ur the one who lights me☝️🧡

Jisoo pried your fingers off and leaned closer, eyes glinting. “Think about it,” she murmured. “You poke the bear,” your stomach twisted not in fear, but anticipation. “He won’t be gentle after that,” she added, standing. “He’ll make sure you learn your lesson.” She walked away, heels clicking like a countdown. You sat frozen, pulse racing, already wondering what color lingerie would drive him insane.

Red. Obviously. If you were going to do this, you were going to commit. The two-piece stared back at you like it had been waiting its whole life for this moment and honestly, so had you. You’d always been too shy to wear it around him, but alone in your room with Jisoo’s encouragement haunting your conscience? Different story. You snapped pictures in the mirror, angling just right, blocking your face like a criminal protecting her identity. Sultry but mysterious. Confident but casual like this wasn’t absolutely terrifying. You changed poses, laughed at yourself, deleted half of them, then sat down on the floor with your legs up, scrolling through your favorites with a grin that felt dangerous. 

You typed the message fast, before doubt could tackle you to the ground. I can’t wait for you to rip this off me tonight. Your finger hesitated for half a second. Then you hit send like you were jumping off a cliff. The phone went face down. Your body buzzed, excitement crawling up your spine as you lay there wondering how long it would take before he saw it. It took two minutes.

Your phone buzzed, the sound sharp and insistent in the quiet of your bedroom. You snatched it up so fast the screen glowed with his name and a simple, tantalizing opener: Oh, love. You bit down on your lip, a smile already tugging at the corners. The little text bubble pulsed, a mischievous ellipsis of promise. Here it comes, you thought, sinking back into the ground. Did you buy that for me? Your breath hitched. A warm, slick heat instantly pooled low in your belly. Damn him for knowing exactly what that question did to you.

Yes, baby. You typed back, the admission feeling like a secret passed in a crowded room. His reply was almost immediate. Now this is a surprise. You waited, holding the phone, the silence stretching just long enough for you to wonder. Then, another buzz. Touch yourself for me. You blinked. A startled, breathy laugh escaped me. What? Did he just…?

What, You sent back, playing dumb, your heart doing a chaotic salsa against your ribs. The next message didn’t hesitate. You know what I mean. Touch yourself. Before you could even process the command, another text lit up the screen, the words bold and utterly shameless. Go sit in front of the mirror. Spread those pretty legs of yours and play with yourself. And make sure you send me the video.

Heat flooded your cheeks, a delicious contradiction to the throbbing ache between your thighs. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered into the empty room, but you were already sitting in front of the mirror. Ridiculous. And utterly, completely perfect. With a carefree shake of your head and a thrill zipping through your veins. Well, if he wanted a show, who was you to deny your favorite audience? 

The phone was a cold and hard in your fist, the only solid thing in a world tilting on its axis. You braced the heel of your foot against the floor, a lone point of stability, and tapped the red record button. The lens focused on the evidence the dark, damp bloom spreading against scarlet lace. Your finger, when it came, was a traitor. It traced the swollen seam of your slit through the soaked fabric, a slow, torturous drag. A full-body shiver racked you, and a moan, raw and helpless, tore from your throat as your head fell back. The lace was a flimsy barrier, a joke. You hooked a thumb into the side, pulling it away, exposing the slick, needy flesh beneath.

The first slide  of your finger inside was a revelation, a stolen gasp. Then another. your body took over, hips lifting off the ground’s cool surface to meet the thrust of your own fingers. The sound was obscene a wet, rhythmic slap that echoed in the tiled room, pornographic and perfect. You fucked yourself with a frantic, building pace, the coil in your gut winding tighter, tighter. The only words your brain could stitch together were a broken mantra. Fuck. Jaehyun. Fuck.

It shattered you. Pleasure erupted, white-hot and vicious, wringing a choked scream from your lungs. your body convulsed around your fingers, waves of sensation pulling you under. For long moments, there was only the ragged sound of your own breathing, sawing in and out of your chest. Trembling, You hit stop. The video was a raw, graphic confession. You sent it without a second thought.

The response was immediate. A photo flooded your screen. The thick, hard line of him straining against the dark wool of his suit pants, the outline unmistakable, demanding. your mouth watered. Beneath it, the text: I’m on my way home. I want you on your knees when I get there. A fresh, dizzying rush of heat pulsed through you. You typed back, your fingers clumsy. Yes, Jaehyun. His reply was instant. Good girl.

You were on your knees, the plush carpet a faint pressure against your skin, when Jaehyun came through the bedroom door. He didn’t pause. Didn’t speak. Time seemed to bend around his entrance, the air cracking with a sudden, static charge. One second you were kneeling, the next his hand was fisted in your hair, wrenching you up to meet him halfway. His kiss wasn’t a greeting, it was a consumption. The taste of him winter mint and pure, unadulterated want flooded your senses as his mouth moved over yours with the desperation of a man starved.

When he broke away, panting, the look in his eyes was feral. All dark pupil, a hunger so profound it stripped everything else away. “Take my belt off,” he growled against your swollen lips, the words a hot, rough command. Your hands flew to his waist, fingers trembling but efficient. You never broke eye contact, that searing tether holding you captive as you found the cold buckle. The leather slid free with a sharp, definitive hiss. Your gaze remained locked on his as you unzipped his pants, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down.

His cock sprang free, heavy and already fully hard, and the flushed tip landed a deliberate, claiming tap against your parted lips. A soft gasp escaped you, your mouth falling open in instinctive invitation. That was all he needed. His grip in your hair tightened to the point of sweet, sharp pain, anchoring you. There was no gentle preamble, no soft, whispering Jaehyun. That man was gone, vanished behind this primal, demanding force. He fed himself into your mouth, not with a thrust, but with a relentless, conquering push, filling you, stretching you. A choked sound vibrated in your throat, and he swallowed it with a dark groan of his own. Then he began to move.

He fucked your mouth with a hard, rough rhythm, his hips pistoling, setting a pace that was merciless and absolute. Each deep drive brushed the back of your throat, each withdrawal a slick, lewd promise of more. Your eyes watered, tears blurring the viciously beautiful sight of him above you, jaw clenched, watching himself disappear between your lips. The sounds were filthy wet, gasping, the soft slap of skin, his ragged curses raining down on you like blessings.

One of your hands clutched at his thigh, the muscle iron-hard beneath your palm, the only anchor in the storm he was wreaking upon you. The other hand, you slipped between your own legs, finding the desperate, throbbing heat there, already soaked. You moaned around him, the vibration pulling a ragged snarl from his chest. “That’s it,” he gritted out, his pace never faltering. “Feel what you do to me. Take it. All of it.” And you did, drowning in the taste of him, the feel of him, the beautiful, brutal ruin of his control as he used your mouth for his pleasure, turning you into nothing but a willing, desperate vessel for his need. And that’s what you wanted.

You pull back, a slow, slick glide that makes his hips jerk, and wrap your fingers around the base of him. You don’t break eye contact, watching his beautiful face fracture as you stroke him slowly, a rough twist of your wrist at the top that pulls a ragged sound from his chest. “Fuck, baby.” His voice is pure gravel, a broken prayer in the dim light. “Jaehyun.” Your own voice is a desperate whine, soaked in need. “Please fuck me.”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. You see the last thread of his control snap, his pretty eyes going dark and wild. He folds for you, utterly and completely. In one fluid motion, he pulls you to your feet, his hands burning brands on your hips. His thumb hooks into the waistband of those same red lace panties, the ones that started this whole dizzying spiral. His gaze, heavy-lidded and molten, flicks up to yours. “Can I?” he whispers, the question a formality, a dark, sweet courtesy before the storm.

“Yes, baby.” The permission is barely out of your mouth before he obeys the unspoken violence in both of you. A sharp tear of lace, the sound obscene in the quiet room. Then his hands are under your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back.

He doesn’t fumble. He reaches between you, his fingers guiding the thick, hot crown of his cock through your drenched folds, notching himself at your entrance. He holds you there, suspended, just for a heartbeat a torturous, perfect pause where you feel every frantic beat of your own heart against his. Then he sinks in. A slow, relentless, claiming slide that steals the air from your lungs. You cry out, a shattered sound, as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly it borders on pain. The moment he’s fully in, a groan rips from him, deep and visceral.

