K-Vanity

The dim lighting from the nearby lamp post didn’t shroud his grim expression. From your view, his side profile looks sharper than the soft ones you've gotten used to. Instead of the anticipated looks from him whenever he sees you, he's looking straight ahead, at the mountains beyond, to maybe clear his head before you arrive. Occasionally, he glances but the closer you approach, the more you feel the heated glares he’d been throwing at your way, amplifying your nerves the closer you are to him. 

"For a second, I thought you wouldn’t show up."

The accusation made you pause. Jeno's voice lacks any other emotion other than the sardonic smile he wears after. He looks away afterwards, timing to drop those words as soon as you're on earshot but he occasionally glances at you until he deems the ground you're walking on is fully safe. Even when he’s annoyed, his habit of making sure you’re okay never fails to deliver.

"Jen, I would never stand you up." Your response came out soft, a bit sluggish, the trace of sleepiness still following you. His blatant insinuation didn't even dissuade you, stepping closer to him to appeal your point. He hasn't looked at you yet so now you're hesitating, the instinct to touch his shoulder halted by his indifference.

But this allowed you to check him out.

He looks great as always, the tight white shirt hugging his big frame, the belt strap around his strong bicep—

Wait.

“Recognized something?”

Your ex boyfriend's question jolted you fully awake. He's eyeing you now like a hawk, looking smug as he focuses on your nervous stance. The surprise on your probing eyes were evident as you're putting together why his fit is familiar.

You only remember one person who wore the same top he did. One of the guys you were “seeing” in the last few months had that on at the last house party you went to. 

Heeseung.

But how did he know?

"What, are you stalking me now?"

You slightly berate yourself for sounding defensive. You shouldn’t even feel any guilt at all but here you are trying to mask the slight guilt bubbling up inside your heart at his question. You’re single and certainly you didn’t owe your ex-boyfriend any sort of explanation. 

Jeno's just testing you and you fell right into his trap. He's aware that you couldn’t hide your facial expressions well, choosing to confront you before you can touch him. You don't know why the simple question is affecting you this much. Probably because he's aware that you're having flings and he's making you feel like you’ve been caught.

And it twists something in you that your accusation barely did any damage on him.

"You re-posted it to your story." Jeno scoffs then it clicked.

You remember Giselle tagging you in that random selfie she took at the said house party earlier this month. In it, Heeseung was all over you, wearing the identical shirt and arm belt your ex boyfriend is clad in tonight.

“Then you decided to wear a similar fit to what? Taunt me?” Your voice rises in response to his contempt. Honestly, you don’t know where he’s going with this. You're already frustrated, your mixed emotions slowly piling up and he's still getting to the point. It didn’t help that his simple goading already provoked this much from you. 

Maybe that’s what he wants. His plan all along.

“Is he the one you’re dating?” 

So he's choosing to ignore your interrogation with another question as he walks towards his motorbike. He unloads the picnic basket to the ground while waiting for your answer. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I already am, Jeno” you reply with resignation, wanting to give up this conversation already.

This is not the yearly catch up that you’ve been looking forward to.

Jeno’s never this adamant to know of your dating life as you are to his. It’s one of the conditions you’ve discussed after promising to stay in touch. No bringing up of people you’re seeing unless it’s official.

Because only then, it'll matter.

“Thought you’d end it once you arrived.” 

The simple comment almost offended you but you forced yourself to calm down. You don't want to be overwhelmed this early on and Jeno's not letting you breathe with his rapid assumptions. The way he said the words however is too calm. Nevertheless, you can feel the anger lingering around even if he’s not facing you.

“Again, I’m not dating anyone...just playing around...you?"

Skirting around the question stirs an embarrassment inside your chest. You're fully aware that your ex boyfriend does the same as you. The fact that you sounded unsure despite your indignation pushes you to stay quiet when he hasn't answered. There's a slight hesitation on his face that you caught briefly, but you tried to ignore it. You're no better if you pointed it out.

"Here and there." He says quietly after almost a minute of silence.

You fight to keep your face neutral. 

It stings to hear him confirm it and you feel like a hypocrite for feeling it this way. If it weren't for his best friend you wouldn’t have known. You unexpectedly bumped into Jaemin at a party in freshman year and there he accidentally spilled how Jeno's been doing. You knew how Jaemin was and you refused to be affected by such news.

But it did sparked your willingness to try with others, resolving the guilt that you once had for considering it after the break up.

You wouldn't lie that it didn't affect you. He's your first and only boyfriend, the first relationship—your first love. That's not something you can just erase especially when your break up was mutual.

On your first meetup since breaking up, you were anxious that Jeno wouldn’t show up but he did and even reassured you that he always will unless of course, things change. It's the reason you never brought it up since then. There was no need to and you didn’t want to waste the limited time you have together for something that shouldn’t matter.

However, the anxiety lingered since you found out and it magnifies whenever this time of year arrives.

Jaemin may have discreetly clarified that Jeno tends to cut off anyone he’s seeing when this time comes around. You’ve merely retorted that it’s the typical “spring cleaning” everyone does before the school year ends but the truth was, it never erased your worry.

It's like a waiting game between you and Jeno. Just like the previous years, you’ve tried your best to not care and not ask about any girls in Jeno’s life. And you've adapted his method, entertaining boys occasionally, until recently. This year, you haven’t cut off ties with any of them yet and you have no idea why.

Jeno wasn’t annoyed that you’re late—maybe a little but he’s used to it. He's mostly anxious but that absolutely doesn't mean he was stalking you either. He thrifted that top combo before he saw your story so why not put it to good use? Won't you be delighted to see that he and your newest fling are twinning?

The timing’s too perfect for him to not wear it for you.

And it's so fun watching you try so hard to look unaffected when he can read through you.

Right now, he's watching your gaze on the pavement after hearing his answer, contemplating whether to confront you further or not. You were already late and the confrontation went longer than he expected but as much as he didn’t want to find out why, he had to ask or else it’ll never leave his mind. 

Not that anything about you ever did really.

“Last question and be honest with me on this one. You forgot didn’t you?” he asks, noticing your eyes fixated on the grass this time.

"I didn't. I'm literally here” you lamely respond and the guilt in your voice tells him enough.

“Don’t lie to me.” He seethes, looking away from you.

“I'm not, what reason would I have?”

To not hurt his feelings? 

Again, Jeno couldn't find any suitable answer. The best possible answer he could muster is only his assumptions. He knows that's nowhere near the truth because you’ve always been so considerate, one of the qualities he’s admired about you.

He hears your steps and turns to you. He probably has been quiet for a while because you're watching him intently. He sends a challenging stare and watches you close the distance between you.

The motorbike wobbles when you lean against the space beside him. 

Jeno should say something—anything but sometimes silence is also an answer. He waits for you to say anything but you remain quiet—your form of retaliation.

This won't do.

He takes a deep breath and faces you.

"Did you fuck him at that time?"

“You said the last question was the final one.” You pointed out with a little whine, still trying to find a way to end this conversation but he’s not having it.

This is truly Jeno's last question, for his peace of mind.

“Answer me.”

You pondered playing with him a little, a small yes to get back at all the accusations he’d thrown at your way earlier. A part of you wants to know how he'll react if you lie because he already knows the answer. The nerve of him to ask you this "last" question when he’s the one who broke your no contact rule that night.

A part of your rules before breaking up is to not communicate unless it's necessary, like when your yearly meet up is near in case of emergencies. Birthdays and special occasions are optional but then out of nowhere, you received a text from Jeno after a few months.

Your mood soured as soon as you did and it remained for the rest of the night. You couldn't even enjoy the party anymore, the shots you've taken only made you overthink about everything more than usual.

Thankfully, none of your friends noticed but you still felt bad how occupied you were. Your latest fling had been all over you but you didn't end up fucking him. Heeseung understood without you having to explain which was a relief on your part. He even offered to drop you home but you declined, opting to walk instead to clear your head.

It didn't work at all. Sleep didn’t come easy that night. Neither were the following days.

“Almost. It never happened.” 

You whisper the words Jeno's been raring to hear. He doesn't know why but he likes to torture himself this way, prying you about things that annoy him.

The confirmation made him smirk.

“Sure didn’t? How about the other ones?”

His eyes drop on your bare thighs, the skirt and knee-high boots you're wearing doing just enough to not let the cold air affect you that much. You didn’t answer right away, the stubborn side of you resisting to respond but that's also because you were waiting for his next move.

Jeno senses this and rests his fingerless-gloved hand on your thigh, the leather skin of the glove making your body squirm the moment it brushes your skin.

So this is how he’ll pluck the answer from you this time.

You watch him stand up fully, his hand still on your thigh while the other lifts your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. Yours flit to the small mole below his left eye, your throat closing up in nervousness. Jeno's looking for something you already knew so you brave yourself to finally meet his intense stare.

His dark brown eyes lures you to spill the words he wanted to hear. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

There it is. This is why you avoid looking into Jeno’s pretty eyes. They always compel you to do stupid things and now you're spreading your legs willingly without him asking, causing your skirt to ride up.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He chuckles a little, his tone not giving away if he believes what you said.

Your ex boyfriend moves closer to your body, standing in between your legs until your chests are mere centimetres apart. The proximity made your heart flutter, and instead of looking at his face, your eyes shifted to his permed hair. You reach up to part them a little and the gesture startles him a bit. But he recovers immediately, leaning in for a quick kiss. He's been on a quest to distract you but it's not enough, targeting your neck next after a couple of more inviting kisses. 

Jeno doesn’t give you time to process. His lips trail your jaw up to your mouth, biting your lips down to ask for entrance. You did after through a sharp gasp that you couldn’t hold anymore. He sneaks a hand inside your leather jacket, to the bare skin below your top, to hold your waist down on his motorbike seat. Your body reacts immediately, shuddering from the warm touch of his palm against your shivering skin. His other hand starts pulling off the collar of your jacket, not fully peeling it off yet, just enough to keep you warm from the breeze.

Your ex-boyfriend is still painfully sweet, making sure you wouldn’t fall off his bike and your stupid heart flutters at that. But how can you not when his gentle hold contrasts the way he’s nipping your skin harshly, determined to leave prominent marks on your neck.  

“J-Jeno..”

“Look up.” He instructs and you do, tilting your neck to encourage him.

It wasn’t hard for Jeno to find that sweet spot of yours, pulling out that delicious sound from you that his ears missed. Having known your body for years, it’s the first thing he learned when you first dated back in your senior year of high school.

It delights him that you’re struggling to focus on the pretty sky above you, the mix of your quiet whines and gasps with your heavy breathing sounds melodious to his ears.

There are no clouds on sight so you’re trying your best, your eyes desperately hunting prominent stars to start with or familiar patterns because Jeno’s going to ask you about constellations again later. It’s a habit he developed way before you started dating, asking you randomly when the sky is clear, and it stayed even after you both called it quits. 

Right now, you’re having a hard time recognizing any of them thanks to Jeno's bolder ministrations. He's definitely doing this on purpose, making it difficult for you as punishment. You wouldn’t rule that out, knowing your ex's petty nature. But none of that matters because you didn’t even want to focus on them anymore.

Jeno will have to bear with your possible mistakes later because all you want right now is for him to touch you where you need it the most. Aside from the catch ups and wanting to see him in person, you’ve always looked forward to sleeping with him, to check if he still wants you the way you want him—that no matter how many girls he’s fucked in the last year, he still wants you.

Maybe then it’ll also convince him to believe you. That you're telling the truth.

“Jeno please,” You’ve widened your legs when his hands stayed where they are, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He already did. He'll always know what you wanted but he’s enjoying your squirming body under his touch too much. You’re never not needy when you fuck but not often like this, so he’s got to prolong it as much as he can. 

"Why are you this needy, hmm? You certainly were fucking others this week."

Jeno teases his question. His voice sounds more like goading, his hands are barely touching your bare thighs.

And you want to break down. 

You were right. He is doing this on purpose. You're starting to panic at the possibility that he might not fuck you in the end. Because of it, you almost missed another accusation he's throwing at you. To your luck, the panic helped sharpen your focus.

Your ex might have the upper hand this whole time but there’s always a way to fight back. He’s not the only one with leverage. You know each other in and out after all. 

"I'm always needy for you..." 

Jeno's hands stop immediately. Your voice is breathy, almost to a whisper and paired with the neediest eyes you could muster, he didn’t stand a chance. The way your pretty eyelashes are batting at him, there's no other way but to give in. You pulled up that "innocent" look that has always worked on him in the past.

He doesn't even care whether you’re getting back at him or not, it always will.

“Mhmm, yeah, you always are. That didn’t change at least.” He grins down at you, his gloved hand now moving from your inner thighs to your damp core. Feeling your slick made him almost forget that you technically didn't answer his question. But nevermind that, he’d make sure this year’s catch up would be memorable for you. 

Jeno’s fingertips continued tracing your clothed pussy lips that've been getting puffier the more he presses on them. He parts your panties to the side the same time his lips return to yours, swallowing the little gasp that escaped your mouth as soon as his pads meet your glistening core.

He starts in with a finger and then another, moving them right away before adding a third one. Your brows furrow when he doesn’t go all the way, stopping right before the edge of his gloves touches your pussy lips.  

“Jeno—,” you cry, mouth gaping after realizing what he’s doing. You can take his punishment but not this time. There’s no way he’ll finger you like this. Yes, he can make you cum by playing with your clit alone but you've missed those thick fingers of his. The ache to be filled with them rises in you, your eyes welling at the frustration.

“Not enough,” you whine, your hips bucking desperately to have his fingers knuckle deep.

“I can’t stain my gloves baby,” he explains, his patronizing tone almost reviving your irritation from earlier. He can’t possibly be serious can he? You're contemplating your next move, thinking of actually getting back at him but the silent threat that he won’t fuck you continues to hang in the air. 

“Not even for me?” you tried again, dismissing your initial idea, the worry overriding after that reminder. 

Weren’t you desperate enough? It’s not enough for him?

Jeno was taken aback when you pulled his neck down to kiss him feverishly. You’re bolder than before, the desperation showing through your kisses and should’ve made him glad but it's the opposite. He isn't sure what to feel about it. On one hand, he’s glad you’re like this with him. Between the two of you, he was the bolder one and with this side of you coming out, it brings his own insecurities to the surface. 

Being each other’s first, you’ve explored sex together until the day you decided to part ways. It’s inevitable; entering college fresh from breakup so you’re bound to learn more with other guys instead. Jeno would be a hypocrite if he judges you for it. He certainly tried to distract himself as his friends have advised him, the possibility that you could be doing the same thing drove him to consider it.

Jeno just didn’t think the whole thing would bother him this much. Seeing this new side of you stirs that small regret from the back of his mind.

He’s the one you should’ve learned this with.

Determination fires up in him to prove that he’s way better, that he’s still the best. Without answering your question, he pushes his fingers all the way, coaxing a sharp moan out of you. 

“Shit, you’re gonna drench my bike at this rate,” he comments, pretty surprised. His teasing only spurs you to get off his bike, allowing his fingers to reach you all the way. You didn’t waste any more time and grabbed his wrist to move it at your own pace while he’s still stunned.

“Mmmm, it’s what you prefer, right?”

You let out a giggle after, clearly enjoying how your ex is struggling to keep his face neutral at the little show you're putting up for him. He’s very much affected by you still, if his tightening grip around your waist is to be considered.

But that didn’t last.

His free hand moved up to your neck after he recovered, his large palm wrapping around your throat. You feel the ring on his index finger, the scratch from the metal pulling you to meet his eyes. His pupils are blown out making you gulp, expecting another taunt but underneath his hardened gaze, the hunger is palpable. 

“Nervous?”

“No.” 

“Prove it then. Move, babe.”

He challenges you and flicks your hand out of his wrist. You whimper at that but Jeno didn't pay you no mind. Though his eyes are full of lust, he's staring you down with a quirked brow and your pussy clenched around his fingers, pulling another smirk from his chiseled face.

You don’t know what he’s playing at but you move your hips anyway. The edges of the leather skin of the glove rubs deliciously along your pussy lips, brushing your swollen clit. Your hips roll faster to chase the friction, your whole body assisted by a hand leaning on Jeno’s bike for extra support. The other claws at his bare arm, your nails digging in his pale skin when you think he’s about to squeeze your throat.

But Jeno doesn’t. His hand is perfectly still, but still in control, rooting your upper body. The anticipation has been killing you but his stare didn’t falter. He could be teasing you again so you swivel your hips more, afraid he’ll change his mind any minute. He’s giving you the full control on your pace but whose to say he won’t punish you for it later?

It’s what Jeno loves the most—watching you like this.

Almost half dressed with your askewed top, your face flushed from his ministrations, mouth gaping at his fingers scissoring you. Your dazed eyes are pleading for him to do more, your pussy has been clamping around his fingers when he stopped moving his gloved hand.

But Jeno’s attention’s not even on that.

His eyes are on the red lines adorning his pale arm, the result of your endless scratching. Not that he’s complaining. He’s actually hooked—to the pain from your nails, to the way your body unravels under his fingers without much effort from him and how beautiful your face contorts from pleasure to shock of betrayal when he suddenly pulls them off.

"J-Jeno?” 

One second you were about to cum, the next, you were feeling empty that you almost screamed. You didn't get to react much, too confused and shocked at what your ex-boyfriend did. He didn't answer you, only stepping back from your shaking form. He’s got that wild look in his eyes as he eyes you down, the smug smile returning to his chiseled face, making your knees buckle. Your legs are wobbling, your hand clutching the leather motorseat as panic rises again in you when you realize that Jeno removed himself completely from your body. The instinct to reach for him is there but your body’s convulsing from the impending orgasm he just denied you.

And he’s out here wiping his slicked gloved fingers over his denim pants instead.

As a last resort, you peeled your jacket off and fling it over the seat, immediately reaching under your top to unhook your strapless bra hoping you’ll convince Jeno. He gives you an impassive stare and turns away, like you’re a mere nuisance that was too needy for him to take care of. You watch him in horror as he proceeds to pick up the basket with his clean hand, ready to head towards the field. 

The indifference almost made you cry but you bravely tried again.

“Wait,” you blurted out, chest heaving. “Why?”

The resentment is evident in your voice but Jeno only gives you a sly smile. He's aware how cruel he's being but there’s a sick part of him that wants to test your limits. He wanted to see if he can still break you down like before—a reminder that your body is still his. There’s nothing he hates more than labelling you as his mere ex, something his friends love to remind him whenever they find him moping about you. 

