katherine

jeonghan knew that it would happen at some point. but right on his birthday, really?

he’s not the one who gets upset with aging, but having a young girlfriend like you are occasionally makes him think about some not really pleasant things.

yoon jeonghan isn’t that old, however, you still have a six years gap. you’re in your early twenties, people your age go to the parties, date people around their age, try to find themselves and many other things. and jeonghan, well, he turns 28 today, and lately he thinks about settling down like some of his friends. he wants it to be with you, but apparently that’s not what in your mind.

he feels like his heart is breaking into million tiny pieces when he sees you with another man. he’s young, tall and well-built. he smiles at you, tells you something that makes you laugh. jeonghan sits in a cafe, watching you from afar. suddenly, the coffee becomes bitter in his mouth, and he feels like he’s about to throw up.

it can’t be seriously happening, right? you would never cheat on him, you would never meet other men behind his back… or would you?

tomorrow, jeonghan decides, he will stay home all day, watching dramas and maybe even crying. initially he thought about going out with you, because jeonghan would never miss the chance to spend some time with you, but since he is obviously not in your priority list anymore, he’s going to have some time alone. he’s perfectly fine, really.

unless he’s not.

it’s 23:56 and in past three years that you two are dating you always made him a surprise. not this time, jeonghan thinks. he wants to be strong, he tells himself that he’s okay, that your happiness is more important to him, although he really regrets that he’s not the one who can make you truly happy. he’s not enough, he guesses. he’s not enough and he’s about to cry, because he is the main reason he lost you - the most precious girl in the whole world.

suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. jeonghan wipes couple of tears that have already left his eyes, and goes to the front door. to be honest, he doesn’t want to see anyone right now, but still he opens the door.

“happy birthday, baby!” you shout with a wide smile on your face. there’re balloons in your right hand and a big birthday bag in the left.

the next moment your smile fades and you look at your boyfriend, worried.

“hannie, what happened? why are you crying?” you let the bag fall to the ground with a loud noise, balloons fly to the ceiling as you come to hug him. “talk to me, please.”

“y-you are here,” he sobs.

“of course I’m here,” you whisper, “it’s my favorite person’s birthday.”

“am I really?” he asks, pulling away from you, to look you in the eyes.

you look at him with a confused face, but still answer “no one but you, hannie. I love you and you know that.”

you sound really sincere, jeonghan immediately regrets his attitude towards you. you came here with a surprise and he ruins everything. he couldn’t hate himself more that he does now.

“I’m sorry,” he looks away, feeling really awkward. “I just… I saw you today afternoon with… whoever he is and I thought that you probably don’t want me anymore…”

“hannie…”

“I didn’t want to jump in conclusions, but I… I guess I felt too self-conscious. I mean, you’re still so young and I’m thirty.”

“you’re only twenty-eight, baby…”

“already twenty-eight! everyone my age is settling down, you know…” he really tries not to lose his temper and you clearly see it.

“you want that too, right?” you ask him softly.

“yeah, I suppose…. but I can’t ask you about it, I don’t want you to regret anything, it’s too early, I want you to live for yourself and not to be bond with an old man,” he scoffs.

“first of all, you aren’t old and you know that,” you furrow your brows, “and secondly, why do you decide everything for me? me being younger doesn’t mean I’m a kid.”

“I didn’t mean it like that…” jeonghan sighs and sits down the coach. “I really want to be with you, I see the future in you, but…” he sighs again and adds in a barely audible whisper “I feel myself like a burden.”

the next moment he feels you near and then your gentle arms wrap around him. he thinks that he would die without you and your embrace. he feels like crying again, but he holds it back.

“don’t you dare to think and talk about yourself like that,” he hears the tears in your voice and he would sacrifice everything that he has if it stopped your tears. “I’m really sorry that I made you feel like this, I love you so much and I truly want to make you happy. if you think that it's time for you to settle down, then I'm okay with it. we can figure it out together.”

“you're right... and I love you too, sorry for making you cry,” jeonghan murmurs into your ear and hugs you tight. “seems like I ruined a birthday mood.”

“maybe,” you sob “but I’m happy that you told me how you feel, it’s important to talk about things like that. and that guy was my old acquaintance from college, I asked him to help me with choosing you a present.”

jeonghan groans “oh my, now I feel even worse.”

you just giggle at his words and stand up from the couch. you pick up a fallen bag and give it to jeonghan as you wipe your teary eyes.

“happy birthday, hannie,” you smile at him. with curiosity, he takes it from you and gasps as he sees what’s inside.

“a new lego set? are you insane? it’s too expensive, baby, you didn’t have to…”

“but I wanted to,” jeonghan immediately forgets about your present and lifts you up in his arms. he spins around the living room and it makes you giggle. “hannie, we’re going to fall if you don’t stop!”

“thank you so much,” he whispers right into your lips, “for everything.”

you just hum in response and finally kiss him.

that's all you do. fans would basically die if they heard about you and seungcheol; his manager would question it, and fred? well, he's just annoying, and you purposely ignore his calls asking the communications team to post a tiktok about him. seungcheol could actually care less if anyone on the team found out.

there he lies, next to you on his hotel bed. he's fast asleep, resting his head on your chest. it's six in the morning, just a day after the monaco grand prix. seungcheol finished p2, and all the tiktoks you've been seeing from fans are how he's back in his prime from last year’s mess. you agree with it just a little, but you're thinking about what tiktoks to make for damage control. either way, all the spotlight is on his teammate anyways.

your 6:15 alarm rings and he slightly jolts awake. you lightly push him off you to sit up. to the nightstand where your phone is set down, you reach over to shut it off and pick it up to check what's next on your agenda for today. seungcheol stops you, holding onto your wrist before you can even unlock your phone.

"don't go yet," he mutters as you look down to him, still half sleeping close to you. he lets go, and you put your phone down on the nightstand. you run your fingers through his hair as you lie back down on your side next to him.

he moves his head closer to your collarbone, where he begins to press kisses on it. his lips slowly trail from your collarbone to your neck to your jaw and leave his last kiss just right next to your lips. he lies down on top of you and wraps his arms around you, resting his head next to yours.

one hand is playing with the back of his hair, and the other hand is on his shoulder. "just a few more minutes," you whisper, turning your head a bit to just hover your lips over his cheekbone.

But he finds it endearing all the same, enjoying it, even.

He loves it even more when you start doing it more often in public. He’s able to see the hunger in your eyes from a mile away and it sends a chill down his spine each and every time he catches you.

He’s posing with nonchalance for their concept photos when you first arrive, eyes darting over his form and caging your bottom lip between your teeth. He had acknowledged you with a curt smile and a nod of his head before continuing with the shoot, his own body wanting nothing more than to greet you fully in a warm embrace and kiss to your already swollen lips.

Though, as soon as the opportunity reveals itself, you’re beating him to it. You cross the set with a few quick strides in his direction before melting against him, ducking your head beneath his chin to press an innocent peck to his jaw.

He welcomes you with a tight squeeze around the hips and continues to rock you back and forth while you breathe in his scent.

“Missed you so much,” you admit with a pathetic whine. You weren't normally this needy, much less in public, but today felt different. It felt.. wrong, for once, waking up to an empty bed and a phone full of updates from his weverse, yet not a single message from him directly to you.

You knew he was busy. Hell, your relationship had been built off of his grueling schedule, back when he was promoting his second album with his group and you becoming a staff member of a sister company. He was beyond unavailable and yet you found it difficult to keep your eyes off of him. Unbeknownst to you, he was equally as desperate when it came to your attention. The few instances your schedules would align left the both of you scrambling against the clock to further familiarize yourselves with one another, and eventually build a connection from a few fleeting glances and brief conversations.

Fast forward to now, things had only progressed in both of your careers, your lives busier than ever. You’ve been officially dating for three years and whilst primarily kept under wraps, your heart longed more and more for the opportunity to remind him of your devotion to him.

Much to your embarrassment, your loyalty presented itself with an unexplainable urge to swallow him whole and take every inch of his skin between your teeth without an ounce of shame.

Hence your current predicament; Seuncheol had his arms thrown lazily around your frame as you swayed, ever so blind to the scheming smile gracing your features. You leaned back, arching yourself against him as he questioned you with pinched brows.

To his surprise, you’d managed all the strength you had and utilized his obliviousness to your advantage, yanking him by the back of his neck and crashing your lips together with haste.

His hitched breath encourages you to move impossibly closer, your chests beating against one another with every jolt of your racing hearts.

The sheer intensity of the kiss is short lived when you detach from him with one last smack of your lips. Drunk on the high you’ve fed him, Seungcheol attempts to chase your lips, urging you to continue.

His silent pleas amuse you, enticing you to lean in towards his ear and whisper,

“Be good for me, Cheol. Go do your job and make me proud.”

You send him off with a playful nip to his cheek, your canines grazing the skin gently, cautious of the hours worth of effort his makeup artists have put in. His eyes follow your retreating form as you find your place behind the cameras.

He’s an hour and a half into taking naturally candid photos around the rented estate, and it’s driving you nuts.

The setting does little to ease your eagerness to claim him right then and there, offering a much more domestic and personal light to his preexisting bachelor aura.

He’s a fucking housewife, your mind offers you to no particular request. Your grip on your jacket’s strings falters when a deep, raspy voice presents itself near the cusp of your ear.

“Did he mention the next shoot to you?”

“Hm?” You respond, sparing Mingyu a passive glance before settling back on your deity of a man leaning over the terrace.

“We’re going swimming, if you wanted to join afterwards.”

“Why would I join?” You reply coolly.

“Well considering how much you’re drooling right now from him just standing there, I figured you’d want to indulge in having him in less layers for a few hours once we wrap up.” He grins.

Your skin burns from where he perches his chin on your shoulder, striking your body in flames as you try your best to shove your thoughts away. You can’t just indulge in your boyfriend’s near nudity just for a few hours. You know you don’t have that kind of self restraint when it comes to seeing him topless and unblemished.

“Mingyu, respectfully,” you turn to him slowly. “Get lost.”

His laugh reverberates against your arm as he tosses his top half against you, bracing himself as he catches his breath. Your sneer recoils into a smile as you catch Seungcheol’s curious glance from across the room.

His posture tenses while raking his eyes over you and mingyu, taking a moment to readjust before continuing his scene. The photographer calls for a break just a few moments later, satisfied with the outcome.

Your body is moving before you register it, slipping out of Mingyu’s reach with one last glare before you’re crashing into Seungcheol’s rigid chest.

“Baby,” he says softly, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before placing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you staying for the whole shoot?”

“Do you want me to?” You ask coyly, having preemptively cleared your own schedule in favor of following his.

“I always love having you here, you know that.” He smiles.

“Then I’ll stay.” You say and rise on your tip toes to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Aren’t you two tired of being this clingy?” Mingyu invades your bubble in just a few seconds, separating your bodies with a sudden jut of his hip to yours.

You scowl at him as you’re rudely tossed to the side. His shit eating grin grazes his stupidly handsome features while returning your attention to him.

You two had always been at each other’s throats, both playfully and unwittingly at times. He was your best friend, nonetheless, but it sent Seungcheol’s mind reeling with how kittenish you became when he was around.

Something in his chest twinged with envy and had jealousy rearing its ugly head every once in a while when you two stood too close together, shared a meal during his turns to film or pose for photos, or even as you bantered and bickered in front of him.

He knew it was nothing. Knew you loved him too much to replace him so easily, nevertheless with his own friend and group mate.

“You’re just jealous, Gyu.” You huffed while snaking your arms around Seungcheol’s middle again.

“Me? Jealous?” He gasped, feigning an appalled expression while placing a hand to his chest.

“Yah,” Seungcheol growled. “Get lost before I call Heejoo and tell her you’re moping around on set.”

Mingyu’s eyes wander to the ground at that, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck as he begins backing away solemnly. The mention of his current situation-ship seems to strike him a lot harder than you’d both expected, and you smirk at his crumbling confidence.

“You’re a dick for that.” He grumbles toward your boyfriend, unable to hide the sudden flush peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.

Seungcheol grunts at him once more, sending the younger man away with another dismissive threat before finally turning his attention to you.

“Will you help me put some sunscreen on before the next set?”

The following hour of camerawork concludes with a brief discussion about tomorrow’s expected schedule, all the more exhausting and seemingly endless as the last. You can see the fatigue draped over Seungcheol's features from where you stand, plummeting your heart into your stomach as you continue to watch him, mingyu and the team wearily deliberate future activities and propositions for upcoming promotions.

With a supportive clap to their backs, the team dissipates around them to end their workdays.

You take the remaining opportunity after the last staff member's departure to approach your boyfriend, your hands instinctually attached to his neck and puling him toward you. He moves pliantly, allowing his head to fall into the crook of your shoulder and neck as he exhales tiredly.

"Long day, bunny?" you remark quietly, raking your nails across the nape of his neck.

"Too long," he grumbles, ignoring the nickname you know normally grinds his gears any other day. You feel his muscles returning to their tense state as he removes himself from you begrudgingly.

"Can you stay the night?" The light in his eyes flicker with something akin to hope before clouding with uncertainty at the sound of your defeated sigh.

"I have a meeting early in the morning. Have to meet with the company to discuss some upcoming solo works." Your words fall on deaf ears as he's already groaning and pouting, choosing to disregard your excuse in favor of throwing a short-lived fit.