His arm bands around your back, a steel brace, and the hand under your thigh tightens, shifting you just so. And then he moves. He fucks up into you, hard and deep, each powerful drive of his hips punching a gasping moan from your throat. Your hands fly to his neck, clinging to steady yourself against the brutal, perfect rhythm. You meet him thrust for thrust, rocking down onto him, taking him even deeper, chasing the delicious friction that’s already coiling your insides tight. “That’s it,” he grunts against your ear, his breath scalding. “Take it. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like that.” It’s filthy. It’s perfect. You’re both a mess of skin and sweat and shattered sounds, and you are so, so fucked in the best way possible.

You’re a whimpering, trembling mess on his cock, each raw, deep thrust scraping a broken sound from your throat. “Keep fucking me, baby,” you beg, the words a whining plea, your eyes glazed and unfocused as you look up at him. A dark, breathless laugh rumbles from his chest. “This is what you wanted, huh, baby?” he grunts, the muscles in his arms corded tight as he holds you, drives into you. “All that pretty teasing. Just to get ruined.” “Yes, fuck,” you gasp, arching to take him deeper, a delirious giggle bubbling up. “I wanted you to fuck me crazy.” His smile is a feral, beautiful thing. “Your wish,” he pants, snapping his hips up with a brutal new intensity, “is my fucking command.”

The world dissolves into pure sensation. “Ahh, shit, fuck!” you cry out, the coil inside you pulled impossibly taut. Desperate, you drag yourself up his body, your mouth finding his in a sloppy, frantic kiss. Your hands tighten around his neck, nails biting into his skin, as his arms become iron bands around you, crushing you to him, owning every inch of space between you. The rhythm turns punishing, primal. You can feel the tell-tale, frantic pulse of him deep inside you, the way his control is shattering. He breaks the kiss, his forehead dropping to yours, his breaths ragged gusts against your lips.

“Where…” he pants, the shyness in the question a stark, sweet contrast to the carnal act. “Where should I cum?” You pull back just enough to see the desperate need in his pretty, darkened eyes. Your answer is a low whisper. “In me.” A guttural, shattered “Fuck” is all he manages. His thrusts become erratic, a frantic, deep pounding. “I’m—I’m cumming, baby…” It’s the trigger that snaps your own restraint. “Fuck, me too, shit—” You clench around him, a vicious, pulsing tightness, and the feeling of him surrendering, spilling hot and deep inside you, drags your own climax screaming from your core. Wave after wave of blinding pleasure whites out your vision, your cries muffled against the sweat-slick skin of his shoulder.

You didn't even know why you'd agreed to go over to his place to help him study. Perhaps it was maybe because you had no other choice. He didn't even ask, just straight up demanded you to come over.

You should've made up an excuse, but you knew it wouldn't work anyway, cause he'd break into your dorm to drag you out at the end of day.

There is no rejecting him.

You should've been more careful about who you involved yourself with during your time in college, if only you didn't cross paths with him, your life would've been peaceful. You had the unfortunate incident of meeting him through your ex boyfriend's friend group.

Fingering you in class, skipping lectures just to fuck you in the restroom, breaking into your dorm and fucking you with his hand clasped over your mouth to not wake up your roommate.

And your ex boyfriend? Yeah he broke up with you before all this started, mainly because Jaehyun told him to do so, and he actually listened, no hesitation at all, he might as well have had Jaehyun's dick down his throat at that point.

You despised Jaehyun, or at least that's what you told yourself.

“I- fucking hate you. Asshole.” You cursed against his lips, he only smirked as he closed in the distance, capturing your lips with his and shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

His tongue was warm as it swirled against your own, you could taste the faint bitterness of a cigarette underneath the sweetness. He groaned into your mouth.

“You're talking a lot of shit for someone whose cunt leaks like a waterfall at the sight of me.” He pulled away, licking your bottom lip. “And the way it clenches around my cock, trying to fucking milk me huh?” He whispered, hands tugging your hair and pulling your head back as he leaves bite marks on your neck.

You could feel his tip kissing your cervix as he thrust inside, your walls stretching around his cock but also gripping him like a vice as if never wanting to let go.

The desk rattled as he moved, his other hand was splayed over it to keep it steady as he fucked your cunt really hard. After he was satisfied with the marks he left on you, he pulled back, letting go of your hair.

He grabbed the underside of your thighs and pushed them upwards, pressing your knees to your chest. Your hands flung down to grip the edge of the table.

He moaned when he felt your walls flutter around him, looking down at the place where you're both connected. He spat on your clit before watching it drip down onto his own shaft, forming a ring as he moved in and out.

Your folds glistened, he licked his lips at the delicious sight, mentally noting how he's going to eat you out later, but currently he's focusing on this now.

“Look at this pretty cunt, at least it behaves, unlike someone.” He mutters, drawing out his hips. You whimpered in response, feeling your abdomen tighten. You thought he would thrust back in again, but he doesn't.

The tightness dissipates immediately, not in a satisfactory way.

“You know, people typically don't cum on the cock of someone they hate. I should respect that.” He mocks you, bringing up your words from earlier, your eyes widened at the statement.

You were so close, his cock was still inside you, but not moving, you involuntarily clenched around him as your cunt ached, begging for him to keep moving.

“P-please Jaehyun—” You begged, your mind regretting the words you had uttered earlier. He shook his head.

“Look at you being desperate, do you want to cum that badly? Around someone who you claim to hate?” He questions, his hand pinching your clit cruelly before he tugged on it. You bit your lip, nodding frantically. He chuckled in a mocking manner.

“Beg, beg for it. Tell me you want to cum.” He commanded, raising an eyebrow. You looked at him with teary eyes, humiliation coursing through your veins, you didn't want to beg, but you also wanted to cum. So you swallowed your own pride.

“P-please I want to cum— I want to cum so badly Jaehyun, mhm— I'm sorry!” You pleaded, gasping when you felt him move again, but painfully slow.

“Is that all you slut?” He wasn't satisfied.

“P-please…” You shut your eyes, before taking a deep breath. “Please fuck me, make me cum, I want to cum around your cock so bad, please. I'm so sorry, I don't hate you— so please.” You pleaded harder this time, and when you opened your eyes, you saw Jaehyun's satisfied face, and so he began to pick up his pace.

He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs fall down as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to the edge as leaned in, hugging your form. You wrap your arms around his shoulder for support, clinging on him.

The tightness builds up in your stomach again, it doesn't take long before it bursts, pleasure exploding all throughout your body as you let out a loud moan.

“Say you love me.” He grunts in your ear, knowing he too is near due to your walls clenching around him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you Jaehyun.” You obey mindlessly, chanting it over and over again quickly as you pant. He didn't need to hear anything more as he too cums shortly after, ropes of cum leaking inside your walls.

He sighed into your neck, pressing a small kiss to your collarbone, slowly riding out his orgasm.

“Let's study now, shall we?” He cheekily offers, pulling out of you, not bothering fixing you up.

Fucking asshole.

He did not know how he was able to get you to date him.

You were, after all, the campus golden girl—a title you didn't coin yourself because really, how mortifying would that be? No, you were the campus golden girl because you were the embodiment of the phrase: "talent speaks for itself."

Student council president who somehow still had time to ace exams. A familiar face at debates and cultural nights. Juggling dance troupe rehearsals and weekend volunteer work like it was nothing. People swore you had this magical ability to make everyone feel at ease. Teachers trust you. Peers adored you. Even strangers find you not just capable, but also genuinely kind.

And of course you were so so pretty, Jaehyun used to whine to his friends about it at least once a day before you got together (and now that you’re dating, the number’s gone up to three, because apparently "three times because you're a charm" or however the saying goes).

That's exactly how courting you went.

One minute, he's lamenting to Riwoo about how the light frames your face perfectly; the next, he's confessing his feelings for you outside your home, in a dress shirt that fit too tight around his neck, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands, and his friends rallying behind him in matching dress shirts forming a makeshift band.

