Pure Kpop Brain Rot

Your fingers are numb. You and Seonghwa have been building Legos and taking turns venting. Before you realize it, it’s almost 1am. You try to stifle your yawns.

“Just stay here,” Seonghwa laughs.

“I don’t want to put you out,” you half-heartedly protest.

“It’s fine. I’ll crash on the couch. I do half the time anyway.” He rolls his eyes. “When Hongjoong has writer’s block...”

You both laugh. You know how Hongjoong is when he’s stuck in a creative rut. To you, his frustration is absolutely adorable. You doubt he sees it that way.

Seonghwa lends you one of his t-shirts to sleep in and says goodnight. It’s been a stressful week and you can’t wait to crash. You haven’t been in bed long when you hear a commotion in the hall. Someone’s slurring their words entirely too loudly. You roll over, trying to ignore the ruckus. A few minutes later, the door to Seonghwa’s room is thrust open noisily. You’re about to yell at whoever’s disturbed your sleep when someone flops down on the bed beside you.

“Hyuuung.” It’s Hongjoong. “What am I gonna do?” he whines.

The closed space is inundated by the smell of alcohol. So, he’s the booming drunk. He must think you’re Seonghwa, but before you can say anything to the contrary, he starts mumbling again.

“I just know she doesn’t like me. She’s too good for me.”

Your heart clenches. She? Who is “she”? You don’t want to listen to him talking about another woman. You know he’d never choose you; you’re not special. But as long as he doesn’t say otherwise, you hold out hope.

“I’ll never be good enough for her, hyung. But what do I do? I like her so much.” You sigh. That’s ridiculous. How could he think that about himself? In your eyes, no one is good enough for him. He’s perfection that no one else can ever live up to.

“You’re close to her, hyung. Why won’t you help me?” He shoves you, then throws his arm across you. You stiffen when he whines in your ear.

“Don’t you want me to be happy, hyung? Help me. Please. Tell her how wonderful I am. Tell her so she’ll like me back.”

“Hongjoong,” you whisper.

“God. I’m going crazy. I hear her calling my name when she’s not even around.”

“Hongjoong,” you repeat, louder.

“Y/N?”

“Definitely not your hyung.”

Realization dawns and he jerks away, jumping up from the bed. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Seonghwa let me crash here. Didn’t you see him on the couch?”

He rubs the back of his neck, pacing in front of the door. “I…I didn’t. I was too…” his voice trails off.

“Drunk?” you offer. He hangs his head. “Uh…about what you said…”

“You heard that? Just forget it!” He turns and runs out the door. You crawl out of bed to go after him, but by the time you reach the living room, he’s disappeared from sight.

…

The next morning, you’re awakened by an unnecessarily cheerful Seonghwa jumping onto the bed. You groan and turn away from him, burying your head under the pillow.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Didn’t you sleep well?”

You throw the pillow off your face, remembering last night’s strange encounter. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t.”

“Why not?” This mattress is brand new!” he scoffs.

You sit up. “Hongjoong woke me up. He was wasted.”

Seonghwa laughs loudly.

“He was babbling on and on and he must have thought he was talking to you, because…” He looks at you quizzically. “Well, he was talking about his crush.”

Seonghwa shifts nervously beside you. “Oh?” he asks a little too calmly. “What did he say?”

In the morning light, it sounds ridiculous. Maybe you were dreaming. “Never mind. It was just nonsense.”

Seonghwa looks relieved and quickly changes the subject.

…

Over the next week, Hongjoong seems to disappear. You’re used to seeing him around the apartment, but now, he’s strangely missing. No matter what time of the day or night you’re there, he’s nowhere to be found. You start to wonder if he’s dodging you.

You finally run into him one evening at the company. You’ve stopped by to walk home with Seonghwa. When Hongjoong sees you in the hallway, he quickly turns and walks in the other direction. It’s blatantly obvious that he’s avoiding you. You feel a pang of sadness swiftly replaced by anger. You should be the one avoiding him, not the other way around. He’s the one that interrupted your sleep, accosting you in a drunken stupor, leaving you feeling like a crazy person. But he’s taken away your right to be offended by shunning you at every opportunity.

“Y/N!” Seonghwa calls from behind. He jogs toward you. When he reaches where you’re frozen, you turn on him.

“What’s Hongjoong’s problem?” you demand indignantly. “He’s treating me like I’m the one who did something wrong when he’s the inebriated fool. It pisses me off.”

“Well, hello to you too,” he mumbles.

“He just saw me and practically ran in the other direction. Why is he being so rude?”

“Maybe he’s avoiding you because of your bad attitude,” he jokes. You shoot him a death look, quickly silencing him.

You groan. “Let’s just get out of here.”

You’re quiet on the walk home. Your anger’s dissolved, replaced by melancholy. Just about every last thread of hope you had left has now disappeared. You don’t know how you’ll face Hongjoong again.

