is packed up

​wait, what is she doing? sunghoon thinks, panic instantly flaring in his ghostly chest. why is she packing? is she leaving me? is she finally giving up because i’m not waking up?

​you walk over to his bed, your sneakers squeaking softly on the linoleum floors. you sit down, dragging the chair closer until your knees are brushing the edge of his mattress. you look so small, so entirely spent, with dark circles bruising the skin under your eyes

​"hey," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly before you clear your throat. you try to force a casual, effortless smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes

​and then, you just start yapping again. you talk about random stuff at first, trying to keep the mood light, but sunghoon can hear the underlying tremor in your words. his soul stands right over you, desperately listening, his heart dropping lower and lower with every sentence

​"so, um... i'm actually leaving in two days, sunghoon," you say softly, staring down at your own intertwined fingers. "i’m flying out to europe to finish my degree."

​"do you... do you even remember?" you let out a dry, bittersweet little chuckle, finally looking up at his pale, unconscious face. "back when we first met, during our very first coffee date, i told you about the dual degree program i applied for. i was so nervous, and you told me i’d be stupid not to take it if i got in. well... the paperwork finally went through, i have to go."

​"no," sunghoon blurts out, his voice echoing uselessly in the empty spaces of the room. "no, no, no. y/n, look at me! you can’t go to europe. you can’t leave me here like this!"

​he lunges forward, completely throwing his pride out the window. he drops to his knees right next to your chair, his transparent hands flying out to grab your shoulders. "y/n! look at me, please!" he roars, trying to shake you, trying to force your eyes to meet his but his hands just glide straight through your denim jacket, feeling nothing but a freezing, empty void.

​he doesn't stop. he gets frantic, his chest heaving with a manic desperation. he starts tapping your shoulders, waving his hands violently in front of your face, screaming your name until his throat burns. "i’m right here! i’m right next to you! don’t go, y/n, please, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—"

​but you don't look up. you can't feel the ghost who is begging for your forgiveness on his knees. instead, you take a deep, shaky breath, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill over

you lean forward, your shadow falling over his pale face. slowly, gently, you press a soft, lingering kiss right onto sunghoon’s cold forehead

​sunghoon freezes, his spiritual form trembling as a phantom warmth blooms where your lips touch his skin​. you pull back just an inch, your hands carefully resting on his unmoving chest

"thank you," you whisper, a single, stray tear finally escaping and tracking down your cheek. "thank you for everything, sunghoon. even the messy parts, our thirty days are basically up anyway... so, you're free now. you're completely free from me, you don't have to feel guilty anymore."

​you wipe your face quickly with the back of your hand, swallowing down the massive lump in your throat. "i hope you wake up soon, really. the world is way too quiet without you."

​you stand up, your chair scraping loudly against the floor. you give his peaceful, comatose body one last, long, heartbreaking look, engraving every detail of his face into your memory. then, you turn around, grab your packed bags, and walk out the door, shutting it softly behind you

the moment the door clicks shut, sunghoon snaps

​"JAY!" he screams, spinning around in the empty, silent room, his face twisted in pure, unadulterated rage. "JAY, GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

​with a lazy, irritated sigh, jay materializes near the window, his arms crossed over his chest. he looks completely annoyed, his sharp jaw tight. "dude, turn it down! seriously, you are the loudest, most obnoxious soul i have ever had to babysit. what is your problem?"

​"she's leaving!" sunghoon yells, marching straight up to the grim reaper, his eyes wild. "she's going to europe in two days! i need to get back into my body right now, jay! push me in, do whatever magic grim reaper stuff you do! i don't care anymore, just let me wake up!"

​jay doesn't even blink. he just pulls out his glowing digital ledger, completely ignoring sunghoon’s screaming, acting like he’s checking his schedule

​"are you listening to me?!" sunghoon roars, trying to grab jay’s jacket, but his hands pass through. "fine, you know what? whatever, ignore me."

​suddenly, a manic, hysterical laugh bubbles up in sunghoon’s chest. he stops pacing, a twisted, relieved smile spreading across his face. "wait. why am i even panicking? i’m a spirit, i don’t need a plane ticket, i don’t need a visa, i can just follow her. i’ll get on that plane with y/n, go to europe, and stay right by her side until my body wakes up. yeah... yeah, that works perfectly." sunghoon starts chuckling, feeling incredibly smug about his genius loophole

​jay stops scrolling on his device. he slowly lowers his hand, looking at sunghoon, and then, a dark, mocking laugh tears out of the reaper’s throat. it’s a cold, echoing sound that makes the hairs on sunghoon’s arms stand up

​"you? go to europe?" jay scoffs, shaking his head with an expression full of dark amusement. "oh, man. you really don't get how any of this works, do you?"

​sunghoon's laughter dies out. "what do you mean?"

​"you're a tethered spirit, sunghoon. and a incredibly weak one at that," jay explains, his voice dropping into a chillingly serious tone as he steps closer. "you can barely handle walking across the city without feeling exhausted. you think you can cross an entire ocean? the moment you try to follow her past the city limits, especially over open water, your soul will start to fray. it’ll literally dissolve, particle by particle, into nothingness."

​sunghoon’s face drains of what little color it has. "dissolve...?"

​"yeah," jay says, his eyes boring into sunghoon's. "and if your soul dissolves? you don't get a neat little funeral. you don't get to go to the afterlife. your consciousness is just wiped out completely and that physical body lying on the bed over there? its heart will just stop beating. total, permanent brain death. you’ll be gone forever, park sunghoon. you can't follow her."

​the reality of the situation hits sunghoon like a concrete wall. the sheer, brutal weight of his helplessness crushes his remaining ego into dust. he can't leave, he can't follow you, and he can't wake up. he’s completely, utterly stuck

​frustration, grief, and a massive wave of bitter regret boil up inside him. his shoulders slump, his head dropping into his hands as a shaky breath hitches in his throat

​jay watches him, the mocking smirk finally fading from his face, replaced by a quiet, grounded sigh

​"there you go," jay says softly, crossing his arms as he leans against the bed frame. "let it set in, drown in that regret for a little bit. you need to actually feel the weight of what you threw away."

​sunghoon looks up through phantom, blurry eyes, his voice completely broken. "please, jay... just tell me what to do. tell me how to fix this."

​jay looks down at his glowing device one last time, a small, mysterious glint in his eyes. "fine. look at me, sunghoon. you want to know how to fix this? then it’s time you finally remember that promise you made."

another whole week drags by like molasses, and the hospital room feels completely hollow now

​you’re gone. you actually left for europe. the space where your plastic chair used to be is empty, now, the only people taking turns sitting in that cramped room are jake and heeseung. they split the shifts evenly, looking exhausted but refusing to let sunghoon be entirely alone. as for sooha? she hasn't shown her face a single time since that first afternoon

​sunghoon’s spirit has spent the last seven days throwing a massive, pathetic tantrum. he’s been totally sulking, refusing to even look at jay. mostly, he just mopes around the edges of his hospital room, occasionally throwing himself at his comatose physical body in a desperate, angry attempt to force his way back in. but every single time, he just slips straight through the mattress, landing on the floor like smoke

​finally, on the seventh night, the frustration gets too heavy to carry. sunghoon swallows his pride and drifts back out to the moonlit hospital park, looking for the only person who can actually hear him

​he finds jay sitting cross-legged on a concrete picnic table, glaring intently at his glowing smartphone screen. a tiny, tinny engine roar echoes from the speakers

​"go on, pass him! inside line, you idiot!" jay mutters aggressively to the screen, completely locked in

​sunghoon blinks, staring at him. "are you... are you watching formula 1 right now?"

​"shh! it’s the final lap of the monaco gp, do not ruin this for me," jay snaps, not even looking up. he’s easily the most bizarre, chronically online grim reaper to ever exist. he’s wearing a modern streetwear hoodie, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the race car engines

​sunghoon doesn't care about the race. his soul feels like it's literally fraying at the edges from pure desperation. he walks right up to the edge of the table, his shoulders dropping, all the usual arrogance completely drained from his posture

​"jay, please," sunghoon whispers, his voice cracking

​jay sighs heavily, hitting pause on his phone and locking it with a click. he looks up, his sharp eyes narrowing at the pathetic sight of sunghoon. "jeez. what happened to the arrogant prince? you look like a drowned cat."

​"i'm begging you," sunghoon says, and he actually means it. he drops his head, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "i will do literally anything. i'll go to whatever afterlife you want. i'll accept any punishment just... please tell me what the promise was, i need to know how to get back to her. i can't let her leave like this."

​jay looks genuinely grossed out by the sudden display of vulnerability. he makes a face, shuddering dramatically. "ew, stop. the begging is honestly giving me the ick. it’s so weird seeing you act like a decent human being. stand up straight, you're embarrassing both of us."

​sunghoon doesn't move. he just stares at jay with wild, pleading eyes

​jay groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose in sheer defeat. "fine. alright! stop looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes, it’s ruining my vibe. you want to remember so badly? fine. blink twice."

​sunghoon doesn't hesitate. he closes his eyes, opens them, and snaps them shut a second time

​the world doesn't just shift, it completely dissolves. the sterile scent of hospital bleach and the distant hum of city traffic vanish in a split second

instead, the sharp, metallic tang of copper and rust hits sunghoon’s nose, mixed with the damp, earthy smell of a dense, ancient forest. the air is thick and freezing cold

​sunghoon opens his eyes and gasps. they aren't in the park anymore. giant, ancient oak trees tower over them, their thick canopy blocking out most of the gray, overcast sky. everything looks muted, heavy, and old

​"where... where are we?" sunghoon stammers, his voice sounding entirely different in this strange air

​"keep your eyes open and follow me," jay says coldly

​as sunghoon steps past a thick patch of brambles, his breath catches in his throat. the forest floor is absolute chaos. swords, shattered wooden shields, and broken arrows are scattered across the mud. and worse, there are bodies. men clad in heavy, blood-stained iron armor are strewn everywhere, lifeless eyes staring blankly up at the gray sky

​"is this... the middle ages?" sunghoon whispers, a cold sweat breaking out across his spiritual form

​"look over there," jay instructs, pointing a gloved finger toward a massive, moss-covered boulder near a clearing

​sunghoon slowly walks closer, his heart hammering against his ribs. leaning heavily against the stone is a young man. his face is completely caked in dirt, grime, and dark, sticky blood. he’s clutching his stomach, his fingers desperately trying to hold together a massive, jagged sword wound that is leaking crimson onto the grass. his breathing is a ragged, wet wheeze

​sunghoon takes a sharp breath. the dying man has his exact face

​standing right in front of the dying soldier is another figure. it’s jay, but this version of jay looks entirely ancient, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, absolute authority, holding a long, dark scythe that seems to absorb the very light around it

​"this is where we first met," the modern jay whispers, standing right next to sunghoon’s spirit as they both watch the past unfold. "you were a captain in a war that didn't even matter and your time was up."