"You don't want to eat? Chenle helped me prepare these." He raises the basket in front of you, treating this like another normal conversation. You definitely don't want what he's offering even if Chenle's dear to you. Shifting his attention to the food supposedly made for you escalates the betrayal in your chest.

He’s acting like his fingers weren’t in you a few minutes ago.

If he thinks this faux concern will excuse him from his behaviour, he’s wrong. The game’s not over and he’s tested you to the brim already. All your mind can think about is how to convince him to let you cum. Undressing’s not even gonna work at this point but you still have a chance. Being bratty will only push Jeno to continue punishing you and that's the last thing you want so you let the frustration fizzle, knowing you’d have to play along if you want him to fuck you. 

Shaking your head at him, you turn to his precious bike to refocus. It's one of your favourites to be fucked on which was probably why he’s acting this way. He treats it about as equally as you and he's fully aware how much you love riding it with him.  

"Later..fuck me here first, please.."

You managed to stop Jeno from walking further, pulling him back to you. He returns but doesn't answer, just looking at you intently. You didn't waste any more time and loop your arm round his muscled one. You cling to him, pressing your whole body in desperation, letting him feel your chest.

You hear the hitch in his breath and you smile triumphantly, resting your head on his broad shoulders to nuzzle yourself on him even more.

It took Jeno a moment to realize that you’ve removed your bra, feeling your soft breasts rubbing against his arm. He looks down at your needy face, then to your chest, noticing your nipples getting perky at the friction through your thin top. He couldn't tear his gaze away from them until your other hand reached out for his belt, your hands tugging the loop which pulled another chuckle from him.

He was right. It is only a matter of time.

"You could've just told me you wanted to be fucked on my bike."

Jeno scoffs as he drops the picnic basket back to the ground. He has a knack of keeping his voice too leveled that you couldn't tell if he's mocking you or just amused unless he wants it to be. But it doesn't deter you. Instead of letting the sting from earlier linger, you give him your most seductive smile and press yourself on him more, your eyes flitting up to his lips.

"Thought you'd figure it out by now." 

The clap back slips from your mouth before you can stop it. But instead of worrying at Jeno's retaliation, you feel a little pride in you as you whisper them into his lips. You’d have to at least clap back a little at him a little and this might be your best one so far.

Plus, it doesn't take much to get into your ex's skin.

Jeno’s eyes darkened at your remark and before you know it, he spins you around, bending your body over his motorbike. You can't see him but his focus is solely on you, his hands roaming around your body while you're grappling to hold yourself and his bike steady. Your pulse quickens, the excitement coursing through your veins at the way he’s maneuvering your body. 

"You're saying I don't?"

Rage erupted in Jeno along with his insecurities at your implication. That he doesn’t know you anymore. His voice lacked that usual neutral tone, the frustration’s bleeding into him and it only excites you more. Jeno prides being patient among his friends, being the calmest when everything’s in chaos around him.

Not when it comes to you though. A few words or a gesture is enough to break his composure. 

"N-No! That's not what I meant—fuck" 

Jeno cuts you off with his palm meeting your backside, earning that loud moan from you. He flips your skirt after, exposing your damp core to the cold breeze. 

“Then what did you mean hmm? That you’re still my slut?” 

“Y-Yes! Yes I am!”

You were hoping the admission would make him touch you but to no avail. He's still not touching you, letting the silence swallow you as he contemplates what to do. Humiliation starts creeping in but you were far too desperate to give up now. You push your hips back and you swear you heard a stifled groan from him.

Another plea threatens to leave your mouth but his hands move to your clutch your waist. 

“Really?” 

His voice is low, as if he didn't hear you clearly. You badly want to turn around to see his handsome face but you don't want to risk another delayed orgasm.

“Yeah. I want it, want your cock in my slutty pussy,” you emphasize with another wiggle of your hips. That should be desperate enough for him to finally fuck you.

But Jeno's hands remained. Only when you try looking back at your ex do you feel his hold tighten. He’s prolonging this for whatever reason, not even letting you look at him. His firm grip keeps you still and you're tearing up again.

“Of course you do…” he mused and began unbuttoning his pants. He stares down at your enticing body displayed in front of him, admiring how pliant you are.

Shit. His hard cock twitches at the view.

“You let any guy have this while I’m away..” he pauses, hands spreading your cheeks to see more of your sopping pussy. You feel the blunt of his tip, tracing along your wet folds, slightly dipping in then out again. “Do I even need to fuck you?”

You wanted to cry in frustration.

“Not bare..never, please Jeno, I only do that with you. Please fuck me.”

Your admission pushes Jeno to finally enter you, the both of you emitting a loud moan, the stretch from his cock knocking out your breath. Oh how you’ve missed his cock. Despite having good fucks with other guys, no one can reach you this deep aside from him. Exploring has been good but Jeno just does it differently. He’s had years learning your body that no other guys have and won’t ever have.

“Damn, still so tight,” He groans, both hands returning on your waist. Once he reached the hilt, he stayed still. "Big—Jen..fuck" you cry and Jeno couldn't help but draw his hips back slowly until the tip of his cock almost leaves your pussy then pushes back again.

Being the good ex-boyfriend that he is, he waits until your hips begin moving. He starts off slowly at first to let you adjust, that sick part of him resurfacing watching your pussy struggle in taking him in.

Good. It’ll always be a reminder for you and your pussy that he’s the biggest you’ll ever have. 

Despite being sensitive from your ruined orgasm, you've been responding to his thrusts, your hips meeting his with every stroke. Jeno’s trying to be careful but you’re making it too hard with the way your walls are clamping around his dick. Your breathy whines only spurs him to fuck you harder, his pace gradually increasing. 

Something’s different this year. You and Jeno had fucked many times during your catch ups but tonight, he feels like he has to prove something. It’s odd but a small pride booms inside your chest. No matter how many girls he fucked since you broke up, he still cares about how he fucks you.

Jeno's always been confident. Not the flashy kind but the quiet one because he knows his skills and the efforts he puts in to developing them. He’s excellent at many things, particularly in satisfying women’s needs. It's why many of them return, begging for another chance and Jeno sometimes does, depending on what he feels at that time. But most of the time, he's too occupied to entertain them.

Then there's you.

He knows you well enough that whenever you meet, you’d still count on him, at least for a good fuck. That should be enough to appease his insecurities but that nagging thought continues to irk him; that there could be another man who can match the standards you’ve set; that soon, someone else will be able to replace him. 

The scenario made him pour out his frustrations on you—in rapid snaps of his hips. 

“Oh, so good, baby..” you moan the words with sharp gasps, snapping Jeno out of his thoughts. His thrusts almost paused, his mind reeling if heard the last word correctly. After your break up, you never once called him again with those pet names that he loves to call on you. You’d only call him his name or nickname, nothing else even if you’re fucking.

Until now. Jeno's regaining all that privilege, while you’re fucking back at him.

“Yeah? Bet you miss me fucking you like this,” he grunts, delivering another hard thrust. You nod profusely, struggling to breath with how fast he’s going at it. “Yeah, I do, fuck—miss you…ah” 

Jeno’s heart swells to know that you miss him even if he only hears it when you’re fucking. He doesn't mind any of that though but hearing it straight from your mouth is different. Don't get him wrong, he does know you miss him. Even if you don’t outright tell him, your body language is enough. The longing looks and lingering touches when he's around; the way your tone changes when talking to him unless you want to be a brat. They haunt him every time your yearly meet up is over and he misses you even more. He’s always fighting for his life to not text or call you until that slip up.

Jeno never regretted sending those texts. In fact, he was fucking happy that he slipped. That him texting you bothered you enough to the point that you flaked on your fling that night. Small things are always a big deal for Jeno when you’re involved. He couldn’t afford to be choosy when he agreed to break up with you. 

It wasn't like he really wanted it but again, it's for the best.

“You’re taking my cock well.” He muses, pounding into you more. Jeno's hands move up to cup your breasts, massaging them through your top. He's tempted to pull off your top but you're determined tonight.

Jeno’s not sure if he’ll get used to this although he should be. A part of him is glad that he’s able to bring this side out of you but another part doesn’t want any man to see you like this. The mere thought of others having this view prompts Jeno to grab your shoulder blade for him to raise your upper body, arching your spine more in the process.

The instant change knocks you out of your breath, pushing you to lock your elbows straight. Jeno reaches you deeper at this angle, his cock hitting that soft spot inside you that had you seeing stars. All the taunting he threw at you loops in your mind too, that desire to please him magnifying with each roll of your hips.

“Jeno—I’m close, nngh..” 

You tried. You really did, to not cum this quickly but you’re too sensitive and he denied it to you already. 

“Me too, babe..fuck” 

A moan of relief leaves your lips at his words but that didn’t last long. Your laboured breathing and Jeno's groans join in the series of skin slapping that echoes through the dark but neither of you care. No one passes here around this time of night anyway, more privacy for you and Jeno although it's far from it.

You've been too focused to keep everything in, your legs shaking from the intensity but then your ex sneaks his hand around to rub your pebbled clit. 

“In me, Jeno, please!” you managed to mutter when you feel him pulling out. Your ex-boyfriend pushes back in, pressing his muscled body against yours. “Fuck, fuck—okay, shit..” he rasps against the shell of your ear, punctuating each word with a thrust and the dam breaks. Your body collapses over the leather seat as your pussy milks him dry. 

Jeno follows your suit, pumping all his cum inside you like you asked, his pace eventually slowing down as you both ride your highs. He peppers your bare shoulders with open mouth kisses, his palms caressing your waist to offer some comfort. As sweaty as you both are from the intense fucking, Jeno couldn’t stay apart from you yet, enveloping you in with his whole body, careful not to put his weight on you nor on this bike.

“You did so well baby.”

He whispers against your temple, kissing your flushed skin as he gently delivers his final thrust.

“Am I forgiven?”

Shock hits Jeno in the face at your question. Your voice sounded so small that the remaining lust coursing through his body dissipates. He freezes, his attention fully on your body’s current state. He badly wants to turn you to face him but he's noticed the tight grip of your hands on the motor seat. Although you tried to hide your hiccups from crying, they still slip out and his chest tightens. 

“What? For what?”

You didn't answer.

Jeno did this to you.

He gives you time before pulling out slowly, gently squeezing your waist, hoping you'll finally face him. Fear joins the worry he already feels, scared of what he’ll find when you do. Your body turns around right away, offering him a meek smile but he wasn't convinced. He scours your face and you turn away, clearly afraid to show him what you feel but he catches your chin.

Jeno lifts your head and there he notices the tears streaking your flushed face. The urge to ask you again strikes him but you look like you’re on the verge of crying. So instead, he kisses you; hesitant but soft, he waits for you to reciprocate which you instantly did, clutching his muscled arm for support. 

Although the kiss erases Jeno’s worries, it also shows him that you need a little break. Your reluctance to answer his question cracked his heart into pieces. He doesn’t know what you mean by this, the only assurance he got was you not pushing him back when he initiated the kiss. Clearly, it's not the time to have this conversation here. You’re still recovering from the oversensitivity and he didn't wanna push you emotionally too. The talk needs to be handled with care and he wants you to be comfortable when the time comes.

When you both separate to catch your breath, you share a warm smile with your ex-boyfriend before he moves to open the underseat storage. Immediately, your chest tightened at the sight of a very familiar helmet. When your eyes landed on the intricate design circling the visor, memories flashed at once. Not just when you were wearing it but also designing it when Jeno first got his bike.

“Do you want it back?”

“I don’t have a motorbike, Jeno.”

“For decorative purposes.” 

You didn't know what to respond to that so you chose not to. The lump in your throat that you were hoping to disappear after the kiss stayed and you don't know why. You never worry when it happens because your ex-boyfriend never pushes you to answer. In both times, Jeno merely waits for you which you'll always be grateful to him for.

He takes a glance at you before pulling down the seat to close it. You lean back on it right away to rest and Jeno’s hand reaches for your thighs. He spreads them with his gloved hand and you widen your legs for him to kneel in between them. Like clockwork, you crumpled up your skirt to assist him. 

Your ex-boyfriend takes his time wiping down your pussy and inner thighs in silence. Jeno's brows furrow in focus and it reminds you of how meticulous he is with everything he does. Watching him like this flutters your heart, to see the both of you naturally swinging back to your habits with one another. 

After pulling your skirt back down, Jeno opens his palm for you to take. You grab it and give him a squeeze, a small form of reassurance that you're okay. He gives you that soft smile then proceeds to retrieve the picnic basket from the grass. You both walk hand in hand towards the area near the cliff, in silence while admiring what's around you.

Jeno lets you be once you dropped his hand the moment the skyline was visible. Your face brightens as excitement immediately fills you up, running off weakly to the fence without looking back at him. He watches you fondly although the urge to remind you to slow down bubbles up. But then, he doesn’t want to kill the fascination on your face while breathing in the view.

The plain field offers enough space that you’re surprised how no one really comes here except you and Jeno. Maybe they do when you're not around but in a way, you’re grateful because this became a special place for you and him. Jeno found this secluded area from your hiking date before you started dating. Right before the sun sets, he asked you to be officially his. Since then, it has become your favourite place to relax, returning there from time to time whenever you both feel like hiking.

It's also the reason why you both chose to catch up here after your breakup. 

The view has always taken your breath away on each visit. You can see the entire city from here, the sprawled tapestry of lights from the buildings contrasting the darkness around you. It’s only once a year that you get to experience this beauty because you refuse to come here without Jeno. It feels weird coming here alone, you’ll just miss him and will try to contact him which is against the rules.

It took you almost a minute before realizing that Jeno didn’t follow you. Usually he does and that’s how your catch up begins. The worry resurfaces until you turn around and find him laying out the contents from the basket. You head towards where he is and immediately notice the snacks you’re going to devour tonight. Watermelon slices, glazed doughnuts, a pack of jellies and gummies and some almond bites—his favourites.

Now you feel a little bad for not bringing anything. You could've brought yours to share with him too but you both never plan your meet up though. You and Jeno preferred your catch up to flow naturally to avoid stress on you both.

However, it still did. This year’s meet up does, like the first time.

The heavy tension lingers in the air and the silence has been stressing you. 

Your ex-boyfriend hasn’t talked since you joined him. He hasn’t even looked at you and the silence, once comforting to you, is starting to eat you up. Even if Jeno brought out some of your favourites too, your eyes stayed on him, waiting while your heartbeats’ gradually became faster. You want to start talking like usual but at the same time, you're afraid to break the silence. It’s peaceful right now, a perfect time for you to also recover from the intense fucking earlier.

The moon above is shining just right tonight—the ideal atmosphere to ease a conversation and yet Jeno’s fighting to maintain his composure. He’d been feeling the weight of your stares since you returned and for some reason, he couldn’t open his mouth to say anything. Thankfully, you didn’t catch him earlier as you were too enthralled with the view to notice he stayed back to watch you instead.

Jeno lets out a quiet sigh after emptying the basket. He lies on his side on the picnic mat, looking up at the sky to gather his thoughts carefully. He knows you’ve been waiting for him to say something. Perhaps he was too but he couldn’t even look at you yet.

The nerves are kicking in.

He’s fucking up again and you’re already hurt. Your last question replays in his head and right now, he can’t believe he’s begging the stars to give him some direction like how they did to humans since the beginning of time. 

You noticed. Of course you do, you always do. Your eyes have never missed any subtle changes in Jeno's body language. You wonder what’s on his mind this time. When you saw the guilt in his eyes earlier, you didn’t understand it right away, your brain still high from the rush of orgasm. When he doesn't follow you to the edge of the cliff, you remember that there are many things you need to talk about tonight.

You mimic his position, your bare legs fully on display, hoping it’ll get his back his attention. It worked. Jeno’s eyes went straight on them but to your dismay, he still hasn’t said a word.

This night can’t go on like this.

You're giving him the time but maybe he’d been waiting for you too. A talk about the constellation would surely break the tension and divert both your attention to it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your body freezes at his words. You couldn’t believe you’re hearing his words right when you were gonna talk. 

“What?”

The turmoil inside you got worse, multiple emotions surging at once but mainly the shock and panic are getting you overwhelmed again. Jeno’s confession pulled one of your biggest fears. 

Losing him for good. 

Is this it? Will this be the final time you’ll ever see him? Does he not love you anymore? Is there a new girl in his life that he’s about to tell you about and this meetup's for a closure?

All those questions must've shown on your face but Jeno's too nervous to notice which is better for your part. You brace yourself for his next words when he shifts his anxious eyes back on you.

"Pretending that I'm okay with this setup when all I've ever wanted is you." 

“Oh.” 

It is a closure but not the kind you have in mind. You reacted so soon and Jeno has caught on now that he's looking at you, his eyes shifting from nervous to worry. You've been speechless for a close to a minute but you were just surprised. Between the two of you, you didn’t think he’d be the one to admit first, fully expecting him to skirt around the topic at least.

“But aren't you mad?”

"No baby. I was jealous and scared I lost you for good." He quietly admits, his voice shaking a little. This is so atypical of Jeno and you would've teased him if you weren't still overwhelmed.

"We had an agreement, remember? Plus, you literally just fucked me."

"I know but I can't help it, I'm sorry."

The slight whine in his apology should've melted you. Instead, you’re struggling with how to react. You were ready to adjust like always but why is he confessing now? You thought you’ve calmed down from the simultaneous emotions but confusion, in particular is eating you up. On one hand, you’re happy at his honesty and apology but the uncertainty is still there. Yes, he wants you but how?

“Let’s eat Jen, I'm starving.” You smile awkwardly at him when you can't find the right words to answer. Jeno looks away with a rueful smile and a nod, then hands you a tupperware of fruits to start off. It’s both annoying and endearing how attuned you and your ex boyfriend are. Confusion aside, he understood that you’re still not ready and had been patient with you.

The one trait he had that made you fall for him in the first place.

“Are they good?” He asks hesitantly, pertaining to the dumplings he made with Chenle.

“Yeah, surprisingly. Thank Lele for me.” You muse, munching another one. Jeno chuckles before taking a quick picture of you and the remaining pieces, knowing he’ll get an earful from his friend if he doesn’t document your reactions to it. 

For a while, the two of you have gone back to silence. The mood now is different, the heaviness easing up a little. It’s comfortable like this, enjoying your favourites while watching each other discreetly. The awkwardness gradually dissipated which you’re grateful for. You thought the night was already ruined and you’d have to end this catch up sooner.

What a relief that the tables have semi-turned.

A snicker escapes you while Jeno's munching a pack of gummies. You find him fixated on your legs again as he chews each gummy bear absentmindedly. With your giggly outburst, his eyes averted back to you instantly, blinking slowly that made your smile wider.  