You were supposed to go out, but Seonghwa suggests you order in instead. You don’t want to be in the middle of a large crowd; you just want some peace and quiet to wallow in your self-pity.

A little while later, the doorbell rings and you run to answer it, hoping it’s your dinner. When you open the door, you’re surprised to see Hongjoong.

“Sorry, hyung, I forgot my —" He abruptly stops when he sees that it’s you, not Seonghwa.

You glare at him, your fury rushing back. He tries to move past you, but you put your arm out to block him. "Not so fast," you snap.

He swallows hard, a look of trepidation hardening his usually soft features.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

He chuckles uneasily, looking away. "I'm not avoiding you. Why would you say that?"

"You're lying. Don't. I can't stand that."

"I...I..."

"You know what, just forget it.”

You turn and walk away, tears burning your eyes. You head straight for Seonghwa’s room, climbing into bed and burying yourself under the blankets. You don’t want anyone to see you crying because you’ll have to explain why. There’s no point in admitting your crush now. Hongjoong’s made it clear that he’s not interested in the least. There’s no room left for hope.

Seonghwa knocks on the door, asking if you’re okay.

“Just a headache,” you reply, praying the shakiness in your voice doesn’t register. It’s not really a lie anyway. Once your tears subside, your head will likely be throbbing.

“Okay, maybe take a little nap?” he suggests. “I’ll keep your food warm.”

You thank him and once the door closes, you let your tears freely fall. You know you have to let yourself feel the sadness so that you can start to let go. But it already hurts like hell.

…

When you wake, you throw the blanket from your head; you have no idea when you actually fell asleep. You grope for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be found, so you crawl out of bed and pad down the hall to look for it. Your stomach rumbles: you haven’t eaten since breakfast. You stop when you hear Seonghwa’s usually calm voice raised in distress.

“What’s wrong with you? You never drink that much. Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong answers.

“She’s my best friend, Hongjoong. I’m not going to lose her because you’re acting like a dumbass. Get it together.”

You smile. At least someone’s on your side.

“Hyung, please,” Hongjoong begs. “Just talk to her for me.”

“This is between the two of you. You’ve already made a fool of yourself; you may as well go ahead and finish the job.”

You jump when you hear footsteps heading in your direction. You try to act nonchalantly.

“Hey,” Seonghwa murmurs when he sees you. “Feel better?”

You nod. Your stomach rumbles again and he laughs. He pulls you into the kitchen, where Hongjoong’s still standing. He looks at you pitifully, but you turn away. You aren’t going to let him upset you anymore.

“You were asleep a long time. Do you want me to order you something fresh?” Seonghwa asks.

“Leftovers are fine,” you smile, stealing a glance in Hongjoong’s direction. He’s leaning against the counter, fiddling with something in his hand. He looks upset but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

…

When the weekend comes, Seonghwa begs you to go to a party that Yunho’s hosting. “You need to get out and do something Y/N. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

You begrudgingly agree, scowling the whole way there. You know you haven’t been the best company recently. You feel bad about it, but you don’t know how to snap out of your funk.

“If you’re not having fun after an hour, I promise, we can leave,” he bargains.

“Fine,” you bark as the door to the apartment opens. It’s Wooyoung.

“Hey guys!” he shouts inside. “Y/N’s here!”

Cheers erupt behind him. How much have they already had to drink? Wooyoung pulls you inside, dragging you to the kitchen to ply you with alcohol too. You almost smile, but it quickly fades when you see Hongjoong sitting alone on the patio. He’s holding an empty glass absentmindedly; he seems a thousand miles away.

“He’s been like that since he got here,” Wooyoung offers. “He won’t tell anyone what’s wrong. I think the poor guy is depressed, but Jongho disagrees.”

Jongho appears beside you. “He’s not depressed hyung; he’s heart broken. There’s a difference.”

“What would you know about it?” Wooyoung shoots back. “When’s the last time you had a date?”

Jongho’s eyebrows furrow and Wooyoung takes off running. He chuckles and takes off down the hall behind Wooyoung.

Why would Hongjoong be heartbroken? Did the wonderful Miss “She’s too good for me” reject him? If so, she must not be that wonderful. You chastise yourself for even caring and start to go. But it breaks your heart to see him like that. You still care about him much more than you’re willing to admit. You glance around the kitchen and your eyes light on a bottle of bourbon. You grab a glass and head for the patio.

“Mind if I join you?” You hold out the bottle, a peace offering between the two of you. He straightens his posture, and you notice how glassy his eyes look. How long has he been out here drinking?

“Y/N? I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Seonghwa insisted.” You take a seat across from him and gesture to his glass. He nods. You pour one for yourself too, taking a small sip. It goes down smoothly, instantly warming your entire body.

“Is it a problem? That I’m here?” you inquire. Your tone is defensive; you’re still annoyed at how unfairly he’s treated you.