"I can have someone drive you early in the morning?" His offer hangs heavily in the space between you, an offer you really want to take him up on.

To your misfortune, calling out for today was enough of a reason for your company to dismiss you of your duties permanently should you choose to do it again.

The short notice had thrown your team for a whirlwind, a mini crisis plaguing the workplace and blowing up your phone for the entirety of your time spent watching Seungcheol. You were ashamed to admit it out loud, but you'd give anything to quit and replace your priorities with becoming a stay at home simp for your boyfriend. You'd give anything to watch him all day long, cling to him at every beck and call, and devote yourself to being the best version of yourself you could be for him.

Were you insane for thinking that far? yes.

Were you that serious about him? also yes.

You couldn't help the pained complaint that escaped your throat upon seeing his face fall. It shredded every single piece of you to know you couldn't stay, and even more so when he began to beg for you to.

"Please? at least for a few hours? 'Till I fall asleep?" His eyes drift between yours, searching for any bit of redemption, consideration, confirmation.

Removing your hands, you smooth over your features to look at your watch, noting the late hour and the dread pestering your mind. Your notifications peer back at your for a second, reminding you of the dedication you had to your work for the following morning.

It would only be a few hours, you consider.

A beat of silence passes by before you inevitably agree with a nod of your head. "Okay."

To say he's elated would be an understatement. He's over the moon at your response, immediately linking your fingers and dragging you inside the airbnb, shifting his direction towards the bedroom as you enter.

"I'll take a shower and then we can watch a movie!" He suggests after leading you to the bed where you sit patiently, smiling as he trips over his own two feet while dashing toward the bathroom.

God, you can't believe he's yours.

"Did you know you had a mole here?"

Seungcheol meets your eyes through the reflection of the mirror, watching you trail your nails down his spine as he finishes his skin routine at the bathroom sink. You've since changed into a spare set of his clothes, a simple t-shirt that drapes over your dips and curves and ends just past the apex of your thighs.

His gaze lingers for a moment longer than it normally does, mouth subconsciously watering at the sight of you.

"I don't think so." He chuckles softly while returning to his process of unfolding a face mask and spreading it across his features carefully.

"Your back is so..." your voice drawls with a pensive hum, considering your words intently before continuing. "boring."

"Huh?" He turns in your grasp, catching the faint smirk pulling at the corner of your lips.

"It's just missing something." You utter.

"Like what?" he murmurs, his lips pursed in effort to keep his mask from slipping.

Your grin spreads along your face, head cocking to the side as you maneuver your hands over the expanse of his bare chest, raising goosebumps along his skin in their wake.

"Could use a little more me on it."

You spot the shift in his demeanor, shoulders tensing slowly, eyes sharpening, and the veins in his neck straining as he swallows dryly. You don't give him a chance to act on his desire, gracefully pinning his wrists against the counter and slipping your tongue out to lap at the flushed skin of his neck.

His groan rumbles from between your pressed chests, audibly forfeiting all control as you continue to press open mouthed kisses to his throat. His hips buck desperately when he feels your teeth graze just past his jugular, sinking deeper into his flesh with every breath he gasps.

"Baby," he whimpers against your persistence. You pull back, relishing in the subtle chase of his lips toward yours, halting just out of his reach with an arched brow.

"Bunny?" you counter, urging him to proceed with what he needs to say.

"Can't." He whines, overwhelming mortified with displeasure for having to restrain himself.

"Can't what?" You probe innocently, inching closer once more, guiding him back to you by the draw strings of his shorts. He lulls forward without resistance, drawn to your lips with nothing except a mere inch between them.

"Can't be marked. Not now." He says petulantly, eyes downcast as he drops his head, dejected.

Your heart thuds against your rib cage at that, growing restless as fondness ebbs away at your brain, turning it into mush. He knows you so well, knows that you need to mark him up, leave your presence on his skin for everyone to see how taken he is.

Love smothers your senses, your head cloudy and full of him. Your everything. Your person.

You reach to curl your fingers through his blonde, wet strands, tugging with enough force to lift his head once more. He moans quietly at that, his own hands finding purchase on your hips as he stares at you through his dark lashes.

You smile and tap his bicep with your free hand. You notice his eyes trailing your features hungrily before placing a gentle kiss to his muscle, right below his shoulder.

"'S okay, Bunny." You coo.

His arm flexes under the warmth of your fanning breath, twitching with every peck of your lips you lead up his arm and toward his chest.

You freeze once you've reached his collar bone, slowing your breathing and blowing a long, heavy exhale that mists over his already clammy skin. You smirk triumphantly at his muted mewl, watching his chest rise and fall erratically.

"I won't mark your pretty skin just yet," you reassure calmly, your hand still twisted in his hair as you pull it experimentally once more, lavishing his skin in praises when he moans.

"Stay still for me, m'kay?"

You don't wait for his response before sinking your teeth near his clavicle with pressure, not enough to break skin but plenty to stimulate both him and you when he ruts against you.

"Gentle," He reminds you through brief, measured breaths.

"I know, I know." you chide and release your grip on his hair briefly to instead hold his throat between your hands.

His eyes peer down at you for a short moment before flashing you a playful grin. You mirror it with your own before squeezing lightly at his neck, reveling in the meek sound he coughs out.

"So pretty," you murmur lovingly. "All mine to play with however I want. Whenever I want."

To his dismay, his nod is restrained and dismissed by you when you apply just a bit more pressure, your gaze darkening as he wraps a hand around one of your wrists, wordlessly pleading for more. You oblige and wedge your knee between his thighs, now aware of how engrossed he truly was upon feeling his pulsing erection against your bare skin.

"Is this why you wanted me to stay so bad? So you could be manhandled by your pretty girlfriend? Hm?"

Your hands release him, dropping to your sides as he heaves a few labored breaths, his eyes never once leaving your retreating form as you saunter toward the bed, patting the space beside you once you're perched at the edge.

He carries himself on wobbly legs to where you sit, landing ungracefully onto the bed with a soft "oof" before reaching a hand out toward you. You link your hands together momentarily, allowing yourself to soak in the appearance of his current state; dazed, spent, and utterly beautiful with every inch of his skin painted a bright red by an angry flush.

"Roll onto your belly for me, Cheolie." you direct.

He does so without complaint, damningly compliant to your every command. You absentmindedly trace shapes into his spine, your lips curling into a smile each time he flinches against the brush of your nails.

He rests his head against his folded arms, unintentionally flexing his muscles at the broadness of his shoulder blades. You chuckle, quietly shifting your attention to the taut skin, lowering yourself to place lingering kisses.

A sigh creeps out of his deflating body, audibly enjoying your attention. You proceed to kiss your way up, pausing to nip at the fat of his arms playfully and releasing a giggle of your own when he claims he's ticklish with a laugh.

You bite back the quip on your tongue, choosing to focus more on his twitching hips by running your hand over the smooth skin of his arched lower back. He hums, satisfied, and groans when your begin to pull his shorts down his thighs, allowing them to fall aimlessly to the ground.

He jolts upright when your hand collides with a loud smack against his ass, immediately coiling into himself with a yelp.

"What, you can do it by I can't?" You joke when he replies with a harmless glare.

"I'm not letting you peg me, if that's what you're leading up to." He chastises with narrowed eyes.

You feign a look of betrayal, simultaneously guiding him onto his back once more as you move to straddle his hips.

"Tough, I really wanted to see your cute little ass all perked up for me." You can't hold back the devious giggle that threatens to escape you, fully leaning against his chest to stabilize yourself.

"You're insane." He huffs with an eye roll.

"Yeah, but it's kind of cute." Your smile lingers a moment longer as he presses his lips to your forehead, soft and everlasting.

It's then that you lift your head and laugh once more, your fingers reaching to remove his face mask he'd long forgotten.

"I was really trying to keep a straight face!" You giggled. He levels you with a bashful scowl, turning away from your gaze as you settle down with a quiet sigh.

In the blink of an eye, your playful character is gone, replaced by your previous deviant nature.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He murmurs against your skin when you begin grinding your clothed pussy onto his exposed cock.

"I better act quick then," You retort while reaching down and clutching onto your panties to pull them side, angling your sopping folds to trail over the head of his cock.

"Fuck, Bunny. You're so fucking perfect." You groan into the dip of his shoulder, pressing yourself harder against him. His grip on your waist returns, clambering against your ministrations.

"Just— just take me already." He grits out through a particularly sharp inhale. "And don't call me bunny— shit —while we're fucking, jesus."

"You got it, Bunny." Your voice cracks ever so slightly as you begin your descent down his length, abdomen flexing with every ragged breath you take as he breaches your entrance. The stretch is painful, tearing you apart no matter how many times you've taken it. Tears spring to your eyes, threatening to spill before you finally settle, flush to his groin with a shaky breath.

"Oh fucking hell," He moans deeply. He recovers with a sudden shift of his hips, stripping you of all power you previously obtained.

You lurch forward with a startled mewl, your face falling between the crevice of his jaw and throat. Your mouth latches on helplessly, teeth grazing the stubble of his chin and biting down impishly.

He returns the favor, pausing to rip your (his) shirt off and tossing it aside hurriedly, attaching his mouth to the mound of your breast, nibbling at the supple flesh and grinding up into you when you elicit a borderline pornographic moan.

"Please, Cheol, please." You moan against his ear, grinding against him feverishly. Your begging fuels him further, ripping every ounce of self restraint out of him, replaced with an insatiable appetite only you can satisfy.

"You're so beautiful, baby. I'm gonna let you mark me as soon as all of this is over. Soon, my love. So soon." His attempts to soothe your desires warm your insides, your knees near gelatinous as he rams into your pulsating heat without a second regard or worry.

You feel his pace quickening with every plunge, your own movements futile in contrast with his. Your back hits the mattress in a flash, your legs forcefully pinned to your sides as he impales you over and over.

Your moans melt into short, wispish screams when you feel his mouth latch onto your breasts again, leaving deep, bruising indents from his teeth.

The mere idea of him biting you, the same way you've done with every given opportunity in the past, has your legs clenching against his waist, your teeth clamping around your lips as you feel yourself release into the euphoria of your climax.

"More, Cheol, please more—I want—I need more." Your cries fill his chest with pleasure and vanity, thrusting him head-first into the deep end of your satisfaction. He comes with a choked out cry, muffling the sound into your chest as he curls inwards, pumping himself dry into your tightening core.

"Baby," his hand leaves your waist to settle on your sweaty cheek, caressing the crimson skin as he adores your spent features. "You did so good, my love. so good for me."

You groan softly in reply, motioning for him to lay beside you with a limp wrist. He chuckles softly and gently pries himself free of your tight cunt with a groan.

“One more round?” You mumbles into the pillows, peeking an eye in his direction to catch the faint grin on his dewy face.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Shit,” he hisses. “Slow down.”

Your tongue slips between the slit of his cock, catching every last drop of his seed from his second release.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about your boyfriend in the past three years of dating him, it’s that he’s prone to over sensitivity after his second high. While you can recover relatively quickly after an orgasm, his stamina is overmatched by the mere pain of reaching another climax so short apart.

It’s something you both teetered the line with, not knowing whether it was right or even possible to milk him for as many rounds as he could. But, much like the rest of your ideas and suggestions, he couldn’t say no to you.

So you pumped his cock even faster, watching his jaw slack and chin quiver with a cry as he came down from his third match.

“You’re doing great, bunny.” You encourage, slowing your pace down to run a stripe along the side of his length with your tongue.

His brows dip and another moan escapes him. “You’re— you’re killing me.”

“Mh,” you hum. With a final tug to his half hard cock, you trail your lips over the smooth surface of his inner thigh, relishing in his breathy exhales.

“You’re always so good for me.” You say.

The tip of your tongue traces the faint stretch marks of his upper thigh, nearing the edge of his hip where you still.

The pads of your fingers skim over the flesh before you’re leaning forward and clamping your mouth down full force, undoubtedly leaving a mark this time.

You hear his choked shriek of pleasure and pain, the sudden grip on your hair paired with it.

“Fuck! ‘M gonna come again.” His voice lilts, pitched higher than usual.

You continue to pepper kisses along his waistline before meeting his opposite thigh with another skin-breaking bite. Your moan pulsates against the irritated skin, soothing the burn and easing the mark against the fat of his thigh to an eventual bruise with the flat of your tongue.

“Can’t take anymore.” He cries desperately, loosening his fingers wrapped around your disheveled locks as he comes down from his final release.

You give in to his whining after another brief moment of caressing the enflamed skin. You carefully ascend up his hiccuping body, tiny pecks littering his bareness before you connect your mouth with his with the upmost tenderness you could possibly muster.

“I love you so much.” You speak quietly against his lips.

His eyes remain shut, fluttering in and out of consciousness as he nods his head in response.

“Love you too.” He murmurs.

Laying your head on his chest, your entire being laxes against him, fully satiated and enraptured in his presence. A hand creeps up your waist, squeezing your side carefully as his body deflates beneath you with a deep exhale.

You could never truly thank him enough for indulging in your antics. You’re aware your love languages are drastically different; yours being entirely unhinged and bordering aggressive, where as his is prevalent in his gentle mannerisms, gift giving and pure compliance when it comes to you.

Nevertheless, the love you both have for one another surpasses all expectations and continues to surprise you day after day, year after year.

Even if you have to hide your love bites from the public eye.