Like he’d been caught. Cute.

You can sense his impending protest and immediately lean closer, still giggling but your attention’s fully on his lips now. He meets you halfway, pressing his sugar coated lips from the glazed doughnut he just devoured. You savour the sweetness in between kisses, biting his plump lower lip to ask for entrance, which he did with a groan. 

Jeno can not only taste the saccharine in your mouth but on your actions too. You’re holding his face, fingers tracing his sharp jaw with delicate a touch that tugs his heartstrings more than he likes to admit. In return, he tugs your body, his palm finding your waist to pull you closer. 

The emotions he’d been caging in starts to spill out and any hesitation vanishes the moment he meets your longing stare. He wants more of you and he’s frankly tired of holding himself back anymore.

"I still love you,” he whispers before diving in for another kiss. ”I don’t think it ever stopped." 

"I love you too."

You’re tearing up as you say the words. It’s been years since you’ve spoken the phrase out loud, at least to another guy. One made it close to that and if this yearly meetup you have with your ex hadn’t existed, there’s a chance that you'll say the phrase again sooner but not to Jeno. You even remembered the last time you said it, on your last date before your break up. 

Thinking about the phrase made you recoil ever since.

Jeno beams at your response. The corners of his eyes crinkle up into half-moons that have always lightened up your mood. Watching him intently, you notice the relief creeping up to the slight nervousness in his eyes. He looks like he wants to say more, and with an encouraging nod from you, he starts.

Jeno then reaches out to your thigh, finally touching the bare skin he’d been eyeing the whole night. His touch feels warm despite his hand shaking but you didn’t bother to point it out. He never does when you’re nervous around him. 

“If you're done here, I would want you to come with me.” 

He looks away after saying it, kneading the meat of your thigh while waiting for you to answer. 

So this was why he’s nervous, unsure.

"You won't mind if I say goodbye?” you test it out with a hint, see if he’ll let you. “To wrap up things here…properly." 

You watch his nose scrunch as you drop another hint but instead of confronting you with it, he nods with another firm squeeze of your thigh.

Jeno truly surprised you tonight.

"Go ahead, I'm not in the position to stop you. I have no right, not yet."

Your ex boyfriend didn’t argue like you expected. He didn't try to convince you to change your mind, to demand reasons why you couldn’t just leave with him right away. The Jeno from years ago would've vehemently opposed the idea. He would question you the details until you’re left to tell him everything but now…he truly did change for the better. 

So did you. 

“You’re really fine with it?” 

“I can wait. I was able to wait for years. This is nothing.”

He pretended to sound offended and you merely chuckled. Jeno has been waiting this whole time—like you did. Honestly, you find the whole situation funny enough.

“We’re both so stupid.” you shake your head, sighing out loud. "We wasted so much time when we still love each other." You deadpanned but Jeno shakes his head.

“You and I needed to grow separately and we’re still growing babe,” he squeezes your thigh for comfort. You raise a brow at him, that mischievous smile returning on your lips before grabbing a piece of almond bites to throw his way. He annoyingly caught it with his mouth, smirking at you as if to ask for more.

How dare he use his sharp jawline to distract you.

“Definitely more mature than before.” You chuckle and take the last piece for yourself, much to his faux disappointment. “Enough to try again?” He queries, his smirk turning into a hopeful smile. “I, too, am tired babe.”

“We’ll be better, baby. We’ll communicate better.”

“And we don’t need to rush Jen, we’ll get there, together.”

Jeno’s truly happy with your decision. His main dilemma was finally resolved. Still, he hates how the nerves linger despite the result he was hoping for. He was unsure if you’ll say yes earlier and even if you just did, the fear of fucking up again looms over him and will probably stay for a while. That's something he'll definitely work on with you.

Trusting himself more that is.

Now that you’re both a little bit older, you finally feel ready to rekindle what you had, frontal lobe developing and all. You’re clearly still in love with one another so going back and forth is no use anymore. This time around, it’s going to be better and you both promised to take things slow, not repeat your old habits that prompted your break up.

It would never happen again. He’ll never let you go unless you want to.

That’s how much Jeno loves you.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

soobie :) car’s there

You looked from the message to the car, then back again.

you soobin

His reply came almost instantly.

soobie :) yes?

you what did i say about dramatic or insane

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

soobie :) it’s just a car there’s no show i promise

You paused.

you why would you say that unprompted

soobie :) because i know you're thinking it

Despite yourself, you smiled. That was the annoying part. You were trying very hard to be normal about this. You had spent the last hour getting ready with the kind of nervous focus that made everything feel more serious than it needed to be. You changed your outfit twice. Then changed back into the first one. Then stood in front of the mirror wondering if you looked like you were trying too hard, only to realize you were literally going on a date with a man who had already admitted to planning something private because he wanted to do it right.

So maybe trying was allowed. Still, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

you if i pull up somewhere with cameras i’m leaving

soobie :) no cameras

you if there are staff members clapping i’m leaving

soobie :) no clapping

you if you rented out an entire restaurant i’m leaving

This time, his response took longer.

soobie :) please just get in the car

You stared at the message. Then at the car. Then your eyes went back to the message.

“Oh, he’s guilty,” you muttered to yourself.

You grabbed your bag anyway and made it out of your apartment. The driver was polite, opening the door for you without making a big production of it. The inside of the car smelled faintly expensive, like leather and something clean you couldn’t place. You settled into the backseat and tried not to look like someone who was deeply, embarrassingly curious.

The drive wasn’t long. Which made your curiosity return back to your original suspicion. You watched familiar streets pass by, your brows slowly pulling together as the car turned into a neighborhood you recognized too well.  

No…there was no way.

The car slowed in front of Soobin’s house. For a second, you just sat there. Then you looked down at your phone.

you soobin

The front door opened before he answered. He stepped outside wearing a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, hair soft around his face, expression caught somewhere between nervous and proud. The second he saw you through the window, his smile broke through before he could stop it.

You hated how much that smile worked on you.

The driver opened your door, and you stepped out slowly, still looking around like there had to be some hidden trick.

“So,” you said, turning to him. “Your big date plan was making me come to your house?”

Soobin’s smile faltered immediately. “No—well, yes, but not like—” He stopped, inhaled, then tried again. “It’s not just my house.”

You lifted a brow.

“That sounded worse,” he said.

“A little,” you agreed.

“I can explain.”

“You have thirty seconds.” You teased. Even though you both knew you would stay no matter how long he took to explain.

He nodded quickly, then stepped aside and gestured toward the side gate instead of the front door. “Just come see first. And if you hate it, we can leave. Or order takeout. Or I can pretend this never happened.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I’m not,” he said, then paused. “Okay, maybe a little.”

That made you soften before you meant to. Soobin noticed. Of course he did, but he didn’t reach for you. Didn’t crowd you. He just waited, giving you the choice.

So you walked toward him. “Fine,” you said. “Show me.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Come on.”

He led you through the side gate, and the second you stepped into the backyard, your teasing disappeared. It didn’t look like his house anymore. Granted you were only here once before but you could still see the difference. The patio had been transformed with warm string lights hanging overhead, soft and golden against the evening sky. A small table sat near the garden, dressed simply with candles, flowers, and two place settings. Nothing too grand. Nothing screaming for attention. Just thoughtful and carefully planned out.

There was music playing low from somewhere, barely loud enough to recognize. A private chef stood near an outdoor setup, focused on plating something while pretending very hard not to notice either of you.

No cameras. No crowd. No performance.

Just his curated plan and him. Just like he had promised.

You looked at Soobin. He was watching your face intently as if your reaction mattered more than anything else in the world.

“I know you said no big scene,” he said softly. “So I tried not to make one.”

Your chest tightened. “Soobin…”

“I wanted it to feel like somewhere else,” he continued, quieter now. “But still private. Somewhere you didn’t have to worry about people watching us or someone recognizing me or making it weird.” He swallowed. “And I wanted to do something nice. Not because I’m trying to prove anything. Just because you deserve nice things.”

For once, you didn’t know what to say right away.

He shifted on his feet, nervous again. “Is this okay?”

You looked back at the lights, the table, the private chef working away off to the side. The care tucked into every detail. Then you looked at him. “Yeah,” you said, voice softer than you expected. “It’s okay.”

His smile came slowly this time, relieved and shy.“Good,” he said.

You tried to roll your eyes, but it didn’t quite work.“You’re still insane for sending a car.”

“It was a normal car.”

“It was a suspicious car.” You waved your finger as you teased.

“I’ll take that feedback.”

“You better.”

“I will,” he promised.

And the strange thing was, you believed him. He led you toward the table, but he didn’t pull out your chair immediately. Instead, he stopped a few feet away like he wanted to give you a second to look around without him hovering over your reaction.

That was the part that got you. Not the lights. Not the flowers. Not the private chef pretending not to exist near the outdoor setup.

It was the restraint.

The old Soobin would have wanted your reaction right away. He would have watched your face too closely, needing every flicker of approval, every softened breath, every sign that he had done enough.

This Soobin still wanted it. You could see that much, but he wasn’t reaching for it greedily with both hands. 

“You’re staring,” he said, voice quieter now.

You blinked, realizing you had been looking at him instead of the setup.

“So are you.”

His mouth twitched. “I’m allowed. You’re my date.”

The word date landed between you, warm and terrifying.

Your stomach dipped. Soobin seemed to catch it because his smile softened into something less teasing. “Too much?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t ask again. Didn’t make you prove it. He just nodded once and finally stepped forward to pull out your chair. You sat down slowly, smoothing your hands over your lap while he moved around to the other side of the table. For a second, you watched him instead of the candles. The way he adjusted his sleeves. The way he glanced at the chef, then at you, then down at his own place setting like he was trying to remember how normal people behaved on dates.

It made you smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“That was not a nothing smile.” He raised an eyebrow.

“It was.”

“It was mean.” He pushed out his bottom lip in a pout.

“It was fond.”

His expression changed at that. You regretted the word almost immediately. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it was. Because fond felt dangerously close to admitting how much of you had already softened before the night even began.

Soobin didn’t tease you for it. He only looked down, smiling to himself like he was trying to keep the moment somewhere safe.

“Fond is good,” he said quietly.

You looked away first, pretending to study the table. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he said.

But his smile said he absolutely would.

The private chef introduced the first course with a polite smile, explaining something about roasted vegetables and a sauce you immediately forgot the name of because Soobin was still looking at you like he was waiting for permission to breathe.

You waited until the chef stepped away before narrowing your eyes at him. “You can relax now.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You look like you’re waiting for me to grade you.” You let your expression relax as you watched him.

His mouth opened, then closed.

You pointed your fork at him. “See?”

Soobin laughed under his breath, glancing down at his plate. “I just want you to have a good time.”

“I am having a good time.”

“Already?”

“Yes, already.” You smiled softly.

“That fast?”

“You’re fishing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He smiled and the tension in his shoulders finally eased a little.

Dinner was easy, that surprised you most. Not because being around Soobin was hard. It used to be easy in a different way. He was loud, reckless, magnetic. The kind of easy that made you forget to check where you were stepping until the ground disappeared beneath you. This version was quieter. He asked about your week and actually listened when you answered. He didn’t interrupt to make a joke when the conversation got too close to something real. He didn’t fill every silence like silence meant failure.

Sometimes, he just let the night sit between you. Warm lights, soft music, the soft clink of silverware. His knee brushing yours beneath the table once before he immediately pulled back, eyes flicking up to yours.

“Sorry.”

You shook your head. “You’re fine.”

He nodded, but he still didn’t move closer again. That was different, not new like your original thoughts tried to tell you. You were starting to understand the distinction. By the time the second course came, you had stopped waiting for the catch.

Soobin noticed that too. “You’re less suspicious now,” he said.

You took a sip of water to hide your smile. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“You absolutely would.”

“Maybe before.” The words landed softly but they still felt loaded.

You looked up. Soobin’s gaze dropped to his plate for a second, like he hadn’t meant to say it that plainly. Then he exhaled, fingers brushing the stem of his glass without lifting it.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“You didn’t.”

He looked at you then as you held his gaze. “You can say things like that.”

His expression shifted, careful but open. “I’m trying not to overdo it,” he admitted. “The whole… talking about myself thing.”

“That’s not what I meant when I said I didn’t want to carry everything for you.”

“I know.” His answer came quick. Then he paused, like he realized that too, and tried again. “I’m starting to know,” he corrected softly.

You set your fork down. Soobin watched the movement, but he didn’t panic. Didn’t rush to explain himself before you could react. He just waited. That alone made your chest ache a little.

“I used to think being honest with you meant telling you everything,” he said. “Every bad thought. Every insecurity. Every time I felt like I was falling apart.” His mouth pulled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And I told myself that was trust.”

You stayed quiet, not because you had nothing to say. You just knew he wasn't finished.

He exhaled a moment before he continued. “But sometimes I think I was just handing it to you because I didn’t know what else to do with it,” he continued. “Like if I gave it to you, then maybe it wouldn’t be mine anymore.”

Your throat tightened. “Soobin…”

“I know that wasn’t fair,” he said, voice gentle but steady. “And I’m not saying that so you’ll tell me it was okay. I know it wasn’t.”

That stopped you. There had been a time where he would have said it and waited for comfort. Waited for you to soften the guilt for him. Waited for you to tell him he hadn’t hurt you as badly as he thought. He wasn’t doing that now. He was just telling the truth and letting it stay there. Not covering up for himself with excuses.

You looked down at your hands for a second, trying to gather yourself. “I wanted to be there for you,” you said quietly. “I still do.”

“I know.”

“But I didn’t want to feel like if I stepped back, you’d fall apart.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “I know,” he repeated, voice soft.

“I didn’t want to be the only thing keeping you okay.”

“You shouldn’t have been.” The answer came so simply that it hurt more than if he had made excuses.

Soobin looked at you with something raw in his face. Not desperate or pleading, just honest. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that.”

You breathed in slowly. “I know you are.”

His fingers flexed on the table, close to yours but not touching. “I’m getting help with that,” he said after a moment. “Not just saying I will. I’m actually doing it.”

Your eyes lifted to his. He looked nervous, but not ashamed.

“I’ve been talking to someone, you know that.” he continued. “And I’ve been trying to talk to the guys too. Not about you,” he added quickly. “I mean, not in a weird way. Just… letting them know when I’m not okay instead of waiting until I’m impossible to be around.”

He looked down, smiling faintly. “I don’t want you to be my emergency contact for every feeling I don’t know how to handle.”

Something in you went still.

Soobin glanced up again. “I want you to be my person,” he said. “But not my only person.”

For a second, all you could do was stare at him. Because that was it. That was the difference you wanted him to see. Not that he didn’t need you or that he had suddenly become perfectly healed, easy and uncomplicated. You just needed him to see that he wasn’t asking you to disappear inside the need anymore. You reached across the table before you could overthink it. His eyes flicked down as your hand covered his.

He didn’t grab on. He didn’t cling. He just turned his palm up slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. You didn’t. His fingers curled gently around yours.

“I like being there for you,” you said.

His thumb brushed once over your knuckles. “I like when you are,” he admitted.

“But I need to know you can stand even when I’m not holding you up.”

He nodded, eyes shining a little in the candlelight. “I can,” he said. Then, quieter, “I’m learning how to.”

You believed that too. Maybe not blindly or without fear, but enough. Enough to sit across from him under warm lights in the backyard he had turned into somewhere softer. Enough to let his hand hold yours without feeling trapped by it. Enough to think, for the first time in a long time, that maybe safe didn’t have to mean untouched by hurt.

Maybe safe could be this. Someone who had hurt you while learning how to not do that. Someone who had needed too much learning on how to ask for less without loving you less. Someone sitting across from you, hand open, waiting.

Soobin looked at your joined hands, then back at you. “Is this okay?” he asked.

You squeezed his fingers. “Yeah,” you said softly. “This is okay.”

After dinner, the chef packed quietly and left through the side gate with a polite goodbye, taking the last bit of formality with him.

The backyard felt different once it was just the two of you. Quieter, more intimate. The candles were lower now, small flames flickering in the glass holders between empty plates and half-finished drinks. The music still played softly from the speakers, something soft enough that it almost blended into the night.

Soobin stood to clear the table.

You reached for your plate at the same time. “I can help.”

He gave you a look. “Absolutely not.”

“Soobin.”

“No.” He took the plate from your hand before you could argue. “You are on a date.”

“And you are?”

“Also on a date,” he said, carrying the dishes toward the outdoor kitchen. “But I’m trying to be impressive.”

“You already hired a chef.”

“I’m trying to be domestically impressive then.”

You laughed, and he glanced back at you like the sound had caught him off guard. It was subtle. The way his expression softened. The way he looked down right after, as if he didn’t want to get caught wanting too much from something as simple as your laugh.

But you saw it.

You were starting to see him more clearly now that he wasn’t constantly demanding to be seen. When he came back, his hands were empty, but his nerves had returned.

You tilted your head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look suspicious again.” Your eyes narrowed.

“I’m not suspicious.”

“You are extremely suspicious.” You retorted.

He exhaled a laugh, then looked toward the open space beside the table where the lights hung low and golden. “I was going to ask something, but now I feel like you’re going to make fun of me.”

“I’m definitely going to make fun of you.” You teased.

“Great.”

“But you should ask anyway.” Your tone was still light but more serious now.

Soobin looked at you for a moment. Then he held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

Your heart did something stupid in your chest.

It wasn’t a big gesture. No sweeping music change. No sudden spotlight. Just Soobin standing in front of you under string lights, hand extended, asking instead of taking.

You looked at his hand. Then at him. “You planned this too?”

His mouth twitched. “No.”

“Liar.”

“I planned the dinner,” he admitted. “I hoped for this.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t run from it. You placed your hand in his. His fingers closed around yours carefully, like he still couldn’t quite believe you had given him permission. He guided you away from the table, slow enough that you could change your mind at any second.

The music wrapped around the two of you as he turned to face you. For a second, neither of you knew where to put your hands. That made you smile, and Soobin huffed out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t laugh.” You gave him a serious look.

“I’m not.” He defended.

“You are.”

“I’m trying to be romantic.” He defended quickly.

“You’re doing okay.” You shrugged, still teasing him.

“Okay?” he repeated, feigning offense.. “Just okay?”

You stepped closer, your hand settling on his shoulder. “Don’t ruin it.”

His teasing faded into something softer.

“I won’t.”