“No!” he insists.

You’re quiet for the time being, sipping from your glass, staring at the skyline. It annoys you how satisfying it is just being in his presence. Being with him has always given you comfort. His aura exudes a sense of home and a feeling of reassurance. You’re inexplicably drawn to him and it’s incredibly frustrating.

You can feel his gaze on you. The alcohol is heating up your insides, and the gape of his inky black irises is burning across your skin. Your cheeks flush. What is he thinking while his eyes are boring through you? You steal a glance in his direction, and he looks away nervously. Frustrated, you sit your glass on the table, folding your arms across your chest. Time passes slowly, the two of you locked in an unspoken battle of quietude.

Hongjoong surrenders first, asking if you’d like another glass. You nod, extending your hand toward your glass. He reaches forward at the same time, his hand unintentionally closing around yours. You jerk away.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, lowering his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you mumble. His shoulders slump, his expression defeated. He puts his glass to his lips and downs it in one gulp.

“Before you get too drunk, just so we’re clear, I’m not Seonghwa,” you quip.

He chuckles. “You had to bring that up?”

It’s gratifying to see him smile; brooding doesn’t suit him. You’ve missed his wide toothed grin.

“I have a lot of questions about that actually. Did you finally confess to Miss Perfect?”

“Please just forget about it,” he sighs.

The whine in his voice is adorable. Why do you have to like him so much? You know he doesn’t care about you in the way you want him to. You need to forget him. Maybe if you hear there’s someone else, straight from his lips, then you’ll be able to move on.

You feign disinterest. “Don’t worry. Everyone’s embarrassed themselves at least once in their life because of a crush.” You hope your laugh doesn’t sound as forced as it feels.

Quiet settles in again. You want to scream. How could you be such an idiot and bring up his crush? Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it with you. Why else would he have avoided you this long? You should have kept your mouth shut. Now you’re sitting here, awkward as hell, your cheeks burning in humiliation. You’re running through all the ways you can escape when he startles you from your thoughts.

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Have you embarrassed yourself? Because of someone you like?”

You can’t stop your guffaw. A million mortifications fly through your mind, the majority of them involving Hongjoong. Since you’ve known him, you haven’t been able to do anything gracefully or with class. Every move you make around him is awkward and humiliating. No wonder he isn’t interested.

“I’m a walking disgrace,” you chuckle. “I can’t do anything right.”

“That’s not true,” he mumbles. You’re sure he meant his words to be kind, but they hit you in the opposite way. How can he be so blasé towards you?

“It’s pretty disgraceful to sit and listen to the person you care about talking about someone else, still holding out an unrealistic hope that it could be you. It can’t get much more embarrassing than that.” Tears pool in your eyes unexpectedly, as if you hadn’t made enough of a fool of yourself already. You jump up before he can see you crying and run for the house.

“Y/N! Wait!” he calls after you.

You fling open the patio door and plow through the sea of party goers. Before you can escape through the front door, someone grabs your wrist.

“Where are you going, Y/N?”

Thank God it’s only Seonghwa. You don’t want him to see you in this state either, so you turn your face away. You lie, the crack in your voice impossible to disguise. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“I’ll go with you.” He intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing tightly.

“You don’t have to,” you protest.

“I want to.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and leads you from the apartment. The door slams shut, but not before you hear Hongjoong calling your name.

…

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything as he walks you home. Fortunately, he has a knack for knowing when to push and when to comfort. If you tried to talk right now, you’d only break down.

When you reach your front door, you say goodnight. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“You know I’m coming in,” he states flatly.

“Hwa…” Your voice trails off.

“Just unlock the door,” he chuckles, nudging your shoulder.

You head to your bedroom to change into shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Snuggly clothes and comfort ice cream might ease your pain. There’s nothing that can take it away completely.

In the living room, Seonghwa’s made himself at home on the couch. When he sees you, he opens his arms, beckoning you into his hug.

You glare at him. “What?”

You’re trying to act tough, but he stares back at you, challenging your performance. You groan, plopping down beside him.

“So…” he muses.

You don’t reply, and he gently nudges your shoulder.

“So what?” you mutter.

“What happened back there?”

“Do we really have to talk about this?” you whine.

He pauses. “I think we do. What’s going on?”

His genuine concern breaks you and your feelings spew from your mouth like vomit. You can’t stop the flood of emotions sweeping you away.

“I like him, okay? He doesn’t like me. I know that. He likes someone else. He told me as much the night he was drunk. And I know it shouldn’t bother me. I should just let it go and move on. But I can’t. I like him too much. And I can’t stand the way he’s treated me since that night. Like I’m the villain, like I’m the one who’s done something wrong. Aren’t I already being punished enough without this too?”

You pause to take a breath.

“Y/N,” Seonghwa interrupts.

Your shoulders drop. “What?”