And despite the concerned looks from your parents because why is this boy serenading you at 8 in the morning on a weekend, you walked up to him, kissed his cheek, agreed to date him.

(When you invited him and his friends in for breakfast, they left liking you more than ever. Partly because you were charming, mostly because you kept Jaehyun from stealing their food)

And so, things had been very muy bien for Myung Jaehyun. Dating you turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to him, even if half the university told him it'd be a challenge.

Sure, everyone wanted your attention and that meant constant competition. But Jaehyun was comfortable with the relationship and was very much madly in love with you. To him, you weren't an untouchable dream. To him, you were just his.

Of course, Jaehyun being secure did not mean he never got jealous. Oh, he got jealous, alright. He may have been okay with the idea of sharing you with the rest of the world, but apparently, his idea of sharing meant people could borrow your notes or relish under your leadership or maybe even take a picture with you.

Everything else—or at least, the ones that involved stealing you away from him, were a no-no in his book. And it wasn't because he doubted you. He knew you love him just as much as he loves you (or a little less, because he claims he loves you more). He knew you had never and will never entertain anyone else no matter how many admirers you had. He understood that and trusted you unequivocally.

That doesn't mean he can't scare them away.

I.

YOU'VE BEEN STUDENT COUNCIL president long enough to know the drill when it comes to a new transferee. Although you had another schedule in the next hour, you knew you couldn't say no when one of the advisers asked you to give the new guy a small tour around campus. This had been a common occurrence after all, and naturally part of your responsibilities.

The new transfer Anton, a tall boy with kind eyes and a gentle way of talking, walked beside you as you pointed out different places. "So this is the main quad. It's usually a free space to use, unless there are festivals. We have one upcoming so you'd might want to look forward to that! Then—oh, the cafeteria is right through that arch. The lunch rush is bad so I don't recommend it."

Anton laughed softly, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "Got it. Um... you must be really busy huh? Doing this on top of everything else?"

You smiled, brushing it off. "Not really. It's part of the job. Besides, it's nice meeting new people."

. . .

Across the quad, three boys were sprawled on the grass, casually soaking up the sun's rays while they wait for their next class.

"Oh?" Woonhak squinted, lowering his can of cola. "Who's that guy Noona's with?"

Jaehyun shot up from his previously lying-down position at the mention of you. He snapped his neck so fast, it was a wonder he didn't crack it. "What guy?"

Leehan followed Woonhak's gaze, "Ah, that's the new transfer. Noona's probably giving him a tour."

Woonhak smirked, turning to Jaehyun. "Ooh, what do you have to say about that, Hyung?"

But Jaehyun's spot was already empty. Woonhak blinked at the vacant spot of grass. "Hyung??"

. . .

You were mid-conversation about which clubs were looking for new applicants when you felt a sudden shift in the air. Next thing you know, an arm landed across your shoulders, a familiar scent wafted into your senses, and Jaehyun's voice drawled right against your ear.

"Hi, babe! What are you doing?"

You blinked. "Jaehyun? I'm showing the new transfer around campus. This is—" you gestured to Anton, who looked positively spooked by your boyfriend's sudden appearance, about to introduce him but Jaehyun's already cutting you off.

"Cool, cool." He twirled a piece of your hair, his smile not fully reaching his eyes. "Anyway, don't you have committee prep in fifteen minutes?"

You blinked again. "How'd you know about that?"

But he was already removing himself from you to throw his arm over Anton, who's eyes widened further when Jaehyun clapped his back. "Anyway! Let me give you the tour, man! I know all the great spots! Shortcut to the cafeteria, best vending machines, nap spots, all the essentials. Trust me, I've been here forever."

Before you could stop him, Jaehyun was already steering Anton away.

"See you later, baby!" he called over his shoulder, winking.

You stood there frozen in the middle of the hallway in disbelief.

"...What just happened?"

II.

JAEHYUN FLIPPED ANOTHER PAGE of his propped-up textbook with exaggerated casualness. If anyone walked by, they'd see an upstanding diligent student studying in the library. What they don't see is the way his gaze hadn't dropped from the glass-walled conference room right across him.

There you were, seated at the head of the table with your notes out as you listened to one of your committee members talk about the upcoming festival.

He leaned his cheek against his palm. He was supposed to be reviewing econ. Instead, he'd been counting how many times you tucked your hair behind your ear. Ten, eleven, twelve...

“You know,” a voice said flatly above him. “If you weren’t already dating Noona, this would be considered stalking.”

Jaehyun jerked his head up. Taesan stood there, unimpressed. Behind him, Sungho added, “Even if they are dating, it’s still stalking.”

Jaehyun bristled. “I was studying—” He stopped mid-sentence when, through the glass, he saw Gaon, one of your council members with a look of his face that ruffled Jaehyun's feathers, leaned a little too close to you as he borrowed yet another pen.

His eyes narrowed.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered instead, grabbing both Taesan’s and Sungho’s pencil cases in one swoop.

“Hey, wait!” Sungho lunged for his, but Jaehyun was already striding off.

. . .

“Sorry, can I borrow a sticky note? Mine ran out.”

You didn’t even look up. This was Gaon’s third request in twenty minutes. Sliding your pouch over, you kept your eyes on the council member presenting the proposed floor plan for the upcoming festival.

“Thanks! Oh, and another pen? This one’s, uh, dead.”

You sighed, pulling one out when the door to the conference room swung open.

Jaehyun strolled in like he owned the place, depositing two pencil cases, with different colors and mismatched charms dangling off the zippers, right in front of you and Gaon.

“There,” he said matter-of-factly. “So you don’t have to keep sharing.”

Gaon blinked. “Uh… thanks?”

Before you could so much react to the sudden appearance of your boyfriend, Jaehyun snapped his fingers and turned to the presenter. He gave the PowerPoint slides one long appraising look, nodded once, then started rattling off suggestions.

“Booths here will bottleneck. Space them out more. Put food stalls near exits so crowds keep moving. Better double the ticket system with online codes or you’ll get long lines.”

The room went silent, then erupted into praises.

"Woah, that's so smart!"

"Write that down! WRITE THAT DOWN!"

Heat shot to your cheeks. Meanwhile, Jaehyun blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected this outcome at all. Still, he smoothly slid into the seat between you and Gaon, grinning like it was all part of the plan.

Leaning in, he whispered, “I have no idea what I’m talking about.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back, but the smug look on his face paired with the quiet panic in his voice did you in.

When he added, “But hey, I scored you some free labor,” you broke.

You laughed so much, hiding behind your notes as the whole room turned to look. Beside you, Jaehyun beamed.

III.

The annual festival was a three-day event for your university. It had everything from food stalls and game tents to live performances (which he and his friends are a part of on day three). It had been the perfect opportunity to spend time with you (as if he hadn't been spending time with you since you started dating).

Still, Jaehyun couldn't help but feel deflated when he realized you had to help man your booth for half the day.

He’d tried convincing you to sneak away and explore with him, but you’d smiled that sweet smile that he could never say no to and shoved him toward Riwoo and Woonhak.

“Go enjoy yourself,” you said. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

So now, Jaehyun was trudging down the main row of booths with his friends, hands shoved in his pockets with his friends ohhing and ahhing at the displays.

"I miss my girlfriend," he whined to Riwoo for the millionth time.

"You'll be seeing her later in the day anyway." Riwoo resisted the urge to sigh. "Here, have some of Woonhak's chicken."

"Hey!"

Then the crowd ahead of them thickened. A whole group of guys clustered near one booth, blocking the path.

Woonhak craned his neck. “What’s everyone gathering for?”

Riwoo squinted. “Isn’t that… YN’s booth? The ring toss thing?”

Jaehyun froze, eyes narrowing. Then his voice took on a serious tone, bordering on urgent. “We should go.”

“But weren’t we going to get more chick—” Woonhak started.

“Nope. We’re going,” Jaehyun said, already marching forward.

. . .

You hadn't expected the sudden swarm of male students around your council's ring toss booth. Your members joked it had something to do with switching out Gaon for you at the registration area.