His free hand found your waist, light at first. Barely there. His palm settled over the fabric of your dress like he was afraid of pressing too hard, fingertips barely curving into the soft material. The touch was careful, but it still sent warmth through you, slow and distracting.

You saw the moment he noticed it too. Noticed the way your breath caught. The way your hand tightened on his shoulder. The way you didn’t move away.

His thumb shifted once, almost unconsciously, brushing over the seam at your waist. His eyes flicked down for half a second, then back up to yours, darker than they had been before.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“You keep apologizing.”

“I keep wanting to touch you more than I should.”

The honesty of it stole whatever teasing response you had ready. For a second, neither of you moved. Then you stepped closer, just enough for his hand to fit more securely against you.

“You’re allowed to want me,” you said softly. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Soobin’s breath caught again and this time, he didn’t apologize. 

For a while, you only moved together. Slowly. Awkwardly at first, then easier. His thumb brushed once against your waist, and your fingers tightened at his shoulder. His eyes flicked down to your mouth before returning to your face so quickly you might have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him just as closely.

“Soobin,” you said softly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re thinking too loud.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Sorry.”

“What are you thinking?”

He swallowed. “That I really want to kiss you.”

Everything went still. The music. The lights. The night around you. Or maybe that was just your mind playing tricks.

His hand stayed at your waist, but he didn’t pull you closer. His eyes searched yours, open and careful and painfully restrained.

“But I don’t want to assume,” he said. “And I don’t want to make you feel like you have to because this is going well.”

Your throat tightened.

This was what undid you. Not the dinner. Not the lights. Not the car or the chef or the effort he had folded into every detail of the night.

It was this. It was Soobin wanting you and still leaving room for your answer. You looked at him, at the nervous hope he was trying so hard not to turn into pressure, and something inside you finally gave.

“You can kiss me,” you said.

His expression changed. Not into triumph, it wasn't really relief either. But it was something softer. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He leaned in slowly. So slowly it almost hurt. Your eyes fluttered shut just before his mouth touched yours.

The kiss was gentle at first. Almost feeling like a question pressed against your lips. Then your hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, and Soobin made the quietest sound against your mouth, like the last of his restraint had cracked.

The kiss deepened. Not rushed or reckless yet. His arm wrapped more securely around your waist, pulling you closer only after you leaned into him first. Your fingers curled into the ends of his hair, and he kissed you like he had been waiting weeks to do it right. Like every apology, every boundary, every careful step back had led him here.

He knew not to take, not to demand, but to meet you where you were finally willing to stand. You felt it everywhere. In the warmth of his hand at your back. In the way his fingers spread over the soft fabric of your dress, not gripping, not taking, just holding like he was memorizing the shape of you through it. In the way he tilted his head to kiss you deeper and how he still paused, barely, giving you space to breathe.

You kissed him again instead, not wanting to accept the gap between you. The second kiss was less careful. Still gentle, still patient, but there was no pretending anymore. His hand slid a little farther around your waist, fingers flexing once against the material as your body leaned into his before your mind could argue. Soobin accepted the closeness with a quiet breath against your mouth.

He didn’t rush you. That somehow made it worse. Every pause felt intentional. Every brush of his thumb against your side felt like a question he knew how to ask properly now. Your hand moved from his neck so you could wrap your arms around his shoulders and he shivered beneath your touch, the reaction so immediate that your stomach tightened.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he whispered against your lips.

“Doing what?”

“Making it hard to be good.” He mumbled against your lips.

Your mouth curved faintly. “I thought you were reformed.”

“I’m trying,” he said, voice low. “Very hard.”

The words hung between you, warm and dangerous. Yet he still didn’t take more than you gave him. He only held you there under the lights, hands at your waist like he was reminding himself that wanting you didn’t mean forgetting how to wait.

Soobin’s breath trembled when you pulled back just enough to look at him. His forehead rested against yours, eyes still closed, mouth parted like he was afraid speaking would break whatever fragile thing had just settled between you.

You smiled faintly. “You okay?”

He let out a breathless laugh. “No.”

Your brows lifted. His eyes opened, soft and dark and overwhelmed in the best way.

“But in a good way,” he said quickly.

You laughed, and his hand tightened gently at your waist.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he murmured.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“A little.”

His smile came slowly. Then his gaze dropped to your mouth again. This time, he didn’t ask with words. He asked by waiting and you answered by closing the distance yourself.

Lee Jihoon was a simple man and wasn’t someone who wanted too much out of life. He just wanted to live his life quietly and comfortably. He didn’t need all the things capitalism told society they needed.

He didn’t need the latest car model, happily driving around in a previously owned model. He didn’t need a large home with more rooms than people living there, he was content with his two bedroom home that was big enough for him. His clothes weren’t fancy luxury brands, with a lot of it thrifted and second hand. As long as they were comfortable and fit well, he was happy.

He had some of the best friends a man could ask for, and a cat that loved him.

If only everything in his life was simple.

You were the clerk at his favorite little corner shop, working nearly every time he came in, always greeting customers with a bright smile and a happy ‘hello’.  Now, he would be lying if he didn’t think you were one of the prettiest people he had ever seen, or that your smile didn’t brighten his day. He would definitely be lying if it didn’t settle in his chest in a way that wasn’t so simple.

He had to convince himself that he wasn’t special compared to the next customer to enter the small shop, nor was he the only one who would get that cute smile and greeting. He wasn’t the only one who would stay back after their purchases to chat with you, everyone would. You treated everyone like an old friend, always remembering little things about each person that came to your till.

“How’s your wife doing? I do hope you are helping with the baby and taking him when she needs to rest.” You playfully scold Chan when he would come in for things for his wife and newborn son. “If you need anything though, let me know. I can always come by on one of my days off with dinner and watch him while you two have some time to yourselves.”

“Did the recipe work? I know she had to of loved it.” You giggled with Seungcheol after you’d given him one of your favorite recipes to help impress his girlfriend, only to learn he burnt it and they ordered pizza instead. “Oh well, maybe next time.”

“Have I told you that you have the coolest robot in the entire world? I’m super jealous that it can shoot lasers.” You humored a little girl who would be clinging to a little robot action figure whenever she was in, before chatting her mother about their dinner plans.

So, when you would ask about his cat, how his music is going, or bring up something he mentioned in passing Jihoon had to remind himself that you were only doing it to be friendly. You were like this with everyone, and he was no different than the next person. You were simply just doing your job.

Except there were times that did make him wonder. There was a shine to your eyes when he would walk in, sometimes your greeting would be brighter, and your smile would sometimes soften to a shyer one when he would stay back to talk to you. While your laugh would be a little louder when he would make a joke, or you would take to chewing your bottom lip more.

Making you even prettier than you already were.

But he had to remind himself that he wasn’t any more special than the next person to come to her counter. It was probably simpler that way. Only he didn’t see the way your eyes would follow him when he would walk in or see the way your hand balled up into a fist when he would leave.

Wishing you had said something more and make your interest known.

Every weekend when spring starts the center of town would be filled with vendor booths, crowds of people from surrounding towns and would go until the end of summer. Selling different things like candles, candies, baked goods, trinkets, clothes, fruit and vegetables that were in season. Other booths would sell hot foods and cool drinks for people to enjoy as they browse, with some offering homemade ice cream when the days got hot.

It wasn’t the type of thing that Jihoon would usually go to, finding it was always too crowded and most the items being sold would just add clutter to one’s home, but he did find some of the food to be pretty decent. So, him being there on a Saturday wasn’t by his own choice, but his friend Wonwoo who was being dragged by his wife.

She had insisted that her husband needed to get out of the house more, and somehow this also meant that Jihoon did too.

Which he wouldn’t have exactly minded, had they not disappeared into the crowd as soon as they got there, leaving him to browse the booths alone. Hands in his jeans pocket, avoiding eye contact with the vendors as he browsed; not wanting to give them a chance to talk to him or attempt to sell him anything. Every so often he would catch sight of Wonwoo and his wife Adri, but they would be gone just as quickly as he would see them.

Then he saw you.

You were standing at one of the florist stands, talking and laughing with the elderly woman running the booth with your gaze on the beautiful flowers that were being sold. Jihoon found himself rooted to the spot, watching the way your face would light up from your smile and how your laughter would float to him like a melody only he ever wanted to hear.

You must’ve felt his gaze since your laughter faded as you looked his way, but your smile still played over your pretty lips as your eyes met. Giving a quick goodbye to the vendor, you adjusted the pink knitted tote on your shoulder as you made your way toward him.

Jihoon had to be mad to think that your smile got wider and there was a shine of excitement in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Jihoon, right?” You asked once closer, and he nodded with the corner of his lips upturning when you bounced with excitement. He then responded with your own name and braced himself for the chance he had gotten it wrong (that would be so embarrassing), and you nodded with the same enthusiasm. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“It’s nice to see you as well.” The words came out a little higher than he would’ve liked, having to cough to clear his throat. Of course, his voice would crack when talking to you, but you didn’t seem to notice. Or if you did, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Have you tried Mrs. Min’s lemon bars yet?” You didn’t miss a beat with your question, taking Jihoon a bit by surprise.

It was well known that the food in the market was decent, some of the best in fact, and one of the biggest reasons many would show up every weekend. Hell, most his friends would willingly get up during the weekend just to go eat,  and he had even tried many of the different dishes over the years himself, but not everything.

Like Mrs. Min’s lemon bars.

“I have not.” When he said those words, you let out a gasp before hopping (that’s the only way he could describe it) next to him. You hooked your arms around his, with your hand resting over his plaid covered bicep, tilting your head to look up at him.

It was then he realized you were shorter with him, and it somehow endeared you to him more.

“Then you have not lived yet.” The giggle that left you sounded so sweet to him, probably sweeter than the lemon bars that you were leading him to, but he was still processing you touching him.

You didn’t need to pull at him to follow you, finding himself easily falling into step with your little skips, filling the air with chatter as you walked. Telling him stories that eventually blended in with each other then took different directions to the point he barely was able to keep up. He didn’t seem to mind though.

He liked the sound of your voice and didn’t want to stop hearing it by interrupting with questions so he wouldn’t be so lost in your chatter. He rather take not knowing then not hear you.

“Here we are!” You said with excitement, the story you were telling forgotten now that you were standing at the pastry booth. Mrs. Min’s Breads and Pastries, said the sign. You then call out to the woman running the booth; a friend of yours. “Ruby! Could I get two of your famous lemon bars? Oh! And those orange bars too!” You then turned to Jihoon, “They are just like lemon bars, but even better cause they’re made with oranges.”

“I haven’t even tried the lemon bars yet.” Jihoon pointed out, with a soft chuckle, taking in how cute you were. Waiting impatiently for the pastries to be picked out and handed to you.

“I know, but what the hell right? Why not try both?” You answer, already handing over a couple of wadded bills, paying before Jihoon had the chance to offer. Taking the container that had the treats in it, you turned toward him suddenly with your smile even wider and body buzzing with excitement.

Jihoon might have just fallen in love with you.

Instead of grasping his arm, you reached out to take his hand to lead him to a grassy patch right behind the booth. Jihoon’s eyes stayed on your interlocked hands, not registering anything you had said to him until you had let go to sit. Gazing at his hand, he could still feel the weight of yours against it, slow to curl it into a fist now that you were no longer holding it.

He wanted to take your hand again, feel your smooth palm against his again. It made him wonder if it would be the same if you hugged him. Would he still feel the weight of your arms around his neck? Would your body imprint against his after the embrace? Those thoughts were quick to lead him to wonder if he was to kiss you, would he still feel your lips against his? Would they be as soft as they looked?

“Jihoon?” Your voice filtered through his clouded thoughts, your head tilted in curiosity. “Are you going to sit? Should we find a bench instead?”

It was then he realized that he was still standing while you were now sitting and was using your bag as a table for the container and the sweet treats inside it. The very ones that you were excited for him to try and brought him to this moment.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, awkwardly sitting next to you on the grass, ignoring that it was still slightly damp from the morning dew. You didn’t seem to notice or care, so why should he? “So these are the lemon and orange bars?”

“Yes, and they are so good.” You lift the container lid to show him the lemon and orange curds resting on what looked like a pie crust type and topped with powdered sugar. The sweet smell of lemons and oranges met his nose, and he glanced up toward you. “Try the lemon first.”

He tentatively takes one of the yellow squares while you took the other, but you were too focused on watching his reaction; causing you to miss your mouth and hit your cheek instead. Jihoon couldn’t stop himself from laughing at your antics, thinking you were even cuter than he already did. Especially when you glanced at him to see if he had caught your blunder, not realizing that there was a little lemon left on your cheek.

Then he did something that neither of you expected. He reached over and swiped it away with his thumb before slipping it into his mouth, tasting the balance between the sweet and tartness. It left you sitting there stunned, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and completely speechless by the action. Heat started to burn at your cheeks, and there was a shine to your eyes.

Different from the usual one he would see, this one was a little darker as if the simple action did something more to you. One that Jihoon was hoping he wasn’t misreading, making his gaze drop to your lips. Parted slightly from his action; soft, plush, and inviting. He wanted to kiss away the surprised expression until you were giggling and smiling again.

Maybe one day he would be able to.

“You okay?” His question brought you back from your daze, with it being him to tilt his head in curiosity. Except that smile was more of a smirk now, attempting to hold onto this sudden boldness that was coursing through him.

“Uh, yeah…I just…” You break away from his gaze to look down at the lemon bar in your hands, your bottom now trapped between your teeth. You cast a glance back up to him, not expecting his focus to be on you; with a dark strand of hair falling over his brown. Just him sitting there looking at you like this made you struggle with your words. “Truth is… I...” You look like you were going to say something, or trying to get the courage to, before taking a slow deep breath. Looking at him again, you were now wearing a shy smile, “Let’s eat.”

Jihoon was a little disappointed when you changed the subject and possibly would have worried that he was overstepping had it not been for the way you were looking at him. Or how they were looking at his lips then back to his eyes. While he would be the first to admit that he not always the best at knowing if someone was interested in him, there was no mistaking that you had some interest in him.

Taking a bite of the treat, he took his time chewing it. Tasting the familiar lemon that he swiped off your cheek, now mixed with the crust and the powdered sugar. It was good, but he was more interested in your reaction, and the way your eyes lit up. Waiting for his reaction and/or opinion on it.

Swallowing, he took another bite before licking his lips of the powdered sugar and crumbs.

“Well?” You asked, and he nodded.

“It’s good.” He kept his response simple, finishing what was left in his hand. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the way your face then lit up, a happy smile stretching over your lips and back was that little bounce you had to you.

“Isn’t it? Wait until you try the orange one. It will change your life.” You hadn’t even taken a bite of yours yet, but you were already to grab the orange bar for him. This made him chuckle and shake his head.

“How about you finish the one in your hand, and then we can enjoy the orange ones together?” He suggested, feeling himself grow more comfortable with you by the second. How did he end up getting so lucky you were willing to spend your Saturday with him?

“Oh, okay…” Your words seemed to come out almost breathless, sucking in your bottom lip before releasing it and taking a bite of the bar in your hand. Jihoon couldn’t tear his gaze from your lips, now coated with powdered sugar before you tried to lick it all away.

Just that small action made his heart quicken and his breath catch. It made him think of how much sweeter this treat would taste on your lips, even better on your tongue. Shaking his head, he needed to get these thoughts out of his head, feeling borderline delusional almost.

“I seriously love these,” You told him, with it helping shake the thought of kissing you and brought his focus back to you sitting in front of him. You had taken the last bite of your lemon bar, looking at him as you did. Powdered sugar still all over your face, despite your attempts to lick it all away, his smile changing to a slight amused one. Only it made you blink in confusion, “Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re…” Jihoon let out a soft chuckle, motioning around his mouth as he said this, “You’re covered in powdered sugar.”

“Oh, shit, really?” You turned toward your bag to pull something before turning back with a playful smile now on your lips, before tapping them, “I can actually say the same thing for you.”

Jihoon’s hand flew up to his own mouth, wiping away the sugar that had collected at the corner of his lips, the blush that had subsided back with a vengeance. You giggled before reaching for his hand, cleaning the clumped up powder with a small blue handkerchief.

You didn’t let go right away, allowing him a better chance to feel how soft your hands were against his rougher ones, holding onto him longer than you probably should have but neither of you seem to care. When you finally let go, the ghost of your hand still lingered on his while you sat the handkerchief down and grabbed the remaining two bars.

“Now it is time to finally come to life.” You tease, handing over the bar, once more taking your time to move your hand away.

“I think I already did,” He said softly, not talking about the bars, and this time you wouldn’t look at him, paying attention to the orange treat in your hands. Together the two of you took a bite, and Jihoon couldn’t help but agree with you. The lemon bar was good, though he probably only liked it because you were there, but this one was actually delicious. “Wow.”

“Right?! Life changing.” You sigh happily, chewing happily at the pastry. “Do you come to these things often?”

“No, actually.” Jihoon answered honestly, already finishing the bar and you handed him the handkerchief to wipe away the sugar. “I typically just stay home, and if I need anything, I can just go by the corner shop.” He looks around the crowd of people to see if he could catch a glimpse of Wonwoo and Adri, but no luck. “My friend Wonwoo and his wife dragged me along today.”

“Oh, so here against your will I take it?” You ask, taking your time eating as you watched him with a curious gaze. He nodded. “Well, I don’t know how you feel about it, but I am happy that you were forced to come. I mean, how else will you try these amazing treats?”

“Me too,” He answered with a laugh, and the two of you slipped into a light conversation. With you asking him random questions about himself, which he answered, and you then answered his questions.

The fruit bars now long gone, but neither of you moved from your place in the grass. Not caring about the people walking by you, or the curious glances of people that knew you both. Lee Jihoon and you, sitting together, with you talking animatedly to him, laughing together, and he looked at you like you hung the sky.

“I should probably see where these two are.” Jihoon said at one point, pulling his phone out of his pocket to call Wonwoo. Honestly, he had almost completely forgotten that he had lost his friend in the crowd hours earlier, lost in talking with you. Hitting the call button on his friend’s contact, he held the phone to his ear as it rang.

Wonwoo answered after the first couple of rings.

“Hey, where you guys at?” As he listened to his friend’s response, Jihoon’s eyes stayed on you while you closed up the container that once held the bars. You were doing your best to not give away that you were listening in or hiding the look of disappointment on your face.

You were about to say your goodbyes and go your separate ways. Back to normal life, back to him just being a patron of the shop you work at, and back to you wishing you could say more. Hoping he would say more.

Fate can be a funny thing though. Since Wonwoo and Adri had left nearly an hour earlier and didn’t tell him.