​the dying sunghoon looks up at the medieval reaper, his vision clearly failing, but his grip on jay’s coat is fierce.

​"my girl... y/n. where... where is she going?" the dying soldier gasps out, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips

​"y/n? you mean the girl they fed to the flames?" the past jay asks, his voice echoing with an eerie, detached calm. "not your concern anymore, she’s got her own destination. you go to your afterlife, she goes to hers. that’s how the system works."

​"no... wait," the soldier begs, his voice cracking with an intense, agonizing passion. "listen to me, reaper. whatever you are. i don't care about my soul... i don't care about heaven. in the next life... and the life after that... in every single universe... please, let me be with her. let me find y/n again. we only had a few years in this wretched life, but i love her... i love her more than my own breath."

​the past jay tilts his head, intrigued. "you would bargain with a reaper? what are you willing to pay for a loop of fate like that?"

​"anything," the dying sunghoon chokes out, tears cutting clean tracks through the blood on his cheeks. "take my soul to the deepest pits of hell when it's over... erase my existence entirely. let me dissolve into nothingness, i don't care... just give me another chance to love her. i promise i'll hold onto her next time... i promise."

​the past jay stares at him for a long, heavy moment before lowering his dark blade. "a promise of eternal devotion, sealed with the threat of absolute erasure. very well, captain. your next life will be tied to hers. but remember... if you break her heart, if you fail to hold onto her, the contract voids and your soul belongs to the void."

​with a swift, clean motion, the past jay touches the soldier’s forehead. the dying sunghoon’s eyes roll back, his head slumping forward as his final breath leaves his body.

​"blink twice, kid." sunghoon snaps his eyes shut, his entire soul shaking violently as the memory burns itself into the very fabric of his consciousness. he blinks again

​snap

​the cold forest air is gone. the smell of blood vanishes. sunghoon is back in the hospital park, the neon city lights reflecting off the wet pavement

​he stands there, completely frozen, his chest heaving as the sheer weight of his own forgotten words crashes down on him

​“i promise i’ll hold onto her next time... i promise.”

​he had bartered his entire eternal existence just for a chance to stand next to you again. he had loved you across lifetimes and in this life, he had completely forgotten. he had taken your presence for granted, treated you like an annoyance, fought with you, and let you walk away for a girl who didn't even care enough to visit him in the hospital. he had literally signed his own soul's death warrant because of his own stupid, blinding ego

​sunghoon slowly looks up.

​jay is standing on the picnic table, looking down at him with that same familiar, incredibly arrogant, and smug smirk playing on his lips. he twirls his phone in his hand, his eyes gleaming with a sharp, knowing satisfaction

​"so," jay says, his tone dripping with a cool, mocking confidence. "now you remember. i get to collect your soul for the void. any last words before the clock runs out?"

sunghoon drops straight to his knees on the damp grass, the cold from the ground cutting right through his spiritual form, though he barely even registers it. his mind is a complete, chaotic mess of your tear-stained face, a bloody medieval battlefield, and the terrifying realization that he has voluntarily walked himself right to the edge of eternal erasure

​"jay, please," sunghoon chokes out, staring at the polished leather boots of the grim reaper standing on the picnic table above him. all the pride, all the high and mighty attitude he carried like armor for the past three weeks completely gone. shashed into pieces. "one more chance, just give me one single shot to fix this. i can't let it end like this, i can't let her leave."

​jay lets out a long, theatrical groan, looking up at the night sky like he’s asking the universe why he got stuck with the dramatic ones. "dude, seriously? i just told you the contract is practically voided. you messed up, you broke the terms. i don't do extensions."

​"i'll do anything," sunghoon insists, his voice desperate, trembling as he reaches up to grasp at the hem of jay’s jacket, his fingers passing right through the dark fabric like mist. "i don't care what it is. i’ll be whatever you want. a servant, a ghost, a punching bag, literally anything. just give me a chance to bridge the gap before the thirty days run out completely."

​jay pauses. he lowers his gaze, staring down at sunghoon with a sharp, calculating glint in his dark eyes. the silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating, punctuated only by the distant, muffled sounds of the city

​"anything, huh?" jay murmurs, a slow, dangerous smile creeping back onto his face. it isn't the playful, sarcastic smirk from before, this one is calculating. "well... it just so happens i've been drowning in paperwork lately, and the higher ups are breathing down my neck about efficiency. you want a chance? fine. you’re going to work for it. congratulations, kid. you're my new intern."

​sunghoon blinks, completely caught off guard. "your... what?"

​"my assistant," jay says, hopping down from the table and dusting off his jeans. "you're going to help me harvest. let's see if you actually have what it takes to appreciate a soul, since you threw yours around like trash."

every time jay tosses a casual, heartless comment over his shoulder, sunghoon feels a sick twist in his chest, realizing oh my god that was me. he is forced to swallow a bitter dose of his own medicine every single hour of the day, watching his own worst personality traits play out through an all powerful deity who loves to make his life miserable

​the first time sunghoon accompanies jay on a call, the casual, rock listening, formula 1 watching reaper completely vanishes. the air in the room drops down to a freezing, bone-chilling temperature. sunghoon watches from the corner of a dimly lit hospital room as an elderly man takes his final, rattling breath

​suddenly, a massive, terrifying energy fills the space. out of thin air, a colossal scythe materializes in jay’s hands. the blade is made of a dark, obsidian metal that seems to actively swallow the light around it, looking impossibly sharp and heavy. jay’s eyes completely change, they turn cold, ancient, and completely devoid of human emotion. with one swift, silent swing, jay cuts the silver thread of life, his expression completely blank, like an executioner doing a routine job

​sunghoon’s soul shivers violently, terror pinning him to the spot. this isn't the funny guy from the park, this is death itself

​"don't just stand there gaping like an idiot, park," jay’s voice cuts through the freezing room, snapping sunghoon out of his trance. jay’s tone is sharp, commanding, and totally professional. "log it, now."

​sunghoon’s hands shake as he pulls out jay’s glowing digital ledger. his official duty as an assistant is incredibly grim. he has to type in the exact timestamp of the death, verify the soul’s legal identity, and press the glowing "confirm departure to afterlife" button to officially close out the case

​for two excruciating weeks, this is sunghoon’s reality. two weeks of watching families scream in agony, two weeks of witnessing the abrupt end of human lives, and two weeks of logging souls into a cold, black screen. it feels like his own personal hell

every single confirmation he hits feels like a weight being added to his own soul, dragging him closer to the realization of just how fragile existence really is and every night, he thinks of you, wondering if his own name is about to pop up on that screen next

​by the fourteenth day, sunghoon is completely broken down, his spiritual form feeling heavy and exhausted from the emotional toll of the job

​their final call of the night takes them to a quiet, winding suburban street where a terrible car crash has just occurred. it’s a horrific echo of sunghoon's own accident. an elderly husband and wife are trapped inside the vehicle, their pulses fading rapidly as the sirens wail in the distance

​jay steps forward, the massive scythe appearing in his grip with a terrifying, familiar hum. sunghoon prepares himself, pulling out the ledger, his eyes fixed on the couple

​but as jay steps closer, sunghoon notices something he hasn't seen on any other soul before

​stretching between the husband and the wife, glowing with a soft, ethereal light, is a thick silver thread. it doesn't look like the fragile, thin life cords jay cuts. this one is intricately woven, pulsing with a gentle, warm energy, binding their two chests together so tightly that even as their breathing slows, the light between them remains completely solid

​jay raises his scythe, cutting their life threads with two clean strokes. the couple’s spirits gently rise from their bodies, immediately reaching out to hold each other’s hands, their expressions peaceful, completely unfazed by the death around them because they are still together. the silver thread between them remains perfectly intact, pulling them closer as they float upward

​sunghoon stares at it, completely mesmerized. "jay... what is that? why didn't that thread break when you cut their life?"

​jay lets the scythe dissolve into smoke, his expression softening back into his usual, casual demeanor as he shoves his hands into his pockets. he watches the elderly couple fade into the night sky

​"that’s a soul bond, sunghoon," jay says softly, his tone completely lacking its usual sarcastic edge. "it’s a connection born from lifetime after lifetime of choosing each other. it’s the strongest magic in the universe. it ensures that no matter where they go, or what life they live, they will always find their way back to each other."

​sunghoon’s chest tightens with a sudden, suffocating ache. "do... do me and y/n have that?"

​jay turns around slowly, his sharp eyes fixed on sunghoon’s face. the pity is back, heavy and unyielding

​"you did," jay whispers. "in fact, yours was one of the thickest, brightest silver bonds i’ve ever seen. you two have been weaving it since the middle ages, sunghoon. it survived wars, plagues, and centuries of separation."

​sunghoon feels a spark of hope flare up in his chest, but jay’s next words completely douse it in ice water.

​"but a soul bond isn't indestructible," jay continues, his voice dropping into a chillingly serious register. "it requires both sides to feed it. and for the past month, you’ve been actively hacking away at it with your ego. when you broke your promise, when you chose someone else.. you started fraying the cord."

​jay steps closer, pointing directly at sunghoon’s chest. sunghoon looks down, and his heart stops

​there, protruding from his chest, is a tiny, pathetic wisp of silver light. it’s incredibly thin, practically translucent, and the edges are fraying violently, looking like a piece of thread that is about to snap under the slightest bit of tension

​"it’s almost gone," jay says bluntly. "and let me make one thing completely clear to you, park sunghoon. if that final strand snaps... it’s over, completely over. you won't just lose her in this life. you will never cross paths with y/n again. not in the next life, not in the afterlife, not in any universe. you will become complete strangers across eternity."