“Did Hongjoong actually say that he likes someone else? Or are you just assuming?”

“I think he made it pretty clear, Hwa.”

He sits back and laughs. You’re outraged. How can he laugh at you right now? Your lips jut into a pout and you turn away.

“You need to talk to Hongjoong, Y/N. It might clear up all of your…misunderstandings.” He laughs again.

“Why are you laughing right now? I’m in misery and you’re having a field day.”

He stands up and kisses you on the forehead. He’s going home, leaving you alone and depressed. “Talk to Hongjoong,” he repeats.

…

Instead of following Seonghwa’s advice, you head for bed. You need your mind to be clearer, free of alcohol and emotions before you can decide on what to do. Your phone buzzes; it’s Hongjoong. You decline the call. You won’t talk to him despite what Seonghwa said. A few minutes later, it buzzes again.

Can we please talk, Y/N?

You take your time answering him. When you do, your response is cold and short.

Why should we?

I didn’t mean to make you upset. I want to apologize.

Then apologize.

Can’t we talk in person?

I don’t want to see you, Hongjoong.

Please, Y/N? I came all this way.

You bolt upright. Is he at your apartment? There’s no way. You jump out of bed and run to the front door. Sure enough, he’s standing on your welcome mat.

“What are you doing here?” you snap. It’s nearly impossible to hide your joy at seeing him.

“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.

“Just say what you came here to say and leave,” you bark. You’re angry at yourself. At the way your heart’s pounding, at how your palms are sweating. Your own body’s betraying you. You’re elated to see him, and it makes you livid.

“I can’t do that, Y/N.” He pushes past you, into the apartment. “I came here to apologize, and you’re going to listen.”

You’ve never heard Hongjoong speak so forcefully about anything but music. His tone is brusque and firm, the opposite of his usually lilting cadence. This is it. What you’ve dreaded since the moment you met. He’s going to destroy every last scrap of hope you had hidden away.

“I’m sorry.” He pauses, running his hands through his hair. “I was lying to you. I know you told me that you can’t stand liars, but I was already in too deep. I didn’t know how to make things right.”

You flop on the couch, your arms crossed over your chest. You fold your legs beneath you and put on your angriest stare.

“I was avoiding you.”

He hangs his head. He’s standing awkwardly before you, but you refuse to be polite and ask him to sit down. He deserves to be uncomfortable. He waits for you to respond but you only stare back.

“I was avoiding you because…because of what happened,” he murmurs.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” you snarl.

He can’t look you in the eye. At least he has a shred of guilt for breaking your heart. But it doesn’t make the situation any easier.

“That night…”

Your lips stay glued.

“Geez, Y/N. Do you have to make this so difficult?”

“Why not, Hongjoong?” Your sudden explosion of anger leaves him stunned. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing? Your every action makes this whole situation agonizingly difficult. Why should I make anything easy for you?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“If you’re finished with your apology, you can leave now.”

You start for the door. He grabs your hand, and your heart threatens to pound out of your chest. His hands are soft and warm, gripping your wrist delicately, but firmly. You try to shake him off.

“I don’t want to leave, Y/N.”

You meet his gaze; those same inky black irises are staring into you. God, he’s flawless. The slope of his nose, the rounded curve of his Cupid’s bow, the charming mole on his neck. Every feature is divine perfection. He takes a step closer, and you swallow hard.

“I want to stay. I want to be with you, Y/N.”

What did he just say? You clearly misheard him. You blink rapidly, trying to clear away your confusion. Maybe you’re actually dreaming. This has to be a dream. He squeezes your hand, and you know you’re not dreaming.

“Y/N?”

You manage to pull away, chuckling gracelessly. “That’s really not funny, Hongjoong.”

He captures your hand again, this time pulling you closer. You can smell the clean scent of laundry detergent. Your face flushes, the heat washing over your entire body.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he clarifies.

“Could you just…just say that one more time.” Your words come out choppy and shaky.

He smiles. “I wasn’t trying to be funny?”

“No, no,” you correct him. “The part just before that. Right after I told you to…leave.”

“I don’t want to leave, Y/N. I want to stay with you. I want to be with you.”

You protest; it doesn’t feel real. “But that night…that night you said that you liked someone else and…”

“Did I actually say anyone else’s name?” His grin is devilish.

“Well, no, not exactly. But you avoided me. Because you didn’t want me to know about your crush.”

“I avoided you because I couldn’t remember what I’d said. I thought that I might have…confessed to you.”

Your shoulders slump and your head drops. “And that would have been embarrassing because I’m not the one you like.”

“Yes, it would have been embarrassing.” He tips your chin so that you have no choice but to look at him. “Because I was a drunken mess. And I thought you didn’t…reciprocate.”

“Reciprocate what?” You have no clue what he’s getting at.

“Do you still not understand what I’m saying, Y/N?” He laughs nervously.