Even when you stood there, internally overwhelmed, you had on your brightest smile as you handed over rings and explained the rules. The rowdy group of guys seemed especially determined, saying things like they'd win the prizes for you, which you laughed off politely. As long as the tickets were selling, you weren't complaining.

Then, through the crowd, three familiar faces appeared.

“Hey, noona!” Woonhak called brightly, waving. You'd never tell Jaehyun (though you're sure he shared the same sentiments) but you had a soft spot for the youngest member of their friend group.

Riwoo gave you a grin and a nod, and Jaehyun... well, Jaehyun looked like he was headed into battle.

"Hi baby," he started, intentionally raising his voice for the group of guys beside him to hear, before slapping down tickets unto the table. "I'll play."

You chuckled. You knew where this was headed. "Sure! Three tries!"

He tossed the first ring. Missed. Second ring. Missed. Third ring... it spun once before clattering off the bottle.

From the sidelines, his friends winced.

"I'll try." Riwoo stepped forward, stepping up. He managed to snag a bottle neck on his second throw, earning himself a small keychain prize. Woonhak followed, grinning when he landed one too.

They both turned to Jaehyun, who was already paying for another round.

“Again,” he muttered.

You bit back a smile, handing him the rings. He tried. Failed. Tried again. Failed again. His growing frustration somehow radiated through-out the booth, making the rest of the guys scatter. One of your council members whispered to you that Jaehyun was scaring off potential customers but you were too engrossed and amused by your boyfriend's antics to care.

Clink! Finally, a ring settled neatly around a bottle neck.

“Yes!” Jaehyun shouted triumphantly, throwing his arms around you as if he won a major championship game. He accepted the prize (another minor keychain), turned to you, and grinned. His friends snickered behind him.

You coudn't resist the sight of his proud face when he presented it to you, so you leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

His smile stuck to his face, eyes a little dazed. Even after you shoo'd them away from the booth and promised to look around with him in the afternoon, the goofy grin stayed plastered on his face.

"If all it took for you to stop sulking was seeing Noona, then we should've brought you earlier," Woonhak whined. "I had to sacrifice my chicken!"

"I'll get you more chicken."

"Yes!"

IV.

The gym was packed for the festival's dance competition on the second day. Jaehyun sat on the bleachers with his friends, holding signs with your face and name on it.

"Make sure you're getting her fancam right," Jaehyun told Leehan, who gave him a thumbs-up.

When your introduction was made and the music blasted through the speakers, Jaehyun cheered like a mad mad when you took center stage. His heart swelled with pride as he watched you perform a series of complicated steps, commanding the stage and shining just like you always did.

Beside him, Sungho let out a whistle. "Wow, she's a better dancer than you."

“Yeah,” Jaehyun said instantly, grinning from ear to ear. “She’s amazing.”

He clapped and cheered louder than anyone else, not even embarrassed when a couple of students turned to stare. Every time you hit a particularly difficult move, he jumped up in excitement, biting down his knuckle to push down giddiness.

By the time your routine ended, the crowd was on their feet in a loud roar of cheers. Jaehyun’s voice cracked from shouting so much, but he didn’t care. His girlfriend absolutely killed it!

. . .

When the emcee announced your troupe as the winners for the annual festival, you let out a breath of relief as your team exploded in cheers around you. The dance competition had been a reprieve from your usual day-to-day activities, despite being just as stressful to prepare for. But when you performed on that stage, everything felt lighter. Winning had been the icing on the cake.

Suddenly, you were pushed forward by your team, urging you to accept the trophy with them in tow. In a rare bout of shyness, you led them up the stage.

The emcee then ushered a guest presenter to the stage—Sohee, the captain of the basketball team. He carried the trophy and a bouquet of flowers, sauntering to you with a smile that made the crowd buzz.

"Congratulations," he said.

You took them with a practiced smile, murmuring a small thanks. At the back of your mind, you slightly braced your self. You half-expected Jaehyun to come storming up the stage with his classic jealous boyfriend act (something you had brought up with him multiple times in the past, which he innocently claimed to "not have any clue about"). But surprisingly... nothing happened.

When the photo ops started, and your team gathered around you to take pictures with the trophy, you stood corrected. You barely had time to relax when you heard a part of the gym explode into hoots and cheers.

"Excuse me," a familiar voice cut from the left side of the stage.

You turned... and there he was. Jaehyun, your ever dramatic boyfriend with a deep fondness for grand gestures, striding unto the stage with an even bigger bouquet of your favorite flowers. The smug smile on his face was devastating. The crowd went wild.

He stopped in front of you and glanced at the bouquet in your hands. With a little quirk of his head, he turned to one of your teammates. "Would you mind holding that for a moment?"

Your teammate, albeit a little stunned by his charming smile, rushed forward to take the bouquet from your hands. Jaehyun smoothly swapped them with his own.

"For you," he murmured.

You didn't know whether to laugh or melt at the gesture, while your team screamed in the background. The entire gym shook with the noise from your classmates chanting and whistling at the spectacle.

"Really?" you snorted, half-exasperated, half-amused.

He shrugged. "What? You deserve flowers that aren't recycled from the basketball team's funds." He then settled beside you to join in the picture-taking.

With an arm around you, he grinned cheekily once more before leaning forward and kissing your cheek just as the camera went click!

(It was only a week after the festival, when you were giving yet another transferee a tour around campus and stopped in front of the trophy cabinet, that you saw the winner’s picture and realized Jaehyun’s gesture had been the best way to make it known to the school that you were his).

I.

YOU HADN'T PLANNED on roping your boyfriend and his friends into performing for the last day of the festival. But after that chaotic serenade he'd pulled off to court you, you knew the crowd would love them.

And you were right.

From the side of the stage, you watched him slip into performer mode effortlessly. He looked absolutely magnetic, with his beautiful voice and amazing dance skills that rivaled yours. Of course, the front row was packed with girls, squealing and waving signs of his name.

You told yourself you didn't mind the attention he was getting. Your boyfriend was incredible, after all. But when one of them yelled, "You're so handsome, Jaehyun!" and he laughed into the mic, you couldn't help your eye twitching.

By the end of the set, the boys were basking in the applause, and Jaehyun hopped off stage. You were about to approach him when three girls beat you to it.

They immediately showered him with praises, offering water bottles and towels. When one of them leaned too close into his personal space to take a picture, your feet moved you forward without thinking.

You slipped an arm around Jaehyun's waist, catching him off-guard for a second before he relaxed after realizing it was you. His gaze burned the side of your face, yet you were too distracted by something else.

"Sorry girls," you said brightly. "He's a little busy."

To your surprise, their eyes widened. "Oh! You're his girlfriend, right? YN-nim?"

When you nodded, they switched up so fast, apologizing and cooing over your relationship like they shipped you since the very beginning. They then scattered, giggling as they went.

You turned back to your boyfriend, who looked down at you with lips twitching. "That was so..." Jaehyun smirked. "Possessive."

You couldn't help but blush. "They were crowding you, I was just... helping."

Helping,” he echoed, clearly amused. “So, when you wrapped yourself around me and told them off, that was just ‘helping?’”

You glared. “Don’t start.”

He only leaned closer, grin softening into something that made your stomach flip. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t—”

"God, I love you," he started. Then, without waiting for a response, he tugged you gently by the waist and kissed you. He smiled against your lips when he felt you relax in his embrace.

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. "Better?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't wipe the grin off your face. "Much."

you looked the way jaehyun dropped down beside you, in between the couple that was making out. he smelled clean though you could clearly see he was sweating from the heat of the party.

he leaned back into the couch, looking at you with one arm stretched along the backrest, not around you, just there. you took another sip from your cup, looking at jaehyun over the edge of it.

it burned, not the drink but his gaze.