“What you mean you two left?” Jihoon’s voice change caused you to look at him, watching the smile he was wearing turn to a deep frown. “I came with you guys. Why didn’t you call me, or come find me?”

“Sorry, Adri was getting a headache so I took her home so she can lay down. I was going to call you but…” Jihoon cut him off by an annoyed tsk, which he was sure was making his friend feel guilty. “Do you want me to come get you?”

“Jihoon.” You said softly, leaning toward him, stopping him from agreeing for his friend to come pick him up. He raised a brow at you, and you gave him a hopeful smile, “I can take you home or back to your car… Wonwoo doesn’t have to come all the way back to get you.”

“You sure?” He asked, proud of himself that he is keeping as calm as he was outwardly, because inside he felt like he was freaking out. He didn’t want to inconvenience you, even if you offered, but he also wasn’t exactly wanting to leave you yet.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” He was suddenly aware of how close you two actually were and that you were touching his arm. Your touch barely felt under the layers of clothes, but he could still feel the warmth coming from it.

“You know what, don’t worry about it.” Jihoon said into the phone after a minute, witnessing before his eyes as you lit up in a way that he hadn’t seen before. Hanging up with his friend, he couldn’t help but say something. “You seem excited to take me home.”

“What can I say?” Giving him a wink, you stood to brush the dirt off the back of your jeans before offering him your hand. Which he took and you helped him stand, and with your bottom lip between your lip you add. “I’m not ready to stop hanging out just yet.”

If you were able to see inside Jihoon’s chest, you would be able to see how quick his heart was beating and that his lungs were almost robbed of breath. There was no mistaken the way you were looking at him, eyes filled with adoration and how you were chewing your bottom lip, that you were interested in him. Interested in spending more time with him.

And it was not lost on either of you that you were still holding onto each other’s hands.

“Good, because I’m not either.”

It was well past one when you left the market together, with you talking animatedly as you lead him to your car. Your palm pressed against his clammy one, but you didn’t care so neither did he. Jihoon had left his car at Wonwoo’s, since he had rode with the couple that morning, and it surprised him when you told him you knew exactly where they lived.

“I know Adri through Ruby.” You told him when he went to question you, grabbing and handing over a large CD binder from behind you before buckling in. The bright blue binder heavy in his hands, “We’re taking the long way there though, so pick some tunes.”

“You still use CDs?” Jihoon asked, looking through the pages full of CDs, impressed that you still used them. So many, like him, had switched to playing music through an app on their phone or programmed into their car.

“It’s either that or the radio.” You tell him, “And I don’t feel the need to have some fancy Bluetooth set up in my car. Besides there is still something special about listening through a CD instead of through some app. Be sure to buckle up.”

Jihoon let out a laugh, doing as you told him, buckling in and choosing a CD from one of the pages. A Bruno Mars album. You pull off as the music started to play, and he turned it down so that you didn’t have to yell over it to be heard.

You weren’t lying when you said you were going to take the long way back to the couple’s home, taking as many back streets as possible. Conversations continued naturally like it had at the market, and of course you ended up rambling. Though this time you managed to keep it to three different stories that somehow intertwined, but he didn’t mind as long as he got to hear your voice and laugh more.

The afternoon sun shined bright through the car window, making you attempt the drop the visor and slip on the sunglasses that fell down; especially since the visor did nothing to help shield you from the rays. Leaving you grumbling between your responses in the conversation.

When you finally got to your destination, Jihoon didn’t make any motion to get out of the car. He stayed there so you could finish your story about when your cat got stuck in your ceiling.

“I had to call my brother, and he’s allergic to cats so it took so much convincing.” You sigh, dropping your head back against the headrest then looked his direction. Realizing that you may have taken over most the airtime in the car ride. “Sorry, I am rambling again.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind it.” He answered, waving off your concern before flashing you a grin. “Means I don’t have to as much.”

“I do it a lot when I’m nervous, but something tells me that if I can shut up long enough, you’d be a chatter box.”

“Do I make you nervous?” Jihoon asked you, watching with mild amusement as you realized what you had just said.

“Oh… uh… yeah, a little.” You stuttered out, looking down at your steering wheel before licking you lips. “I…” You let out a laugh, nervous but sweet sounding, “I…I kind of have a bit of a crush on you…”

“You do?” Turning your gaze toward him, you nodded which in turned made him laugh. “What you know…” Both of you suddenly became aware that you were now leaning toward each other. “I do too.”

A squeak left you before Jihoon finally closed the remaining distance to kiss you. It was brief, testing, but the soft pressure of your lips felt like heaven and the soft sigh that left you made him want to kiss you again.

“Wow…” Your voice was breathless, lightly brushing your fingers against you bottom lip, sitting back in your seat.

“I should get going…” Jihoon finally spoke after a moment, catching the way your nod was small and a little disappointing. He didn’t want to end this either, but if he didn’t get out of this car, he may never leave your side again. “Would you like to have dinner with me? Tomorrow night sound good?”

“I close the shop, but I can come by after if you don’t mind a late night dinner.” There was hopefulness in your eyes when you offered this but quickly blurted out. “Unless another night works better.”

“No, we can do a late dinner. My place?” You started to nod your head quickly in excitement, and it made him laugh at how cute you were being. Dropping his gaze to your lips, Jihoon had to hold himself back from diving in for another kiss. Part of him confident that this won’t be the last time he got to kiss them.

You exchange numbers, before he finally slipped out of the car after bidding you goodbye for now. His heart racing as he watched you pulled out of your parking spot, with a small wave and a smile that felt even better than the one you would give to anyone else.

This smile. It was just for Jihoon.

You were vibrating when you got back to your place, unable to contain the excitement or the cloud nine feeling that was coursing through you. The entire day felt like a dream but the gentle pressure of Jihoon’s lips lingering on yours was proof that it very much was real.

And now you were going to go on a date with him.

You barely were inside the small apartment before you were pulling out your phone to make a phone call. After a few rings, the person on the other end picked up.

“About time!” Adri’s voice filtered through the speaker. “I see that the plan worked?”

“It did! We’re having dinner tomorrow night.” You squeal into the phone, dropping back down onto your sofa and kicked your feet in excitement. “Adri, he’s so amazing… I didn’t want today to end, I didn’t want to leave him. I want to kiss him again.”

“Ugh, you are going to be even more insufferable about him now.” Her faux disgust made the two of you burst out into giggles.

Thank you for reading! I do hope you enjoyed this fic! I am not used to writing pure fluff so, but I did have fun writing this!

As always Reblogs, and comments are appreciated! It doesn't just let my fic reach more people, it also is great to know I am doing well!

Please be sure to check out all the other wonderful fics from this collab and show everyone love!

PANEL 2 — CLOSE ON YOU

You’re standing dead center, holding a coffee. You stare directly at the narration box with the expression of someone who's been dealing with this for far too long.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn it.

The narration box flickers.

NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next—

“NOPE,” you snap, grabbing the box mid‑air like it’s a misbehaving balloon. “We talked about this. No villain monologues before 9 a.m.” You fold the narration box until it is the approximate dimensions of a post-it note and shove it into your pocket.

The rest of the campus, meanwhile, bustles around you like nothing happened. Like it never happens. Like there isn't a floating narration box following you from birth and plotting your eventual fall from grace. You really should start looking into those therapy services offered by the mental health office. You know they can't help you with "being narrated since birth" but it's probably the next best thing, right?

Anyway, it's spring and, frankly, you're very tired.

You, Y/N, are the notorious campus queen: the stunning daughter of an affluent political family and the presumed villainous antagonistic force in Kim Mingyu's, your childhood friend, star-crossed love story. For three volumes and counting, you, Mingyu and Lee Ara have fallen into a rhythmic dance of misunderstandings, relationship dramas, and flashy battles all leading to one, inevitable conclusion: Mingyu and Ara will fall in love and live happily ever after.

Or that's how it's supposed to work.

Except none of that happens in the shadows, the white spaces that the Writer's pen never quite fills in. Those are the places where characters come to life in ways even the omnipotent Writer can't see coming. Like when Mingyu saved you from a car last spring. Or that night you snuck into the school pool together and splashed around instead of studying. When it was just the two of you, when no one could see, no one was writing. When everything seemed perfectly scripted without a script.

In those moments, when the narration box couldn't reach you, nothing else seemed quite as important as his smile.

Until the next scene began, that was.

You don't remember when you and Mingyu became aware of the fact that none of this was real. You always thought that you were losing your memory, wondering how you ended up at home when you were just in class seconds ago, how so much time seemed to pass without your realizing it. It didn't click until you were aimlessly roaming the school halls one afternoon and noticed the air fluttering unnaturally around you, things moving floating out of place in the corner of your vision and an unsettling feeling of something. A presence? A monster? A force beyond your knowing and naming trying to reach out to you.

When you talked to people, they'd be confused or dismissive, thinking you're joking. And when you'd ask them again some time later, they wouldn't know what you meant and keep repeating the same responses over and over, no matter how many times you would try and ask, hoping it'd finally ilicit a different response.

Finally, you tried talking to Mingyu about what was happening to you, only to find Mingyu was feeling exactly the same way. That things were happening without his express conscious will, and he felt the presence of something vaguely sinister outside of his direct sphere.

That's when you both realized the absurd, nonsensical reality that you're living in a webtoon, in a narrative world crafted by someone who felt very little need or concern for either of your agency. That something, a presence beyond human knowledge and imagination, was dictating and guiding you along towards an end goal: an inevitable romance between Kim Mingyu, the male lead, and Lee Ara, the female lead, and you're left to be the evil side character who had to be defeated for Mingyu and Ara to obtain their Happy Ever After.

Which sucks ass because you really like Mingyu. Maybe even a little too much. And you know, deep down, that the feeling is mutual. The Writer might make you do whatever she wants to further the plot, like flirt with Mingyu against your will during scripted love tropes. But whenever the writer isn't actively intervening, you get to be just you and Mingyu, and not the fictional, plot-dictated versions of you two that are forced together by the writer. You wonder sometimes, if it wasn't for this damned world, if you'd be happily dating each other.

You feel the narration box wriggling in your pocket, desperate to escape and comment. To announce loudly, obviously that you'll do whatever you can to disrupt Kim Mingyu and Lee Ara from meeting, but ultimately end up helping the course of fate along because the Writer makes it so. Because the narrative demands a twist at the very last second, and Kim Mingyu can't end up with you.

With a sigh, you take the now much smaller narration box out and unfold it, letting its words be absorbed back into reality:

NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next loser plan to keep our golden boy and pure maiden away from each other.

"I fucking hate you," you mutter under your breath.

Just then, a slim figure rounds the corner: Lee Ara in all of her oblivious perfection, wearing a fluffy dress that no college student would survive in, looking very much like she is running towards you.

PANEL 3 — BUST SHOT: YOU, GLOWERING.

Your lips curl up into your default, scheming smile. You really wish it didn't feel so natural.

PANEL 4 — EXTREME CLOSE UP ON LEE ARA.

Her hair blows dramatically out of the way as she stares determinedly ahead like this isn't a typical, daily interaction for the two of you. You can't tell if it's supposed to look brave or goofy, but it sure isn't intimidating.

"Ara, you look absolutely stunning today," you feel your eye twitch as the words leave your mouth, words you didn't choose, didn't want to say, words that materialized on your tongue like someone else is operating your vocal cords.

Which, technically, someone was.

Ara blinks up at you with those impossibly wide doe eyes. "Oh! Um, thank you? That's... really nice of you to say."

No, it fucking isn't, you thought viciously, even as your face arranges itself into what you know is a calculated, mean-girl smirk.

"I just wanted to say," your mouth continues without your permission, and you feel the familiar horror of a scripted scene taking over, "that dress is so brave. Not everyone could pull off that... particular shade of yellow."

There it is. The backhanded compliment. Right on schedule.

Ara's face falls slightly, and you want to scream. You helped her pick out that dress last week during your actual, off-page friendship that the Writer conveniently ignores. You told her the sunshine yellow made her look like bottled happiness.

"Oh," Ara says softly. "I... thank you?"

"If you like looking like you're blocking traffic, then feel free to keep wearing it," you snort and then the scene releases you like a puppet with cut strings, and you immediately grab Ara's arm. "Wait, that came out wrong—"

PANEL 5 — ARA TURNS.

She's already walking away, and you know why. The Writer has got what they wanted: another moment of you being terrible to the heroine. Another panel of the villainess doing villainess things.

You stand there in the middle of the quad, students flowing around you like water around a stone, and contemplate the very real possibility of screaming until your throat bleeds.

"Rough scene?"

You don't have to turn around to know who it is. You recognize that voice anywhere. It's the voice that makes your stomach do complicated acrobatic routines, the one that belongs to your best friend since childhood, the one that's supposed to fall in love with Ara and definitely not with you.

"Mingyu," you say, turning to face him. "I just told Ara her dress makes her look like a jaundiced traffic cone. How do you think it went?"

Mingyu winces, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. He's wearing his usual off-scene outfit: an oversized hoodie that's seen better days, glasses slightly askew, hair unstyled and falling into his eyes. He looks nothing like the chiseled, perfectly-coiffed golden boy who appeared in the actual comic panels.

"Ouch," he says. "Did you at least get to apologize before the scene ended?"

"Tried. She walked away. The Writer probably needed her to be sad for the next panel where you comfort her and she realizes she has feelings for you for the millionth time," you make a gagging noise. "I hate this. I hate all of this."

"I know," Mingyu falls into step beside you as you start walking toward your next class. "I had a scene this morning where I had to flex at the gym for fifteen minutes while Ara watched from the doorway. Fifteen minutes, Y/N. Do you know how long fifteen minutes of flexing is?"

Despite everything, you snort. "Did you at least get a good pump?"

"I got a cramp in my left bicep and the overwhelming desire to go home and read my economics textbook," he pauses. "Which I did, by the way. Chapter twelve is fascinating. Did you know that—"

"Mingyu, I love you, but if you start explaining supply and demand curves right now, I will push you into that trash can."

The words hung in the air for a moment. I love you. You said it all the time, had said it for years, best friends who'd grown up together and know each other's every secret.

But lately, the words felt heavier.

Mingyu's ears turned red, they always did when you said it, even casually, and he clears his throat. "Right. No economics. Got it."

You reach your classroom and stop, turning to face him fully. He's tall, he'd always been tall, but he hunches slightly, like he's trying to take up less space. It's such a contrast to his on-page persona, where he stands with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted himself a day in his life.

"Same time tonight?" you ask. "My place? We can finish studying for that chem mid."

His face splits into a grin, a wide, boyish one that makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. "Definitely," he agrees. "Maybe without the interruption this time."

PANEL 6 — ARA WALKING TOWARDS MINGYU

"And here I go," you mutter, "back to fading into the background so these two can have their meet-cute."

"I'm really sorry," Mingyu says again, "and I know that doesn't mean anything. I hope I can—"

NARRATION: ...Kim Mingyu notices his true love standing alone in the corner, a beautiful flower ready to bloom into...

"You changed into your jock gear," you note, sounding unimpressed, as Mingyu looks down and realizes that yes, he's wearing the clothes his character usually wears to work out instead of the sweater he wore before.

"Fuck," he sighs, "Here I go, I guess."

"You want me to text you after?" you ask him.

He nods, giving you a strained smile, and says, "Please."

PANEL 7 — SLOW ZOOM-IN ON ARA'S FLAWLESS SKIN AS SHE LOOKS UP AND ATTENDS MINGYU'S DAZZLING SMILE, HEARTS POPPING AROUND HER AS WE DRAMATICALLY FOCUS IN ON MINGYU.

"Ara! Just the girl I wanted to see."

You let out a long sigh, before turning away from the pair. Your story might be stuck in this linear route, but you really don't have to stick around and watch the love of your life play his part in this tale.

PANEL 8 — Y/N WALKS AWAY, SHOULDERS HUNCHED, BACKGROUND BLURRING INTO SOFT PASTELS AS THE ROMANTIC SCENE CONTINUES BEHIND HER

Each step away feels like wading through honey. You can hear Ara's delighted laugh behind you, that genuine, sweet sound that makes you hate yourself for being scripted to hurt her. You can hear Mingyu's voice doing that thing: that confident, flirty thing that isn't him at all.

The real Mingyu stutters when he's nervous. The real Mingyu talks about economic theory at 2AM and falls asleep with his glasses on.

But the Writer doesn't care about the real Mingyu.

PANEL 9 — CLOSE-UP ON Y/N'S FACE, EXPRESSION CAREFULLY NEUTRAL, BUT EYES BETRAYING PAIN

NARRATION: Meanwhile, the villainess retreats to lick her wounds, knowing she can never compete with—

"Oh, fuck off," you snap, reaching up to grab the narration box again. It's vibrating indignantly, trying to narrate your heartbreak into something convenient for the plot.

You squeeze it harder.

"You don't get to narrate this. This part is mine."

Which, well, is kind of accurate, because it’s Hansol’s dad’s coat. Chan had fallen in a mud patch last night when the pair stumbled back after a night out drinking with their friends, and Hansol’s parents have always treated Chan like a second son and happily dote on him, so lending him a clean, cosy coat wasn’t even debated.

But the point is, it’s the middle of winter, Chan is fucking freezing, and Hansol has made him join him in the field to meet the new vet, who will apparently be overseeing the ewes through lambing season— not that Chan knows what that means. And Chan has no interest in this, but Hansol is persuasive in the way he stares without blinking until his opponent relents, and it freaks the fuck out of Chan, so he always relents.

“Are you sure I can’t curl up in the middle of them? They look so warm,” Chan bemoans, looking longingly at the huddle of sheep a little bit away from them, practically able to see steam rising from their fluffy bodies in the chilly air.

“Very positive that you cannot curl up amongst pregnant ewes, Chan,” Hansol confirms flatly, eyes on the near distance where a car is driving along the dirt tracks of the Choi farm towards the field they’re standing at the edge of.

“Ewe means lady sheep, right?” Chan checks, and Hansol gives him a flat look in response, before snorting a laugh, then looks away. “What?”

“Would I say they’re pregnant if they were gentlemen sheep?”

“I…I think I’m too hungover.”

“Nah, you’re always a dumbass,” Hansol retorts teasingly, then pushes off of the fence to approach one of the farm dogs who has something in his mouth that Hansol needs to chase him for the next few minutes to get out— turns out, it was a lump of mud; at least, Chan hopes it was mud.

“Hey, you’re new,” the voice behind Chan makes him turn, and instantly, his expression slides into something awed, because standing a little on the other side of the fence is the most beautiful being he’s ever laid eyes on. In response, Chan lets out something that sounds vaguely like something died painfully in his throat.