You shake your head. Why can’t he just shut up? You’re going to die from mortification.

“It’s you, Y/N. You’re the one I like. You’re the one I was whining about. I thought you didn’t return my feelings. That’s why I avoided you.”

“Oh,” you breathe. Suddenly everything clicks. “Oh…you thought…and then I was mad…and you…OH!”

Hongjoong nods, understanding your mumbling. He takes both your hands. It’s not possible, but he pulls you closer.

“Seonghwa said that I was wrong though.”

You’re close enough to feel the heat from his body. He leans his forehead against yours. The warmth of his breath tickles your skin.

“He said that you do. You like me too.”

His presence overwhelms all of your senses, your mind going blank. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent. An intoxicating mix of spicy mint and sweet citrus. All you can do is nod. Yes. Yes, you like him.

One of his hands presses against the small of your back, the other cradles your head protectively. You feel him moving closer, his lips millimeters away.

“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

“Kim Hongjoong,” you whisper. “I like…you.”

You’ve been sitting at your desk for the past few hours, pouring over research for your master’s thesis. It’s the culmination of the past two years of your life and you have six weeks left to edit and rewrite before your final draft is due. That’s plenty of time, but you’re already overly stressed. You need your work to be perfect.

You bury your head in your hands and groan. You’re overwhelmed and beyond frustrated. You hear Jongho’s heavy footsteps in the hallway. When he hears you groan, he stops and walks back toward your office. He gets riled when you’re too hard on yourself or when you push yourself beyond what's reasonable, so you know you’re in for a lecture. He enters the room and stands behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N.”

“Yes babe?” you reply sheepishly.

His fingers knead away the tension that’s been building up over the last few hours in front of the screen. “Maybe you should take a break, huh?”

“I will later. I just need to –”

“You need to take a break,” he interrupts, his tone firm. He slides his hands over your breasts, your eyes reflexively fluttering shut.

You half-heartedly protest. “Jongho, I really have to finish this.”

“Mmhmm.” He hums softly and begins to unbutton your shirt.

“Jongho.” Your voice is whiny, less out of annoyance and more out of arousal.

“Yes, jagi?” He pulls your shirt open, uncovering the skimpy lingerie beneath. “Ohhh. This is pretty jagi, is it new?”

He traces the pattern of purple lace barely covering your breasts. He wrenches the fabric away from your skin letting your breasts fall free. With his thumbs, he draws circles around your nipples, as he whispers in your ear.

“You’re too stressed out. I’m going to help you relax.”

He nips at your ear, squeezing your nipples between his fingers. Your back arches, a resounding moan pouring from your lips.

“Hmmm. Is that nice, jagi?” His lips move down your neck, pecking gently against your skin. You answer him with another moan.

He spins your chair around, planting his hands firmly on the armrests. His gaze bores into you, full of devilry and lust. Unconsciously, you tug at the fabric of your shirt, trying to cover yourself back up.

He runs one of his fingers under the waist band of your matching lace panties. “You can’t tell me that you put this on, planning to spend all day by yourself, sitting in front of this computer.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, a gentle smirk forming. It wasn’t your plan to seduce him. You had dressed absentmindedly after your shower, already thinking about your thesis. But you see his point. You’re exceedingly familiar with what purple and lace in the right combination can do to him.

You don’t have a leg to stand on, so you sigh in exasperation. “I really should be working.”

“Mmhmm,” he replies.

He kneels in front of you, smiling wickedly. His sturdy hands glide over your thighs, firmly gripping your waist as he moves his lips toward yours. His kiss is soft and sweet. He slides your shirt from your shoulders, then reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

He wedges himself between your thighs, moving tenderly to cradle your face in his hands. Your body yields to his calm, authoritative manner. He kisses you with one hand still on your cheek, the other fondling your breast. His tongue parts your lips and he caresses your face lovingly. Then, he abruptly pulls away, grinning.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Before you can reply, I love you too, he’s lowered his head to your breast, teasingly sweeping his tongue past the hardening bud. He sucks you into his mouth and you bite back your moan. His mouth caresses your nipples, enticing and exciting you. Wetness drips from inside you.

“Isn’t this better than research?”

You chuckle. “Much better.”

His lips caress yours, and he winds his way down your neck, nipping across your collar bone. His focus is on your breasts, considerable attention given to each one. While his mouth is occupied there, his hands wander. He loves to caress your skin whenever he gets the chance, cooing over how soft your body feels in his powerful grip.

One of the things that makes Jongho so unbelievable is the way he spoils you. He makes sure that your needs come first; he wants you to be satisfied before he thinks about himself. He’s a giving and selfless lover.

And there’s no such thing as a quickie with him. He’d spend hours between your thighs if he could. Foreplay is never hurried; he takes his time and worships your body, without a hint of impatience. Before he even considers sex, he kisses every inch of you, slowly and sweetly, but with the perfect amount of depravity lurking beneath the surface.