​sunghoon stares at the fraying thread, a cold, suffocating wave of pure panic crashing over him. three weeks have passed, you’re in europe. the thirty days are officially over. the bond is snapping right in front of his eyes, and he is still trapped as a ghost, totally helpless

the loud, frantic roar of racing engines echoes from jay’s phone screen, cutting through the heavy midnight air of the park

​sunghoon is sitting on the edge of the stone bench right next to him, his knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes completely glassy. jay is totally locked in, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, occasionally shouting at the tiny cars on the screen

sunghoon doesn't understand a single thing about formula 1. the bright flashes of red and silver cars taking tight corners mean absolutely nothing to him right now. to him, it’s just background noise to the absolute chaos screaming inside his own head

​his mind is entirely stuck on that fraying, pathetic silver thread in his chest. it’s a constant, phantom itch, a terrifying visual reminder that he is actively slipping out of your universe

​after what feels like hours of agonizing silence, sunghoon clears his raspy throat. "i want to fix it," he says, his voice barely a whisper, completely catching jay off guard

​jay doesn't hit pause this time, but he slowly lowers the phone, his sharp eyes cutting over to sunghoon through the dark. "fix what?"

​"the thread. my bond with y/n," sunghoon says, turning his head to look directly into the reaper's eyes

all the fake bravado, the stubborn pride, the ego, it’s all been completely burned away. there’s only raw, desperate determination left. "i want to make it whole again, i don't care what it takes."

​jay lets out a low, breathy sigh, locking his phone and shoving it into his hoodie pocket. the playful demeanor is gone instantly. "it's not that simple, sunghoon. fixing a broken soul bond isn't like taping a ripped piece of paper back together. it’s incredibly hard. it takes an agonizing amount of time, and honestly? the mental toll is brutal."

​"i don't care," sunghoon snaps instantly, his voice cracking but firm. "i genuinely don't care if it takes a hundred years, jay. as long as i get to come back to her. as long as that thread is perfect again. i'll do whatever you tell me to do."

​jay stares at him for a long, heavy moment, trying to see if the kid is bluffing. but sunghoon’s gaze doesn't waver once.

​"you're really serious about this, huh?" jay murmurs, a faint, almost respectful glint appearing in his dark eyes. he leans back against the picnic table, crossing his arms. "alright, let me lay out the actual reality for you. you and y/n? you guys aren't just a casual, one-time thing. you’ve actually managed to successfully end up together in five different lifetimes before this one. five times you found each other, loved each other, and closed the loop perfectly."

​sunghoon’s breath hitches. five lifetimes.

​"but because you completely wrecked the contract in this life," jay continues, pointing a sharp finger at sunghoon’s chest, "saving that thread is going to take a long time. half a year, to be exact. six months in human time."

​sunghoon frowns, his mind instantly racing back to his physical body. "wait... six months? but what about my body in the hospital? am i just going to be a vegetable for half a year?"

​jay lets out a dry, slightly mocking chuckle. "honestly, your physical injuries from the crash weren't even that bad. you should’ve woken up from that coma like, two weeks ago. the doctors are completely baffled because medically, your brain is fine. but the catch is... you’re currently tied up in grim reaper business. because your soul is entangled with me and the ledger, your spirit is physically locked out of your own body. you can't go back until this contract is either fulfilled or permanently cancelled."

​sunghoon looks down at his transparent hands, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him. six months of making his friends worry, six months of being a ghost, six months of you being all the way across the world in europe, thinking he’s either dead or completely moved on

​"it's fine," sunghoon whispers, closing his eyes tightly before looking back up at jay. "if half a year is what it takes to make sure i don't lose her forever, then i'll take it just tell me how to fix the thread."

​"well, since you’re so eager to sign your life away again... let me tell you a little secret. that medieval battlefield i showed you? that wasn't even the beginning. you and y/n actually started weaving your very first connection all the way back in ancient greece."

​sunghoon’s eyes widen. "ancient greece?"

​"yeah. you guys were just kids back then, standing inside this beautiful, crumbling stone temple," jay says, his voice drifting off like he’s reading a historical text from his mind. "you didn't make an official contract with a reaper back then, so there was no magic binding you but the sheer weight of your feelings for each other in that temple was so intense that it planted the seed for every single life that followed. you’ve literally been running after her for thousands of years."

​the image of a sun-drenched stone temple flashes faintly in sunghoon’s mind, giving him a strange, warm sensation in his chest but the warmth is immediately crushed by the reality of his current situation

​"so... how do i fix it now?" sunghoon asks frantically. "what do i have to do with those past lives?"

​jay straightens up, his tone turning completely serious, the weight of a deity settling over his shoulders. "to repair a frayed bond, you have to heal the roots. i’m going to send your spirit back through time. you’re going to visit every single one of those past lives where you two existed. and your only job? you have to find her in each era, look her in the eyes, and genuinely ask for her forgiveness. you have to apologize for the arrogance, the broken promises, and the pain you caused her in this current life. every time you successfully heal a past version of your connection, a piece of that silver thread will knit itself back together."

​jay steps closer, his shadow looming over sunghoon. "but let me warn you, park sunghoon. it is not going to be an easy walk in the park. you’re going to experience the pain, the heartbreak, and the tragedies of those eras all over again. if you fail to make amends in even one of those timelines, the thread snaps instantly, and you’re gone. the risks are absolute."

​sunghoon stands up slowly, his spiritual form suddenly glowing a little brighter with pure, unyielding resolve. he looks at jay, his jaw clenched, his eyes completely steady

​"i don't care about the risks," sunghoon says, his voice echoing with absolute certainty. "send me back, jay. i'll bear every single consequence, just let me fix what i broke."

instead of the whole double-blink routine, jay just casually reaches out and slaps a hand onto sunghoon’s shoulder

​thud

​the sound doesn't even make sense because they’re both spirits, but the moment jay's palm connects, the world violently glitches. the modern glass buildings of the hospital, the plastic benches, and the soft neon glow of the city streets completely unravel like loose threads on a sweater

right before sunghoon’s eyes, giant, towering white marble pillars shoot up into a sky so blindingly blue it actually hurts to look at. the air instantly transitions from the heavy, damp smell of car exhaust and city rain to something incredibly crisp salty sea breeze, blooming jasmine, and the faint, earthy scent of sun baked stone

​they’re still ghosts, completely invisible to the world, but sunghoon is entirely paralyzed by the sheer gravity of what just happened. his jaw drops as he looks around the bustling, sun-drenched center of an ancient greek city. people are walking past them dressed in flowing linen tunics, carrying clay pots and shouting out prices for fresh olives and figs at a nearby market

​"holy crap," sunghoon breathes, his eyes wide as he looks down at his own outfit. he and jay are literally the only people wearing modern streetwear, sticking out like neon signs in a black-and-white movie. "jay, this is... you did this with a single tap? your powers are actually insane."

​jay just lets out a bored, dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes as he grabs the back of sunghoon’s hoodie and yanks him forward. "yeah, yeah, i'm a god, we get it. stop gaping like a tourist and move your legs, park. we aren't here to sightsee."

​jay drags him through the narrow, stone-paved alleys, steering him away from the busy market square until they stop in front of a modest, whitewashed courtyard house. sunghoon is about to ask what they're waiting for when the heavy wooden door bursts open

​a little boy, probably around seven years old, comes barreling out into the street, giggling like a maniac. he’s wearing a simple white tunic, his dark hair a messy, windblown nest. close behind him, an older woman steps into the doorway, wiping her hands on an apron as she yells exasperatedly down the street, calling out his name

​sunghoon's heart does a violent flip in his chest. that's me

​"he looks so quiet and calm, but man, that kid was a menace," sunghoon mutters, watching his past self dodge a stray cart with effortless agility

​the little boy sprints all the way down to a quiet, grassy cliffside park overlooking the deep blue sea. sitting on a smooth stone near the edge is a little girl, her small feet swinging back and forth. the moment she hears his footsteps, she turns around, a massive, bright smile breaking across her face

​sunghoon feels a sharp, emotional ache bloom right in the center of his chest. you look so familiar, even as a child, with those same bright, expressive eyes. the two kids immediately dive into a game of tag, laughing hysterically as they run around the ancient trees, completely oblivious to the two time traveling ghosts watching them from the shadows

​"see? told you," jay says quietly, his voice unusually soft as he leans against a stone wall, arms crossed. "you two have been joined at the hip since the very beginning. you didn't just meet in a college lecture hall, sunghoon. you've been practicing loving her for centuries."

​before sunghoon can even fully process the sight of their childhood, jay grabs his shoulder again, pulling him backward into the shadow of a grand marble building

​the world blurs into a dizzying streak of light and shadow. sunghoon watches the stones beneath his feet weather and crack, while the pillars of the nearby temple grow more solid, majestic, and weathered by time. jay is fast forwarding through the years like a video clip

​when the spinning finally stops, the sun is setting, casting a warm, golden-purple hue over the cliffside. standing right under the grand archway of the temple are two teenagers. they look about eighteen now

​sunghoon completely loses his breath. you are standing there, dressed in a soft, elegant palla that drapes beautifully over your shoulders. your hair is pinned back, and you look so breathtakingly beautiful that the modern sunghoon can’t even take his eyes off you. your past self is holding hands with the eighteen year old version of sunghoon, your fingers tightly laced together

​the young couple walks into the quiet, candle lit temple. they kneel together before a smooth marble altar, their heads bowed

​"please," your past voice echoes softly through the sacred space, sweet and filled with an intense, desperate sincerity. "if our time in this life is ever cut short... please let us find each other again. in the next life, in the world after that. don't let me forget him."

​the teenage sunghoon presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes filled with a fierce, unwavering devotion. "i won't ever forget you, y/n. i'll find you, i swear it."

​watching this, the ghostly sunghoon feels a burning wave of shame wash over him. he broke that oath. he forgot, he treated that sacred, centuries old devotion like a minor inconvenience in the modern world

​"no time to cry yet, captain," jay’s voice cuts through his spiral

​with another quick flick of jay’s wrist, the scenery shifts one last time, the atmosphere instantly turning incredibly heavy, tense, and suffocating. the peaceful sunset is replaced by a gloomy, gray afternoon

​they are standing outside the barracks. the eighteen year old sunghoon is now wearing heavy bronze armor, a polished helmet resting under his arm. his face is hardened, but his eyes are breaking as he stares down at you

​you are crying. your shoulders are shaking violently as you clutch the edges of his bronze chestplate, your tears dripping onto the cold metal. you’re an absolute crybaby in this life too, your heart completely on your sleeve

​"you have to come back," you sob, your voice cracking with an agonizing fear. "please, you promised me. you can't leave me here alone."