< A/N: fin! this took a lot less time to write than i anticipated, despite the fact that smut tends to discourage my creativity. but! after getting all of my thoughts out and returning to the storyline with fresh ideas and inspiration, i was able to pump out a pretty decent chunk of raunch to satisfy my expectations for my first time writing smut.

that being said, i hope this flows well and encourages you to leave a comment or repost! feedback and suggestions are always appreciated. :) thanks!!!

a dull ache settling right behind your ribs, waiting for a shift, closure, something that you knew deep down would never come. yet hoping for the best anyway. you’ve been together for four years, long enough to know the exact shift in his posture when he was pulling away, long enough to know that the sigh he just let out meant he was building a wall. "are you going to bed soon?" you asked. you hated how thin your voice sounded.

he didn't look up from the screen. "in a bit. just need to finish this arrangement."

it was the same answer he gave yesterday.

and the night before that.

and the entire week before that.

every repetitive response felt like a door closing in your face with such gentleness you couldn't even be angry. you felt a familiar knot twisting in your stomach. that quiet panic that told you you're slowly becoming invisible to the person who used to see you clearest.

used to.

you prayed not. not your hee.

he was the only one who saw you at your lowest, who held you when the rest of the world felt too loud. that one rare constant in a life that felt like an unpredictable maze.

he was the person who knew exactly how you took your tea when your chest felt too tight to breathe, the one who would silently drive you around the city for hours without demanding an explanation for your tears.

you had survived so much loss, left holding so many broken pieces of a life you were still trying to glue back together to this day, and he had been the glue.

the constant.

you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, looking at the space between the couch and the kitchen island. it felt like an ocean. the disagreement hadn't started with a shout; it had started three weeks ago with a missed dinner, a forgotten anniversary plan, and a quiet, "it's fine, you're busy," that you didn't really mean. you said it because you loved him.

since then it had been a slow painful slide into miscommunication. your mind had spent the last 21 days spinning in circles, replaying old conversations. trying to pinpoint the exact moment the warmth drained out of the room.

you thought he was pulling away because he was losing interest; he thought you were being distant because you were tired of his schedule.

neither of you asked.

the uncertainty felt like a constant fever, leaving you ultimately exhausted and raw.

you stood up, the friction of the blanket against the fabric of the couch making a soft sound.

heeseung’s hand froze on his mouse, but he still didn't turn around.

the urge to say something, anything to make him snap out of it fought with the utter dread of hearing him confirm your worst fears. your heart thumped harshly against your ribs. a frantic rhythm that made you feel dizzy.

"i'm going to sleep," you said softly. waiting for just a second to see if he'd ask you to stay.

"okay. goodnight," he murmured, his tone level. completely unreadable.

the utter lack of emotion in his voice made something break inside you. you walked into the bedroom, closing the door just loud enough for him to hear the click of the latch.

it was 2:14 am when the bedroom door finally opened.

the light from the hallway cut a sharp line across the bed before disappearing as heeseung closed the door behind him. he moved in the dark with the familiarity of someone who knew every square inch of this space. but he hesitated before getting into bed. you caught it.

when he did lie down, he stayed on the absolute edge of his side. the mattress barely dipping under his weight. you were awake. staring at the wall, listening to the uneven rhythm of his breathing.

your throat felt dry, and your eyes burned from staring into the dark. for four years, your bodies used to find each other automatically in the dark. now, the space between you felt deliberate. the emptiness of the mattress between your bodies felt massive, like a barrier you weren't allowed to cross. your chest hurt with the sheer amount of effort of keeping your breathing steady so he wouldn't know you were crying.

"hee?" you whispered into the dark, unable to take the quiet anymore.

a long pause. you thought he might pretend to be asleep, but then he cleared his throat. "yeah?"

"are we okay?"

the question hung in the air. your stomach dropped, waiting for his answer.

heeseung shifted, the fabric of the sheets rustling. "why wouldn't we be?"

it was the wrong answer. it was the safe, defensive answer that closed the door before the conversation could even start. its the reason this started in the first place. "because you haven't even looked at me in three days," you said, your voice cracking slightly. the built up frustration of the last month finally leaking through. "because you're here, but you're not actually here. you're just..." you trailed off. you were at a loss for words.

he let out a sharp, frustrated breath, sitting up in the dark. "i'm working. you know how important this comeback is. i thought you understood that. you said you were fine with it."

"i'm fine with the work, hee... i'm not fine with the absolute silence," you turned around to face him, though you could only see the silhouette of his shoulders against the window light. "you don't talk to me. you just assume i'm angry, so you stay away, which makes me think you don't care anymore. it feels like you're just waiting for me to leave."

"waiting for you to leave?" he repeated. his voice dropping to a strained whisper. "is that really what you think? i stay away because every time i walk into the room, you look like you want to be anywhere else. it's like you're unhappy. i'm trying to give you space because i don't know what else to do. i feel like everything i do right now is just... wrong. i'm watching you look more and more distant, and i'm just trying not to make it worse."

the raw honesty of his words echoed through the room, cutting through weeks of built up hatred.

he thought you wanted space. you thought he was abandoning you.

you looked at his slumped outline, the weight of the last month finally crashing down on both of you. the miscommunication had dug a trench so deep between you that you'd both given up trying to reach across it. ultimately assuming the other had already let go.

"i'm not tired of you," you said, the tears finally slipping down your cheeks, silent and hot. you were far too exhausted to fight it. "i was just lonely, hee. i missed you so much, and you felt so far away." the silence returned. but it was a different kind of silence.

heeseung dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tangling in his dark hair. his shoulders were tense. shaking slightly with the weight of everything he’d been keeping inside. "four years," he muttered into his palms, his voice thick with a sudden exhaustion. "we've been together for four years, and i still managed to completely mess this up."

you sat up, the anger draining out of you just as quickly as it had arrived. leaving behind nothing but an aching need to be close to him again.

"you didn't mess it up," you said softly, breaking the distance between you and crawling across the mattress.

your fingers brushed his wrist and he flinched slightly before completely giving in. he caught your hand, his grip almost painfully tight. he pulled your hand up, pressing his cheek against your knuckles.

"i'm just... so tired," he whispered, and you could hear the absolute sincerity, the sheer terror of losing what you’ve built, vibrating in his chest. "im just so tired of everything...but not you. never you."

he shifted closer, sliding across the deliberate distance he had kept all night until his forehead was resting against your shoulder delicately. "i'm sorry," he murmured against your skin. his hands wrapping completely around your waist now, pulling you into his lap until there was no space left between you at all. "i'm sorry for being stubborn. for hiding behind my computer because it was easier than admitting i was overwhelmed. im so sorry for everything. please don't look at me like that again." you slid your fingers through his hair, untangling the knots. simultaneously feeling the tension slowly melt out of him as you held him close.

"like what?"

"like you think i dont love you anymore," he said softly, his voice muffled against your neck.

he stayed like that for a long time, just breathing you in, his arms locked around you. the cold vibes that had filled the apartment for weeks finally began to dissolve; replaced by the familiar warmth of his skin.

"i missed you too, baby," he murmured after a while, his voice gentle and full of relief. "so,so much."

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away the damp trail of tears on your cheek before he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, not minding the slight dampness. his fingers locked tightly with yours between your pillows. he didn't let go of you for the rest of the night.

You stand beside your suitcase for a moment longer than necessary, staring down the familiar street while an uncomfortable ache settles somewhere beneath your ribs.

Three days ago, you had been packing up your apartment. Two days ago, you had been sorting through legal documents and answering sympathetic phone calls.

Now, after years of saying you'll visit eventually, after years of finding excuses and postponing plans and convincing yourself there would always be another opportunity, you're back in the town you spent most of your childhood trying to leave.

Not because you wanted to return. Because your grandmother died. The thought lands heavily, even now.

Your grip tightens around the suitcase handle. The funeral had been small. Simple.

Exactly what she would've wanted.

Most of the relatives had already left again, returning to their own lives, while you stayed behind to sort through paperwork and prepare the house for sale.

Just a few weeks, you told yourself. Long enough to finish everything properly. Long enough to say goodbye.

Then you'd leave again. The plan sounds reasonable in theory. In practice, every step through town feels like walking through memories.

The route to your grandmother's house passes the elementary school where you spent countless afternoons pretending to pay attention during class. The creek behind the football field still winds lazily through town, hidden beneath the same willow trees that once provided the backdrop for summer adventures so important they had felt life-changing at the time.

You know exactly where every turn leads. You hate how much of it you remember. The house itself sits exactly where it always has. The garden is slightly overgrown. The mailbox leans to one side. The front porch creaks beneath your weight.

Home.

Not home anymore. But close enough to hurt.

—

The first few days disappear beneath a mountain of responsibilities. Boxes. Documents. Phone calls. Dust-covered photo albums.

Closets packed with items your grandmother had somehow convinced herself she might need someday.

You spend hours sorting through decades of accumulated memories, discovering things you forgot existed and things you wish you could forget.

Old school reports. Birthday cards. Drawings. Photographs. Far too many photographs. By the fourth day, the house feels quieter than ever.  The silence eventually becomes unbearable.

Which is how you find yourself wandering through town with no destination in mind, hands shoved into your jacket pockets while the late afternoon sun bathes everything in warm gold.

You tell yourself you're just getting fresh air. You tell yourself you aren't searching for anything. The lie lasts approximately fifteen minutes.

Because eventually you turn a corner. And stop.

The flower shop still stands exactly where it always did. For a second, you think you've imagined it.

The familiar brick storefront. The flower boxes beneath the windows. The painted sign hanging above the entrance.

Only one thing has changed.

The name.

Your chest tightens. Not because the shop exists. Because you know who owns it now. You learned it from one of the older ladies at the funeral.

"Oh, have you seen Seungcheol yet?"

As if that were the most natural question in the world. As if years hadn't passed. As if hearing his name didn't still do something strange to your heartbeat. You haven't seen him. Not yet.

You hadn't planned to.

But suddenly there he is. Standing inside the shop. Alive. Real. Older.

The breath catches somewhere in your throat. For a moment, all you can do is stare.

He's arranging flowers near the front counter, sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes as he focuses on adjusting a bouquet.

You knew he would have changed. Of course he would've changed.

The last time you saw him, he was fourteen years old and trying very hard not to cry while helping load boxes into a moving truck.

The man standing in front of you now is nothing like that boy. Except he is. The shape of his smile when he speaks to a customer. The way he absentmindedly scratches the back of his neck. The slight furrow between his brows when concentrating. Some things remain stubbornly familiar.

Then, as if sensing your stare, he looks up. And sees you.

The world doesn't stop. Nothing dramatic happens. Cars continue driving past. The shop door remains closed. The flowers continue existing. But something shifts.

You know it does because Seungcheol freezes. The bouquet slips slightly in his hands. For one stunned second, neither of you move.

Then his eyes widen. Your stomach drops. And suddenly you're ten years old again.

—

"You have to make a wish first."

"I already made one."

"That doesn't count."

"It does count."

"No, it doesn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

Ten-year-old Seungcheol had always been incredibly confident for someone who spent half his time making things up.

The two of you sat cross-legged in a field behind his grandmother's flower shop, surrounded by dandelions and sunlight.

He held one proudly between his fingers. You rolled your eyes.

"You literally just invented that rule."

"Every game has rules."

"This isn't a game."

"It is now."

You groaned dramatically. He ignored you.

"Close your eyes."

"No."

"Y/N."

"No."

"Trust me."

At ten years old, trusting Seungcheol was the easiest thing in the world. You closed your eyes.

"Now make a wish."

You sighed. Made one anyway.

"Done."

"Okay."

You opened your eyes just in time to watch him blow the dandelion apart. White seeds scattered into the wind.

"What'd you wish for?" you asked.

His expression became immediately suspicious.

"You can't tell people."

"You made that up too."

"Maybe."

"You definitely did."

"But what if it's true?"

You laughed. He grinned. The sunlight caught in his hair.

And somehow, without either of you realizing it, that afternoon became one of the memories that followed you everywhere.

—

The bell above the flower shop door rings softly when you finally step inside. The scent hits you immediately.

Fresh flowers. Soil. Greenery. Something sweet and familiar.

The same scent that used to cling to Seungcheol whenever he spent all day helping his grandmother. The same scent you haven't thought about in years.

He stands behind the counter now. Watching you. Still looking mildly shocked. You suspect you look exactly the same. For several awkward seconds, nobody says anything. Then—

"Hi."

Brilliant. Absolutely incredible. Years apart and that's the best you can manage. Seungcheol laughs. The sound eases something inside your chest instantly.

"Hi."

His voice is deeper than you remember. Everything about him feels older. Not unfamiliar. Just older.

"You came back."

The words aren't accusatory. If anything, they sound slightly disbelieving. You nod.

"Temporarily."

Something flickers across his face. Gone too quickly to identify.

"Right."

The conversation stumbles forward after that. Careful. Tentative. Questions about work. About family. About how long you've been back. 

Neither of you mentions how strange this feels. Neither of you mentions how many years disappeared between one conversation and the next.

Eventually another customer enters. Then another. The moment passes. You tell yourself that's probably for the best. Still, when you finally leave, Seungcheol walks you to the door.

"If you're bored," he says casually, "you can stop by anytime."

You blink.

"What?"

"The shop."

He gestures vaguely around himself.

"I'm usually here."