"having fun?" he asked, leaning into your ear to whisper.

you thanked whoever set the lights red because you could feel your cheeks grow pink by the way his lips brushed your ear. "yeah." you said, but being honest, you didn't even know how to feel right now.

jaehyun hummed softly, like he could tell. he didn't move away after whispering, his shoulder pressed against yours, his arm still stretched behind you along the back of the couch. close enough that it felt almost on purpose.

you heard someone laughing behind the couch, the couple next to him shifting as they kept kissing, completely unbothered. jaehyun glanced at them and then up and down at your face, the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"wanna go somewhere quieter?" he asked, casual, like he wasn't asking something that made your chest flutter.

you bit your lower lip hesitantly, then exhaled before you nodded.

he stood first, offering you his hand like it was the most natural thing to do between friends. you took it as easily though, fingers curling around his no matter the new yet familiar feeling. he took you upstairs, passing by rooms you knew by heart.

he stopped just outside his bedroom door, hesitating for half a second before pushing the door open.

inside, it was quieter. warmer thanks to the ac he'd left on. the music was distant now, muffled through the walls. he leaned back against the door after closing it, running a hand through his silky hair.

you sat on the edge of his bed, placing your cup on his nightstand as you took a quick glance around his overall room. it looked exactly like you remembered, but still a little older. "thankfully cleaner." you thought and couldn't help to smile.

jaehyun smiled too, a little confused, as he sat beside you on the bed. the mattress dipped slightly under his weight, bringing you closer than you really wanted.

"why are you smiling?" he asked softly, glancing between your face and the small grin you were absentmindedly wearing.

you shrugged, suddenly self conscious. "I don't know. I was just thinking how weird it is."

"weird how?" jaehyun shifted beside you, bringing you even closer.

"how this room looks the same, but not–" you gestured vaguely around you. "I feel like I missed a phase or something."

he let out a quiet laugh at that, looking around as well. "I mean– you kinda did. you didn't talk to me for like two years."

you looked at him then, really looked at him. the soft moonlight coming from his window caught his face just right, shadows tracing features you'd known forever. and yet, something in your chest tightened in a way it never had before.

when did he start looking like this?

"what?" he asked, almost shy.

"nothing," you said quickly. you exhaled. "I just...I didn't realise how much you've changed."

he tilted his head slightly, studying you in return. "you did too."

you pouted, caught off guard. "me?"

"yeah." he smiled, small but honest. "you're not the same either."

the space between you felt smaller by now, like it had been slowly shrinking without either of you noticing. your knees brushed and you could feel his breath close enough to your neck as you looked down at your knees.

"I used to think about texting you sometimes," he admitted suddenly, eyes dropping down to you guys' knees too. "but I never knew what to say."

you turned your head to look at him, your chest tightening at the way his eyes shined. "me too."

silence settled between you, heavier now, loaded with everything you hadn't said back then. jaehyun looked up again, searching your face like he was trying to read you.

he let out a breath that sounded like relief, his shoulders easing a little. his knee shifted, brushing yours again.

"I'm glad you came tonight," he said, voice low. "I don't think I would've said any of this out loud otherwise."

your heart skipped at his comment. "me neither."

the silence that followed wasn't empty. it felt full. full of unsent messages, missed years, and the familiarity of knowing someone so well to then realise you didn't anymore. jaehyun leaned closer, slow enough that you had time to stop him if you wanted to.

he didn't touch you yet. he just hovered there, close enough that you could feel a soft linger of his lips against your cheek.

"tell me if I'm reading this wrong, please." he murmured.

you met his eyes after a while of looking at his lips. you saw the same nervous hope mirrored in his eyes, and shook your head.

that was all the permission he needed.

he leaned in the rest of the way, tentative at first, lips brushing yours like he was testing the moment. the kiss was soft, almost careful, like he didn't want you to break. when you kissed him back, just a little more sure, he smiled into it without pulling away.

his hand came to rest lightly at your waist, feeling the cold of his hand even through your sweater.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads touched. jaehyun laughed softly, barely more than a breath.

you barely had time to smile before he leaned in again, this time with less hesitation. the kiss deepened naturally, like he'd figure out the rhythm by now, like he wasn't afraid to cross that invisible line anymore. his lips moved against yours with quiet confidence, slow but intense, and you felt it all the way down your spine.

you shifted closer without thinking, resting your hand on his thigh for steadiness. jaehyun noticed, and his hand tightened just slightly at your waist. the kiss lingered, unhurried. when you pulled apart to breathe, he didn't pull away, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. you inhaled softly, fingers curling into his jeans.

"tell me if I should stop." he murmured, his voice growing lower, darker.

you shook your head, heart racing faster. "don't."

jaehyun smiled against the skin of your neck, breath warm. "you were really distracting tonight."

you rolled your eyes, even if your face burned. "you're the one to talk." you said as you took his face between your hands.

you brushed your thumbs lightly along his jaw. god, you wanted to do this for so long. he leaned into your touch instinctively, eyes fluttered shut for just a second before opening again.

"don't look at me like that." you murmured, pouting softly.

"like what?" he smirked.

"like that!" you let out a breathy laugh.

he suddenly leaned once again to your lips without hesitation. the kiss was slower, deeper. your mouths fitting together like you'd done this before in some other lifetime. his hand slid a little higher at your waist, thumb pressing lightly, while the other rested on the bed beside you.

jaehyun smiled against the kiss once again before his lips traced down your jaw again, slower this time, lingering like he was memorising the feeling. you tilted your head without thinking, giving him more space, fingers starting to play with the hem of his shirt.

his breath hitched, making a sound you never heard coming from him.

he went back to kiss your cheek, resting his forehead against yours again. "we should probably–" he started, but the sentence died against your lips when you leaned in first this time.

jaehyun made a quiet sound of surprise before kissing you back, deeper than before if that was possible. his hand slid back from your waist to the curve before your ass, pulling you even closer to him until your chests brushed.

you gasped into the kiss when you ran out of air, but instead of stopping you kept going.

your fingers slipped into his curly hair, nails grazing his scalp, and jaehyun groaned softly into your mouth. the sound pooling deep in you.

he kissed you like he'd been holding back for years.

his mouth trailed briefly to your jaw, then back to your lips, and you chased him without thinking, laughing softly at your eagerness.

"god," he murmured, hiding his face in between the crook of your neck, holding down the hem of your sweater. he looked at you, asking for permission when–

knock knock knock

you both jolted.

"jaehyun!" sohee's voice came through the door, urgent. "open up!"

jaehyun groaned straight into your shoulder, wishing he'd just disappear if he ignored him hard enough.

"what?" he called back, his hands still around you.

"your parents just pulled into the driveway."

jaehyun froze. then pulled back, eyes wide at you as if it was your fault.

"fuck."

you burst out of laughing, immediately clapping a hand over your mouth as you threw yourself into the mattress.

"wait– dude, are you with a girl!?" sohee suddenly asked after hearing you, and you tried so hard not to laugh once again.

he nudged your knee, warning you to shut up. "no!" his voice cracked, ridiculously trying to deny it. "I'm coming! don't let them in!" jaehyun stood up, subtly adjusting his jeans and tugging his shirt down.

he turned back at you, the moonlight hitting his face in a way you could see the blush across his face and ears. "we're absolutely not done."

you smirked, still trying not to laugh. "yeah?"

"yeah."

Soobin sat beside you, one leg bent, one dangling over the edge, as relaxed as if this rooftop were just another couch in his apartment. The faint orange from the small, flickering rooftop light painted gentle shadows along his jaw, softening his features even more. He swirled the drink in his hand, the clink of ice against glass punctuating the silence between your words.

“Sometimes it feels like everything is some kind of sick joke,” you said suddenly, staring out at the skyline. “Like… I’m doing everything I’m supposed to, and life just keeps finding new ways to prove I don’t deserve any of it anyway.”

Soobin huffed a quiet laugh, one that wasn’t really amused. “Feels unfair?”

“That’s an understatement,” you murmured. “It feels like I’m being punished for something I don’t remember doing. Like I missed a memo somewhere.”

He didn’t respond right away, just tilted his head back, looking up at the murky sky. The breeze ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you envied how effortlessly calm he always seemed.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat, hoping it would burn away the heaviness in your chest too.

“I keep thinking,” you went on, voice softer now, “that nobody really cares about me. Not really.” You paused, then corrected yourself. “I mean, my family does. But that’s… different. It’s like they’re obligated to. They love me because they’re supposed to. It doesn’t feel like something I earned. It just… is.”