​"i will come back to you, y/n. i swear on my life, i will return," the young soldier promises, though his own voice is trembling with the terrifying knowledge that he might be marching straight to his death

​"alright, intern, this is your cue," jay says, his sharp voice dropping all the sarcastic weight. he steps up right behind sunghoon, pushing him forward toward the armored soldier. "go on. step into his skin, you have exactly one minute to make amends before the timeline locks. do not mess this up."

​sunghoon swallows the massive lump in his throat. his hands are shaking as he takes a hesitant step forward, aligning his spiritual form with the back of the young captain. with a strange, magnetic pull, his consciousness is violently slammed into the physical weight of the bronze armor.

​suddenly, he can feel everything. the heavy, suffocating weight of the breastplate, the cold sweat dripping down his neck, and the raw, heartbreaking warmth of your small hands clutching his chest

​he looks down. you are looking up at him through a thick veil of tears, your eyes full of a desperate, terrifying love. seeing you look at him like that without the anger, without the bitterness of their modern thirty day breakup completely shatters him. he misses you so deeply it physically hurts his chest

​without a second thought, sunghoon lunges forward, throwing his armored arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of your hair

​"sunghoon...?" you gasp softly, caught off guard by the sheer, sudden desperation in his hold

​"i'm sorry," sunghoon chokes out, his voice thick with raw emotion. he doesn't mention the modern world, he doesn't mention the grim reaper, or the fact that he’s from a future where he completely broke your heart. he just grips you tighter, as if he could physically hold your souls together. "y/n, i am so, so sorry for everything, for every time i'm going to make you cry, for being an arrogant idiot, for taking you for granted. please... please forgive me. i’m so sorry."

​you blink through your tears, completely confused by his strange, overwhelming apology, but the pure sincerity in his voice melts any fear away. you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder

​"i forgive you," you whisper softly against his skin, a tear rolling down onto his armor. "i will always forgive you, sunghoon. just come back to me."

​the moment the words i forgive you leave your lips, a sudden, blinding jolt of electricity shoots straight through sunghoon's chest. he feels a strange warmth ignite in his core, and with a violent gasp, his spirit is forcibly ejected from the physical body, flying backward through the air

gasp

​sunghoon’s eyes fly open

​the ancient marble temples are gone. the heavy bronze armor is gone. he’s sitting flat on his ass on the damp grass of the modern hospital park, the familiar, annoying hum of city traffic filling his ears

​he touches his chest frantically. there, glowing just a tiny bit brighter than before, the frayed silver thread has knit a tiny section of itself back together. it’s still incredibly thin and fragile, but it’s no longer unraveling

​but instead of feeling happy, an overwhelming wave of pure sadness and grief crashes over him. his eyes burn, and a heavy, painful breath hitches in his throat as he stares blankly at the grass. he feels so entirely spent, his chest aching with the residual heartbreak of a lifetime that wasn't even his own.

​"jeez. look at you, already sulking," jay’s smooth, mocking voice floats down from above

​sunghoon looks up through blurry eyes. jay is standing on the stone picnic table, hands shoved casually in his hoodie pockets, staring down at him with an incredibly arrogant, unbothered smirk

​"that was... that was so heavy, jay," sunghoon whispers, his voice trembling. "she was crying so hard... i hate seeing her cry like that."

​jay let out a dry, clicking sound with his tongue, slowly shaking his head as his smirk turns a bit colder. "man, you really are weak, aren't you? you’re crying over that? let me tell you something, assistant... that era was a walk in the park. you guys actually loved each other there. the real tragedies haven't even started yet. get your act together, because the next timeline is going to absolutely destroy you."

sunghoon takes a deep, ragged breath, trying to blink away the residual warmth of that ancient greek sunset. he forces himself to stand up on his shaky, translucent legs, wiping a hand across his face. his chest still feels bruised from the sheer emotional weight of your past self's tears, but looking at the glowing silver thread just a fraction more secure than it was five minutes ago he knows he can’t stop

​"i'm ready," sunghoon says, his jaw tightening as he looks up at the grim reaper. "take me to the next one, jay. whatever it is, let's just get it over with."

​jay doesn't say a word this time. the teasing smirk is entirely gone, replaced by a cool, unreadable expression. he raises his hand, his thumb and middle finger aligning perfectly

click

​the sharp sound echoes through the quiet hospital park, and the world folds in on itself instantly. the concrete pavement beneath sunghoon’s feet melts into highly polished, deep mahogany wood. the cool night breeze is instantly replaced by the heavy, suffocating scent of burning beeswax candles, aged parchment, and expensive lavender oil

​sunghoon blinks, completely disoriented. he isn't outside anymore. he’s standing in the middle of a massive, breathtaking corridor. towering arched windows stretch up toward a ceiling covered in intricate, gold leaf frescoes depicting mythical creatures and royal battles. huge, velvet drapes in royal navy hang from the walls, catching the soft, flickering light of a dozen iron chandeliers

​"woah," sunghoon mutters, completely losing his train of thought as he turns around in a circle, staring blankly at the sheer luxury of the place. "this is... insane. what kind of palace is this?"

​smack

​"ow!" sunghoon yelps, rubbing the back of his shoulder where jay had just hard palmed him.

​"stop daydreaming, tourist," jay groans, rolling his eyes as he starts walking down the long hallway, his boots making absolutely no sound on the pristine floor. "we aren't architectural critics. keep your eyes open. we’re looking for you, remember?"

​sunghoon quickly scrambles to catch up, his modern sweatpants and hoodie looking hilariously out of place against the medieval luxury. they wander through a maze of winding corridors, passing silent guards standing at attention who don't even blink as the two ghosts glide right past them

​finally, at the end of a secluded wing of the castle, they spot a tall figure walking with a heavy, commanding stride

​sunghoon freezes. the man is wearing a structured, deep charcoal uniform trimmed with silver embroidery, a heavy steel sword sheathed at his hip. his hair is pushed back neatly, exposing a sharp, unyielding jawline. he carries himself with an terrifying amount of authority. the kind of presence that makes people move out of the way without him saying a single word

​"the grand commander of the royal guard," jay whispers from behind sunghoon, his tone casual but informative. "rumored to be the strongest, most ruthless warrior of this entire kingdom. nobody dared to cross his path. well... nobody except one person."

​the past sunghoon stops in front of a pair of massive, towering oak doors. he pushes them open quietly, stepping inside what looks like a grand, multi level royal library. sunghoon and jay follow closely behind, slipping through the closing doors like smoke

​the library is warm, lit by the golden glow of a massive fireplace. and there, sitting at a long wooden table buried under a literal mountain of thick leather-bound books and scrolls, is you

​the moment your past self hears the heavy click of his boots, you look up. a brilliant, radiant smile breaks across your face, erasing all the stress of your studying. you slide out of your chair so fast you almost knock over an inkwell, running straight into the past sunghoon’s arms. you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face in his silver trimmed collar

​he catches you effortlessly, his arms winding around your waist, pulling you so close there’s absolutely no space left between you. the ruthless commander completely melts, his face softening into an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration

​"i missed you," your past self murmurs, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "you were gone for three whole days, my love."

​"i know, princess. i’m sorry. the northern border took longer than expected," the past sunghoon whispers back, his voice dropping into a deep, gentle register that the modern sunghoon recognizes all too well

​standing in the shadows, the modern sunghoon’s spirit flinches. they were already together. they were deeply, hopelessly in love

​"she was the daughter of one of the castle's kitchen maids," jay explains quietly, watching the couple sway slightly in the firelight. "grew up in the servants' quarters, but she had a brilliant mind. she practically lived in this library, teaching herself languages, history, and science. she was easily the smartest girl in the entire kingdom. that’s why you fell for her."

​sunghoon stares at your past self, a bittersweet ache tightening his chest. she's exactly the same, he thinks. even in the modern world, y/n was always the smart one. you were always the one staying up late to study for midterms, the one who tried to help him with his essays, the one whose brain he always admired, even when his stubborn ego refused to admit it out loud. some things never change across lifetimes

​"alright, dynamic duo, time to move," jay says, breaking the spell.

​he grabs sunghoon’s wrist, dragging him backward through the solid stone wall of the library. the scenery violently blurs again, the golden firelight stretching into long lines of light before snapping into total darkness

​when the world solidifies, the heavy castle walls are gone. instead, the air smells like woodsmoke, pine trees, and fresh dew. the sky above is a brilliant canvas of thousands of stars, completely unpolluted by city lights

​they are in the middle of a secluded forest clearing. a small, crackling campfire throws dancing orange shadows over a small canvas tent. sitting on a thick woolen blanket right by the fire are the past sunghoon and you. he’s wrapped a heavy fur cloak around your shoulders, and you’re leaning back against his chest, animatedly talking about a passage in a book you had just finished reading, your hands gesturing wildly in the air

​the past sunghoon isn't even looking at the fire. he’s just staring down at your face, completely transfixed by the way your eyes light up when you're passionate about something. he reaches up, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear

​"i mean it, sunghoon," your past self says softly, turning your head slightly to look up at him, your expression turning serious under the starlight. "no matter what happens... promise me we stay together. promise me you won't let the court politics pull you away."

​"i promise, my love," the commander says fiercely, pressing a firm, desperate kiss to the crown of your head. "i will never leave your side. i’d burn the whole kingdom to the ground before i let them take you from me."

​the modern sunghoon lets out a shaky breath, covering his mouth with his hand. another promise. another sacred oath he ended up breaking in the future

​"turn around," jay’s voice drops all the warmth, turning completely flat and freezing cold. "the fast forward is over."

​sunghoon turns around slowly, his heart sinking into his stomach. the beautiful forest clearing dissolves into a dark, damp, terrifying space. the smell of pine is replaced by the sickening, suffocating stench of rotting straw, mold, and rusted iron

​they are standing in the subterranean dungeons beneath the palace. and there, locked inside a cramped, filthy iron cage, is you

​sunghoon’s soul violently shudders. your beautiful dress is torn and stained with dirt. your hair is a matted mess, and your eyes are completely swollen and bloodshot from hours of crying. you look so incredibly frail, shivering against the cold stone floor, curling yourself into a tight ball

​outside the cell, the past version of sunghoon is standing there, his hands gripping the iron bars so tightly his knuckles are completely white, bleeding from where the rusted metal cuts into his skin. tears are streaming openly down his face, his ruthless commander facade completely shattered

​"why?" the ghost of sunghoon whispers, his voice trembling with a terrifying panic. "jay, what happened? what did they do to her?!"