His enthrallment with your body has left your panties soaked. He slides his hands over your thighs again, allowing them to stray to your core. His hum of pleasure at what he finds vibrates over your nipple, making you shiver.

He looks up at you, innocently. “Ready to finish your paper?”

You stare at him, shooting daggers from your eyes.

“What?” he quips. You playfully punch him in the arm, and he pretends to be hurt. “You said you had work to do!”

You grab him by the collar and pull him closer. He’s smiling broadly. “Choi Jongho. You started this. And you have a responsibility to finish it.”

His fingers close around your wrists, tugging them away effortlessly. You can feel the strength of his hands in even his lightest touch. The way he moves exudes masculinity, further kindling your desire. Your face flushes with exhilaration as he pins your wrists to the armrests. He raises up on his knees and moves closer. His lips brush against your ear, his whisper sending a jolt of electricity through your spine.

“Don’t worry, jagi. I always finish what I start. And when I’m done, I promise, you’ll be completely satisfied.”

He sinks back on his heels, hooking his fingers in your panties and pulling them off your hips. He slides them down your legs then throws them over his shoulder. In one quick motion, he pries apart your thighs.

He rubs the palm of his hand over your core, slowly, with just a small amount of pressure. As he moves in circles, the heel of his hand grinds against your clit. His fingers spread your lips apart, a lusty growl vibrating from deep within his chest. He toys with your most sensitive areas, kissing the insides of your thighs, teasing his fingers just outside of your entrance.

His kisses come closer to your core until he suddenly dives in, his tongue thrilling you when it flicks over your clit. Your thighs automatically constrict at the overwhelming sensation, but he holds them taut, and you whimper as he continues his assault. His tongue darts in and out of your hole, lapping at the wetness that’s already drenching his cheeks. But his eyes are soft as he watches your reaction, his hands caressing your thighs while he devours you.

His tongue stiffens, dancing back and forth over your clit. He knows how to get the quickest response, and he’s merciless as he works to bring you closer to the edge. Your core heats up, the warmth radiating from your clit and spreading over your lips. You whine with each stroke of his tongue.

His fingers again play at your hole. He traces the outline of your entrance before dipping the tip inside. He flicks it in and out, igniting the sensitive nerve endings. Then, he adds the tip of another finger, plunging both inside. He curls them inside you, caressing your walls with a firm touch. The repetitive motion sends you barreling toward the cliff of your orgasm. When he adds a third finger, your core contracts around him and you cry his name.

He chuckles against your heat. He revels in the sound of his name on your lips, especially when it’s accompanied by your moans. The pressure of his tongue increases and a fourth finger wedges into your tight hole. He sucks your clit into his mouth, making you cry out again.

He withdraws long enough to push your thighs into the air. Your feet rest against his shoulders. This time, when his fingers enter your pussy, the angle is much deeper. He pumps in and out, setting a ridiculously fast pace for his tongue on your clit. A series of pitiful whimpers emanates from your mouth. No other sounds or words will come.

You lean into him, relaxing your body so the sensations he’s inducing can take over. The heat created by his tongue is pouring over you, drawing you closer to the fire. A few minutes more and you’re ready to tumble over the edge. His tongue darts back and forth against your clit and you finally let go, tumbling headfirst into ecstasy. Your body jerks and spasms and you moan his name one last time.

His ministrations stop and he massages your thighs as you come back down. “God, Jongho. How are you so amazing?”

He grins proudly, pleased that he can satisfy you with only his tongue and fingers. He kisses your lips sweetly. “Let me to show you just how amazing I am.”

You knew he’d be shocked by your revelation. From the moment you said yes to the first date, you knew that having a daughter would be a deal breaker. It’s more than he should have to deal with. He will break up with you. So, you can’t care about the devastation on his face. You can’t let the tears in his eyes pull at your heart. You can’t turn back. No matter how much his pain is breaking your heart, you can’t let it sway you.

His chocolate eyes glisten mirthlessly and the smile that usually graces his face is gone, replaced by a look of utter ruin. You don’t want to walk away, but if you stay and Seungcheol eventually abandons you, you won’t be able to handle it. You’ve already gone through hell once with your daughter’s father and you’re terrified of it happening again. If you walk away, you’re the one in control.

Before he can hurt you, you pull away. Like the day you met, he calls after you. It takes everything inside of you to force one foot in front of the other as he begs you not to go. Your heart is shattering, droplets of pain pouring from your eyes. You frantically wipe away the tears and walk faster. You should have broken things off with Seungcheol long ago. You waited too long, got too attached, and now you’re devastated.

When you reach home, you peek in your daughter’s bedroom. She’s sleeping soundly, her favorite pink bunny tucked under her chin. You kiss her on the forehead and smile. At least you’ll always have her. There’s a knock on your door. Looking through the peep hole, you see Seungcheol. You should have known he’d follow you. You crack open the door.