“Hey, doc!” Hansol calls out, and Chan watches entranced as this ethereal entity before him waves back with a smile that makes Chan suddenly love the farm.

“I think your new farm boy isn’t awake yet,” you muse as you approach to lean on the fence a little to Chan’s left, and he turns towards you like a flower to the sun. Or a suddenly-in-love man towards the woman of his dreams.

“No farm boy, he hates the farm, but he’s my best friend so he doesn’t have a choice,” Hansol informs with a grin.

“I love farm. Love sheep. Lady sheep. Ewes,” Chan babbles, wide eyes glued to you. You give him a look, a little concerned, but mostly amused, then slide your eyes to Hansol, and give the farmer a questioning look.

“Yeah, we don’t know what’s wrong with him either.”

“Sheep,” Chan whispers, and you give him a look, giggle— and he maybe lets out a little almost pained whimper in response—, before you effortlessly clamber over the fence to join Hansol in approaching the sheep.

Chan, of course, waddles around in a circle as you pass him so that he can keep his attention on you. He has no idea what you’re doing as you kneel beside the first pregnant lady sheep— ewe— with your bag of equipment to do…stuff, but he thinks it’s probably the most important and skilful thing ever, and nobody can ever do it better than you.

Suddenly, Chan doesn’t feel the cold, not when your smile and soft tone as you speak to the sheep warms him up from his very soul. Chan’s pretty convinced he could be standing there butt naked and feel warm under your smile. Then, he thinks that you’d probably not be smiling if a stranger was standing in front of you naked in a field of sheep in the middle of winter. He also thinks he wouldn’t be smiling as he imagines the sheep trying to nibble on something else instead of the coat protecting him from the cold, and he shudders at the thought, winces, and subconsciously puts his hands over his crotch.

“Dude, you better not be getting hard because a pretty lady smiled at you,” Hansol’s voice suddenly warns in a hiss in Chan’s ear, making him jump and look at his best friend in shock, having not noticed him approach.

“Do sheep bite genitals?” Chan whispers, horrified at the thought. Hansol gives him an incredulous look, before walking confidently back over to you in a way that Chan wishes he could, but he knows the damn coat makes him waddle like a particularly plump penguin. He doesn’t want you to think of him as a particularly plump penguin, he doesn’t want you to think of him as a penguin at all, plump or buff. He wants you to think of him as a handsome, suave young man who you would happily take home to introduce to your parents as your handsome, suave husband. Okay, boyfriend first, husband later.

Far too soon— at least in Chan’s mind—, you get up, shoulder your bag, and walk side by side with Hansol towards the gate a little further down the fence. Before he knows it, you’re getting into your Jeep— at least, Chan assumes it’s a Jeep, he doesn’t know anything about cars, nor is he paying enough attention to anything but you to notice the brand name—, sharing another laugh and quick verbal exchange with Hansol, giving Chan a polite wave, and then driving off. Chan lifts his arm so fast that he smacks himself in the face, but you’re already gone because he was too stunned by your sudden attention on him to even register it until it was over. He’s kind of glad of that because it means you didn’t see his embarrassing action.

Unfortunately, Hansol saw, and he’s leaning over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes with laughter. “Dude!” he cackles. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?” he asks, barely able to straighten up to look at his best friend as he continue to laugh so hard Chan thinks he might start choking any second.

“Nothing. I’m normal. Totally normal about everything and everyone I’ve seen today,” Chan replies before abruptly crossing the grass between them to grab Hansol’s face and lock his wide, unsettling gaze on the suddenly no longer laughing man. “How do I become a vet assistant? Specifically hers?”

Hansol pulls a face, then laughs again and nudges Chan away. “You’re hopeless, man.”

“I’d be a good vet’s assistant to her! I’d do anything she asks!”

“Pretty sure that’s called being a simp.”

“Well…if it works.”

“I can’t believe you’re obsessed with someone you didn’t say a coherent sentence to,” Hansol deadpans as he heads out of the field, and Chan scrambles to follow— making sure to shut the gate securely behind them and the dogs, he’s not entirely useless with farm stuff, you know.

“Shit, you’re right,” Chan mutters. Hansol looks at him as if he expects Chan to chill out and be normal about you, at least he does until the shorter man opens his mouth again. “Do you think if I hide for a couple months and you pretend I don’t exist and she imagined me today, that she’ll forget about me and I can come back and start fresh?”

“Dude, no!” He even shoves his friend into a bush for added effect; it works, Chan gets the point.

“Okay, no gaslighting, you’re right,” Chan concedes as he pulls himself out of the bush as if nothing happened. “I could never keep away from my future wife from that long anyway, and I definitely don’t want her to forget about me.”

“You don’t even know her name.”

That gives Chan pause, quite literally. He stops on the grass and Hansol continues on obliviously towards the house. Or more likely, Hansol knows that his best friend is no longer actively following him and is enjoying the moment of calm while he has it.

It’s a few minutes before Chan has caught up with Hansol where he’s waiting on the back porch, dogs all shuffling around his feet and the door as they wait to be let back inside. But Hansol knows his mother hates the winter air and feels it so much easier than most people, so he doesn’t want the door to open more than necessary so that there’s less cold being let in to attack his mother.

“What’s her name?” Chan asks as soon as he’s clambered up the few wooden steps. Hansol just rolls his eyes, and now finally opens the door to let the dogs dart in first, then follows with Chan at the back. Automatically, once the door is shut, Chan nudges the draft excluder back into place along the bottom of it, also aware of Hansol’s mother’s weakness for the chill, and not wanting to make his pseudo-mother face it without reason.  

The pair are removing their shoes when the woman herself shuffles into the entrance hall. “How’re the ewes?” she checks. Hansol just gives a thumbs up, but that’s all she needs anyway. “Oh, Channie, what happened to you?” She frowns as she frets over the leaves and tiny twigs in his hair and dotted over the long coat.

“Sol pushed me into a bush,” Chan answers, then grins smugly when Hansol’s mother turns to scold her son, who glares harmlessly at his best friend before toddling off to the kitchen, drawn in by the scent of fresh, spicy food sure to warm him up. “Hey, you know the new vet?” Chan checks as the woman helps him out of the coat, picking off the bush debris as she goes.

“Mm, she’s lovely, isn’t she?”

“The loveliest,” Chan enthuses, head bobbing with his thorough agreement, and the woman smiles at him in an amused, knowing way that Chan doesn’t even notice. “I didn’t catch her name.”

“Oh, no?” She grins, hanging up the coat before turning and following her son’s path into the kitchen. Chan follows her little a lost little duckling. “You didn’t catch the good doctor’s name, love?”

“No,” Chan complains, dropping into his usual space at the breakfast table with a pout. “Will you tell it to me? Sol’s being a butthead.”

“You’re 25 years old and you just said butthead,” Hansol’s father comments from his own place. “Call him an asshole, Chan, go on.” Which earns the man a light slap to the back of his head from his wife, but he’s grinning, and Hansol is grinning, and Chan can’t help but join in.

“Don’t encourage bad habits, mister!” the woman exclaims.

“Ah, but you used to love my bad habits, my beautiful wife,” he coos, hooking one arm around her waist as she passes, to pull her in while giving her a sleazy look.

“Seriously, dad?” Hansol complains. “I’m trying to eat, don’t bring up your youth together, it’s gross.”

“Excuse you! We were hot shit in our youth, even hotter together!”

“Disgusting,” Hansol comments, not even pretending that he’s not grinning amusedly, before he puts a spoonful of warming, spicy soup into his mouth, makes a pleased sound, then tuckers in, closing out the rest of the world around him.

Having known Hansol for his entire life, the three know he will be a useless conversationalist until he’s finished his bowlful— and probably a second, maybe even third— and naturally turn away from him to continue talking without him.

“I’ve seen photos of you both when you were young,” Chan comments, nodding along. “I think you were both hot shit for sure.”

“Thank you, Chan,” Hansol’s father replies, and reaches over to approvingly pat Chan’s arm. “Knew we kept you around for a reason.”

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” Chan grins, then abruptly turns serious. “But seeing as you both love me so much and consider me your baby boy—”

“We do?”

“Yes, dad,” Chan confirms, and the couple just smile, amused and fond of their pseudo-son and his weird, shameless personality.

“Okay, son, what of it?”

“You’ll tell me the name of the new vet, right?”

The couple share a look before Hansol’s dad nods and tells Chan your full name. Immediately, Chan lets out a dreamy sigh and props his head on his palm, elbow already braced on the table. He thinks it’s the most perfect name to have ever existed, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life saying it.

It’s a week before Chan sees you again, purely because every time he’s tried to oh so casually enter the vets and cross paths with you, he quickly realises that you’re out at another farm being competent and beautiful where he can’t admire you; a great shame, really.

Still, he’s persistent and has far too much time on his hands outside of his own working hours, so he keeps trying until he peers in through the glass wall at the front of the building, and spots you standing on the other side of the reception desk, looking at a file.

Without hesitation, Chan quickly scuttles to the door and enters the building, doing his best to be cool and confident. And it works, he genuinely looks very suave and put together, at least until you lift your head upon hearing someone approach, and he almost trips on his own foot the moment your eyes meet his.

He’s too busy flailing his arms out to catch himself on the desk and straighten up to notice the way you smile in amusement and something that looks an awful lot like you think he’s cute in his foolishness.

“Good evening, how can I help you?” you greet, leaning onto the high desk on your elbows only a few feet from Chan.

He squeaks when he realises how close you are, and jumps back, hands rapidly straightening out his coat— his own this time, and actually suited to his body, not drowning him. “Hi–hi.”

“Hi.” You grin.

“I uhm, I’m Chan!”

“Mm, I know; we met at the Choi farm last week. Hansol introduced us, but you were mumbling about lady sheep.”

“Ewes! Lady sheep are called ewes! I know animal stuff!” he insists, sounding like a child trying to convince an adult that they have knowledge they don’t really have.

“They are, well done, Chan,” you approve, and Chan positively beams, straightening up proudly. “Did you come in to introduce yourself?”

“No, no, I would like to volunteer.”

“Here?” you check, leaning up to stand straight, his eyes following you as if he can’t bear to miss a single moment. It’s all very obvious, and honestly, you think it’s adorable.

“Yes, here. With you.”

“With me? I specialise in farm animals, so I’m not here a lot,” you inform.

“I love farms.”

“Right.” You snigger and move over to the filing cabinet to grab a form, then return to hand it to him. “Here, fill this out.”

Chan nods and moves forward to take a pen from the pot a little to his left, and diligently fill out the volunteer registration form, while you return to looking at your files. Or, at least, you try to look at your files, but you’re honestly very intrigued by the man; and yes, he’s very attractive and you’re not blind to that, or his clear interest in you.

Admittedly, you wouldn’t be against going on a date with Chan to get to know him, there’s something so endearing about him— and once again, he’s very visibly pleasing, so that’s always a happy bonus. However, he flusters so easily that you think it’d be so entertaining to watch him flounder around you for a while until he gains the courage to ask you on a date himself.

Plus, you could do with a helper, and you know he’s only pretending to care about animals to be near you, so you think it’s only fair you take advantage of that and put him to good use while you can.

“There, all done,” he announces a few minutes later, lifting his head and shyly offering you the completed form, which you immediately look over just to make sure that he’s suitable for the role, at least on paper. He doesn’t seem to have any medical issues that could cause a problem, and he’s stated he has a lot of hours to put towards volunteering, so he definitely seems to be a good fit.

“What are you willing to do exactly? There are a lot of misconceptions that people come in with when they want to volunteer; they think they’ll essentially get to just play with cute puppies and kittens that come in for treatment, and they fail to consider all the shit they’ll have to handle. Often, literal shit. Especially if you’re with me and the farm animals; I don’t think I need to tell you that you will step in shit on a farm, even if you try to avoid it.”

“I know. I grew up with Hansol; his parents are my second parents, so I was sort of raised on the farm too,” he assures, nodding. Which is the truth, technically. Chan did spend a lot of time at the Choi farm growing up, and still does, but mostly in the house or orchard around back, not with the animals so much. And he certainly doesn’t know how to look after them in any way, but he doesn’t think you’d be reckless enough to leave him to look after animals, so he’s not worried about that.

“Have you tended to the animals there?”

“No,” he admits a little sheepishly. “But I’m willing to learn and do whatever you want me to.”

“Whatever I want you too, huh?” you repeat, lips turning up a little.

Chan blinks at you, lips parted slightly due to the sudden, seductive expression that makes him feel a little like he’s been dipped in a pool of warm, melted wax. Fuck, he hopes you’re into wax play because he suddenly is really into it, even if he’s never participated or been interested before. He thinks he’d probably try everything at least once if you asked.

It’s only a second that the smirk lives on your lips before it melts away as if it was never there, and Chan briefly wonders if he imagined it and the insinuation, before he gathers his brain back up and nods.

“Good to know. When can you start?”

“Now. Right now. I have nothing to do.”

“Nobody waiting for you at home?” you wonder, moving to grab your coat from where you earlier put it on the back of a chair, knowing you’d need it again soon.

“I’m single!” he blurts. “Very, very single.” You just giggle amusedly and tuck the files and his form into the cabinet before locking it up, grabbing your bag, and circling the desk to hold it out to him. Chan takes it without question, big, round eyes locked on you from only a few feet away.

“Come on, I’ve got a patient to visit,” you inform and head out of the building.

Chan lets out an excited gasp as he realises that you’ve agreed to spend time with him— he pointedly doesn’t focus on the fact that it’s for work, not personal reasons— and scrambles after you with a grin, determined to be the best assistant ever so that you’ll fall hopelessly in love with him and let him remain by your side until the world stops spinning.

As it turns out, Chan is a very competent helper, as long as you don’t watch him for too long because then he gets flustered and forgets how to function like a normal human being. Other than his mishaps, he’s actually pretty proud of himself for doing such a good job. Sometimes, he’s even so focused on the work that he forgets that he stepped into the vets that day with the sole purpose of being near you.

Though, even with his original plan often being forgotten, it still works in his favour, and the two of you spend so much time together that friendship soon blooms.

When Chan’s not flustering or just staring at you dumbly as if he can’t believe you’re real, he’s actually very naturally charming and friendly, and very skilled at making you laugh. The first time he made you properly laugh, he mentally declared your laughter to be one of the great wonders of the world, and that he’ll do what he can to earn it at every chance. Which is something he achieves almost effortlessly. He thinks that when the two of you aren’t focused on work, you’re both laughing away together and chatting happily as if you’ve known one another for years, not just a month.

It gets to the point that, although he is still utterly enamoured with you and would love to hold your hand and kiss your pretty face, he is more than happy to just spend time with you, making you laugh, and seeing you smile as you tend to patients with nothing but love and care in your touch and eyes.

Even when the two of you start to hang out outside of working hours, it’s nothing but platonic, nothing he wouldn’t do with Hansol because Chan truly doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or risk losing your friendship. He’d rather be at your side like this than not at all, and he has no intention of even trying to change anything, despite what his friends say.

“So, how’s the woman of your dreams doing?” Seungkwan asks, fiddling with Hansol’s hair where it pokes out from his beanie, and Hansol just lets him, long ago used to Seungkwan’s fussing.

“Dreamy,” Chan replies, sighing happily as he slumps forward over the table at their usual bar, leaning his chin on one palm as his other hand mindlessly traces patterns into the condensation on his glass of coke. Usually, he’d be drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage, but he knows that you’ve gone out with some friends tonight, and he told you that you can call him if you need a ride, no matter how late, so he’s refraining from drinking tonight all for you.

“Right,” Seungkwan replies with a snigger, then turns, done fussing with Hansol, yet doesn’t move away and Chan isn’t so caught up in his own pining to not notice that the pair are even closer than normal. Which says something, because Chan thinks the two are almost attached at the hip when the three of them hang out.

“What’s going on?” Chan asks as he straightens up, giving the pair a suspicious look. Hansol, for his part, doesn’t really react, just continues looking over at Chan as he sips at his beer.

Seungkwan, however, has never had a good poker face, and gives Chan a too innocent smile as his ears redden. “I don’t know what you mean, Channie.”

“You two–” Chan starts to point out their position— and the fact he’s pretty damn sure Hansol’s hand is on Seungkwan’s thigh under the table— but he hears a familiar, heart fluttering, angelic sound, and he sits upright, head swivelling to search the bar for the one person he would happily ditch his best friends for.

“Oh, you’ve turned into a meerkat,” Seungkwan muses, relaxing in his place and giving Hansol a relieved look while Chan is distracted. Hansol just smiles at him, then they both focus on their best friend, who is practically climbing up onto his chair on his knees to get a higher vantage point. “Okay, too far,” Seungkwan declares when Chan’s leg lifts as if he’s going to plant a knee on the table to climb up. Or piss like a dog with his leg cocked, though Seungkwan is pretty sure that Chan needs to be much drunker to try that…again. That was a dark day for Chan’s new trainers.

“Noo, let me find her,” Chan whines, batting at Seungkwan’s hands, head still trying to peer around the fairly busy room.

“How about you go get us a fresh round, and you can scope the place like that?” Hansol suggests after draining the last dregs of his beer, before pushing the empty glass across the table.

“Good idea!” Chan quickly snatches the empty glass and gets up, whining at Seungkwan wordlessly as the man tries to down the last of his own beer without spilling it. “Finally!” Chan exclaims exasperatedly as he takes the freshly empty glass and darts off, while Seungkwan’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, and Hansol rubs his back, soothing and amused at the same time.

As Chan crosses the room to get to the bar on the opposite side as the tables, skirting around the dance floor as he goes, he makes sure to keep his eyes open for you— and only walks into three people, which he thinks is a very low number for how busy it is mixed with not paying attention. Yet, no matter how hard he looks, he can’t find you, or hear your familiar laugh again, so he slumps against the bar and waits to be served.

He’s only there a minute and the bartender is working on refilling the glasses when someone approaches and leans on their elbows on the bar to his right. Naturally, Chan looks over and immediately lights up upon spotting you already grinning at him.

“I knew I heard your laugh!” he declares, and although it would probably be creepy from anyone else, you just find it cute from Chan and let out one of those laughs he loves so much. “Yeah, like that.” He sighs dreamily and leans one elbow on the bar so that he can fully face you.

“What happened to keeping yourself available for me tonight?” you muse.

“I’m always available for you,” he says, looking so serious and almost offended that you’d suggest otherwise. The audacity to think that he wouldn’t do literally anything to spend more time with you. It’s crazy talk.