You swallowed, eyes tracing the antennae on a nearby building, the blinking red light that marked its tip.

“I miss the feeling of knowing someone cares because they want to. Because they decided I was worth it. Because they chose me. Not because blood or history or guilt said they had to.”

The words left your mouth and drifted into the air between you both, fragile and raw. You weren’t even sure what you expected him to say in response. Maybe nothing. Maybe just that familiar, quiet presence you’d grown used to on these nights.

Soobin glanced at you, his lips pressed into a small line. “I get that,” he said after a moment. “More than you think.”

You turned to look at him properly then. His gaze was steady, gentle, but serious in a way that made you feel like he wasn’t just saying it to relate.

“It’s not as hopeless as it feels,” he added. “People care about you more than you realize.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t know that.”

He smiled faintly, eyes dropping to his drink before returning to the skyline. “I think I do. It’s just… people are bad at saying it. Or showing it in the way you need. Sometimes they care in these small, stupid ways that don’t look like much until you’re really vulnerable. Until something breaks you open. Then you notice all the little things.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around your glass. “It just makes me feel ungrateful when you say it like that. Like I’m ignoring what I have and focusing on what I don’t.”

“No,” he said immediately, turning back to you. “That’s not what I mean.” His voice was soft but firm. “You’re allowed to feel like this. It doesn’t make you ungrateful. It makes you human. Wanting to be chosen, wanting to be loved, wanting to hear that you matter—that’s not selfish.”

Your shoulders loosened a little, the tension there unraveling just a bit.

“As long as you don’t let it eat you alive,” he finished quietly. “That’s the only part that worries me.”

You looked down at your hands, tracing the faint ring of moisture your drink had left on the rooftop ledge. “It’s been hard lately,” you confessed. “Harder than I want to admit.”

The city hummed below, a distant, unfocused sound. Up here, the noise inside your head was louder.

“I’ve become so painfully aware of how much I want to be loved,” you said. “Like, obsessively aware. I want someone to look at me and just… decide I’m worth the effort. I want to hear it from someone’s mouth, not just assume or hope. I want to know I matter to someone, and not in a vague, ‘everyone matters’ way. In a real way.”

You could feel his eyes on you, heavy and attentive. Before he could speak, you rushed on, cutting him off.

“And I don’t need to hear it from you,” you added quickly, a half-laugh slipping out that sounded more like a defense mechanism than actual humor. “That’s not what I’m fishing for. I don’t want it to be some empty consolation prize you hand me because I sound pathetic. I want it to mean something when I finally hear it.”

Soobin stared at you, then let out a low chuckle, the sound warm but tinged with something else. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, a little embarrassed now that your own words had caught up with you.

“It is disappointing,” he said, rolling the glass between his palms. “When life doesn’t meet your expectations. When the things that are supposed to come naturally—love, comfort, being understood—feel like things you have to beg for instead.”

His voice faded off, and you noticed the way his expression shifted. His shoulders tensed slightly, his gaze dropping to his drink again. He pressed his lips together, as if weighing something in his head.

You watched him, your earlier heaviness momentarily replaced by curiosity. “What?” you asked softly. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated. You could practically see the thought wrestling behind his eyes. The rooftop suddenly felt smaller, the space between you both more charged.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I… probably shouldn’t say this,” he muttered.

You tilted your head. “You know that’s the worst possible way to start a sentence.”

He let out a breathy laugh, almost nervous this time. A heartbeat passed. Then another.

Finally, in a low voice that felt like it was meant just for you, he said, “You need to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply.”

For a second, you were sure you’d misheard him. Your brain refused to process the words, as if they were in a language you’d never learned.

You stared at him, your mouth parting slightly. “What… are you talking about?” you asked, the words coming out faint and disbelieving.

Soobin looked almost painfully honest as he held your gaze. “We’ve been doing this for a while now,” he said. “You and me. Coming up here, talking about everything we don’t tell anyone else. Trading scars. Being vulnerable in that weird, safe way because we’re just… neighbors who happen to share a rooftop escape.”

His fingers drummed lightly against his glass. “At first, I thought I just pitied you a little,” he admitted. “Or that I sympathized with you. I liked having someone I could relate to every now and then. Someone who didn’t expect anything from me outside of these conversations.”

He swallowed, his eyes softening. “But then it started to hurt,” he continued quietly. “Every time you told me you were having a hard time, something in me twisted. Because to me, you don’t deserve any of it. Not the loneliness, not the doubt, not that feeling that no one cares about you.”

His voice trembled on the last words, almost imperceptibly.

“We’re just two strangers,” he went on. “Two people who decided this rooftop would be our way to escape the rest of the world. We started talking because it was easier to tell the truth to someone who had no influence over our lives. No shared history. No expectations.”

He paused, then gave a small, almost helpless smile.

“But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred,” he said. “Somewhere, you stopped being just a stranger I vented to. I started looking forward to seeing you up here. To hearing your voice. To knowing how your day went. And I knew what that meant.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, thudding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“It meant,” he finished softly, “that you were going through something. That I was going through something. That our hurt brought us together. And I…” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t want that to be the only reason we stay together.”

The words settled over the rooftop like a warm blanket, heavy and comforting and terrifying all at once.

You didn’t know what to say. You were stunned, but beneath the shock, something in you felt achingly moved. Touched in a place you hadn’t allowed anyone to reach in a long time.

You understood, in a way, why he hadn’t said anything sooner. If he had, on some random night when you were still clinging to the idea that your lives were cleanly separated, it would have made no sense. It would have broken the unspoken rules you’d both quietly agreed to.

Still, hearing it now made your chest ache.

He seemed to notice your silence and quickly raised his hands in a small, reassuring gesture. “I’m not expecting anything from you,” he said. “I just… wanted you to know. So that the next time you feel like no one cares, you can at least remember that isn’t true.”

Your throat tightened. “Soobin…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added gently. “Really. This isn’t supposed to make things harder for you. I just didn’t want to keep it all in and let you sit with those thoughts alone.”

You blinked rapidly, turning your gaze away so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes were starting to sting. The city lights blurred, smearing into hazy streaks.

“Thank you,” you managed after a moment, your voice quiet but sincere. “For telling me. For… all of this.”

He smiled, small and relieved, like your gratitude was more than enough.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence then, the kind that only people who had bared enough of themselves could share without it feeling awkward. You listened to the hum of distant traffic, the faint thump of bass from a party a few buildings over, the clink of his ice melting completely in his glass.

Time passed in unmeasured increments. Eventually, Soobin stretched his arms above his head and let out a soft sigh.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his tone apologetic but light. He set his now-empty glass aside and pushed himself to his feet. “I should probably head in before I turn into a rooftop fossil.”

You snorted quietly at that. He dusted off his jeans, then looked down at you, hesitating for a moment.

He usually ended nights like this with a soft, certain, “I’ll see you again.” It had become your unspoken promise, your assurance that this strange little bubble you’d built together wouldn’t just pop overnight.

But tonight, he hesitated.

“Will I…” He paused, catching himself, and his voice came out a little more tentative. “Will I see you again up here?”

There it was—the question slipped in where a statement used to be. It shouldn’t have made such a difference, but it did. You felt his uncertainty like a small tug on your heart.

You looked up at him and nodded, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You will.”

Relief flashed through his expression, subtle but unmistakable. He gave you a gentle smile, one that lingered even after he turned to head toward the rooftop door.

You watched his back as he disappeared down the stairs, the metal door swinging shut behind him with a soft clank. You stayed there a little longer, your drink now warm and flat, your mind replaying his confession over and over like a record caught in a groove.

Eventually, when the chill in the air seeped past your clothes and into your skin, you dragged yourself downstairs and back to your own apartment.

—

Your bedroom was dim, lit only by the faint glow from your phone screen on the nightstand. You lay on your back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the shadows there morphing into shapes that didn’t hold your attention for more than a heartbeat at a time.

You were exhausted. The alcohol had left a pleasant heaviness in your limbs, your body sinking comfortably into the mattress. But your mind wouldn’t quiet.

Every time you closed your eyes, you heard his voice again.

You need to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply.