The invitation sounds simple. Normal. Yet your heart reacts as if he's offered something much bigger. You smile before you can stop yourself.

"Maybe I will."

His smile mirrors yours.

"Good."

—

The following afternoon, you return. Then again two days later. Then once more. Not intentionally.

It just keeps happening.

Sometimes you help carry deliveries. Sometimes you organize shelves. Sometimes you sit near the counter pretending to read while Seungcheol works.

The ease returns surprisingly quickly. Not completely. There are still years between you. Still things unsaid. But the foundation remains.

As if friendship had simply been waiting patiently beneath the surface. One evening, after closing time, Seungcheol disappears upstairs to answer a phone call. You volunteer to finish organizing a neglected storage room.

The space is cramped. Dusty. Filled with forgotten boxes. You sneeze twice. Immediately regret your life choices.

And then you notice the drawer. Small. Wooden. Hidden behind a stack of old gardening catalogues.

Curiosity wins.

You pull it open. Inside are dozens of folded papers.

Hundreds, maybe.

All carefully preserved.  You hesitate before reaching for the top one. The paper is yellowed with age.

The handwriting is instantly recognizable. Even after all these years.

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you unfold the note. Across the top of the page, written in uneven childhood handwriting, are four words.

Things I wish for.

And underneath:

For Grandma's roses to survive winter.

For my knee to stop hurting.

For Y/N to stop crying when they lose races because I don't like it.

At the bottom, squeezed into the corner:

I think wishes work better when you blow two dandelions instead of one.

– Seungcheol

You stare at the page. Then read it again. And again.

Somewhere upstairs, floorboards creak. The sound barely registers.

Because suddenly you're ten years old.

Standing in a field.

Holding a dandelion.

Listening to a boy make up rules about wishes.

And for the first time since returning home, you wonder whether maybe some memories never left at all.

—

The problem with nostalgia is that it never arrives alone.

It comes hand-in-hand with comparison, with grief, with all the quiet questions that only appear when you're staring at the person you used to know and trying to reconcile them with the person standing in front of you now.

By the end of the second week, you have become painfully aware of that fact. You have also become painfully aware of how often you find yourself at the flower shop.  The first few visits had reasonable explanations.

You needed somewhere to walk. You needed a break from sorting through your grandmother's belongings. You needed a distraction.

The seventh visit is significantly harder to justify.

Especially when you're carrying two iced coffees and walking toward the shop before you've fully finished convincing yourself you're only dropping by for a few minutes.

The bell above the door rings. Seungcheol immediately looks up. The smile that appears on his face happens so naturally that neither of you seem to notice it.

You do. Unfortunately.

"You're late."

You stop.

"What?"

He gestures toward the wall clock.

"You usually get here fifteen minutes ago."

The realization settles over both of you simultaneously.

Because he's right. Because apparently you've established a routine. Because apparently Seungcheol has noticed.

Heat crawls up your neck.

"You timed me?"

"I didn't time you."

"You literally knew I was fifteen minutes late."

"I just noticed."

"That's timing me."

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

His laugh fills the shop. You hate how much you missed that sound.

—

The flower shop feels different now that you've spent enough time inside it to notice the details. The place still carries traces of his grandmother. The old cash register remains displayed on a shelf near the counter.

Framed photographs line one wall.

The ancient rocking chair in the corner somehow survived several decades despite looking permanently one bad day away from collapse.

But Seungcheol is everywhere too. The organization. The handwritten signs. The new displays. The garden outside. The entire place feels like a conversation between generations.

A continuation rather than a replacement.

His grandmother would've loved that. You think she already knew he would inherit the shop.

Everyone probably did. Everyone except Seungcheol.

—

"You know most people hate these things."

You glance up from the arrangement you're helping prepare.

"Daisies?"

"Dandelions."

He nods toward the window.

Outside, several bright yellow flowers have appeared amongst the carefully maintained garden beds.

You smile.

"They're kind of pretty."

"Exactly."

He sounds offended.

"Kind of?"

"Okay, they're pretty."

"There we go."

"You care way too much about dandelions."

"I inherited that."

His voice softens slightly.

"Grandma used to say they were the bravest flowers."

You pause.

"What does that mean?"

He carefully trims a stem.

"They grow everywhere."

A shrug.

"They survive getting stepped on."

Another cut.

"People call them weeds, but they keep blooming anyway."

You watch him for a moment. Sunlight filters through the front window. Dust drifts lazily through the air.

The shop smells faintly of lavender and soil. For a second, the years between childhood and now seem remarkably small.

"They sound stubborn."

Seungcheol grins.

"Exactly."

—

The first time someone mistakes you for his partner, you're unprepared. The culprit is an elderly customer named Mrs. Kim.

One moment she's purchasing carnations. The next she's looking between you and Seungcheol with obvious satisfaction.

"It's nice to finally meet them."

You blink.

"I'm sorry?"

Mrs. Kim waves dismissively.

"Don't worry."

Seungcheol visibly tenses. You immediately become suspicious.

"Don't worry about what?"

The woman pats your hand.

"Oh, honey, we've all heard about you."

Silence. Complete silence. You slowly turn toward Seungcheol. He refuses to make eye contact.

"Seungcheol."

"No."

"What does she mean?"

"No."

Mrs. Kim laughs. The traitor.

"You know, Y/N this and Y/N that and—"

"Mrs. Kim."

The warning in his voice only makes her smile widen. You stare. He stares determinedly at the floor.

A customer enters. The conversation mercifully dies. 

Unfortunately your curiosity survives.

—

You corner him later.

"What exactly have people heard?"

"Nothing."

"That sounds suspicious."

"It isn't."

"Seungcheol."

He groans.

"You're impossible."

"You avoided the question."

"I mentioned you sometimes."

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes."

The response is entirely too fast. You narrow your eyes.

"How many times?"

His expression immediately suggests the answer is significantly higher than either of you would like.

—

That night, after returning home, you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the drawer again. You know you probably shouldn't be reading the notes.

They're private. Personal. Hidden for a reason. And yet. The temptation wins.

Again.

The next paper is dated in messy twelve-year-old handwriting. You unfold it carefully.

Things I wish for:

To beat Jeonghan at soccer.

To grow taller.

For Y/N to stay here forever.

Don't tell them I wrote that.

You stare. Then reread the sentence. Then reread it again.

The words somehow feel heavier each time.

For Y/N to stay here forever.

Simple. Innocent. Childish. Yet something twists painfully inside your chest.

Because you didn't stay. Because neither of you had any control over that. Because twelve-year-old Seungcheol didn't know he was writing a wish that would never come true.

—

Middle school had been awkward. Not terrible. Not dramatic. Just awkward.

The age where suddenly everyone became aware that boys and girls existed. The age where friendships acquired strange new rules nobody explained properly.

You remember sitting beside Seungcheol during lunch one afternoon. He arrived carrying two juice boxes. Immediately handed you one.

Completely normal. Entirely routine. Unfortunately half your classmates witnessed the exchange. The teasing started instantly.

"Ooooh."

"Look."

"It's Y/N and Seungcheol."

You remember wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Seungcheol had looked equally horrified. The two of you spent the rest of lunch aggressively denying accusations nobody had technically made.

Neither of you acknowledged how red your faces became.

—

You wake the next morning determined not to think about old letters. The determination lasts approximately twenty minutes.

By lunch, you're back at the flower shop. By evening, you're helping prepare arrangements for a wedding. By closing time, you're laughing so hard you nearly drop an entire bucket of peonies.

The transition feels alarmingly natural. As if this version of life has been waiting patiently for your return. As if leaving had only been an interruption.

Not an ending. 

The thought unsettles you.

—

The following week, the town begins treating your presence as permanent. The bakery owner asks whether you've found a job yet. The librarian asks if you're staying. Three separate neighbors mention available apartments.

You spend most conversations repeating the same answer.

"I'm only here temporarily."

Every single person responds the same way.

"We'll see."

The most irritating part is that nobody sounds uncertain. 

Least of all Seungcheol.

—

One afternoon, while helping water plants behind the shop, you finally ask.

"Did everyone in this town secretly agree to annoy me?"

He laughs.

"Probably."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

You splash water toward him. He dodges. Barely.

"Traitor."

"I didn't do anything."

"You never tell them I'm leaving."

His expression changes slightly. The smile remains. Something else disappears.

"Oh."

Immediately, guilt settles in your stomach. You hadn't meant—

"I mean—"

"It's okay."

The words are gentle. Too gentle. The conversation moves on.

Yet the silence lingers.

—

That evening, while closing up, Seungcheol disappears upstairs to search for inventory records. The opportunity presents itself. You tell yourself you're only checking one note.

One. That's all.

The lie fools absolutely nobody. Especially not yourself. You return to the drawer. Select another folded paper. Open it carefully.

The handwriting is older this time.

Less childish. More controlled. The date makes your chest tighten.

The year you moved away.

Things I wish for:

To have my own flower shop someday.

For Grandma to stop working so hard.

For Y/N to smile like they did before they found out they're moving.

I hate this wish.

The words blur slightly. You blink. Look away. Look back.

The paper remains unchanged.

The same ink. The same handwriting. The same impossible honesty.

For a long moment, you simply sit there.

Remembering.

—

The moving truck had arrived too early. Or maybe it only felt that way.

You remember cardboard boxes. Your mother's stressed voice. Relatives carrying furniture.

Everything happening much too fast. You remember friends saying goodbye. Teachers promising you'd make new ones. Adults insisting change was exciting. 

You remember hating every second of it.

Most of all, you remember Seungcheol. Standing beside the driveway. Hands shoved into his pockets. Trying very hard to act normal.

You'd both promised to stay in touch. You'd both promised nothing would change. At fourteen, promises like that feel unbreakable.

Reality is less cooperative. Calls become texts. Texts become occasional messages. Then birthdays. Then silence.

Not because either of you stopped caring.

Because life happened. Because growing up happened. Because distance is sometimes quieter than heartbreak.

—

A floorboard creaks overhead. You quickly fold the letter. Return it to the drawer. Close everything.

By the time Seungcheol returns, you're standing beside a shelf pretending to examine gardening supplies.

His eyes narrow immediately.

"You look suspicious."

"What?"

"You look guilty."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

You point at a random bag of fertilizer.

"Did you know this contains nitrogen?"

The silence that follows is devastating. Then Seungcheol starts laughing.

The kind of laugh that forces him to lean against a table for support. You hate him. Possibly. A little.

—

Later, after you've returned home, sleep proves impossible. Your mind keeps returning to the notes.

The wishes. The years. Everything that existed while you were gone.

Eventually curiosity wins one final time. Near midnight, you retrieve the drawer once more.

One last letter. Just one. You unfold it slowly.

The handwriting immediately looks different.

Shakier. Messier. Lonelier.

The date makes your stomach drop. A few months after you left. Nothing else is written on the page.

No numbered list. No jokes. No soccer. No flowers.

Just a single sentence.

Things I wish for:

Y/N comes back.

Just once. That's all. For a long moment, the room remains completely silent.

Outside, wind rattles softly against the windows. Inside, your chest feels painfully tight. You remember all the times you almost visited. All the summers you said maybe next year. All the holidays that slipped away. All the opportunities lost to convenience and distance and the assumption that there would always be more time.

The note trembles slightly in your hands.

And for the first time since returning home, you begin to understand that maybe you weren't the only person who spent years missing someone.

The realization follows you long after the lights go out. Long after the letter is folded away. Long after sleep finally arrives.

And somewhere across town, completely unaware of the storm currently unfolding inside your chest, Seungcheol closes his flower shop for the evening and locks the front door, still carrying pieces of a wish he made twelve years ago.

—

The worst part about reading the letters is that they make everything impossible to ignore. Not impossible in the dramatic sense. Not in the way movies portray it, where suddenly every interaction becomes charged with unbearable tension and every glance feels life-altering.

Instead, it becomes impossible to ignore the accumulation of small things. The details. The habits. The spaces someone occupies in your life without permission.

Before finding the drawer, spending every afternoon at the flower shop had felt natural.

After finding the drawer, you become painfully aware that Seungcheol automatically hands you a drink before grabbing one for himself.

That he remembers how you take your coffee. That he moves around the shop with the unconscious expectation that you'll be somewhere nearby. That every time the front door opens, his eyes immediately search for you before searching for the customer.

None of these things mean anything individually. Together, they begin to feel like something dangerous. Something you've spent years pretending not to recognize. Something that looks suspiciously like first love growing up and refusing to leave.

—

The flower festival arrives at exactly the wrong time. Or perhaps exactly the right time. You haven't decided which.

The annual event has existed for as long as you can remember, transforming the town into something bright and overwhelming for a weekend every spring. Streets fill with flower displays. Local businesses compete for awards. Families wander between stalls carrying bouquets and iced drinks.

As children, you and Seungcheol used to treat it like the most important event of the year. Now, as adults, it means two weeks of preparation and approximately zero free time. Not that you mind.

Being busy makes it easier not to think.

Unfortunately, Seungcheol keeps ruining that strategy by existing.

—

"You're staring."

You nearly drop the box you're carrying.

"What?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"You've been looking at me for ten seconds."

"I was not."

"You were."

"No."

"Y/N."

The use of your name should not feel that unfair. It does. Especially when accompanied by a smile. Especially when he knows exactly what he's doing. You point aggressively at the display you're assembling.