​"the royal council," jay says bluntly, his eyes fixed on the heartbreaking scene. "they found out about her intelligence. a servant girl who knew more about science and medicine than the court doctors? they called it heresy. they accused her of practicing witchcraft, claiming she used dark magic to bewitch the grand commander. they’re going to execute her, sunghoon."

​"no... no, she was just studying books! she didn't do anything wrong!" sunghoon roars, trying to lunge toward the cell, but jay grabs his shoulder, his grip tightening like a vise

​"the guards are coming down the corridor in exactly two minutes to take her to the gallows," jay barks, his tone dead serious as he shoves sunghoon toward the crying commander. "this is your only shot, get in there and make it right before she dies."

​sunghoon doesn't even hesitate. he throws his spirit forward, slamming violently into the physical body of his past self

​the transition is agonizing. suddenly, the phantom pain in his chest turns into a real, suffocating heartbreak. his throat burns with the metallic taste of his own tears, and the cold iron bars feel freezing against his palms

​he looks through the bars. you look up at the sound of his ragged breathing, your swollen eyes filling with a fresh wave of tears when you see him

​"sunghoon..." you sob, crawling toward the bars on your hands and knees, your weak fingers reaching through the gaps. "i'm scared. please... i didn't do anything. i swear i didn't use black magic. i just wanted to learn..."

​the modern sunghoon feels his soul literally breaking into a million pieces. he has never felt so utterly powerless in his entire existence. he’s the strongest commander in the kingdom, but he can't even unlock a stupid iron door to save the girl he loves

​he reaches his large, calloused hands through the iron bars, gently cupping your dirty, tear-stained face. his thumbs softly wipe away the fresh tears spilling over your cheeks, ignoring the way the cold iron bruises his wrists.

​"i know, i know, princess," sunghoon chokes out, his voice a broken, desperate sob as he leans his forehead against the freezing bars, staring into your eyes. "i’m so sorry. y/n, i am so incredibly sorry. i couldn't protect you... i failed you. please... please forgive me for being so useless. for every piece of pain i’ve ever caused you, in this life and every life after... i'm sorry."

​you lean into the warmth of his palms, closing your eyes as more tears spill over his fingers. even in the face of your own execution, you don't hold a single ounce of bitterness toward him

​"i forgive you," you whisper, your voice a fragile, beautiful thread in the dark dungeon. "i will always forgive you, sunghoon. don't look at me with such sad eyes... we promised, remember? under the stars. we will find each other again. i'll wait for you in the next life."

​"i'll find you," sunghoon promises, his heart breaking entirely as the loud, echoing sound of guards' boots starts to rumble down the stone corridor. "i swear on my soul, y/n, i will find you and i will hold onto you next time."

the violent jolt of electricity rips through his entire being, but strangely, this time sunghoon’s spirit doesn't get violently ejected from the body. he doesn't fly backward into a vortex of comfortable darkness

​he is still firmly locked inside the heavy, suffocating skin of the grandcommander

​the heavy iron latch of the dungeon doors rattles open, the sound echoing ominously down the damp stone corridor. sunghoon’s past body stands there, frozen, his hands still gripping the cold bars of your cell. a younger soldier, pale faced and trembling under the weight of his armor, steps into the dim torchlight, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor

​"commander," the soldier whispers, his voice shaking. "everything... everything is ready. the king and queen have ordered the procession. it’s time."

​sunghoon’s mind is spinning in pure, unadulterated panic. why am i still in here? jay! jay, get me out of here! he screams internally, trying to force his consciousness to detach, but nothing happens. his physical mouth, acting on a lifetime of rigid military discipline, simply lets out a low, hollow sound. "understood."

​the cell doors are unlocked, and two heavy handed guards drag your past self out into the corridor. you don't fight them, you're too weak, your frail frame shivering as the dirty linen of your white dress drags across the filthy stone floor. but as they pull you past him, your swollen, tear-filled eyes lock onto his face one last time

the transition from the dark, quiet bowels of the castle to the blinding light of the palace square happens too fast

​the air is thick, suffocatingly hot, and vibrating with the deafening, monstrous roar of a bloodthirsty crowd. hundreds of angry citizens are packed into the stone plaza, throwing rotten vegetables and rocks, their faces contorted into ugly, twisted masks of hatred. up on the high royal balcony, the king and queen sit on their lavish velvet thrones, looking down with cold, indifferent eyes

​"burn the witch!"

"she brought the plague upon our cattle!"

"spawn of the devil!"

​the screams tear through sunghoon’s ears like physical knives. his past body is forced to march forward, taking its place at the very front of the royal guard, directly facing the massive wooden stake constructed in the center of the square

​he watches in absolute, paralyzed horror as the guards roughly lift your small body up, binding your wrists and ankles to the heavy timber frames. you look so incredibly small against the massive wood. you look out into the crowd, your terrified gaze desperately searching until you find him standing there in his silver trimmed armor

​and then, a torch is dropped into the dry straw at your feet

​whoosh

​the flames erupt instantly, a roaring wall of bright orange and choking black smoke devouring the wooden stake

​sunghoon feels a physical sensation like a massive, clawed hand wrapping around his actual heart and squeezing it until it bursts. the sheer, unyielding agony of watching you, the girl he loved across centuries, the girl who just wanted to read books and hold his hand under the stars being consumed by fire is too much for his mind to handle. a silent, broken scream tears through his throat, but his past body remains frozen at attention, forced to watch the execution

​his knees buckle. the armor feels like it weighs a million pounds. his vision starts to fray at the edges, spinning into a dizzying kaleidoscope of fire and smoke until the entire world finally collapses into pitch blackness

gasp

​sunghoon’s eyes fly open, his chest heaving violently as he sucks in a massive breath of modern, humid city air

​the smell of burning wood and smoke is gone, instantly replaced by the familiar, synthetic scent of hospital bleach. he’s back. he’s sitting flat on his ass on the damp grass of the modern park, his hands trembling so violently he can barely press them against the ground to keep himself steady

​hot, heavy tears are streaming openly down his face, dripping off his sharp jawline and soaking into his modern black hoodie. he doesn't even care about his pride anymore. he buries his face in his hands, letting out a jagged, pathetic sob that echoes through the quiet midnight park

​"man, you really are a total crybaby," a smooth, completely unbothered voice floats down from above

​sunghoon pulls his hands away from his face, his vision blurry with tears. jay is sitting casually on top of the concrete picnic table, his legs swinging back and forth. he’s holding a little strawberry milk carton, sipping lazily from a tiny plastic straw while watching sunghoon like he’s an entertaining movie

​"she... they burned her, jay," sunghoon chokes out, aggressively wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, though the tears just keep coming. "i had to watch it, i had to feel it. i couldn't do anything, i was the grand commander and i couldn't even save her."

​jay takes a slow sip of his milk, letting out a soft, clicking sound with his tongue as he shakes his head. "yeah, well, history is messy like that. and honestly? you’re being completely dramatic. that was just lifetime number two. human history isn't a fairy tale, kid."

​sunghoon stands up on shaky legs, his head spinning from the residual emotional trauma of the dungeon. "i can't," he whispers, his voice cracking entirely as he stares at the glowing silver thread in his chest, which has only knit itself a tiny bit more. "jay, i don't think i can handle seeing her die again. i don't want to see her hurt it’s ripping my soul apart. i want to stop, let me just end it."

​jay stops swinging his legs. he lowers the milk carton, his sharp, dark eyes narrowing as a cold, dangerous aura instantly replaces his casual demeanor. the mocking smirk vanishes

​"you want to quit?" jay asks, his voice dropping into a lethal, low whisper that makes the air around them freeze. "sure, go ahead. the portal to your body is right there. i’ll just cancel the contract right now but let’s be entirely clear about what that means, park sunghoon."

​jay hops down from the table, landing silently in front of sunghoon, his shadow swallowing him whole

​"the second i delete this file, that wisp of silver thread in your chest snaps permanently. you will never see y/n again. she will finish her degree in europe, she will meet someone else, she will live her life, and when you both die, your souls will pass each other in the ether like complete strangers. you will erase thousands of years of devotion because you can't handle a little bit of pain. so go ahead, walk away."

​sunghoon stands frozen, the words hitting him like physical blows

​strangers across eternity

​the thought of you forgetting him, the thought of never seeing your smile, never hearing your voice, never having the right to hold your hand in any universe ever again hurts infinitely worse than the fire in the palace square. it’s a cold, hollow, terrifying kind of pain that shakes him to his very core

​he looks down at his hands, then closes them into tight fists. the frustration, the grief, and the fear melt down into a hard, unyielding desperation. he took you for granted in this life. he broke your heart for a girl who didn't even care about him. he deserved this torment. he needed to pay the price

​sunghoon raises his head, looking directly into the grim reaper’s ancient eyes. the tears are still wet on his cheeks, but his gaze is completely steady

​"no," sunghoon says, his voice losing its tremor, hardening with pure resolve. "i'm not giving up."

​jay tilts his head, a faint, slow smirk creeping back onto his lips. "oh? changed your mind already?"

​"send me to the next one," sunghoon demands, stepping closer, his ghostly form radiating a frantic, manic energy. "i don't care if it’s worse, i don't care if it destroys me. i'll watch whatever i have to watch, and i'll take whatever punishment you have. just send me back i'm going to fix our thread."

​jay lets out a low, amused chuckle, throwing the empty milk carton into a nearby trash can with perfect accuracy.

"the next one is going to be way more interesting, honestly," jay says, a little glint of amusement in his eyes as he plays with the stray strings of his hoodie. "not quite as terrifying as getting torched in a public square. well... maybe. depends on how you look at it."