It echoed, threading itself around old memories of his soft smiles, his thoughtful questions, the way he always listened like what you were saying actually mattered.

You tossed onto your side. Then your other side. You kicked your blanket off, then pulled it back over you. Your pillow felt too warm, then too cold. Your frustration built with each minute that passed, and still, sleep refused to take you.

You didn’t fully understand why you were so restless, but you knew—instinctively—that it had everything to do with him.

With a sigh, you sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You stared at the floor for a moment, then found yourself standing, your body moving before your mind caught up.

By the time you were slipping into a hoodie and shoving your keys into your pocket, you’d stopped questioning it. You just needed to see him. To make sense of this new thing between you.

The hallway outside your apartment was quiet, the hum of old fluorescent lights overhead filling the silence. You padded down the worn carpet, your steps soft but quick, your heart pounding unreasonably fast for such a short walk.

You stopped in front of his door, staring at the faded number for a few seconds. Part of you wanted to turn back, to crawl into bed and pretend this was just another passing late-night thought.

Instead, you raised your fist and knocked.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then you heard faint movement inside—footsteps, the shifting creak of floorboards, the soft rustle of fabric. Your pulse skipped.

The door opened.

Soobin stood there, hair slightly tousled, wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants that hung comfortably from his hips. He looked tired, but not annoyed. If anything, his expression first flickered to surprise, then very quickly softened into something like concern.

He didn’t ask, What are you doing here? He didn’t demand an explanation.

Instead, the first words out of his mouth were, “Are you okay?”

The simplicity of it, the sincerity, hit you harder than you expected.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you said, though your voice came out a little thin. “I just… can’t fall asleep.”

He studied you for a beat, his eyes searching your face like he was trying to read between every blink, every twitch of your mouth.

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask what he was supposed to do about it.

He simply stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, your chest tightening again for a totally different reason this time, and stepped past him into his apartment.

He closed the door behind you with a soft click, but you both lingered there near the entryway, neither of you rushing to move further in. The air felt different in here—warmer, more intimate, carrying a subtle scent of something clean and earthy.

You’d known him as your neighbor for a while now. You’d shared so much of yourselves on that rooftop that it sometimes felt like you knew every corner of his mind. But this… this was different.

You’d never been inside his space before.

You slipped off your shoes, more out of instinct than instruction, and let your eyes roam.

Soobin’s apartment was nothing like what you had imagined, and yet somehow, it fit him perfectly. The living room was tidy but lived-in, with soft, mismatched cushions thrown over a comfortable-looking couch. A small bookshelf stood against one wall, filled not just with books, but also with small trinkets—tiny figurines, a few framed photos, a well-loved mug holding an assortment of pens.

Plants claimed the corners—tall ones reaching for the light, smaller ones perched on shelves, their leaves catching the dim glow from a warm lamp. A faint scent of vanilla and something woody hung in the air, likely from the half-burnt candle you spotted on the coffee table.

You drifted further inside, drawn by curiosity. Your fingers brushed the edges of a framed print on the wall—abstract shapes in soft blues and muted pinks. You paused at a small gallery of photos: blurry shots of city streets, close-ups of hands holding coffee cups, a candid picture of someone laughing that you didn’t recognize.

You noticed Soobin watching you quietly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“You have good taste,” you said, turning to him with a small, genuine smile.

He ducked his head, a hint of color blooming along his cheeks. “I just buy whatever doesn’t make my eyes hurt,” he replied, trying to play it off. But there was a glimmer of pride there, and you caught it.

You moved slowly through the hallway, the soft soles of your socks silent against the floor. You ran your fingers along the wall as you passed, letting yourself feel the texture of the paint, the quiet intimacy of being in his space.

He followed a few steps behind, saying nothing, but you could feel his presence like a warm shadow.

When you reached the doorway of his bedroom, you hesitated.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the faint light spilling in from the hall and a soft glow from a lamp on his nightstand. The bed was unmade but not messy—sheets slightly rumpled, pillows pushed toward the headboard like he’d been lying there not long before you knocked.

A couple more plants sat on the windowsill, their leaves silhouetted against the curtains. The fabric filtered the city lights outside into a muted, dreamy glow.

You stepped inside and went straight toward the window, drawn as always to the view. You slipped your fingers into the curtain, parting it just enough to see the city stretching out below, familiar but new from this angle.

Through the thin reflection in the glass, you could see Soobin behind you.

He’d followed you into the room, standing a few steps away, his posture relaxed but careful, like he was trying very hard to give you space in his own bedroom.

Your eyes flicked to his reflection. He looked softer in the weak light—eyes gentle, hair falling haphazardly over his forehead. Something about the sight of him there, in his space, with you in it too, settled over you like a quiet calm.

Looking at him made you feel oddly peaceful.

You let the curtain fall back into place and turned around.

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other. No one said anything. The silence didn’t feel empty; it felt full, charged with everything you’d said earlier and everything you hadn’t.

You weren’t sure who moved first.

All you knew was that one second you were standing a few feet apart, and the next, the distance between you was gone.

You closed the gap slowly, bodies drawn together by something that felt inevitable. The first brush of his lips against yours was tentative, almost questioning, but there was a warmth there that made your knees go weak. His hands hovered for a second, like he was asking for permission without words.

You gave it.

You let your hands find him—his shoulders, his chest, the solid, surprising strength beneath the softness of his shirt. He shivered under your touch, his breath catching, and it sent a thrill through you that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with him.

You moved together through the dim room, slow steps bringing you closer to the edge of his bed, your mouths never fully parting for long. You could feel the thud of his heart when you pressed closer, fast and uneven against your palm.

When he sat down on the mattress and you followed, settling onto his lap, the world outside the bedroom ceased to exist. There was only the slide of his hands over your sides, the way he murmured your name like it meant something precious, the familiar smell of his skin now so close it wrapped around you.

He lifted your hoodie off your body, the faint clink of your keys hitting the floor compelling you to learn further into him. His shirt followed. Your hands roamed over his firm shoulders, his chest, his back. His skin was soft and warm, his heart hammering rapidly under his ribs. 

His fingers were gentle, patient as they unclasped your bra, which joined your hoodie by the foot of his bed. He touched your breasts, caressed your back, and picked you up, placing your body under his, shifting to hover over you. 

Your eyes met briefly, a gentle smile splaying on his lips. You pulled his mouth back to yours, tasting a faint sweetness that was likely his mouthwash, but also something irresistibly him. He pulled your shorts down, along with your underwear. You kicked them off, your breath hiking as his own pants followed. Nothing about his actions felt hasty. Even though you were moving fast, everything felt just right. 

You let your hand wrap around his member. He wasn’t completely hard. You tugged softly. He groaned quietly, his fingers sliding between your folds tentatively. He swallowed your helpless whimpers as his tongue rolled over yours. You could feel his cock getting heavier with each second that passed, matching the aching pulse between your legs as his thumb toyed with your clit. 

He pulled away from you, just for a moment, and you could see in his expression that he was ready. So were you. He settled next to you and drew you on top of him. You pressed your chest flush against his, angling your hip upward while he worked to slip his cock inside you. 

You lowered yourself slowly, losing your breath as he filled your walls. His hands found your hips, holding you tighter now than he had before. He guided your movements, keeping them steady. As he brought you down, he bucked his hips up, your bodies falling into a cohesive harmony. 

Eventually, leaving one hand fixed on your hip, Soobin brought the other to your jaw. Your lips, which had been travelling down to his neck and collar, were brought back to his mouth. His kisses felt more urgent now, the pace of his thrusts picking up just slightly. 

Your fingers wove out of his hair and pressed against his chest. Sitting up, you sent all your weight into your hips, meeting his thrusts halfway, making them feel sharper. Though your thighs burned, you didn’t relent. The way his head fell back against the pillow and his jaw slacked motivated you to keep going just the same. 

Soobin’s fingers squeezed your ass, his touch feeling desperate. Heat crawled up your face every time you slid down on his cock. Your body was ablaze. As his thrusts began faltering, you moved faster. He sat up quickly, mouth opening on your neck, anguished lips sucking on your skin. 