"I was looking at the flowers."

"Sure."

"Why would I stare at you?"

His grin widens. You immediately regret speaking. Across the room, an elderly volunteer watching preparations sighs dramatically.

"Please date already."

Both of you nearly choke.

—

The town has become unbearable. Not because the people are cruel. Quite the opposite. The people are far too invested.

Everyone appears convinced that you and Seungcheol are one conversation away from getting married. The florist across the street keeps offering relationship advice. Mrs. Kim has started winking whenever she enters the shop. Even children seem suspicious.

At one point, a ten-year-old asks if you're Seungcheol's spouse. You spend five full minutes recovering.

Seungcheol spends ten.

—

The problem is that every joke lands slightly closer to the truth than either of you are comfortable admitting.

Because somewhere between sorting flowers and revisiting childhood memories and reading letters you definitely should not be reading, something has changed.

Or maybe nothing changed. Maybe you've simply stopped running from it.

You don't know which possibility scares you more.

—

One evening, after the shop closes, rain begins unexpectedly. Heavy. Relentless.

The kind that turns roads silver beneath streetlights. You're trapped. Not that either of you seem particularly bothered.

Seungcheol locks the front door and flips the sign to CLOSED.

The two of you remain inside. Waiting. The shop feels different after hours. Quieter. More intimate.

The scent of flowers seems stronger somehow. The silence stretches comfortably between conversations. You sit together behind the counter drinking tea.

Outside, rain taps steadily against the glass. Inside, memories linger everywhere.

"You know," Seungcheol says eventually, "Grandma used to think you were going to marry me."

You nearly inhale your tea.

"What?"

His laughter echoes through the empty shop.

"I'm serious."

"Why would she think that?"

"You were ten."

"That's not an answer."

"You followed me around everywhere."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"You're making things up."

"I'm not."

"You are."

He shakes his head.

"She used to tell me all the time."

The smile softens.

"'That one loves you very much, Seungcheol.'"

Something catches unexpectedly in your chest. You look away.

The rain suddenly becomes fascinating.

—

Later that night, after returning home, you find yourself sitting on the floor beside the drawer again. You don't even pretend to resist anymore. The letters feel less like an invasion now. 

More like a conversation delayed by years. The next note is dated two years after you left.

You unfold it carefully.

Things I wish for:

To stop thinking about Y/N.

Didn't work.

For several seconds, you simply stare. Then laugh. Actually laugh.

Because somehow, despite everything, fourteen-year-old Seungcheol and sixteen-year-old Seungcheol remain unmistakably the same person.

Hopeless. Earnest. Painfully honest. You continue reading.

The next note is eighteen.

Things I wish for:

To see Y/N again.

To stop comparing everyone else to Y/N.

Didn't work either.

The smile disappears. A strange ache replaces it. You know what he's implying.

You wish you didn't.

Because suddenly every year between then and now feels tangible.

Every missed opportunity. Every person he met. Every relationship that apparently failed to become something lasting.

The thought follows you into the final letter. Age twenty-one.

Things I wish for:

Y/N.

Just Y/N.

No explanation. No joke. No elaboration. Only your name.

The page trembles slightly in your hands.

—

The next morning, you arrive at the flower shop exhausted. Emotionally. Mentally. Possibly spiritually.

Seungcheol notices immediately.

"Rough night?"

You consider your options. Lie. Deflect. Change the subject.

Instead:

"Why didn't you throw them away?"

His hands stop moving. The flowers remain half-arranged between his fingers. For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then:

"The notes?"

You nod. The silence stretches. Long enough for your pulse to become annoying. Long enough for the question to feel dangerous. Finally, Seungcheol exhales softly.

"Because throwing them away felt like giving up."

The answer lands harder than expected. You stare. He continues looking at the flowers.

Neither of you moves. Neither of you looks away. The shop suddenly feels too quiet.

Too small. Too honest.

—

The conversation changes after that. Not dramatically. Not immediately. But something shifts.

A wall lowers. A distance disappears. You begin talking about things you've avoided for years.

University. Family. The struggles nobody posted online. The loneliness. The uncertainty. The versions of yourselves that existed while the other wasn't there to witness them.

For the first time, it feels like you're catching up properly. Not on events.

On each other.

—

The breakthrough arrives unexpectedly. Through gossip. Naturally. Because this town cannot help itself.

You're helping arrange flowers outside the festival pavilion when Mrs. Kim appears. You should have run. Instead, you smile politely. A mistake.

"Did you know," she begins immediately, "that Seungcheol never brought anyone serious home?"

Your heart stops.

"What?"

Mrs. Kim continues cheerfully.

"Such a waste."

You stare. The woman sighs dramatically.

"Everyone liked him."

The implications begin arriving one by one. Slowly. Terribly. You don't want to ask. You ask anyway.

"Why?"

Mrs. Kim blinks.

"Why what?"

"Why didn't he date anyone?"

The answer comes far too quickly.

"As if we don't all know."

Then she walks away. Leaving you alone with approximately twelve different emotional crises.

—

The festival opens the next day. Crowds flood the streets. Music drifts through the air. Children race between displays. Customers fill the shop. The entire town seems alive. 

You should be enjoying it. Instead, you're distracted.

Because every time you look at Seungcheol, another letter appears in your memory. 

Another wish. Another year. Another version of him quietly hoping for something he thought he would never get.

By evening, exhaustion settles over everyone. The crowds thin. Sunlight begins fading. And somehow you find yourselves alone behind the shop.

Again.

The garden glows gold beneath the setting sun. Dandelions sway gently amongst the flower beds. 

The same flowers. The same stubborn flowers. Hope disguised as weeds.

Seungcheol sits beside you on a wooden bench. Close. Not touching. Close enough. For several minutes, neither of you speaks. The silence feels full. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Like the final moments before a storm breaks. Then he says quietly:

"I was happy you came back."

Your breath catches. The confession isn't romantic. Not technically. But it feels significant anyway. You glance toward him. His gaze remains fixed on the garden.

A nervous habit you've started recognizing.

"I was happy too."

The words come easily. Truth always does. He smiles. Small. Soft. Real.

And suddenly you're struck by a realization so obvious it almost feels ridiculous. Every important moment in your life somehow leads back to him. Every memory. Every wish. Every version of home.

The thought settles heavily between your ribs. Not uncomfortable. Just undeniable. The sun sinks lower. The dandelions sway.

And for the first time, you begin wondering whether the final letter in the drawer isn't actually the end of the story.

Maybe it's only the beginning. Because tomorrow is the final day of the flower festival. Tomorrow you'll finish sorting the last boxes from your grandmother's house. Tomorrow you'll have to decide whether you're leaving again.

And somewhere deep down, beneath years of distance and excuses and carefully maintained walls, a small stubborn hope begins to bloom.

Much like a dandelion. Refusing to die. Refusing to be ignored. Refusing, despite everything, to stop growing.

—

The last day of the flower festival arrives far too quickly. You know this because you spend most of the morning trying not to think about it. Unfortunately, thinking about something and trying not to think about something are often the exact same activity.

By noon, you're painfully aware that this is your final week in town. By three o'clock, you've mentally packed your suitcase twice. By five, you've considered extending your stay. By six, you've considered cancelling your return entirely. None of these thoughts help.

Especially because every possible future seems to revolve around the same person. Across the square, Seungcheol is helping a little girl choose flowers for her mother. You watch him crouch down so they're eye level. Watch him listen seriously to her explanation. Watch him help arrange a tiny bouquet.

The girl leaves looking delighted. Seungcheol looks equally pleased. The sight hurts. Not because it's sad. Because it feels familiar.

Because it feels like home.

Because somewhere along the way, without realizing it, you've started measuring places by whether or not he exists in them.

And that seems like a dangerous way to live.

—

The festival winds down slowly. Stalls begin packing away displays. Families drift home. The streets gradually quiet.

For the first time all weekend, the town feels peaceful. You spend most of the evening helping return decorations to storage.

Boxes. Signs. Flower stands. The work is repetitive enough to keep your hands busy. Not your thoughts.

Those remain frustratingly active. By the time darkness settles over town, only a handful of people remain.

The cleanup continues. The shop stays open late. And eventually you find yourself alone.

Again. In the storage room. Again. Standing in front of the drawer. Again.

At this point, you suspect fate has completely given up pretending to be subtle.

—

The final note is hidden beneath all the others. Tucked carefully at the very bottom. Almost as if someone wanted it protected. Your pulse quickens immediately. Because unlike the others, this paper looks newer.

Not recent. Just newer. Adult handwriting. Adult paper. Adult ink.

Slowly, you unfold it. And the world narrows.

Things I wish for:

I don't think this one belongs to a dandelion anymore.

I think some wishes are supposed to be said.

I love Y/N.

I've loved them since we were kids making rules about wishes in the park.

And if they come back someday, maybe I'll finally tell them.

– Seungcheol

For a long moment, nothing happens. You simply stare. Reading the words once. Twice. Again. As if repetition might somehow make them less overwhelming.

It doesn't.

The confession sits plainly on the page. No jokes. No hiding. No pretending. Just the truth. The same truth that has apparently existed for years. The same truth you've spent the entire month slowly uncovering one letter at a time.

Outside the storage room, a floorboard creaks.

You look up.

Your heart immediately attempts escape. 

Because Seungcheol is standing in the doorway. And judging by his expression, he knows exactly what you're holding.

—

"Oh."

Brilliant. An excellent response. Truly.

Years of emotional buildup and the first thing either of you manages is:

"Oh."

Seungcheol closes his eyes. Briefly. The expression on his face suggests he is considering several possible methods of spontaneous death.

"You found that one."

You hold up the paper.

"A little late to ask me not to read it."

His groan echoes off the walls. You almost laugh. Almost.

If your heart wasn't currently beating hard enough to qualify as a medical emergency. The silence stretches. Neither of you seem sure how to continue.

Finally:

"You were never supposed to find that."

Your eyebrows rise.

"There are literally eight hundred letters in that drawer."

"There are not eight hundred."

"There are enough."

The corner of his mouth twitches. Then disappears. The seriousness returns. And suddenly the air changes. The humor fades. The truth remains.

"You meant it?"

The question comes out quieter than intended. Seungcheol looks at the floor. Then the shelves. Then literally anywhere except you.

Eventually, he exhales.

"Yeah."

Just one word. Simple. Certain. Enough.

Your chest tightens painfully. Because there is no hesitation. No uncertainty. No attempt to take it back. Just honesty.

The kind that takes years to build. The kind that only appears when someone is finally tired of hiding.

"Since we were kids?"

A small laugh escapes him.

"Unfortunately."

The response is so Seungcheol that tears immediately threaten.

"You make it sound tragic."

"It was."

Now he smiles. Softly.

"I liked you for fifteen years."

Your laugh comes out suspiciously emotional.

"I was very committed."

The tears win. Just slightly. Enough for your vision to blur. Enough for Seungcheol's expression to immediately change. Concern replacing nervousness.

"Hey."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm having a normal reaction."

"This doesn't seem normal."

"It absolutely isn't."

And somehow that breaks the tension. Both of you laugh. Both of you look slightly overwhelmed. Both of you look suspiciously close to crying.

When the laughter fades, the truth remains. Patient. Waiting. You stare down at the letter again.

At your name. At years of wishes. At every version of him that existed before this moment.

Ten years old. Twelve. Fourteen. Twenty-one. Twenty-six. Every single one hoping for the same thing. Every single one writing your name.

The realization settles heavily inside your chest. Not because it's surprising.

Because it isn't. Not anymore.

Somewhere between the first letter and the last, you've already known.

You simply weren't ready to admit it.

"Do you know something funny?" 

Seungcheol looks confused.

"A dangerous start."

You ignore him.

"I used to wish for you too."

The words leave before you can stop them. His expression freezes. Completely.

"What?"

You laugh softly. Because honestly, the universe has a terrible sense of humor.

"Every birthday."

You look down at the letter.

"Every shooting star."

A smile. Small. Embarrassed.

"Every dandelion."

Silence. Absolute silence. 

"Seriously?"

You nod. His eyes widen.

"You never told me."

"You never told me."

"That's because I was terrified."

"So was I."

The answer arrives instantly. Truth again. Always truth.

—

The confession isn't dramatic. There are no grand speeches. No perfectly rehearsed declarations. No movie-worthy dialogue.

Instead, there is honesty. Messy honesty. The kind built from years of friendship.

Years of absence. Years of missing someone without fully understanding the shape of that feeling.

You talk. Really talk. For the first time. About moving away. About losing touch. About all the almost-visits.

The unanswered messages. The missed opportunities. The people you both tried and failed to become. And somehow, through all of it, the conversation keeps returning to the same conclusion.

You found your way back. Not immediately. Not perfectly. But eventually. You came back. And he waited. Not intentionally. Not actively. Just quietly.

Like someone protecting a wish.

—

The flower shop closes early the following evening. Not because business is slow. Because Seungcheol insists on taking you somewhere.

You recognize the destination immediately. The field.

The one behind the shop. The one from childhood. The one where everything started.

The walk there feels strangely familiar. As if no time has passed. As if every version of yourselves still exists somewhere among the grass.

The field is smaller than you remember. Most places are. The dandelions aren't.

They remain everywhere. 

Bright. Stubborn. Impossible to ignore.

Exactly like him.

—

"Do you remember the rules?" Seungcheol asks. You laugh.