​sunghoon just lets out a heavy, exhausted sigh, dropping his chin to his chest. his whole body feels drained, the phantom smell of smoke still clinging to the edges of his mind. he shuts his eyes tight, trying to brace himself for the impact of another world, another heartbreak

when he tilts his head back up, the humid night air of the hospital park is completely gone

​there’s no violent jolt this time. the transition is smooth, almost elegant, like a watercolor painting bleeding into a new canvas. sunghoon blinks, realizing he’s standing inside a massive, sun-drenched bedroom. the architecture screams the height of the renaissance era. intricate wooden carvings on a giant four poster bed, thick velvet curtains in rich burgundy blocking out the midday sun, and beautiful, fresh oil paintings drying on easels in the corner. everything feels deeply tied to art and beauty, the whole atmosphere dripping with wealth and culture

​"looks like we spawned in your old room," jay murmurs, casually leaning his back against a massive marble fireplace, looking completely unbothered by the sudden shift in centuries. "not a bad setup, honestly. you were loaded."

​before sunghoon can even take a step to examine the room, the heavy muffled sound of angry shouting drifts up through the floorboards. it’s coming from the grand parlor downstairs

​jay tilts his head toward the door, a faint smirk returning to his face. "sounds like a family meeting. let’s go eavesdrop."

​the two spirits glide through the solid wooden door and descend the sweeping marble staircase. down in the parlor, a young version of sunghoon is standing stiffly in the center of the room, dressed in tailored, expensive renaissance garments. his expression is completely frozen, his jaw clenched as an older, aristocratic man and a woman draped in silk pace around him, their voices dripping with absolute fury

​sunghoon and jay stand in the corner, blending into the shadows as they listen to the argument

​"you have a duty to this family, sunghoon!" his past father roars, slamming a heavy ringed hand onto a mahogany table. "she is the daughter of a duke! the alliance is perfect! you cannot keep turning these offers down!"

​"i don't care about the alliance," the past sunghoon says, his voice quiet but incredibly stubborn, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. "i will not marry someone i do not love."

​standing in the shadows, the ghostly sunghoon watches his past self with a strange mix of pride and frustration. jay lets out a soft, mocking chuckle right next to his ear, crossing his arms. "man, the you in this life was kind of an idiot, wasn't he? that’s literally the third arrangement he’s turned down. total hopeless romantic. he was actively ruining his family name for a girl he hadn't even met properly yet."

​before the argument downstairs can escalate any further, jay casually claps his hands together once

​crack

​the sound echoes like a gunshot through the room, and the angry voices of his parents instantly melt away. the dark parlor expands, exploding into a blinding sea of golden light, classical violin music, and the low, elegant chatter of hundreds of wealthy guests

​they are suddenly standing right in the middle of a lavish, decadent wedding reception. crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, and tables are overflowing with expensive wine and exotic fruits

​and right in front of them, standing at the center of the ballroom, are the past sunghoon and y/n

​sunghoon completely loses his breath, his eyes locking onto you. you are wearing a breathtaking, cream colored satin gown embroidered with delicate silver threads that catch the candlelight every time you move. your hair is intricately braided, and you look so completely radiant, so stunningly beautiful, that the ghostly sunghoon entirely freezes in his tracks. his mind goes totally blank. he just stares, his chest aching with a sudden, overwhelming surge of love and longing

​he’s completely stuck, entirely hypnotized by the sight of you laughing at something his past self whispered in your ear

​"hey, space cadet, stop drooling," jay grunts, reaching out and roughly yanking sunghoon backward by the arm before he can try to touch you. "we don't have time for you to stare. let's move it."

​with that harsh tug, the bustling wedding ballroom blurs into a streak of gold and white. the loud music fades, replaced by the gentle chirping of cicadas and the soft, cool breeze of a late evening

​when the world settles, they are standing in a manicured, private garden attached to a massive villa. the past sunghoon and you are sitting together on a stone bench under a canopy of blooming white roses. you’re leaning your head against his shoulder, your fingers intertwined with his. the atmosphere is peaceful, dripping with an domestic warmth that sunghoon hasn't felt in a very long time

​"i still can't believe your father finally gave in," you murmur softly, a gentle smile playing on your lips as you look out over the dark garden

​"he didn't have a choice," the past sunghoon replies, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "i told him i’d leave the estate completely if i couldn't have you. i just want a quiet life, y/n. a happy, harmonious family with you. that’s all i’ve ever wanted."

​watching them, the ghostly sunghoon feels a sudden ray of hope flare up in his chest. a huge, relieved smile spreads across his face. there's no tragedy here, he thinks frantically, his heart beating fast. we actually made it. we got married, we’re happy, there are no executioners or wars.

"jay, look!" sunghoon whispers excitedly, turning to the reaper. "there's no test here! we're actually fine in this one!"

​jay just lets out a low, dark chuckle, a look of profound pity crossing his sharp features. "man, you really are naive, aren't you?" jay raises a single finger, pointing toward a smaller, dark structure at the edge of the estate. "you forgot who i am, assistant. death always collects."

​jay flicks his wrist, and the beautiful, moonlit rose garden instantly rots away. the sweet smell of flowers transitions into the sharp, sickeningly familiar scent of herbal medicines, damp sheets, and cold sweat

​they are back in the massive bedroom from before, but the sun is completely gone, replaced by a single, flickering candle on the nightstand

​lying in the center of the giant bed is the past sunghoon but he looks completely unrecognizable. the broad-shouldered, strong young man from the garden has shrunk, his body frail, gaunt, and completely drained of life. his skin is a sickly, pale gray, his breathing coming out in shallow, rattling gasps. an epidemic had swept through the city, and his wealth couldn't save him

​kneeling right by the bedside, clutching his cold, trembling hand against her cheek, is you. you are sobbing uncontrollably, your shoulders shaking as your tears soak into the linen sheets

​"you can't leave me," you weep, your voice a broken, desperate mess. "sunghoon, please... we were supposed to grow old here. you promised me a quiet life, please don't go."

​"i'll... i'll find you again," the dying sunghoon gasps out, his voice incredibly weak, his eyes struggling to stay open as he stares at your face. "i promise... i'll look for you in the next world..."

​"he’s flatlining, intern," jay’s voice cuts through the heartbreaking room, sharp and urgent. "get in there before his soul detaches, you have less than a minute."

​sunghoon doesn't even think. the pure agony of seeing you cry over his dying body pushes him forward, and he throws his spirit straight into the frail, cold physical form on the bed

​the moment his consciousness hooks into the body, a suffocating, crushing weight slams into his chest. he can barely breathe. every single gasp feels like inhaling liquid fire, his lungs completely failing him. his throat feels tight, dry, and absolutely paralyzed

​but looking at you kneeling there, your face completely ruined by grief, he forces his weak, trembling fingers to squeeze yours back

​"y/n..." sunghoon chokes out, his voice a raspy, breathless whisper

​you gasp, looking up through your thick veil of tears, locking eyes with him. "sunghoon? oh my god, sunghoon, stay with me, please—"

​"i'm sorry," he interrupts, his voice breaking as the suffocating pressure in his chest tightens, stealing his oxygen. he can feel his life slipping away by the second, the coldness creeping up his limbs. "y/n... i am so sorry for everything... for breaking my promises... for leaving you alone like this. please... please forgive me."

​you shake your head frantically, pressing his weak hand against your lips, kissing his knuckles as your tears stream down his skin. "there's nothing to forgive! i love you, i will always love you! please just don't close your eyes!"

​"i'm sorry..." sunghoon whispers one last time, a tear finally escaping his own eye, rolling down his pale cheek.

​with that final apology, the last bit of air leaves his lungs. his heart gives one final, weak shudder before completely stopping.

​the moment his physical eyes glaze over, you let out a blood-curdling, agonizing scream of pure grief, a sound so loud and full of despair that it vibrates through the entire room

​boom

​the sheer force of your heartbreak, combined with the sudden death of the body, violently rejects sunghoon’s spirit. he is forcibly slammed backward, ripped right out of the physical flesh with a terrifying velocity. the bedroom, the candles, and your heartbreaking screams instantly dissolve into a roaring vortex of wind, spinning him around in total darkness until his feet violently connect with something solid

​gasp

​sunghoon hits the ground hard, tumbling onto the damp grass of the modern hospital park. his chest is heaving as he frantically sucks in the clean night air, his hands clutching at his shirt right over his heart. the agonizing suffocation of the sickness is gone, but his soul feels completely shattered, his mind still echoing with that final, devastating scream you let out over his corpse

"the next one is officially the worst," jay says, his voice losing every single ounce of its usual sarcastic bite. he lets out a low, heavy breath, looking at sunghoon with a level of dead seriousness that makes the cold air in the park feel even more suffocating. "it's the most tragic out of all of them, honestly. you need to actually pull yourself together for this one, park. if your mental state fractures, we're done."

​sunghoon takes a ragged breath, pressing the palms of his hands against his knees to stop the violent shaking. his soul still feels entirely bruised from hearing that final, echoing scream in the renaissance bedroom, but he forces his jaw to clench. "i'm fine. i can handle it, just send me."

​jay stares at him for a long, quiet beat, checking for any signs of bluffing. finally, he sighs and gestures to the empty space on the concrete bench right next to him. "just calm down for a second. relax your shoulders. sit down."

​sunghoon reluctantly slides onto the cold stone bench, his chest heaving. "now what?"

​"now, close your eyes," jay instructs softly.

​the second sunghoon’s eyelids flutter shut, the distant sound of city traffic completely dies out

​when he opens his eyes a fraction of a second later, the transition is incredibly jarring. the hard concrete bench is gone. instead, he’s sitting on a rough, weathered wooden bench right at the edge of a bustling, dusty dirt road. the air instantly hits his nose, the sharp, pungent scent of fermented radishes, dried fish, fresh straw, and the smoky haze of wood burning stoves

​everywhere he looks, people are moving around in traditional, vibrant hanboks. heavy wooden carts pulled by oxen are rattling past, and merchants are loudly shouting out their prices for silk fabrics and clay pots

​"joseon era," sunghoon mutters, blinking rapidly as his modern sneakers rest in the dirt. he looks down at his own casual clothes, then looks around the busy marketplace. "wait... am i like, a poor peasant or something in this life? why are we spawning near a crowded market?"

​jay, who is casually leaning against a nearby wooden pillar with his arms crossed, lets out a dry, mocking laugh. "peasant? you wish. look over there across the square. see that incredibly annoying guy surrounded by a literal horde of women?"