“What are you doing here? I don’t want to see you.”

“Please, let me come in, Y/N. I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to say. I should have ended this a long time ago. I’m sorry.”

You shut the door and sobs begin to rack your body. He calls your name, begging you to let him in, but you turn and walk away. If he asks again, you know you won't be able to say no. You bury yourself under your covers, curling into a ball. A few minutes later your phone lights up. You roll over, put the pillow over your head, and cry yourself to sleep.

...

It’s still dark outside when you’re jolted awake. You were dreaming of Seungcheol. In the dream, you slip off the edge of a rocky cliff. You can barely hang on. You look up in desperation, searching for something to pull yourself up. Seungcheol appears from out of nowhere, reaches down and pulls you to safety.

You check the time on your phone. 4:37 AM. Your texts are full of messages from Seungcheol, the last one sent only fifteen minutes before.

Please don’t cut me out of your life. I don’t want to live without you. It doesn’t matter that you have a daughter. Nothing matters except being with you.

His words sound convincing and you want to believe him. You put your phone down and try to go back to sleep. Ten minutes later, it’s back in your hand and you’re texting him.

It does matter. You deserve someone better, someone without the baggage my life has. You deserve someone who can give you everything. I can’t be that woman.

His reply comes quickly.

You’ve already given me more than I could ever have imagined. There’s no one else for me. I want you. And if that means you come with a miniature version, I want her too. I love everything about you, and I know I will love her too. Please just give me a chance.

His words are chipping at your resolve.

No. I can’t do this. It won’t end well, and I won't get hurt again. Please let me go.

No. I’m not giving up.

You know he’s going to end up hurting you. That’s what men do. You can’t be hurt again. And you can’t let your daughter get hurt either.

…

You barely make it through the week. Dragging yourself out of bed in the mornings has become nearly impossible. You teach the lessons you’ve planned, but you can’t remember a single word you’ve spoken. After you fix dinner for Amara, you go straight to your bed and bury yourself under the covers. You can’t sleep, you don’t want to eat, and your heart actually aches. You’ve never felt so distraught and agitated.

The weekend finally comes. You’d like nothing more than to lay in bed, hiding from your responsibilities and hiding from the world. But you’re awakened by a chubby hand on your cheek and a soft voice calling for Mama. You pull her close and she plants a sweet kiss on your cheek. The sun is glaring brightly through the windows already; it looks like a beautiful day. You’ve got to do something to take your mind off your breakup. “Should we go to the playground today?” you ask.

“Playground!” she shouts.

You ruffle her hair and smile. “Let’s have breakfast first, then we’ll go,” you promise.

It's a short walk from your apartment to the playground. That's part of the reason you chose this area when you were looking for a home. The two of you go there every weekend. It’s your special time together. She runs ahead of you, pulling you along the sidewalk. “Hurry Mama!” she squeals.

She wants to play on the slide first. You wait at the bottom to catch her as she comes giggling down, her hands thrown up in delight. She continually circles back to the slides again and again, after trying every other piece of equipment. She’s on what seems like her millionth trip down the slide when she looks at you strangely and points behind you. “Who’s that man, Mama?”

You lift her into your arms and look behind you. Your heart thumps inside your chest when you see Seungcheol standing beside the entrance. He starts walking toward the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” you demand.

“I remembered there was a park nearby. I hoped you might come here.” He kicks at the mulch on the ground, his hands shoved in his pockets. You aren’t sure what to do; you don’t want to cause a scene in front of Amara.

“Do you know him, Mama?” she questions you.

“My name is Seungcheol. I’m a friend of your Mama’s.” He sticks out his hand. Amara looks at him, no idea what a handshake is, and you laugh. His ears turn red.

“Do you want to play with us?” Amara asks suddenly.

“I don’t think -”

“Sure,” Seungcheol interrupts. She wiggles from your arms and takes him by the hand, pulling him toward the swing set. Your brain is telling you to grab Amara and leave before she starts to like him. Her heart is so big; if he’s nice to her, she’ll accept him unconditionally. Then, when he disappears, she’ll be devastated.

You walk slowly toward them, trying to come up with an exit strategy that won’t cause too much commotion. Stopping a few feet away from the swings, you watch the two of them. Seungcheol is gentle but awkward; he must not have much experience with children. All the more reason to get Amara away quickly. He thinks this is what he wants, but he has no idea what he would be getting himself into.

“Amara,” you call. “It’s time to go, sweetheart. We need to get home.”

“Mamaaa!” she whines. You eye her firmly and she sighs. “Okay.”

She jumps down from the swing and runs to Seungcheol, hugging his leg. He looks surprised, then smiles, hugging her back. You swallow hard.

“Will you be here next time, Cheolie?” she asks. Your heart drops. You open your mouth to object, but again, he answers first.

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “I had a lot of fun though. It was very nice to meet you.”