"The rules changed every week."

"They were very sophisticated."

"They were completely made up."

"They were based on science."

"They absolutely were not."

His offended expression is immediate. You grin. Some things never change.

Thank God.

—

Eventually the conversation fades. The evening settles around you. Warm. Peaceful. Comfortable.

Seungcheol picks a dandelion.

Then another. Holding one out. You accept it automatically.

Like muscle memory. Like childhood. Like home.

The white seeds tremble gently in the breeze. For a moment, neither of you speaks.

"What are you wishing for?"

The question is familiar. The same question from years ago. The same field. The same flowers. The same boy.

Only now he's a man looking at you like you're the answer to something. You stare at the dandelion. Then at him. Then smile.

"Nothing."

His eyebrows lift.

"Nothing?"

You shake your head.

"No."

The answer feels surprisingly easy. Certain. Complete.

For the first time in a very long time, there is nothing left to ask for.

No missing piece. No distance. No unanswered question. No wish waiting to be granted.

Just this. Just him. Just the future.

Whatever shape it takes. And somehow, that's enough.

More than enough.

Seungcheol smiles. Slowly. Softly. The kind of smile that belongs entirely to you.

Then together, sitting side by side in a field full of dandelions, you blow the seeds into the evening air.

Thousands of tiny white fragments drift upward.

Carried by the wind. Carried toward whatever comes next. Not because you need wishes anymore.

But because some traditions deserve to survive. Some things deserve to bloom again.

And some first loves, despite distance and time and every reason they should have faded, are stubborn enough to wait.

Like dandelions. Like hope.

Like Choi Seungcheol.

Like you.

The seeds disappear into the sunset. This time, neither of you watches them go.

The silence that rings between you two makes you regret saying anything to your friend until you hear his desk chair creak like he sat up too fast. “What?”

You feel your ears burn, and you’re so glad Jeonghan isn’t here in person to see you say this, but it’s been rolling in your mind so long you need to let it all out. “Why does no one like me?” You ask and roll your eyes when Jeonghan speaks up.

“Well, I like you.” He’s basically contractually obligated to say that; he’s your friend, and you roll your eyes again even if his words warm you up inside.

“No, I mean-“ you groan from your lack of words and flip onto your back, staring at the ceiling with a furrowed brow and a heavy pout on your lips. “Like, I know the dating scene right now is disgusting. No one actually wants to date. Everyone wants to just hook up and hide from genuine feelings, but what happened to love? Am I ugly? I know my personality is great, but what happened to love!” Once you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop, so you ramble on without a single thought. “What happened to men standing outside the girl’s window with a boombox above their head? Confessing their love to one another. What happened to serenading a girl by lip syncing to a song across the bleachers in front of the football game!”

Okay, maybe you’ve been watching too many romantic movies lately, but that’s beside the point.

Your knees pull up, and your feet slide up your bed as you sigh. Your heart beats, and your eyes blink back the blurriness slowly blocking your vision. The loneliness washes over you bitterly, leaving you cold, and your voice softens into a whisper as you come full circle.

“Why doesn’t anyone want me?”

There’s a brief moment of silence that makes you almost check your phone to see if Jeonghan is still there before he speaks up through the receiver. “I’m coming over.” He says it so simply that you’re sitting up and shaking your head as if you could actually see you.

“No, don’t-“ you don’t need some pity hug, but Jeonghan cuts you off before you can continue.

“I’m coming over.”

Jeonghan lives about twenty minutes away from your dorm, but he gets there in ten minutes, surprising you. You hadn’t bothered to change from your pyjama shorts and oversized t-shirt, figuring you could convince Jeonghan everything was okay and he could go home, but all your thoughts get thrown out the window the moment you answer your door.

Jeonghan stands there, out of breath like he ran the whole way here, with a clump of leaves mixed with flowers in his hand. He’s got the roots and dirt dangling at the end, and you’re too stunned to speak because even though his hair seems a mess and his cheeks are a little flushed, he’s still handsome as ever.

“Hannie-“ you don’t know if you should laugh or cry as he makes a noise, shoving the clump of flowers in your direction.

“I love you.” He says, and his eyes anchor onto yours as your mouth drops open in shock. “I don’t own a boombox, and I’m not doing some flash mob unless you really want one, but I love you. Not just as friends, or something else. I love you.” He straightens up as he continues to speak, taking a step closer to you, and his body warms up yours as you are forced to look up at him in awe. “I loved you since the moment I met you, and I believe I will even after this. But you needed to know, and I wasn’t going to say it over the phone. I love you, and I want you.”

“What?” Your voice sounded muffled, like it was underwater, as you blinked up at your friend. You didn’t know what to say; too many thoughts were running through your mind, and you gasped as Jeonghan grabbed your waist, pulling you against him.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes searched his for a moment, and your eyebrows furrowed more as you placed a hand on his chest. “Hannie, this isn’t funny.” You started, and Jeonghan quickly shook his head.

“I’m not playing with you-“

“Then why-“ the clump of flowers you’re convinced Jeonghan pulled from the campus lawn on his run here gets tossed over his shoulder just as he shuts the door behind him. His arm is still wrapped around your back, keeping you to him, and you’re very aware of how low his hand rests on the curve of your lower back.

“I was waiting for you to catch up. You want to date someone? Date me. You want someone to love you? I’m right here, Angel; you can do no better. I love you.”

His words wash over you a minute after he says them, and like the stupid rom-com films you watched on days you needed a pick-me-up, your world stills. Your eyes search for the smirk he usually displays when he’s playing around, but you are only met with dark brown eyes that simmer with earnestness.

He means it. He actually means it.

The same moment your world stills, it also fast-forwards so quickly, you aren’t entirely sure who moves first. Him or you? You may never know because one moment you’re giving a quick inhale, and the next your lips are crashing into his.

You feel Jeonghan wrap his arms around you, pulling you close while your hands twist into his hair to deepen the kiss. Both of you moan in unison, your feet stumbling backwards as your mind reels with all the new information you have gathered. A trail of clothes being taken off leads you to your bed, and your gasps and moans are met with low groans from Jeonghan, who can’t keep his hands off you.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about this moment exactly. You’d been friends with Jeonghan for years, but you never really thought it’d be anything more than that. He was funny, charming, and smart. He was your person, the one person who had always been there, and it made you feel silly to not have noticed it before. Or maybe you just didn’t think he would feel the same, but now that the line has been crossed, there is no turning back now.

“I love you.” Your words come out as a gasp when Jeonghan pushes you back onto the bed, not wasting a second to crawl on top of you. You meet his eyes with your heart racing, and it skips a beat when he flashes you a grin as he ducks his head down to nudge your nose gently with his own, giving you a sweet kiss.

“Are you going to make me do a flash mob?”

Your laughter bubbles from your lips loudly when you process what he says, and your body immediately relaxes as your hand smacks his shoulder with a scoff. “Oh, shut up.” You laughed, and Jeonghan smirked, kissing your cheeks and lips before trailing his kisses down your throat.

“I’m just saying, I can talk to Hoshi if you need some grand gesture. He can come up with some choreo, I’m sure, and I’ll happily claim my love for you to a crowd of strangers if you need it.” He hums, amused, and his lithe fingers push your t-shirt higher. He’s pleased to find out you’re not wearing a bra, and your stomach flexes as your breasts get exposed to his hungry gaze.

“I’d rather you do something else right now,” you mumbled, and your cheeks flushed as Hannie gave you a hooded look. He’s down to just his boxers, his clothes littered throughout your dorm, and your legs squeeze his waist as he settles himself right between your soft thighs. From this position, you can feel his hard cock press against your panty-covered pussy, and your eyelashes flutter from how warm and thick he feels against you.

“Yeah?” His breath fans over one of your breasts, reeling you back from your own thoughts, and Jeonghan makes sure you’re looking at him when his warm tongue laps over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

Fuck.

Your back arches, and your legs fall open more as he sucks on your nipple, flicking his tongue with a hum as a new wave of arousal soaks your panties. You feel his fingers hook into the thin material, his tongue licking a path to your other breast as he tugs your panties down your legs, and then all you’re left in is your oversized t-shirt that is pushed just under your chin.

“Gorgeous,” Jeonghan murmurs and his warm hands push your knees up, exposing you intimately as he kneels back onto his knees before you. “So pretty for me.” he sucks in a dreamy sigh, like this is something he’s thought about constantly. His gaze burns down your body slowly, making the room rise in temperature, and when his eyes land on your drooling cunt, you almost have the urge to hide from his hungry stare.

“Jeonghan, please.” You don’t get the chance to move an inch before his palms are sliding down the back of your knees and over your inner thighs. His fingers part your puffy folds as another wave of your slick pools because of him, making your pretty pussy glisten as you watch his tongue roll over his lips in need.

“And you thought you were unlovable?” He scoffs, and your cheeks darken as he shakes his head at you. “Guess I’ll just have to show you otherwise.”

You watch with bated breath as he leans down, his lips curving up into a smirk as he keeps your knees up. The first kiss he places is on your inner thigh, his nose brushing along your sensitive skin as he gives your other thigh the same kiss right after. And then he flattens his tongue, licking his way up your thigh, and to your pretty cunt, groaning as your sweet slick coats his taste buds for the first time.

He swirls his tongue over your puffy clit, taking the nub between his lips, and your eyes roll back when he sucks lewdly, making your pussy weep in pleasure.

You had always known he had a silver tongue, but when he laps at your pretty pussy messily, you’re at a loss for words. Your fingers thread into his hair, bringing him closer, and his arms keep you from closing your legs, forcing you to take everything he gives as he becomes more pussydrunk by the second. “Knew you’d taste sweet, Angel.” He murmurs, and his thumbs spread your slick folds apart to give his tongue more room to explore.

He swirls his wet muscle around your entrance, teasing your gummy walls, and making you whine as his nose rubs against your clit with each obscene lick he gives. You can feel the warmth pooling in your stomach, and every noise you make only has Jeonghan slurping louder, filling the room with the noises of your moans and his tongue stuffing your cunt deliciously over and over again.

His mouth feels too good, he feels too good, and your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth, rendering you speechless. He reduces you into a puddle of noises that whimper from the back of your throat as your heels dig into his back, and Jeonghan moves when you do.

He follows every roll of your hips, keeping his mouth latched onto your addictive cunt as his hands reach up to cup your breasts, rubbing up your body, and keeping your legs over his shoulders while he brings your orgasm closer to the edge.

“H-Hannie!” Your gasps are increasing, and one of his hands grabs yours, intertwining your fingers with his as he messily shakes his head between your soft thighs, lapping at your cunt hungrily. “Oh! M’gonna cum! M’gonna cum, Hannie!”

Jeonghan groans, and with one hand holding yours, his other hand pushes your knee open wider. He holds you in place, flicking his tongue over your clit faster, and forces your orgasm to crash over you not even seconds later.

You squeal his name, your hips bucking upwards along his face as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. Your orgasm washes over you in waves, leaving you trembling, and Jeonghan moaning with you. He fucks you through it, lapping and slurping your slick like a man starved, prolonging your high with just his tongue before you’re pulling on his hair to get him to back off.

And when he does, his face from the nose down is covered in your arousal, and his smirk is smug as you try to catch your breath.

You watch with heavy eyes as he licks his lips triumphantly, and it’s then that you notice his thumb rubbing comforting half-circles on your inner ankle as your eyes blink up at him. “You get it now, Angel?” He hums, and you shiver as he trails his hand up your leg, gathering the wetness of your orgasm and spreading it over your puffy folds with a gleam in his eyes. “Or do you need me to keep showing you?”

Your heart flutters and your thighs twitch as he rubs sloppy hearts into your clit, slowly building you back up with each swirl of his fingertips.

Your eyes flicker from his forearms flexing between your sticky thighs and down to the prominent bulge in his boxers. He’s still hard, and there is a noticeable wet patch blooming that makes your mouth water. Your lips curve up in a teasing grin, and you tilt your hips up, enticing Jeonghan as you murmur, “I think I need more convincing - can you show me more?”

대박 - you made it to the end!

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"Man, I love Heeseung-hyung, I do, but he's been 'busy' for three weeks straight." 

A pause. 

Then, carefully: "What if we give him a little push?"

You should've said no. You should've been the bigger person, waited it out, trusted that Heeseung would come back to you the way he always did, apologetic and warm and yours.

But three weeks of falling asleep to a cold, empty side of the bed will make anyone a little petty.

So here you are.

It started with a text. Simple, casual, deliberately breezy.

You: babyy i’m going shopping with wonnie today ☺️ i need new clothes for the season

You watched the typing bubble appear. Disappear. Appear again. Then—

Heeseung: ok have fun

Two words. No question about where. No ask to join. No I miss you, can I come?

You almost caved right there. 

Almost called him and said please, just come with us, I just want to see you. But Jungwon's voice echoed in your head — he needs to realize what he's taking for granted — and you locked your phone and went to meet your best friend.

Jungwon was already waiting outside the department store, hands shoved in the pockets of his oversized jacket, that easy cat-like smile spreading across his face when he saw you. He pulled you into a hug immediately, warm, familiar, the kind of hug best friends share without thinking.

"Operation Make-Heeseung-Jealous is a go?" he murmured against your hair.

"Operation Make-Heeseung-Jealous is a go," you confirmed, and he laughed, pulling back to ruffle your hair.