​sunghoon blinks, shifting his gaze toward a large silk merchant's stall

​standing in the center of a giggling, blushing crowd of young noblewomen is a young man dressed in an incredibly expensive, pristine royal blue banyongpo. he’s holding a hand painted paper fan, tilting his head with an effortlessly smooth, devastatingly handsome smirk as he delivers a smooth comment to a girl who looks like she’s about to faint

sunghoon’s jaw drops. it’s him

​and just like that, despite the absolute trauma of the last three timelines, sunghoon’s massive, modern day ego instantly flares back to life. a smug, satisfied smirk crawls onto his face. "well... can you really blame them? i mean, look at me. even in ancient history, the face card never declines. i was a total visual."

​jay looks like he wants to violently throw himself into the nearest river. he rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful, letting out a heavy, disgusted groan. "oh my god, shut up. this is exactly why the universe punished you. you were famously known for being breathtakingly handsome in this era, yes, but you were also a certified, arrogant prick. you walked around like you owned the entire peninsula."

​jay grabs sunghoon’s shoulder, dragging his spirit away from the crowded market square and leading him down a quieter, winding alleyway lined with beautiful, weeping willow trees. they stop right in front of a grand, multi-storied building decorated with bright silk lanterns and beautiful wooden screens. the faint, elegant sound of a gayageum plucking a slow melody drifts through the air

​"a courtesan house?" sunghoon asks, raising an eyebrow

​"just watch," jay murmurs, pointing through the open wooden shatters of a private upper room

​sitting on a silk cushion, pouring hot tea into a delicate porcelain cup, is a woman. her back is turned to them, her long, glossy dark hair braided perfectly down her back with a rich crimson ribbon. even just from the silhouette of her shoulders and the elegant, graceful slope of her neck, she looks stunning

​then, she turns her head slightly to order a servant away

​sunghoon’s heart stops

​you look absolutely ethereal in a pale pink chima and a white jeogori, your sharp, expressive eyes piercing right through the room

​"she was the most famous woman in the district," jay explains quietly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "incredibly beautiful, but notoriously fierce and sharp-tongued. she absolutely detested arrogant, smooth-talking noblemen, and she had zero patience for men who lacked substance. basically... she was your worst nightmare, which made you completely obsessed with her."

​sunghoon feels a sudden, intense wave of curiosity washing over him. "how did we even start talking? jay, fast forward it. i want to see how i managed to win her over if she hated me so much."

​"fine, but don't blink," jay says.

​suddenly, a sharp gust of wind sweeps through the courtyard, sending a stray, crisp green willow leaf flying straight toward sunghoon’s face. he instinctively raises his hand, brushing the leaf away from his eyes

​by the time his hand drops, the scenery has completely shifted. the bright daylight has faded into a deep, hazy twilight

​they are now inside a secluded, private pavilion surrounded by blooming lotus ponds. and right there, leaning against the wooden railing, are the past sunghoon and you but you aren't fighting. in fact, the past sunghoon is leaning in incredibly close, his fingers gently brushing against your jawline, his eyes dripping with a smooth, heavy flirtatiousness

​you’re smirking back, your eyes locked onto his lips, delivering a sharp, witty comeback that makes him let out a low, breathy laugh. and before the modern sunghoon can even process the dialogue, his past self lunges forward, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his lips into yours in a deep, intensely passionate kiss. your hands instantly tangle into the fabric of his expensive robes, pulling him closer

​standing a few feet away, jay’s face immediately contorts into total disgust. "okay, nope. we are moving past this. i am not watching this."

​"wait, wait! jay, don't!" sunghoon yells frantically, his eyes wide as he tries to swat jay's hand away from the portal. "don't fast-forward yet! let me watch for a second! i haven't seen her like this, let me just look at her—"

​smack

​"ow!" sunghoon yelps, clutching the back of his head where jay had just delivered a firm, unbothered slap

​"you are a literal pervert, park," jay groans, his expression completely judging him. "we are here to save your soul bond, not watch your past self's romance tape. move your head."

​when sunghoon looks back up, rubbing his sore skull, the lotus pond is gone

​now, they are standing in a hidden, quiet courtyard behind a massive estate. the sun is shining brightly, and the air is filled with the sharp, rhythmic clack-clack of wooden practice swords hitting each other

​the past sunghoon is standing right behind you, his large hands wrapped securely over yours as he guides your grip on a wooden sword. he’s adjusting your stance, his chest pressed against your back, a massive, soft, genuinely happy smile on his face

you’re laughing hysterically every time you mess up a form, turning around to playfully poke him in the ribs with the blunt tip of the weapon. they look so incredibly light. so completely, hopelessly happy

​"enjoy it while it lasts," jay’s voice suddenly drops into that freezing, dark tone, cutting through the beautiful laughter like ice water. "because the tragedy is officially here."

​"no, wait, can't we just stay here for a minute?" sunghoon begs, his chest instantly tightening with an anxious, suffocating panic. "just let me watch us be happy for a little bit longer, jay, please—"

​smack

​jay slaps the back of his head one more time, completely ignoring his pleas. "open your eyes, assistant. look at what you actually did."

​the beautiful, sunny courtyard instantly dissolves into a suffocating, heavy gloom. the happy laughter is cut short, replaced by the sound of raw, agonizing, breathless sobbing

​sunghoon looks around, his heart sinking right into his stomach. they are inside a dark, secluded library room. standing in the corner, clutching you tightly against his chest like he’s trying to merge your bodies together, is the past sunghoon

​you are crying so hard you can barely draw a full breath, your small hands tightly bunching up the blue silk of his robes, your face buried in his shoulder as your whole body shivers with grief

​"i'm sorry... y/n, i am so sorry," the past sunghoon whispers, his own voice cracking completely, tears tracking down his handsome face. "the king... my father... he officially announced it to the court today. the royal decree has been signed. i am being forced into an arranged marriage with the princess of the neighboring province. the wedding is next week."

​standing in the shadows, the modern sunghoon’s spirit instantly erupts into pure, frantic rage. he turns around to jay, his face red, his fists clenched tight as he storms up to the reaper

​"are you kidding me?!" sunghoon roars, gesturing wildly at the crying couple. "why does this keep happening?! a princess?! how beautiful could this stupid princess even be that my parents are completely ruining our lives for her?! i don't want to marry her! why am i doing this?!"

​jay just stands there, completely bewildered, raising his eyebrows at sunghoon’s sudden outburst. "bro, why the hell are you yelling at me? i didn't arrange the marriage. blame your ancient joseon parents, not the grim reaper. also, she's a princess, it’s about land and power, not a beauty pageant. stop shouting."

​sunghoon’s chest is heaving with anger and heartbreak, his eyes darting back to your sobbing form. the reality of the tragedy is setting in, and he can feel the heavy, magnetic pull of the timeline demanding him to step into the body

"this is where it gets really ugly," jay says, his voice losing every single ounce of its usual detached composure. he actually sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at the dusty floorboards of the library. "even for a grim reaper... this part of your history is hard to watch. you need to brace yourself, park. seriously."

​sunghoon’s anger evaporates instantly, replaced by a cold, sickening dread that pools right in his stomach. he looks at your past self, still clinging to his robes, sobbing like her world is ending. he just nods numbly, swallowing the dry lump in his throat. "i told you. i'm not backing down."

​jay doesn't waste another second. he raises his hand

​click

​the dark, quiet library fractures instantly. the smooth smell of old books and your sweet floral scent are violently ripped away, replaced by the suffocating, metallic stench of fresh copper, wet mud, and the terrifying, heavy atmosphere of an execution ground

​sunghoon’s spirit stumbles as the world solidifies. they are standing in the massive stone courtyard of the royal palace under a dark, weeping gray sky. hundreds of soldiers in heavy iron armor form a tight, impenetrable wall around the perimeter, their spears held high. at the far end, sitting on elevated wooden thrones, the king and queen look down with expressions of absolute, chilling disgust

​and right there, in the dead center of the cold stone floor, you are on your knees

​sunghoon’s soul goes into a frantic, chaotic panic. your hands are tied tightly behind your back with thick hemp rope, your beautiful pink chima torn, dragged through the mud, and stained with dark crimson streaks. you look so fragile, so completely stripped of your usual fierce, sharp tongued energy

"jay! what is this?! what happened?!" sunghoon screams, his voice cracking as he tries to lunge toward you, but his ghostly hands pass right through the air. "we were just in the library! why is she on the floor?!"

​jay steps up beside him, his sharp eyes dark and unusually heavy with grim pity. "you two tried to run," he explains quietly, the wind whipping his modern black hoodie around his frame. "the night before the royal wedding, you abandoned your title, stole two horses, and tried to smuggle her out of the province. but the king’s scouts tracked you down at the border. and because you’re the beloved prince, the royal court couldn't execute you. so they put the entire blame on her. they claimed she was a seductress who bewitched the royal bloodline."

​before sunghoon can even digest the horror of jay's words, the booming, heartless voice of the king echoes across the courtyard, cutting through the heavy silence

​"prove your loyalty to this kingdom, prince sunghoon," the king commands, pointing a cold finger down at your kneeling form. "dispel the witch’s curse. do it now."

​sunghoon’s ghostly head whips around. walking slowly out from the ranks of the soldiers is his past self. the handsome face that sunghoon had been bragging about five minutes ago is completely dead, pale as a corpse, his eyes entirely blank and hollow. in his right hand, he is dragging a long, heavy steel sword, the tip of the blade scraping against the stone floor with a horrific, screeching sound

​screeech

​"no... no, no, no," sunghoon whispers, the past sunghoon closes the distance, his heavy boots thudding against the stone tiles. but instead of standing behind you like a heartless executioner, he suddenly drops his weight, his knees hitting the damp earth with a loud, desperate thud right in front of you

​you gasp, your eyes flying open as you look up through your tangled hair

​the past sunghoon is looking right into your eyes, his face completely pale and breaking into a million pieces. he’s crying, thick, heavy tears cutting through the grime on his cheeks. he repositions his hands on the hilt of the heavy steel sword, reverse-gripping it so the sharp tip is pointed directly at your chest, while the pommel aligns perfectly with his own abdomen

​the entire crowd of citizens and soldiers gasps in collective, paralyzed shock. the king stands up from his throne, screaming in fury

​blood instantly floods the stone floor, pouring from both of their bodies. his past self had chosen a double suicide. if the kingdom wouldn't let them live together, he was going to make sure they died together

​"intern, go! now!" jay’s voice barks like thunder, shattering the shock. "enter the body before her consciousness fades! do it!"