“Oh yeah?” you question, and he nods, then looks to his left at the bar top when you motion to it. He spots the beers and understands.

“Those aren’t mine. They’re for my friends. You remember Hansol, right?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We were at his farm yesterday.”

“Well, yeah, him and our other best friend, Seungkwan. I think they’re dating or something now,” he announces, leaning in closer conspiratorially. You mirror his action with a grin, more than happy to go along with it. “They’ve always sat close, but tonight, they’re even closer, and I’m pretty sure Sol’s touching up Kwan under the table.”

“That doesn’t sound very public friendly,” you muse.

“Oh! Not in that way; I just meant has his hand on Kwan’s thigh. But now you’ve said that… I really hope it’s not in that way.” Chan isn’t sure what exactly his expression does, but it makes you laugh, so he doesn’t care, and just grins at you. “So, where are your friends?” he wonders, peering around curiously yet finds nobody looking in your direction as if they’re waiting for you to return.

“They were touching each other up under the table, so I ditched them,” you joke, and Chan laughs.

“Well, you can join us, if you want?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Will there be under the table touching?” You smirk, and Chan’s mind blanks as he stares at you dumbly, making you giggle. “Sure, I’d love to join you, if your friends won’t mind, that is.”

“They won’t. Kwan wants to meet you, and Sol already likes you.”

“Ah, that’s cool, I like him.”

Chan suddenly pouts at you, but you don’t notice, you’re too busy leaning forward onto the bar to flag down the bartender and order yourself a drink. Even when he hands his card to the bartender— without looking— Chan is still pouting at you. You look at him as you spot his bank card appear, and raise a questioning eyebrow at him, both for the paying for your drink, and the expression.

“What?” you ask, deciding to just accept the drink and face the pouting instead. You can always buy him a drink later anyway.

“You like me better, right?” he questions without losing his pout. You huff a soft laugh. “No?”

“Yes, idiot,” you assure, and Chan breams, despite you just calling him an idiot. “And if you must know, I think you’re very likely my favourite person in his town,” you declare, tone a little quieter, lower, as if it’s just the two of you, before you pick up your drink and turn away. Though Chan doesn’t follow, so you stop after a few steps and look back at his stunned, gawping figure. “Well, come on then, introduce me to the man Hansol’s touching up under the table.”

“Right!” Chan darts forward, intending to take you to the table as requested, yet you put a gentle hand on his chest to stop him, giggling amusedly. “Huh?”

“Didn’t you forget something?” you remind him and motion behind him at the bar, so Chan looks over and notices the two glasses of beer sitting there with his bank card left on the surface beside them.

“Oh, shit.” He rushes over to pocket his card, then grabs the drinks and turns to face you with an embarrassed little grin. “This way.”

At the table, Seungkwan lights up when Chan introduces you and says you’re joining them, and you grin back before joining them and easily get into conversation with Seungkwan as if you already know each other. As if you’ve always been around. As if you’re supposed to be here with them, right by Chan’s side.

Since the day in the bar where you spent hours with Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan, Seungkwan has bugged Chan to ask you out at every available opportunity.

Because he’s a meddling little shit, Seungkwan has arranged many hang outs for the four of you. Which, to Chan, are increasingly feeling like double dates, despite the fact that Hansol and Seungkwan are still evasive about whatever is going on between them, and you never bat an eyelid about the growing romantic vibes to the hang outs.

You don’t even question it or back off when you arrive to Seungkwan’s apartment set up with slow, romantic music and candles. Or when Seungkwan insists you and Chan slow dance together after dinner. Okay, maybe that’s Chan’s fault. After he offhandedly mentions how he hasn’t danced with someone in a while, you say the same, and then Seungkwan goads the two of you on until you relent, pull Chan to his feet, and put his hand on your waist— Chan’s pretty sure he astrally projects for a second when that happens— in the middle of Seungkwan’s kitchen while the man himself watches on with a shit-eating grin.

Still, Chan doesn’t give in and is happy to continue as you are. Admittedly, he could be even happier if he got the chance to romance you, but he’s more than content being such good friends with you.

He really doesn’t expect you to feel otherwise, though.

It comes to a head completely out of the blue one morning, when Chan is using his day off to help you organise your so-rarely-used office at the vets. The fact it’s so rarely used is why it’s such a mess. Well, mess in the way there’s no obvious system and things are just placed everywhere, yet you always manage to find what you need quickly enough that you hadn’t wanted to block off any of your appointment times to tackle the task earlier. But it’s spring, and the local ewes have all started to pop out lambs left, right, and centre, so you haven’t been accepting appointments other than emergencies, just in case you get the call about a sheep in labour.

Chan isn’t aware of it, he’s too busy frowning in concentration down at the pile of books on the floor in front of him where he’s sitting as he tries to decide which ones you should display on your shelves and which should go in the closed cupboard, but you’ve been staring at him contemplatively for a good few minutes already.

When you speak, Chan jolts in surprise, first at the sudden noise, but then at the words that come out of your mouth. “Okay, are you going to ask me on a date, or am I going to have to do it?” You wait for a response for only a few seconds before taking his dumb expression and wide eyes as answer. “Alright, tonight at 6:30, pick me up and we’ll go to that Italian place Seungkwan keeps telling us to try. Okay?” It takes a few moments, but Chan manages to shut his mouth and nod in confirmation, slowly at first still in disbelief, but then the enthusiasm catches up and his head bobbles cutely, making you smile. “Good. Dress pretty for me, yeah?”

“Y–yeah,” he almost wheezes out, voice so pinched and quiet. But you just giggle and return to your work, so Chan takes a few moments to admire your smile and wait for his thundering heart to calm before he turns back to those books and then sighs forlornly. He wishes it was 6:30 already. Only eight hours left to go. Fuck.

Chan would like to say that he’s been cool and calm for the past hours. He’d like to say that he easily picked his outfit for the date with minimal deliberation, that he didn’t have three almost breakdowns, and that Seungkwan didn’t almost shake Chan’s brain out of his ears when he did nothing but stand in his shower for half an hour without even turning the water on— yes, Seungkwan did barge in on him, and no, Seungkwan doesn’t understand what privacy is.

Truthfully, Chan thinks he’s never been so nervous for anything in his life. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked at himself in the mirror and picked out every little thing someone could find as a fault, as a reason to leave him in the middle of a restaurant with only breadsticks and ice water to soothe his broken heart.

Realistically, Chan knows you’d never be so cruel, but he’s not Realistic Chan anymore, he’s Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan. And Chan hates being Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan, it’s too much of a mouthful.

So, Chan does what Chan does best, and deludes himself into thinking he’s a normal, functioning young man entirely capable of going on this date and not acting like a love-sick freak.

Well, he deludes himself until the moment you step out of your house and steal his breath away. You’re wearing a pretty dress that stops just above your knees— as if that’s not reason enough for Chan to lose his mind like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time—, with a neckline that hints at cleavage without dipping low enough that Chan will be completely distracted all night having a staring contest with your boobs. You’ve even done your hair and put on some makeup that makes you look like a literal goddess. Chan isn’t going to be normal about this at all.

“Oh my god, you’re an angel,” he blurts as he scrambles forward to meet you a few metres from his car. His freshly washed and waxed car that he had previously been leaning against like the stud of a male lead in a cheesy rom com while feeling very much like one, and like he might have the upper hand and make you swoon for once. He was evidently, very fucking wrong about that.

“Oh,” you respond, surprised by how intense and genuine his reaction is. You had expected him to react pretty strongly, but this is so honest that it makes your heart flutter— more than he already makes it anyway, you just haven’t let him know that. You look down at your feet as you giggle shyly, and Chan positively melts. “Thank you. You look very handsome,” you compliment as you look at the man donned in a black shirt with maybe one button undone too low on his chest to not be on purpose— though you really aren’t opposed to the teasing glimpse of strong chest—, neat, dark trousers, and a nice jacket perfect for the weather, which he only brings out for special occasions. A date with you is the most special occasion as far as Chan is concerned. Honestly, you’d have to agree.

“Oh, really?” Chan asks, genuinely surprised, having not expected the compliment, and quickly looks at himself. “Seungkwan picked it; I…was too nervous to be useful.”

“Chan,” you start to say, and move forward to gently tilt his head back up so that he’ll see the truth in your eyes. “I always think you’re handsome.”

“Oh,” he exhales, eyes big and round, and cheeks warming softly.

“Come on, let’s go, I’m starving,” you encourage as you let go of him and step around his almost frozen figure to approach his car.

Before you can even reach out for the passenger door, Chan is suddenly there, scrambling to open it for you, then offer his hand to help you into your seat like a true gentleman. The best part is that you know he isn’t putting it on to impress you, Chan is just like that. It makes your heart flutter, and you giggle softly as you swing your legs into the footwell once seated to allow him to shut the door.

Chan all but falls into his seat moments later in his rush to join you. He gives you an adorably embarrassed smile as you laugh, endeared by his clumsy actions, and then he settles himself and pulls his door shut. “Okay, let’s go!” he cheers once he’s plugged his seatbelt in— and double checked yours is also securely in place—, then starts the drive to the restaurant.

Despite how nervous he was— and remains—, Chan has to admit that the date goes well. Like, really well.

Although it could be awkward, especially with his stammering, and gawping, and blurting out compliments at the most random times, it isn’t. It takes him a little while, but he realises that your smile doesn’t change even when he does those embarrassing things, not in a bad way at least. Every time he does something stupid or obviously smitten, your smile softens and your gaze on him turns so gentle that Chan can’t mistake it for anything but the truth; you’re fond of him, and find him endearing, not a giant fool. Okay, maybe you do also think that, but Chan suddenly realises that it’s pretty damn likely that you like that about him.

After a truly delicious dinner that you insist on paying for as the one who asked Chan on the date— which has Chan trying to not to giggle dopily into his hands like a swooning maiden at the reminder, and your no-nonsense, doting words and actions—, the two of you head outside to his car, only to divert before even reaching it as you motion to the nearby park. Chan’s more than happy to toddle after you, and all but squeaks when you gently grab his hand at the road to tug him across quickly so that you don’t have to wait until after the incoming stream of cars to cross.

Unfortunately, you let go of him once you’re both safely across the road with both feet on the path. Chan thinks he does a very convincing job of pretending to not pout about no longer having your hand in his. He doesn’t. It’s incredibly obvious, and you’re further endeared, though decide to wait and let him reach out to reconnect your hands.

But as it so happens, Chan is a coward and doesn’t make any sort of move to hold your hand, leaving it up to you. After almost twenty minutes of waiting as the two of you leisurely stroll through the mostly empty park, talking and giggling away like you’ve been doing all evening, you realise that you’ll be waiting for the rest of your life for Chan to make a move, so you reach out and take his hand into yours.

“Oh,” Chan says, dumbly looking down at your hands, making you grin to yourself, which only grows when you adjust your hold to slip your fingers between his own to secure the affection and Chan inhales so suddenly that he almost chokes on air. “Hands,” he wheezes out.

“Mm, do you mind?”

“No! Always hands!” he insists, looking up at you with wide, imploring eyes, and emphatically nods.

“Okay, always hands,” you agree with a giggle and tug him that bit closer so that you can all but hug his arm to you, right hand still connected with his, and your left hand holding his upper arm. Of course, you take a chance to cop a feel of his strong bicep, and, of course, Chan doesn’t miss the chance to flex the muscle, making you giggle. He smiles, pleased of himself— and proud of his body for gaining your interest—, and finally curls his fingers to hold your hand in return as the two of you let the conversation naturally ebb out for a calm, content quiet to replace it.

Although it’s only spring and the moon is high in the sky, it’s not as cold as it could be outside, so when you spot a bench just a little off the path, you lead Chan over to it so that you can sit by his side and lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, and happy to spend the rest of the night by his side like this if he’ll let you. You’re pretty confident he has no arguments about it. Especially as he holds your hand that bit tighter as he rests it on his thigh, thumb rubbing over your skin absently, and tilts his head against yours with a content sigh.

“Thank you,” Chan’s gentle tone breaks the quiet a little while after sitting down, making you hum questioningly in response. “I know I act like an idiot around you, but it’s just because I like you so much that I just…get stupid. Well, stupider than normal, if you ask everyone else.”

“It’s cute.”

“I’m glad you think so. And that you asked me out. I didn’t think you were interested in me, would ever be interested in me; you’re just so…” he lets out a dreamy sigh that makes you turn your face to hide your dopey grin in his shoulder.

When you turn your head back around after a few seconds to gather yourself and stop smiling so stupidly cheesy, Chan is quiet again, and happily softly smiling ahead at nothing in particular, just letting his feelings show unabashedly on his features. You can’t help but straighten up so that you can lean in and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you for liking me so much,” you say, gently grateful. “I’m lucky to have your interest, and I don’t plan to let you move on to anyone else.”

“I won’t,” he promises, so seriously as he nods to back up his words, making you smile a little wider, so endeared. “You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and I know I’ll never find anyone better than you.”

“Good.” Your grin is cheeky, and Chan can’t help but chuckle softly, fond.

For a few long moments, the two of you do nothing but hold adoring eye contact, little smiles on your face, and neither shying away from this, from what this could turn into if you give it the chance. Chan wants to, with everything in him; he’s had a taste of what it’s like to be blessed with your entire romantic attention, and he wants to keep that privilege for the rest of his life. He’d also really like to get a taste of you, and his eyes drop down to your lips as that thought settles in his mind.

A soft, surprised inhale slips from your lips when you notice that Chan is leaning in. The man who didn’t have the balls to even hold your hand despite very obviously wanting to, is tilting towards you, aiming to kiss you. You want him to; fuck do you want him to. You’re tempted to lean in just so it’ll happen quicker, but you also want Chan to make a real move entirely on his own so that it’s not always you doing it, and he realises that he can do it without you guiding him.

And then, just as he’s mere inches away, your phone starts to ring, and you both freeze. If it was your personal phone, you wouldn’t even hear it right now, you put it on do not disturb before leaving your house for the date. But you can hear it and that can only mean one thing; it’s your work phone, and it’s important.

“Shit,” you whisper before turning to your bag to find out your work phone while Chan leans back into his own space, a little upset about being interrupted, but mostly understanding and also a little worried it’s a serious animal emergency. “It’s Hansol,” you inform after looking at the caller ID, then swipe to answer while lifting the device to your ear. “Hey, what’s going on?” you ask, already getting up, knowing that regardless of the reason Hansol is calling, you need to get to his family farm sooner rather than later; he’s far too experienced and level-headed to call you for anything minor.

“Sheila’s gone into labour,” he announces.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon, you know what to do until then.”

“Got it, see you soon, doc.”

You place your phone back away and turn, expecting Chan to still be sitting on the bench, but he’s already standing close by with his car keys in his hand.

“Let’s go,” he says, taking your hand into his free one to quickly lead you back through the park, both of you rushing to get to his car sooner.

Without you saying a word, Chan drives straight to the vets, and though you don’t tell him to, he follows you inside to help you grab everything you need— the man now well versed in what exactly you need to help bring a lamb or two into the world—, then leads you back to his car.

“You missed the turning,” you comment a few minutes later, pointing dumbly to the road that leads towards your house.

“No I didn’t.” He briefly gives you a look as if you’re stupid, before focusing on the road out of town. “Sol’s place is this way.”

“Oh…I thought you were taking me home and then going home yourself,” you admit.

“I’m your assistant, aren’t I?” He grins cheekily. You let out a soft little laugh, so relieved and beyond glad to have this lovely man by your side and reach out to hold his hand into your own. He smiles a little brighter without looking away from the road.

After hours of waiting, when the sun has chased the moon away and started to rise up and smile down on the two new lives blessing the Choi farm, your job is done.

“I’ll never get over it,” Chan comments as the two of you head back towards his car, both of your outfits completely ruined from the birthing fluids, dust, and hay of the barn, and your hair in a messy, barely still together bun Chan had tied it into hours ago while you pulled on your long gloves.

“Hm?” you wonder, glancing at him quickly, then looking at his car as he unlocks it, allowing you to open the boot so that he can put your bags inside— which he insisted on carrying with the excuse that you carried the weight of bringing two new lambs into the world, so it’s his turn to carry; luckily, he’s cute enough to get away with such bullshit.

“You just helped that mama bring her babies into this world, and you let me assist you. No matter how many times I help you do this, I’ll never get over how incredible it is.”

“It’s a good feeling, huh?” you muse.

“Beyond good. I might just quit my job to do this full time,” he declares, making you laugh. “What? I’m serious!”

“Channie, lambing season is spring, you’d be out of a job most of the year if you quit just for this,” you reason.

“I meant work with you in general, really. And there are other animals to help through labour, too! I wanna help bring a baby cow into the world.”

“Alright, next time I get that call, I’ll let you know.” Chan beams at you, looking so genuinely happy at the offer that you can’t help but be further endeared by the man.

“I should probably call off work today,” he muses after checking the time on his watch— that has been tucked safely in his jacket pocket out of the way for the past few hours to not risk ruining it, and the jacket hung up on a post in the barn far from the splash zone at your insistence; he had practically sprinted to do as you told him to when you said you really liked how it looked on him and hope to see him wear it again. “I’m due at work in like two hours.”

“Mm, yeah, call off,” you agree a little distractedly as you watch him meander around the car after shutting the boot, his eyes on his phone as he types a message to his boss one handed, and the other blindly reaching for the passenger side door long before he’s close enough to grasp the handle.

“You’ll at least take the morning off, right?” he checks as he slides his phone into his pocket and looks at you.

“Yeah, I won’t go in until the afternoon. Unless there’s an emergency, of course,” you answer, soothing him of his worries.

“And you’ll call me if you need me, right? For anything.”

“Anything?” you tease, and he nods so seriously that you can’t help but chuckle as the euphemism goes right over his adorable head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” He motions to the seat, then offers his hand to you like he’s been doing all night to help you in and out of the car— like he’s always wanted to but felt it would be overstepping as a friend to do so, but he’s your…date-man now; he has no idea what he is to you at this point, but whatever it is, he wears the label with pride.

You take his hand and start to move towards the seat, only to back up and turn to face him so suddenly that he jerks back in shock, only to lean back in, eyes round in curious wonder. “So, I know this isn’t the most attractive look or anything.” You motion to yourself vaguely; Chan’s gaze follows to take you in head to toe, and when his gaze returns to you, he’s got a little smile on his face that makes you blush softly. “But I don’t want to wait until an undetermined later point.” Unsurprisingly, Chan’s expression turns puzzled. “I would very much like it if you did the thing you were going to do before Hansol called.”