"Let's make him suffer."

The shopping was genuine. You did need new clothes, and Jungwon had impeccable taste, steering you toward things you'd never pick yourself — soft knits in cream and slate, a slip dress in deep burgundy that made him whistle low under his breath.

"That one. Heeseung will lose his mind."

"That's the point."

What made it work was that Jungwon was naturally clingy. He linked arms with you while walking between stores. He rested his chin on your shoulder while you examined price tags. He tugged at the hem of your shirt when he wanted your attention, your name slipping out softly before he caught himself, and you'd laugh and swat at him and he'd grin, unrepentant.

None of it was new. None of it was unusual.

But none of it had ever been done in front of Heeseung before.

Because Heeseung was there.

You'd given him permission, of course. When he'd texted back that one-word reply, you'd pushed: you can come watch if you want thoo baby, see that wonnie and i are just friends. 

He'd said fine, and you'd sent him the address, and now—

Now you could feel him. Not see him, not yet, but feel him. That particular prickle at the back of your neck, that subtle shift in the air that meant Lee Heeseung had entered your orbit.

You didn't turn around. Neither did Jungwon. But his hand found the small of your back, guiding you toward the café down the street, and you let him.

The café was warm and golden, exposed brick, mismatched furniture, fresh pastries. There was a sofa section near the window, roomy, cushioned, space for three.

You looked at it. Then looked at the small two-seater table near the corner.

"The table," you said.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "There's literally a sofa right there."

"More room for bags." You were already walking toward it.

He stared at you for a long beat. Then something knowing flickered in his eyes, and he followed without another word.

The table was small. Intimate. Your knees bumped under it, and when the waitress came, Jungwon leaned in close to look at the menu, his shoulder pressing warm against yours.

From outside, through the café's wide front window, you could see him.

Heeseung. Sitting on a bench across the street, a cup of convenience store ramen balanced on his knee, chopsticks moving mechanically from cup to mouth. His jacket was too thin for the weather. His hair was messy, like he'd rushed out without fixing it. He was staring at the café, at you, at the way Jungwon was leaning into your space, talking close, smiling that soft smile he reserved for people he actually liked.

And Heeseung's jaw was so tight you could see the muscle jumping even from here.

You looked away. Took a sip of your iced tea. Let Jungwon steal a bite of your cake and pretend-scold him for it, swatting his hand away with a laugh that was only half-performative.

This was the thing about Jungwon, he made it easy. Easy to laugh, easy to lean into his touches, easy to forget that the whole point of this afternoon was the man across the street eating ramen and watching his girlfriend smile at someone else.

But you didn't forget. You couldn't. Not when you could feel Heeseung's gaze like a physical thing, heavy, hot, and increasingly frayed at the edges.

A week earlier, the apartment was dark when you had gotten home. Not unusual lately. Heeseung's shoes were by the door, his practice bag dumped haphazardly on the floor, a half-empty water bottle on the counter. Signs of life, but barely.

You found him in the bedroom, sprawled face-down on the bed, still in his practice clothes. His breathing was slow and even, not quite asleep, but close. The kind of exhaustion that settled into the bones.

You sat on the edge of the bed and ran your fingers through his hair. He stirred, just barely.

"Hey. When did you get home?"

"Mm. An hour ago." His voice was muffled by the pillow. "Sorry. Meant to wait up."

"It's okay. How was practice?"

"Long." He turned his head just enough to look at you, one dark eye blinking up blearily. "I keep messing up the bridge section. Made me run it like thirty times."

"You'll get it. You always do."

He hummed, eyes already fluttering shut. His hand found yours blindly, squeezed once, then went slack.

You sat there holding the hand of a man who was too tired to hold you back.

That was the thing. It wasn't that Heeseung didn't love you. You knew he did, knew it in the way he reached for you in his sleep, in the way his eyes found you across any room like you were the only fixed point in a spinning world.

But knowing didn't make the quiet hurt less. Didn't make three weeks of being second priority feel like anything other than what it was.

You pulled the blanket over him and went to sleep on the couch.

Three days later, you called him during his lunch break, something you never did. He didn't pick up. Called again an hour later. Voicemail.

By the time he finally called back, nearly midnight, you were already in bed, already hollowed out.

"Hey, sorry, my phone was on silent—"

"It's fine. Go to sleep, Heeseung. You sound tired."

A pause. "…Are you mad?"

"No. I'm just tired too." You swallowed. "I haven't seen you in two weeks. I haven't talked to you in longer. And I know you're busy, I know, but—"

"I know," he said, voice thick with something like guilt. "Just—one more week, okay? The showcase is Saturday and then I'll have time. I promise."

One more week. You'd heard that promise before a dozen times. 

"One more week," you repeated.

"One more week," he confirmed.

You hung up and stared at the ceiling for a very long time.

It was the next morning that you called Jungwon.

By the time you and Jungwon left the café, the sun was already low, painting the street in shades of amber and rose. Jungwon carried most of your bags, gentleman that he was, and walked close enough that your shoulders brushed with every step.

Heeseung was no longer on the bench.

You felt a sharp pang of — something. Disappointment? Relief? The game had gone on long enough, and some part of you had been waiting for him to snap, to cross the street, to walk in and say mine the way he used to in the early days when jealousy was still something he wore openly.

But he'd just sat there. Eating his ramen. Watching. Silent.

Jungwon must've sensed the shift in your mood, because he glanced down at you and said, gently, "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," you said. "Just—"

A hand closed around your wrist.

Not rough. Not aggressive. But firm. Unmistakable. The kind of grip that left no room for argument, no space for questioning who this hand belonged to, because your body recognized it before your mind did, recognized the long fingers, the familiar press of a silver ring, the warmth that was entirely, unmistakably Heeseung.

"We're leaving," he said. His voice was low. Controlled. The kind of quiet that was louder than shouting.

Jungwon stopped. Looked at Heeseung. Then at you. Then back at Heeseung, and something passed between the two men, some wordless exchange you couldn't quite parse, before Jungwon's mouth curved in a barely-there smile.

"I'll drop the bags at your place later, Y/N," he said. And then, softer, just for Heeseung: "Take care of her, hyung."

Heeseung didn't respond. 

His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, and he steered you, walked you, fast and silent and unrelenting, down the street, around the corner, into the parking garage where his car was waiting.

The drive home was silent.

He didn't turn on the radio. Didn't look at you. His hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, knuckles pale, jaw set so hard it looked painful. The only sound was the engine and the quiet, measured rhythm of his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, like he was counting each exhale to keep himself steady.

You watched his profile in the dashboard light. The sharp line of his nose. The tension in his brow. The way his throat moved when he swallowed, like he was physically holding words behind his teeth.

You should've apologized. Should've explained. Should've told him it was a setup, a scheme, a stupid, desperate attempt to make him see you again.

Instead, you said nothing. 

Because some part of you, the part that had spent three weeks being ignored, wanted him to break first. Wanted him to be the one to reach. Wanted to know, with absolute certainty, that he still wanted to.

The apartment door barely closed behind you before Heeseung turned around.

He looked wrecked. 

Not angry, though there was anger there, banked low and smoldering behind his dark eyes, but wrecked. Like something had been pulled taut inside him for hours and was finally, finally about to snap.

"Three weeks," he said. His voice was quiet. Almost steady. "Three weeks I barely looked at you. Three weeks of—of running on no sleep and barely eating and missing you so much it felt like my chest was caving in, and you—"

He stopped. Pressed his lips together. Looked at the ceiling.

"You sat at a table for two," he said. "You let him touch you. You laughed for him. And I was sitting across the street eating some cheap ass cup ramen, watching my girlfriend act like I didn't exist, and I couldn't—I couldn't even—like—"

His voice cracked. Just barely. Just enough.

"Baby," you whispered.

"Don't." He pointed at you, finger trembling. "Don't call me baby right now, I'm so—I'm so fucking—"

He stopped again. Exhaled hard. His hand dropped to his side.

"You were punishing me," he said. It wasn't a question.

You held his gaze. "Of course I was."

A sharp breath. "Because I was busy."

"Because you made me feel like I didn't matter, silly."

Silence. 

Heavy, thick, and suffocating, and for one terrible second you thought he was going to walk away—thought you'd pushed too far, played the game too hard, broken something that couldn't be glued back together.

Then Heeseung moved.

He closed the distance between you in two strides, hands finding your face, tilting your head back, and his mouth was on yours, hungry and desperate and aching, the kiss of a man who had been starving for months and was finally, finally allowed to eat.

"You matter," he said against your lips. "You matter, you matter, you matter so much—"

His hands were everywhere. Sliding from your face to your neck, your shoulders, down your arms, pulling you against him like he was trying to press you into his skin. 

You could feel his heartbeat, fast, erratic, and racing, or maybe that was yours, you couldn't tell anymore, couldn't tell where you ended and he began, not when he was kissing you like this, not when he was constantly whispering I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry between breaths like a prayer.

"Bedroom," you managed.

"Bedroom," he agreed.

He laid you down like you were something precious. Which was almost funny, given the way he'd looked at you in the café, like he wanted to take you apart piece by piece, but here, now, in the dim light of your shared bedroom, his hands were gentle as they slipped off your clothes. Layer by layer, careful and unhurried, like he was unwrapping something he'd been afraid he'd lost.

His fingertips dragged down your sides, slow and reverent, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He paused at your hip, pressed his thumb into the soft skin there like he was checking if you were real, if you were solid, if you'd dissolve under his hands the way he probably feared you would.

"I forgot," he murmured, pressing his lips to your collarbone. The word vibrated against your skin, low and rough. "I forgot what you felt like."

"You see me every day," you breathed.

"Seeing isn't touching." His mouth moved lower, dragging hot and slow down the center of your chest, tongue dipping into the hollow of your sternum. "Seeing isn't this, you know."

His hands gripped your thighs, firm, possessive, spreading them open, and he settled between them like he belonged there. Like it was the only place he'd ever belonged. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, then a third higher up, and each one sent a bolt of anticipation straight to your core.

Then his mouth—

God, his mouth.

He ate you out like a man making up for lost time. No teasing, no tentative buildup, just the flat of his tongue pressing hot and wet against you, dragging up in one long, devastating stroke that made your spine arch clean off the mattress. 

A broken sound tore from your throat, half gasp, half moan, and he groaned against you in response, the vibration shooting through your core like electricity, pooling hot and liquid at the base of your spine.

"Mmm, you taste so good," he muttered, half to himself, and then he was everywhere, tongue circling your clit with a precision that made your thighs shake, lips dragging slick and obscene against your most sensitive skin, jaw working with a determination that made your head spin. He was devouring you. Taking you apart with his mouth the way he didn't have the words to do with his voice.

"Heeseung—"

"Fuck, say my name again with that pretty mouth of yours, baby." The command was muffled against you, rough and desperate.

His tongue found your clit and circled it, slow, deliberate, maddening, and you fisted the sheets with both hands because there was nothing else to hold onto, nothing else to ground you, not when he was licking into you like this, not when he was making those sounds between your thighs. Low. Hungry. Almost wrecked, like he was the one being undone.

He slid two fingers inside you, slow at first, just to the first knuckle, letting you feel the stretch, then deeper, curling them upward until he found that spot, and your vision went white at the edges.

"Heeseung, baby—"

"Again." He curled his fingers again, pressing, and his tongue flicked harder against your clit. "Say it again."

"Heeseung, please—"

"Please what exactly? What are you talking about?" He pulled back just far enough to look at you, to see your flushed cheeks and parted lips and the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath, and his eyes were so dark, so blown with want, that the sight of him alone almost pushed you over the edge. "Use your words and your wish is my command."

"I'm gonna—please, I'm gonna come—"

"Mmh, that’s it—come for me, baby," he said, and his mouth was back on you before you could process the words, fingers and tongue working in tandem now, relentless and precise, and the coil in your stomach wound so tight you thought you might shatter—

You did.

The orgasm hit you like a wave breaking, sudden and all-consuming, and you heard yourself moan his name, heard it crack and fracture in the quiet room, felt your walls clench around his fingers and your thighs tremble on either side of his head. 

He worked you through it, mouth softening just slightly, fingers gentling but not stopping, not stopping, and the pleasure crested and crested again and didn't recede, just shifted into something sharper, brighter, and way too much.

"Heeseung—wait, I just—ah—I can't, it's too—"

"You can." He looked up at you then, lips swollen and glistening, and his eyes, blown-wide, fierce with something raw and unguarded, made your breath catch. "You can take it. You let him touch you all afternoon. You can take this."

The words landed somewhere between accusation and plea, and they sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to your core despite, or maybe because of, the guilt that flickered through you. 

He didn't give you time to respond. His mouth was back on you before you could draw breath, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. He licked into you with long, broad strokes, his fingers curling and uncurling inside you, and the overstimulation built like a second tide coming in, fast and inexorable and impossible to fight.

Your hands flew to his hair. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer. Your body didn't know either, bucking into his mouth one second and squirming away the next, every nerve ending firing at once until the pleasure and the ache blurred into one overwhelming, consuming sensation.

"Mine," he whispered against your oversensitive skin, and the word vibrated through you like a second pulse. "You're mine. Say it."

"I'm yours—Heeseung, I'm—oh my god—fuck—"

The second orgasm ripped through you harder than the first. 