​sunghoon doesn't even feel the transition. he just hurls his spirit forward, slamming directly into the physical flesh of his past self

​gasp

​the absolute, unimaginable agony hits him like a physical tidal wave. sunghoon’s vision violently flashes red. it feels like a white-hot iron rod has been driven directly through his gut, his nerve endings screaming in pure, unadulterated torture. the taste of warm, thick copper immediately floods his mouth, choking him

​the long steel sword drives forward, piercing straight through the center of your chest, tearing through your heart, and bursting out from your back. but the momentum doesn't stop there. because he’s holding you so close, the remaining length of the steel blade drives straight backward, ripping through the past sunghoon's own stomach, skewering you both together in a brutal, tragic embrace

​your foreheads rest against each other, your blood mixing on the cold metal between you as the life rapidly drains from both of your eyes. they are face-to-face, locked together in death, refusing to let the timeline separate them

​his past self’s arms are losing strength rapidly, but with the very last ounce of his fading life, he leans forward. he presses his bloody lips against yours in a soft, desperate, lingering final kiss

​"i love you," the past sunghoon’s voice whispers inside his mind, a final, fading thought before the modern sunghoon takes full control of the vocal cords

​"y/n..." sunghoon chokes out, his voice a wet, ragged wheeze as blood spills over his lower lip. he tightens his grip on you, his tears mixing with the blood on your shoulder. "i'm sorry... i am so, so sorry. i couldn't get us out... i caused this. please... forgive me..."

​and through the absolute agony of death, a soft, incredibly sweet smile breaks across your bloody lips. it looks so beautiful it completely shatters his soul. you look as if you don't even feel the pain, as if being in his arms makes the execution entirely irrelevant

​"i forgive you..." you whisper, your voice a fragile, breathy sigh that fades into the howling wind. "always... sunghoon..."

​your eyes gently flutter shut, the moment your soul leaves, the final, crushing weight of the sword wound takes him too. his vision goes entirely black, his heart giving one final, agonizing thud against the steel blade before his spirit is violently repelled from the flesh

​gasp

​sunghoon’s eyes snap open

​the dark gray sky of joseon is gone. the smell of mud and blood is gone. he’s lying flat on his back on the damp grass of the modern hospital park, the bright neon lights of the city blurring into long, dizzying streaks above him

​he immediately rolls onto his side, curling into a tight, defensive fetal position, his hands clutching his stomach frantically. the physical wound isn't there, but the phantom pain of that steel blade feels completely real, a lingering, burning ache in his gut that makes him choke on his own breath

​sunghoon buries his face directly into the grass, letting out a loud, raw, unhinged sob. he cries so hard his entire body shakes violently, his fingers clawing at the dirt. the image of your sweet, bloody smile right before you died is burned into the back of his eyelids, torturing his mind

​"i told you it was going to be bad," jay’s quiet, serious voice floats down

​sunghoon pushes himself up onto his knees, his face entirely ruined by tears, his chest heaving in absolute desperation. he looks up at jay, who is standing quietly by the bench, his usual arrogant demeanor completely replaced by a solemn silence

​"jay, please," sunghoon begs, his voice cracking into a pathetic, broken whisper as he reaches out toward the reaper. "i can't do this anymore without seeing her. i need to see her, the real her. the modern y/n. please, just let me see her for one second, i'm begging you. i can't keep watching her die over and over again, it's killing me."

​jay lets out a long, slow breath, looking down at the glowing silver thread in sunghoon’s chest. it has knit itself together significantly now, pulsing with a much stronger, brighter light, though it's still missing the final pieces

​"dude, seriously, calm down and be patient," jay says, his tone softening just a fraction, a hint of his casual peer voice returning as he steps closer. "we are actively working on it right now. every single time you survive one of these timelines and get her forgiveness, you're literally stitching her back into your destiny. you think i’m doing this to torture you? we're halfway there, park. if you break down now, that sword through the chest was for absolutely nothing. so take a breath, we still have one more to fix."

"you want to keep going or what?" jay asks, shoving his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. he watches sunghoon drag himself up from the damp grass, looking like an absolute shell of a human being

​sunghoon crosses his arms, letting out a sharp, petulant huff as he fixes the reaper with a heavy glare. "no. i'm sick of this, jay. i don't want to see another tragedy. i just want to see her, the real her. let me just go to europe, let me look at her from a distance, literally anything but this."

​jay rolls his eyes, entirely unbothered by the little tantrum. "dude, trust me on this one. if you go to the next lifetime, you're definitely not gonna regret it. it's a change of pace, i promise."

​"yeah, right," sunghoon mutters, giving jay a massive, dramatic eye roll

​he shuts his eyes tight for a fraction of a second, expecting the usual dizzying vortex or the violent pull of time travel. but when his eyelids flutter open a moment later, there's no wind, there's no crash

​instead, he’s instantly hit by the overwhelming warmth of a crackling fireplace and the rich, expensive scent of polished mahogany, old money, and sweet vanilla. sunghoon blinks, looking down at his hands. they aren't see-through. he isn't a floating spirit this time, he’s completely locked into his past body from the get-go, feeling the physical weight of his own limbs. but when he glances toward the heavy velvet curtains by the window, jay is sitting right there on a leather armchair, blending into the shadows like a total creep

​sunghoon looks around the room, his jaw dropping a little. the house is absolutely massive, dripping in pure, unadulterated luxury. high ceilings, intricate gold molding, and plush patterned rugs that swallow his footsteps

​before he can even ask jay what era this is, two soft arms suddenly wrap securely around his waist from behind

​a tiny, contented sigh presses right into the middle of his back, the warmth of another body radiating straight through his clothes. sunghoon completely freezes, his heart doing a violent, chaotic flip in his chest. he slowly turns around in the embrace, and the breath is completely knocked right out of his lungs

​it’s you

​you are standing right there in a flowing, silk and lace nightgown that hits the floor perfectly. an absolute, breathtakingly beautiful sin of a sight. your hair is soft, cascading over your shoulders, and your skin glows under the warm candlelight. seeing you like this, looking so domestic and ethereal, hits sunghoon like a physical truck. it makes his soul ache with a desperate, burning longing for the modern y/n, the girl he left crying in a hospital room

​he glances down at himself, realizing he's wearing a perfectly tailored, incredibly expensive three piece suit. his coat is slightly unbuttoned, his tie loosened just a fraction. he feels exhausted, his shoulders heavy, like he just walked through the front door after a brutal, fourteen-hour workday

​"you're home late," you murmur softly, your sweet voice cutting through his internal monologue as you look up at him with pure affection. "have you eaten yet? i can have the servants warm up some dinner for you."

​sunghoon swallows hard, his eyes completely locked onto your face, trying to commit every single detail to his memory. "no... no, i don't want to eat. i just... i want to rest."

​"okay," you say gently, giving him a knowing, sympathetic smile as your hands slip from his waist. "you've been working so hard lately."

​sunghoon instinctively reaches out, his arms longing to pull you back into his chest, to just hold you and never let you go but he stops dead in his tracks

​waaaah

​the sudden, loud sound of a baby crying echoes sharply through the heavy wooden doors down the hall. your head instantly whips toward the noise, your motherly instincts kicking in immediately

​"oh, she's crying," you say quickly, a tiny hint of exhaustion bleeding into your beautiful features. "i'll be right back, honey. let me go check on her."

​you turn and quickly hurry out of the room, leaving sunghoon completely frozen in the middle of the massive parlor, his hands still hovering uselessly in the empty air.

​"welcome to the victorian era, intern," jay’s smooth voice floats over from the dark corner. the reaper stands up, brushing invisible dust off his jeans. "you're currently one of the most successful, filthy rich shipping magnates in the entire country. and if i remember the file correctly, you fell for her the absolute second you saw her. textbook love at first sight."

​jay walks over to a grand mahogany side table, pointing his pale finger at a heavy silver picture frame. sunghoon steps closer, his heart pounding against his ribs

​inside the frame is a beautiful wedding portrait of the two of them, looking unbelievably happy. right next to it is a painted family portrait. there's past sunghoon, you looking radiant in velvet, a little boy about four years old sitting proudly on a stool, and a tiny baby girl wrapped in lace blankets

​children. they had a family. a real, whole, beautiful life together

​before jay can even finish explaining the family tree, the heavy door clicks open again. you walk back into the room, smoothing down your silk nightgown, but you stop when you notice sunghoon staring intensely at the empty space next to the table.

​you blink, looking around the quiet room. "sunghoon? who were you just talking to?"

​sunghoon quickly glances to the side, but jay has already dissolved into thin air, leaving no trace behind. sunghoon clears his raspy throat, trying to play it cool. "oh... no one, darling. i just... i thought the telephone rang."

​he can't take the distance anymore. the sheer sight of you after three timelines of absolute horror is making his head spin. sunghoon takes two large steps forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him before dropping heavily onto the plush velvet sofa. he yanks you right down into his lap, winding his arms around you so tightly it’s like he’s trying to anchor his entire existence to your skin

​you let out a soft, surprised giggle, but you don't fight it. you just settle comfortably against his chest, looping one arm around his neck as you start casually yapping about your day. you talk about how the nanny struggled with the kids, how your son managed to paint all over the library floor, and how much you missed him while he was at the office

​sunghoon doesn't interrupt you once. he just listens to the sweet, rhythmic cadence of your voice, closing his eyes as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. he leans up, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, lingering, and completely desperate kiss. it feels so real. the warmth, the softness, the electric sparks shooting straight to his core. it feels exactly like kissing the modern y/n in his own timeline

​"alright, lovebirds, wrap it up," jay’s annoyed, disembodied voice groans loudly right next to his ear. "i'm literally gonna throw up. stop enjoying yourself and hit your cue, park. i'm sick of watching this."

​sunghoon flinches slightly, pulling back from the kiss just enough to look into your beautiful, clear eyes. the overwhelming guilt from his modern life rushes back into his chest, choking him

​"my love," sunghoon whispers, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy wave of emotion. "i'm sorry."

​you blink, a amused, slightly confused smile breaking across your lips. "sorry? for what, sunghoon? for coming home late? it's fine, you were at a business meeting—"

​"no, for everything," he cuts you off, his grip tightening around your waist as he stares at you with pure, raw sincerity. "for every single thing i've ever done wrong. for taking you for granted, for making you feel lonely, for every promise i ever messed up. i am so, so sorry. please forgive me."