Somehow, Chan just look even more confused, features scrunching cutely, and head tilting to the side— maybe it’s the animal loving vet you in you that absolutely loves it when he gains this dumb, puppy-dog look. After rolling your eyes at his reaction, figuring you’ll have to spell it out and you’d rather just get to it, you lean in to press a kiss to Chan’s lips. It’s only a quick thing, nothing but a sweet barely-longer-than-a-peck kiss, before you pull back. Chan’s making some strange, strangled, shocked noise as he stares at you with wide eyes, making you snicker out a laugh.

To your genuine surprise, Chan suddenly snaps out of his daze and lifts both hands to cup your face, secure yet still gentle, so that he can connect his lips with yours in a kiss so perfect that you never want it to end. You all but melt against him, hands lifting to hold onto his wrists so that he’ll not let you go before you’re ready; he just kisses you more thoroughly. For someone that’s been so awkward and cowardly about making a move until now, the man can kiss. Holy fuck can the man kiss.

Only when both of your chests are heaving to try and suck in some oxygen do you naturally pull apart to dopily stare at one another under the rising sun with lamb birth dried on your nicest clothes. It’s probably pretty gross for a first kiss— ignoring your peck—, but you still think it’s perfect, and you’d never change it for the world.

“For the record,” Chan starts after a minute; once you’re both breathing almost normally again and his thumbs are consistently brushing soothing arcs over your cheekbones as his palms refuse to leave your skin. Not that you’ve tried to make him stop and would happily let him touch you so tenderly until the sun sets again. “You’re always attractive to me.”

You smile and tilt your chin up to press a short kiss to his lips. “You say that now but wait until you see me first thing in the morning, hungover, with only two hours sleep.”

Chan grins and cutely taps his nose against yours. “Just sounds to me like you’re already planning to share the bed with me,” he points out cheekily, making you giggle. “I already look forward to it.”

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “Me too.”

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Manager Kim never said it like that. He only asked if you needed more time, if you were sure, if you wanted to talk through options before making anything official.

But you knew that you were just scared.

Not of the job. Never because of this job.

You missed the job so badly it embarrassed you. You missed schedules and fittings and venue calls. You missed knowing what someone needed before they asked. You missed the strange chaos of keeping five grown men alive, fed, clothed, and mostly on time.

You missed them. That was the part you didn’t say out loud.

You missed Kai sending you blurry selfies with captions like do i look alive be honest. You missed Beomgyu complaining just to hear himself talk. You missed Taehyun quietly fixing problems before anyone else noticed them. You missed Yeonjun acting above the chaos while being half the reason for it.

And you missed Soobin.

You missed Soobin in the way you were most ashamed of. Not casually. Not safely. You missed him like a habit you had worked five weeks to break.

Which was why coming back felt so terrifying.

Because missing him had never been the problem. The problem was that you didn’t know which version of him would be waiting for you.

You had no idea if you’d be met with the sweet, flirty and slightly needy version of him. Or if the cruel one who made your boundaries feel like a betrayal was waiting for you.

So when you walked into the company building that morning, your stomach was tight enough to hurt.

Manager Kim met you in the lobby.

“You ready?” he asked.

You adjusted the strap of your bag. “No.”

He almost smiled. “That’s fair.”

“I can still leave.” You said half-joking.

“You can.” He looked at you, not taking your words as a joke.

You looked over at him.

He nodded once, serious now. “At any point. You’re not trapped here.”

That helped more than you wanted to admit.

You took a breath, then followed him upstairs.

The practice room door was already open.

You heard Kai before you saw him. “Is she here?”

Then footsteps, quick ones running in your direction. Then Kai appeared in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth open like he had just witnessed a miracle.

“Oh my god.”

You barely had time to brace before he crossed the hall and wrapped both arms around you.

“You’re back,” he said, squeezing you hard.

You laughed despite yourself. “Kai, I need air.”

“No. You left me with Manager Kim for five weeks.”

From inside the room, Beomgyu shouted, “SHE’S BACK?”

A second later, he was there too, dramatic as ever, clutching his chest. “Do you know what we’ve been through?” Beomgyu exhaled as if he’d been through the trenches.

“You had professional management,” Manager Kim said dryly.

Beomgyu ignored him. “Oppression.”

Taehyun appeared behind him with a relieved smile. “Welcome back.”

Yeonjun leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but his grin gave him away. “Please never leave us with him again.”

Manager Kim sighed. “I’m standing right here.”

“That’s the issue,” Beomgyu said.

You laughed again, and something in your chest loosened.

It didn’t fix everything you were feeling but it loosened the tension that was burning under your skin.

Then your eyes moved past them. Soobin was inside the practice room.

He wasn’t rushing toward you. He wasn’t staring like he was owed something. He wasn’t sulking in the corner either.

He was standing near the mirrors, hands at his sides, watching quietly.

When your eyes met, your body prepared itself.

For guilt, tension. For some unreadable look that would make you feel like you had done something wrong by coming back.

But Soobin only gave you a small nod.

Not cold or wounded. Just careful like he understood that even looking at you too long might be too much. Your throat tightened at the sight. 

Manager Kim cleared his throat. “Alright. Everyone has ten minutes before schedule review.”

The others groaned immediately.

You slipped back into motion almost on instinct, pulling your tablet from your bag. “It’s not that bad, guys.”

Beomgyu pointed at you. “See? That. I missed that.”

“You missed being told what to do?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I missed it being you.” Yeonjun shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile stayed.

The morning moved easier than you expected.

You should’ve accepted it, moved on and just let it be the way it was. Yet you kept waiting for the catch.

When Kai forgot where he put his in-ears, Soobin didn’t snap. He helped look. When Beomgyu interrupted you three times during schedule review, Soobin didn’t glare until the room went quiet. He only said, “Let her finish.”

He wasn’t cold or mean, just firm.

When you corrected Soobin on a timing issue for one of those pre-recorded interviews, your pulse jumped before you even finished the sentence. Old instinct.

You expected his face to close off.

Expected the shift. Expected that familiar sting of him taking your job personally.

Instead, Soobin looked down at the updated script and nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I missed that.”

That was it. No attitude, no punishment disguised as distance. Just acceptance.

You stared for half a second too long. He didn’t call you on it but he noticed.

By lunch, you had seen it enough times to know it wasn’t an accident.

He was trying. No, it was more than trying. He was stopping himself before the damage happened, maybe that was the first time you realized there was a difference.

By the time the day started winding down, you were exhausted in a way you hadn’t expected.

Not from the schedule. From watching.

You kept catching yourself doing it. Watching Soobin when someone interrupted him. Watching him when a staff member corrected something. Watching him when Beomgyu pushed too far with a joke or when Kai forgot something he was supposed to remember.

You weren’t waiting for him to fail. At least, you didn’t think you were. However, you were waiting for the shift.

The old one. The tightening of his jaw. The wounded silence. The way he used to turn small disappointments into proof that everyone was against him.

It never came. Not once. Maybe that was the part that unsettled you most. He wasn’t reaching for you every few seconds anymore. He wasn’t orbiting you like you were the only thing keeping him upright.

That should have made you feel better. Instead, it made you feel strange. Because part of you had prepared for the worst so thoroughly that you didn’t know what to do with better.

You were packing your tablet away when Soobin stopped a few feet from you.

“Do you have a minute?”

Your fingers paused.

The room was almost empty. Yeonjun and Taehyun had already left. Kai was somewhere down the hall bothering a stylist. Beomgyu had disappeared the second he heard food was being ordered.

Still, your first instinct was to say no.

Soobin seemed to notice. He took half a step back. “If not, that’s okay.”

That made you look at him.

Not because it was dramatic but because it wasn’t. There was no pressure in his voice. No wounded edge. No silent punishment waiting behind the words.

Just an option.

You let out a slow breath. “I have a minute.”

He nodded toward the chairs near the wall. “Can we sit?”

You hesitated again then you nodded. The two of you sat with one empty chair between you.

You noticed that too. Soobin didn’t try to close the space.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he looked down at his hands and said, “Thank you.”

You turned your head slightly. “You said that earlier.”

“I know.” His mouth twitched, but it wasn’t really a smile. “I didn’t say it enough.”

Your chest tightened. “Soobin—”

“I’m not going to make you comfort me,” he said quickly.

You stopped.

He inhaled, slow and careful. “That’s one of the things I’m trying to stop doing.”

The honesty of it made your throat feel tight.

He kept looking at his hands. “When I feel bad, I make it someone else’s responsibility to make me feel better. Usually yours.”

You didn’t say anything because he was right. He was finally admitting his biggest fault.

“And when you don’t,” he continued, “I act like you’re hurting me.” His fingers flexed once against his knee. “I did that when you said no.”

You swallowed.

Soobin finally looked at you.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet.

No desperation. No panic. No flood of texts. No attempt to pull forgiveness out of you before you were ready.

Just sorry.

“I know I already texted it,” he said. “And I know that probably made it worse because I kept texting when you didn’t answer.”

Your eyes dropped.

“I panicked,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t matter. I still shouldn’t have done it.”

You looked back at him. He held your gaze for a second, then looked away first.

“I was angry because you said no, and instead of accepting that, I tried to make you feel guilty. I made it sound like you were ashamed of me. I mocked your job. I said you forgot it was supposed to be a job.” His voice faltered slightly there, but he steadied it. “That was cruel.”

You felt the words settle between you. For five weeks, you had imagined him apologizing.

You had imagined him saying he didn’t mean it. Saying he was hurt. Saying he was scared. Saying anything that would make you feel like you had to understand him before you were allowed to be angry.

This was different. He wasn’t explaining it in a way that made him innocent. He was naming it.

“I hated you a little for that,” you admitted.

Soobin nodded. The lack of protest almost hurt.

“You should have.” He agreed.

You looked over at him, his hair falling into his face.  He gave you a small, sad smile. “I hated me too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” He looked down again. “Sorry.”

Another pause but you’re the one that spoke up this time. “I didn’t want to leave.”

His face changed, not dramatically. But enough.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Your voice stayed quiet, but something in it sharpened. “I love this job. I worked hard to get here, and I felt like I had to walk away because being around you started feeling unsafe.”

Soobin’s throat bobbed. “I know.”

This time, you believed that he did.

“I wasn’t scared you’d hurt me physically,” you said. “I was scared of what version of you I’d get every time I told you no.”

His eyes shut briefly. You kept going before you lost your nerve.

“I was scared that doing my job would make you resent me. I was scared that if I drew a line, you’d punish me for it. And I was scared because part of me still wanted to cross it.”

Soobin opened his eyes but you looked away. You couldn’t look at him even though you so desperately wanted to.

“That’s why I needed to leave.”

The silence after that was heavy, but not angry. 

Soobin’s voice was careful when he spoke again. “Do you still want to?”

You knew what he meant. He wanted to see how you felt about that line now that there was distance.

You stared at the floor. “That’s not a fair question.”

His face fell slightly. Then he nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

No guilt, just acceptance.

You breathed out slowly. “I don’t know what I want,” you said. “But I know what I need.”

Soobin nodded again. “Boundaries.”

“Yes.” You said quickly but firm.

“I can do that.”He corrected himself almost immediately. “I’m learning to do that.”

That felt more honest.

You nodded once. “I need you to not come to me for everything,” you said. “Not emotionally. Not when you’re spiraling. Not when you want me to fix how you feel.”

“I know.”

“And if I say no, I need it to just be no.”

His voice softened. “Okay.”

“No arguing.”

“Okay.”

“No making me explain until you find a reason to be hurt.”

That one landed. You saw it, a shift in his face but he recovered quickly. Only nodding in response.“Okay.”

You studied him for a moment.

“You’re being very agreeable.”

A small breath of laughter left him. “I’m trying not to be annoying.”

“You’re always annoying.”

His mouth twitched. For the first time all day, the air between you almost felt familiar.

Then Soobin looked at you again, more serious. “I’m going to therapy.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m doing it just so you come back.”

You didn’t answer right away.

He continued, “I mean… I wanted you to come back. I still do. Obviously. But I know that can’t be the reason.”

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag as he talked.

“My therapist said if I make getting better about earning someone back, then I’ll stop trying the second I don’t get what I want.”

You blinked. That was painfully accurate and reassuring that it wasn’t just a thing you saw about him.

Soobin smiled faintly at your expression. “Yeah. I hated hearing that too.”

Despite yourself, you almost smiled. He looked relieved by even that much.

“She also said there’s a difference between wanting someone and making them your obsession,” he said quietly. His eyes flicked to yours for half a second. “Between caring about someone and needing them to keep you okay.”

You looked down at your hands. “I think I liked it sometimes,” you admitted. “Being the person you looked for first.”

Soobin’s expression softened, but he didn’t move closer.

“But it was too much,” you said.

“I know,” he replied. “I don’t want to need anyone like that anymore.”

He inhaled carefully before speaking again. “I’m doing it because I don’t want to keep being someone people have to recover from.”

Your throat tightened. That sentence hurt more than you anticipated. Because for once, he wasn’t asking you to tell him he wasn’t that bad.

You nodded slowly. “Good.”

He accepted that too. Just good. Nothing more.

The door opened down the hall, voices echoing faintly. The moment was almost over.

You stood first. Soobin stood too, but didn’t move closer.

“I’m glad you came back,” he said.

You looked up at him, his hands finding a place in his pockets as he looked at you. “I’m glad today wasn’t terrible,” you replied.

His smile was small. “High praise.”

“It is for us.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”

Before you reached the door, he spoke again. “Y/N?”

You froze where you were.

“I won’t ask you for anything else.”

Your hand rested on the doorframe. You didn’t turn around right away.

Then you glanced back at him. “Good.”

And this time, when you left the room, he let you.

You smile to yourself automatically. He says it so casually, like it's obvious he'd wait forever for you if he had to.

And honestly, he probably would.

Seungcheol has never once rushed you while getting ready. Never complained when you changed outfits four times. Never sighed dramatically or checked the clock every thirty seconds like some boyfriends did. If anything, he liked watching you get ready. Liked sitting nearby and talking to you while you did your makeup.

You give your lips one final press together before grabbing your bag and stepping out into the living room.

Seungcheol is exactly where you expected him to be—spread comfortably across the sofa with one arm resting behind his head, phone balanced in his hand while he scrolls absentmindedly through something. He's dressed already, dark jacket thrown over a simple shirt, hair slightly messy in that way that somehow only makes him look softer.

The second he hears you approach, he looks up and smiles lovingly.

"There's my girl," he murmurs, locking his phone and sitting up properly. "Ready to go, babe?"

You nod while walking toward him, already leaning down instinctively before you even stop in front of him. "Mhm."

Your lips brush against his in a quick kiss. His hand settle naturally against your waist, thumb rubbing absent circles through the fabric of your outfit before you pull away.

"Lemme just put on my heels," you mumble, pressing a kiss on his dimple.

By the time you're out, Seungcheol has already taken out the car. As you slide into the passenger seat,you see him tapping lightly against the steering wheel to the music playing softly through the speakers. The inside of the car smells faintly like his cologne and the iced coffee he insisted on grabbing earlier.

The moment you settle into your seat, he turns toward you slightly.

"You warm enough?" he asks automatically.

"Yes, dad."

"I'm serious," he says, reaching over to tug lightly at the sleeve of your jacket. "Last time you said you were fine and then stole my coat an hour later."

"That's because you're basically a human heater."

"You love it."

You do.

Instead of answering, you lean across the center console and kiss him again before buckling your seatbelt. This kiss lasts longer than the one from earlier.

Seungcheol kisses you lazily, one hand still resting on the wheel while the other comes up automatically to cup your jaw for a second. His lips are warm against yours, soft and familiar enough that kissing him feels less like an action and more like muscle memory at this point.

When you finally pull away, he looks faintly dazed for a second before starting the car properly.

The drive begins quietly.

Your phone rests in your lap while you scroll mindlessly through notifications, occasionally glancing up to look outside at the passing streetlights. Seungcheol hums softly along to the music under his breath, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

Suddenly, you hear a tiny hiss from your side. Your brows pinch slightly, but you ignore it. When it happens again, you immediately glance up.

Seungcheol's face is scrunched slightly in confusion while he presses his lips together awkwardly. His tongue darts out to wet them before he bites lightly at the bottom one like he's trying to figure something out.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"Dunno hun." He glances at you briefly before looking back at the road. "My lips feel weird."

"Weird how?"

"I don't know?" he tilts his head. "Like…burning?"

Your gaze drifts to his mouth,and the second you properly notice it, laughter bursts out of you so suddenly you nearly choke on air.

Seungcheol's head snaps toward you immediately. "Why are you laughing?"

"You—" you gasp between laughs, pointing uselessly toward him. "Babe, your lips."

"What about my lips?"

"Your lips got bigger." You wheeze.

"Babe stop playing." His voice drops.

"I'm serious!"

The panic on his face appears almost immediately after that. One hand flies up to yank down the vanity mirror above him while the other keeps the wheel steady. You watch his expression morph from confusion to absolute betrayal in real time.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

The sound that leaves your mouth after that is somewhere between a laugh and a wheeze. Because his lips really are noticeably puffier now—soft and swollen and ridiculously glossy from him constantly rubbing them together.

"Oh my god," he groans, still staring at himself in horror. "Why do I look like I lost a fight with bees?"

"It's the lip plumper!" you finally manage to say. "I forgot I put it on!"

"You forgot?!" He looks genuinely scandalized. "You can transfer that stuff through kissing?!"

"I guess so!"

Despite his complaining, he keeps absentmindedly touching his lips every few seconds, brows furrowed while he processes the sensation.

Honestly, it's adorable. Especially because beneath all the whining, he still keeps leaning toward you at every red light like his body naturally gravitates in your direction.

"Babeuhhh," he whines miserably, sinking lower into his seat. "What am I supposed to do now? Your parents are gonna open the door and immediately start laughing at me."

"They are not." You place your hand over his thigh.

"Yes they are! Look at me!"

You laugh harder at the genuine panic in his voice

"They honestly don't even look that different," you insist. "Your lips were already big.”

He gasps softly, turning to look at you. "…You flirting with me right now while I'm suffering?"

You shrug casually, leaning across the center console again. This time, when you kiss him, he lets out the tiniest wounded whine into your mouth because the tingling definitely got worse but he still kisses you back immediately.

You pull away at the sound, eyes narrowing offended. "Do you not want me to kiss you?"

"When did I say that?" he mumbles instantly, pouting.

The pout only makes his lips look bigger.