It was like he had struck a match; the sensation ignited you. He took control of your movements again, relieving the fire in your legs, using your body selfishly. You dug your knees into the mattress, throwing your head back, letting him have at you.

With one final push, you felt his body tense up, and then he released. Your limbs were shaking with adrenaline. He relaxed within seconds, still groaning through gritted teeth, but he maintained his strong grip on you, not ready to let you slip away. 

You pressed your forehead against his, panting softly, eyes shut, focused on the feeling of his cum mixing with your own wetness. The thin sheen of sweat lining your back felt icy now as you finally registered your state of undress. It felt calming, like a gentle breeze. 

Soobin didn’t want you to move an inch. He wanted to stay just like this, bodies recovering in tandem. 

Later, when everything had quieted down and the air in the room felt heavy and warm, you found yourself lying with your head resting on his chest.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear—a slow, gentle rhythm that reminded you of waves lapping at the shore. Comforting. Repetitive. Safe.

Your fingers skimmed lazily across his torso, tracing meaningless patterns along his skin. He, in turn, was doing the same to you, drawing feather-light lines along your arm, your side, wherever he could reach without disturbing the way you were perfectly draped over him.

His touch was so soft it was almost ticklish, but there was something soothing in it too, something that made your eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute.

You fought the sleep pulling at you.

You didn’t want to close your eyes, didn’t want to miss a single detail about him that you’d never been allowed to notice this closely before. Not just his words now, but him. The ordinary, quiet things that made up who he was in these unguarded moments.

The way his chest rose and fell under your cheek. The subtle, clean scent of his skin, still tinged with the faint sweetness of his body wash. The shape of his collarbone beneath your palm when you shifted slightly.

You lifted your head just enough to look at him.

His hair was a little messy, strands falling haphazardly over his forehead. His eyes were half-lidded, lashes resting gently against his cheeks every few seconds as he blinked slowly, like he was on the edge of sleep too but fighting it for the same reason you were.

When he looked at you, it was with an expression so soft it made your chest ache. He looked at you like you were something fragile and precious—a delicate vase he was terrified of dropping, but couldn’t bring himself to put down.

Your throat felt tight again, but not in the same painful way it had on the rooftop.

He reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary against your skin.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “You should sleep.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him you weren’t tired, but your jaw stretched betraying you in a slow, involuntary yawn.

He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet amusement.

“See?” he whispered. “Go to sleep.”

You rested your head back on his chest, this time letting more of your weight sink into him. His arm tightened around you, holding you secure against him in a way that made something deep inside you finally, finally relax.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he added softly, his lips brushing the top of your head as he spoke. “Still holding you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The reassurance settled into you, warm and sure, filling the spaces that once felt so hopelessly empty.

For the first time in a long time, the thought of being cared for didn’t feel like some distant, unreachable fantasy.

With the steady beat of his heart in your ear and the weight of his arms around you, your eyes fluttered shut. The city outside continued on, loud and endless, but in Soobin’s bedroom, everything was quiet.

You let yourself believe him.

A few minutes pass before you tilt your head to catch his eye. “Rough day?” you murmur. He nods, but words seem out of reach. You comb your fingers through his hair, gentle and patient, waiting for him to find his voice. Eventually, he lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“Just stay with me, right here like this,” he whispers, voice muffled by your shoulder.

“I can do that,” you reply, tightening your embrace. For a while, you both just breathe—his exhale gradually softening, your presence quietly anchoring him. Then, there’s a soft press of lips against your collarbone. You feel the tension in him begin to ebb, replaced by something tender and yearning.

He shifts, pulling you down until you’re nestled beneath him. The kisses he trails along your jaw are unhurried, his hands gentle as if he’s afraid to break the fragile peace you’ve created together. You respond in kind, matching his pace, letting him set the tone—slow, grounding, intimate.

Sensing his fatigue, you guide him to sit back, cupping his face in your hands. “Let me take care of you tonight,” you say softly, your thumbs brushing away the last traces of worry from his brow. He closes his eyes as you begin to melt away the stress with every loving touch. 

You move on top of him, straddling his lap. His thighs are solid underneath you, hands naturally falling on your hips. Curling your fingers into his hair, you return your mouth to his, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, faintly. He parts his lips permissively, sighing into the kiss as he follows your every move lazily. 

When you pull away ever so slightly, his eyes crack open, peering at you intently, wondering what you have in mind for him. He’s relaxed, impatient, curious, but eager. A smile tugs at your lips as you push his jacket off his shoulders, lifting his shirt off along with it. 

Running your palms over his chest, you bend down, finding the spot behind his ear that makes him whine quietly in protest. His hips drag against yours instinctively as heat slowly begins flaring within him. 

You shift to his jaw, then down to his neck, tongue traveling over his collarbone and further over his chest. He squirms under you, the soft thud of his heart picking up just slightly. His quiet breaths become sharper as your kisses begin mapping lower on his torso. 

Rising from his lap, you drop to the floor, sitting between his legs. He locks eyes with you, a glint of anticipation in his gaze, letting you sweep his pants off. You wrap your fingers around his member, not entirely hard yet, but still impressive in girth. Sungchan watches intently, arms falling to his sides, unwilling to intervene. 

You start with a shy lick at his tip, then trail your tongue from the base of his cock to the top. He leans back fully against the couch, letting his eyes fall shut. Then, you take him in your mouth, sucking slowly, letting your tongue do most of the work as you gently tug on the remaining length of his cock. 

He hums accordingly, blood quick to rush to his member. The firmer he grows, the wider you part your jaw, gradually taking more of him in. He’s quite the mouthful, which you don’t mind. You keep your hand working at the base of his cock, using your spit to make the friction much smoother.

“Fuck, keep doing that…faster.” 

You listen to him, following the curve of his cock with your tongue. The sounds he emits spread a familiar heat between your own legs. He plants his feet firmly on the floor, resisting the urge to buck his hips upward. All he wants is to let you take care of him. 

There’s a flare in your lips and jaw that compels you to pull away for a breath, but the urgency behind Sungchan’s groans spurs you on. He’s close, and you can taste it. But just before you can take him there, he stops you. 

“Wait,” he breathes, “I want to be inside you.” 

You can’t hide your smile. “Is that so?”

Standing up, you wipe the spit off your chin and push your pants down. Sungchan’s cock is erect against his stomach, glistening under the warm lights in the room. He takes hold of it as you resume straddling him again. 

Pressing your chest flush against his, your faces inches apart, lips ghosting over one another’s, Sungchan places a hand on your hip while you take hold of his shoulders, guiding your pussy down on his cock. 

You trade warm, satisfied exhales as the feeling of each other consumes both your minds. Arching your back, you let him dictate the rise and fall of your hips, moaning softly against his jaw. His hands are hot to the touch, and every inch of your skin he traces leaves tingling. 

He kisses you hungrily as he drops your hips down harder, brows knit in concentration, eager for his climax. You let your fingers lace through his hair again, teeth grazing messily against his lips and tongue. “Just a little more,” he pants breathlessly, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure. 

It’s a bittersweet warning. You don’t want the feeling to end, but you crave the warmth of his cum filling you up. Nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, you nibble on his ear, pulling him closer to comfort the burning ache in your thighs. 

Hearing your moans is like feeling a blanket wrap around his mind. He squeezes your hips, lurching forward as he holds you tightly in place. Your toes curl intuitively as the sensation of him releasing washes over you. It makes you feel high. 

His heart drums against your breasts, breath sharp and labored against your shoulder. Both of your bodies fall limp, the adrenaline gradually dissipating from your systems until you’re left flushed and spent. 

“Thank you…for that,” he whispers into the air, placing an obliged kiss to your temple. You peel yourself off of him, just enough to see his refreshed face. The sight brings a triumphant grin to your lips. “I’m glad you’re feeling better now.”

He chuckles in a relaxed whim and taps the small of your back lightly. “Only you can make me feel that way,” he confesses. 

You retort playfully, “Well, I sure hope so.” 

He smiles at you. It’s radiant and reaches his eyes. 

“How about I return the favor…in the shower?”

You cock your head to the side, biting your lip to conceal your enthusiasm, though it slips past you.