Amara looks sad, but then her eyes brighten. “Mama brings me here every weekend,” she reveals. “If you can’t come next time.” She smiles proudly. She’s too intuitive to only be four years old.

He chuckles lightly, and Amara takes off running. She stops and waves to Seungcheol, then runs off again. You turn to go but he grabs your hand.

“Can we please talk?”

Your voice cracks. “I have to go.”

You pull away from him and as you’re walking away, he calls, “I’m not giving up.”

Amara is waiting for you at the entrance to the playground. She takes your hand, and you walk quietly toward home. When you get back to the apartment, she looks at you seriously. “Mama?”

“Hmmm?” you respond, your mind is a million miles away.

“Do you like Cheolie? He’s really nice.”

Her question you off guard. You pull her onto your lap. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to be sad, but I don’t think you’ll see him again.”

“I will, Mama.” She’s completely confident. “I know it.”

She jumps off your lap and runs into her room to play. You sit on the couch, staring after her, and you’re heart clenches. She’s already attached. He’s infiltrated her heart as quickly as he did yours. You’re going to have to find a way to make her understand that he’s not going to be a part of your lives. Your shoulders droop as you trudge to the kitchen to make lunch. This is exactly what you were afraid would happen.

Your phone vibrates.

I’m sorry I just showed up, but I had to see you. I’m miserable without you, Y/N. What do I have to do to convince you that I’m serious about us?

You don’t know how to respond. You’re angry he insinuated himself into your daughter’s life. But you can’t deny how you felt seeing him again. You’ve missed him. So much. And as much as you wanted to yell at him to go away, you wanted even more to fall into his arms and feel his love soothing your pain. You bury your head in your hands, trying to hold back your tears.

What would it take for you to finally trust him? What else does he have to do to prove himself? He’s already shown you that he’s nothing like your ex, he’s the complete opposite. That should comfort you, it should make you trust him. But something is still tugging at you, making you hold back. What exactly is it that you’re expecting or waiting for? And does it even have anything to do with him? Or is the problem you?

…

The following weekend, you’re heading to the playground, your usual Saturday routine. Your heart is torn as you walk the few blocks there with Amara. Part of you desperately wants Seungcheol to be there waiting. But your rational side hopes he’s given up. Amara hasn’t mentioned him. If she’s forgotten and he doesn’t make an appearance, maybe you can finally put all of this behind you. 

You cautiously enter the playground as Amara runs ahead. Your eyes do a quick scan, looking for Seungcheol. You feel more disappointed than relieved when you don’t see him there. You didn’t realize you’d feel this let down. It seems you were right all along. He’s turned out to be just like every other man. You shouldn’t be upset, it’s only what you expected. But deep down, you had really hoped he’d be different. 

You slump down on a bench near where Amara’s playing. You’re overwhelmed by an unforeseen wave of sadness, unable to stop yourself from crying. As fast as you can wipe your tears away, they’re replaced by new ones. You turn away in an attempt to hide yourself from her view. You don’t want her to see you crying, not over a man. 

You’d been unconsciously counting on him being different. When you walked away, you’d told yourself that you were doing what was best for everyone. It was best for you to cut ties before all of you got hurt. Because that was what would happen. You said it so many times that your brain believed it. But it’s evident from the dejection you feel that your heart wanted something different. 

And now it’s too late. 

Your plan worked. Amara will be fine; she doesn’t seem to even remember him. And Seungcheol has finally given up. He’ll move on with someone else who deserves him, and he’ll be happy. You walked away just in time; everyone will be okay. 

Everyone except you. 

…

You couldn’t have imagined that you’d still be a wreck a week later. But you can’t let go of your devastation and your regret. You cry yourself to sleep each night, replaying over and over how the scenario could have turned out differently. You beat yourself to a pulp wishing you could change what’s already happened. 

You dread the thought of taking Amara back to the playground. It reminds you of how you squandered your last chance at happiness, but you can’t let your daughter down. So, when Saturday morning comes around, you put on your best smile and walk with her, hand in hand, down the street. She’s babbling away when all of a sudden, she shrieks. You’ve only been half listening to her chatter, your mind wrapped up in your sadness, but her squeal jars you back to reality. Your jaw nearly drops to the ground when she calls out. 

 “Cheolie!”

Standing by the swing set is Seungcheol. She runs toward him. “I knew you’d come!” she cries, jumping up and down. 

He laughs. “I couldn’t miss another chance to play with you!” 

“I’m going to the slide!” she calls over her shoulder.

“I’ll be right there!” Seungcheol yells to her. He starts walking in your direction, his expression full of worry. “I’m sorry I just showed up again, I –”

You throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He gasps in surprise. “You really are different,” you whisper, tears pooling in your eyes. “You didn’t give up.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t,” he replies as he peels you off to look into your eyes. “I don’t break my promises.”