Your back bowed off the mattress, your thighs clamped around his head, and you might've screamed, couldn't tell, couldn't hear anything over the rushing in your ears and the devastating, unrelenting pressure of his mouth still on you, still working, still taking, even as you shook and whimpered and felt tears leak from the corners of your eyes because it was too much, it was too much, and he wasn't stopping—

"Heeseung—please, I can't—please—"

He pulled off with a wet sound that should've been obscene but just made you ache for him. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, and you whimpered at the loss, whimpered again when he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, then another to your hip, each one impossibly gentle after what his mouth had just done.

He rose above you, and you caught a glimpse of his face, lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed, eyes wild, and then he was stripping off his shirt, reaching for the nightstand drawer with hands that shook just slightly, and the sight of his bare skin, lean and toned and so familiar, made something in your chest crack wide open.

He rolled the condom on with practiced efficiency, and then he was between your legs again, and the head of his cock pressed against your entrance and you both stilled.

"Look at me," he said.

You opened eyes you didn't remember closing. He was right there, close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to see the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes, close enough to see the way his jaw was clenched so tight it trembled.

"I'm sorry," he said.

And then he pushed inside.

The stretch was perfect and overwhelming and exactly what you needed. He filled you slowly, inches that felt like miles, until he bottomed out and his forehead dropped to rest against yours and you could feel him shaking, actually shaking, with the effort of holding still.

"Don't move," he breathed. "Just—give me a second."

"You're the one who said look at you," you whispered back, and he let out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost, and rolled his hips, and the shift pressed him impossibly deeper and dragged a moan from both of you at the same time.

Then he started to move.

He was slow at first. Deep, measured thrusts that dragged against every nerve ending you had, his hands braced on either side of your head, his breath warm and unsteady against your lips. 

Every stroke was deliberate, pulling almost all the way out, then sinking back in so slowly you could feel every inch, every ridge, every place where your bodies met and held and refused to let go. A claim. An apology. A promise all tangled together into something that made your chest ache worse than the three weeks of silence ever had.

"You feel so good," he said against the corner of your mouth. "Forgot how good you feel. Fuck."

"Then don't forget again," you managed, and his hips stuttered, just once, before he found his rhythm again.

But the slow didn't last. 

Couldn't, maybe, not with the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. 

His pace quickened, thrusts growing harder, deeper, more urgent. The sound of skin against skin filled the room alongside your shared, ragged breathing, and the headboard started knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm that you'd be embarrassed about later but couldn't bring yourself to care about now.

"Say you're mine," he panted, hips snapping forward.

"I'm yours—"

"Say it again." Harder now. Deeper. His hands found yours and pinned them above your head, fingers lacing through yours, holding you in place.

"I'm yours, Heeseung, I'm—oh—"

He hit a spot that made you see stars, and he did it again, and again, adjusting the angle until every thrust ground against that spot and you were sobbing his name, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, deeper, more. 

The pressure was building again, a third time, impossibly, and you were so oversensitive from before that every stroke was a razor's edge between pleasure and pain, and you didn't know which one you wanted more.

"Nobody else," he said, and his voice was wrecked, ragged and low and breaking at the seams. "Nobody else gets to touch you like this. Not Jungwon. Not anyone. Just me. Say it."

"Just you—only you—Heeseung—"

"That's right." He drove into you harder, faster, and you could feel him losing the last threads of his control, could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered, in the way his hands tightened around yours, in the way his breathing fractured into something desperate and uneven. "Only me. Fuck—only me—"

Your third orgasm crested without warning. 

No slow build this time, just a sudden, blinding rush of sensation that crashed over you and pulled you under, and you clenched around him so hard he groaned, long and guttural, and his hips jerked forward erratically, chasing his own release.

"That's it," he said, voice cracking. "That's it, baby, one more—you feel so good, you're so good, mine—"

He followed you over the edge a moment later, burying himself deep and going rigid above you, a broken sound escaping his throat, half-moan, half-sob, and his whole body shuddered as he came, fingers squeezing yours so tightly it almost hurt, and he collapsed onto you with the full, unguarded weight of his body.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

His breathing was ragged against your neck. Your fingers traced absent patterns on his back, sweaty, trembling, still hovering in that hazy space between too much and just right.

Finally, he lifted his head. Looked at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression open in a way it rarely was, stripped of every defense, every careful wall he kept between himself and the world.

"Three weeks was too long," he said quietly. "I'm not doing that again."

"Okay."

"I mean it. I don't care how busy it gets. I'm coming home to you. Every night. Even if it's just to fall asleep on the couch. Even if it's just for ten minutes."

"I'll hold you to that," you said.

He kissed you. Soft this time. Slow. The kind of kiss that wasn't trying to prove anything, the kind that just was.

Then he pulled back just far enough to look at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"You planned that. With Jungwon."

You bit your lip. "…Maybe."

He stared at you. Then he dropped his head back onto your chest and laughed—a real laugh, exasperated and disbelieving and warm.

"I'm going to kill him," he mumbled against your skin.

"You'll thank him," you corrected, running your fingers through his hair. "He's the reason you're here right now."

A pause. Then, grudgingly: "I'll thank him later. Right now I'm still mad."

"Right now you're naked in my bed," you pointed out.

"Right now I'm grudgingly naked in your bed," he clarified, and you laughed, and felt him smile against your skin.

Three weeks was way too damn long. 

But this, him, here, present, was worth every petty scheme.

Even the table for two.

⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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💿 ࿐ . . no. 1 party anthem by artic monkeys

✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !

The anxiety of the day, combined with the pressure of the wedding, made you regret agreeing not to see Jeonghan. To be honest, you yearned to see your fiancée, who could soothe your worries with a few words. 

Absolutely shattered, you dragged a small summer dress over your frame and made your way to the hotel bar with your bridal party. The hotel was exotic, with vast luxurious terraces that sported coloured lanterns shining primary colours onto makeshift mosaic-style dance floors, dark wood tables and chairs had been cleared to the side of what would’ve been the main patio. Dark bushes climbed along the walls, yet the view out to the ocean was not obstructed, the water just a few minutes away. 

However, no matter how pretty or enjoyable the surroundings were, you couldn’t seem to budge the feeling of longing.

‘Let’s get a drink down you,’ one of your friends suggested, snapping you out of the trance with the dying sunset and grabbing onto your arm lightly, a cheeky smile on her face. 

After two cocktails, both horrendously strong, you sighed, sitting down, watching as your friends all danced around. 

They were radiant, excitement and alcohol pumping through them. Swaying and sipping as they screamed along to a pop song that the dj queued up. 

‘You miss him, don’t you?’ Only one voice could’ve said that, your mom, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. 

‘Could you tell?’ You let out a small laugh, holding onto her arms as they engulfed you, tears threatening to break the horizon and slide down your face. 

‘Want to know something funny?’ she questioned, placing her thin wine glass on the table and sitting tightly next to you, a squeeze of your thigh offering temporary grounding. 

‘Hm?’ You looked up at her, still toying with the hem of your dress, meeting her soft and familiar eyes, almost a replica of yours. 

‘I was exactly like this when I married your father,’ she giggled, a girly one that reminded you that she had been in your shoes all those years ago. 

Tracing the outline of the palm trees that swayed lightly in the wind, you smiled, silently beckoning for her to continue. 

‘I couldn’t cope without him,’ she said, ‘I was convinced I had to call it off.’ 

You shot her a confused look, eyes widened and jaw slack. 

‘Let me finish, darling,’ she continued, ‘so as soon as my bridal party went to sleep,’ her head turned to your drunken group of friends, all of them shimmying almost aggressively at each other, ‘I slipped out and spent the night before in your dad’s arms.’ 

Both of your faces mirrored each other, tender smiles borderline beaming as she held your hand. 

‘I’ve never seen someone make you glow as Jeonghan does, honey,’ she rubbed her thumb comfortingly along your hand, ‘If you need to see him, go find him.’ 

Before you could muster a reply, a rather drunk friend of yours came grooving over, grabbing your arm.

‘Come and dance!’ she shouted over the music, and you laughed, getting up. Letting out a large sigh, you wave to your mom, who nods knowingly, and you join them.

The music pumped through your body, the floor below you vibrating with the bass. At some point, a drink was shoved in your hand and then a shot, and then another drink — Your friends quickly became a blur of faces and bodies as sweat slicked down the back of your dress. Someone had put a makeshift veil on your head, which seemed to be pressing too tightly into your pressure points. The lights were distant and couldn’t quite illuminate the people around you like they wanted to. 

It was creeping up your throat, clawing and thrashing like a storm. The anxiety, the longing, making their vicious reappearance as you struggled to recognise anyone around you. 

Tears. Tears were first. From being overwhelmed, from missing your fiancée, from the heat and the crowd. Then your hands were shaking, your breathing becoming choppy, panic beginning to surge through you as you pushed your way out of the crowd. 

Your breath was running away from you; it was practically sprinting, doing absolute laps around you. Get out of there was all your head was saying, your ears ringing in a high pitch as you escaped the colourful lights and followed along a blurry path — your tears compromising your vision as you dipped into a small garden, still rife with panic. 

This was a panic attack. A very bad one, the symptoms worsening by the second. It had been months since you’d wobbled your way through one of these, and every time, since the day you met Jeonghan, he’d been by your side to coax you through it.

All you needed was Jeonghan; his soft touch on your shoulder would ground you. You know exactly what he’d say to you right now — ‘What’s gotten you all twisted, angel?’ 

Desperately, you tried to imagine him in front of you, his beechwood scent, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you physically could. 

‘_____? Are you okay?’ A soft-faced Joshua appeared in the hedge arch you'd previously entered through. Immediately darting to you and crouching in front of you. Through your dreary state, you had failed to hear him approach, but he was alarmed, his features etched with worry. 

Panic continued to possess you, even with the familiar face within your vicinity, your heart couldn’t stop speeding. 

‘The girls said you disappeared.’ Concern bled through his look, the alcohol pumping through him rendering him useless to the panic attack dominating you. ‘Everyone is looking for you.’ 

‘Han-‘ You manage to spit out, ‘Get Hannie.’ 

Joshua sprang into action, like your panic-stricken command had pulled all the booze out of his system. Almost sprinting out of the garden, his shoes tapped loudly against the paving as you looked up towards the night sky, trying to count the stars you could see. 

To no avail, your breathing was making you nauseous, your head beginning to bang from the dehydration. 

‘Baby?’ His voice echoed from afar, and it made you feel as if his hands were ghosting down your body. ‘Angel!’ 

Before you could even look up, Jeonghan’s arm was around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest exactly how he had done many times before. 

The scent, it was so him. So your fiancée, soon-to-be husband. So the man whom you will give everything for. 

‘Oh baby,’ he said softly, scanning your shaky frame and stroking your hair lightly. ‘Breathing with me sweetheart, just how we’ve done it before.’ 

After many, many minutes of him breathing with you, his fingers wiping your tears without hesitation, you began to calm down, the headache a steady booming in your head. 

‘I’m here angel,’ he continued, holding you closely to him. 

Finally, your glassy eyes met those warm, chocolatey brown ones you adored so much; his dark hair was half pulled back into a ponytail, his fringe tickling his eyebrows. 

Your breath evening out forced the shaking to subside under his soft yet solid grip.

‘You look so beautiful,’ he said, a sincere and loving smile on his face as he traced your jaw with his thumb. This stifled a small laugh out of you; his statement was nothing but a nicety. ‘There’s my girl.’ 

‘I’m sorry to pull you away.’ You hiccup finally, your voice hoarse and spent, but Jeonghan just shook his head. 

‘You over everyone, every day in every life.’ He said, his romance wooing you after so many years. ‘Do you want to cancel tomorrow?’ 

This question tugged tightly on both of your heartstrings, and you could’ve collapsed on the spot if it wasn’t for his sturdy arms. 

‘Never, ever.’ You replied, nestling into his warm chest, slightly bare from the undone shirt he was wearing. He let out an audible sigh of relief and pulled you impossibly tighter to him. ‘Today just got a bit much.’ 

‘Angel,’ he pouted sadly. 

‘I know that we agreed not to see each other before,’ you started, ‘but, I think I needed you here today, they were asking me questions about flowers and food and-‘ 

‘I should’ve been there,’ a slight scowl played on his lips, why didn’t they ask him? 

‘And I just missed you.’ 

Jeonghan’s big eyes looked at you with such tenderness that you felt you could dissolve into him. ‘I missed you more than I can even say.’ 

A light silence settles between you as you both look up at the night sky, the distant sound of birds whistling floating through the air. Jeonghan couldn’t tear his eyes off of you, he wouldn’t, afraid you’d start to shake again.

‘I can’t wait for you to be Mrs Yoon tomorrow.’ He said with a wide smile on his face. 

‘Mr and Mrs Yoon.’ You replied, lacing your hands together.

‘Shall we go to bed?’ He asked, looking down at your now calm state, his gaze classifying you as glass in this fragile mess. You nod smally, fuck the traditions, all that matters is him and you. ‘In my bed. Both of us.’ He clarified. 

‘I thought you’d never ask, Mr Yoon.’ You manage to joke, allowing him to steady your legs as you stand.

‘Well, soon to be Mrs Yoon, how does sharing a bed with me for the rest of our lives sound?’ He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, bathing in your scent. 

‘Gosh,’ You exhale, ‘Might have to think about that one.’ 

Both of you chuckle, his arm securely around you as he guides you back to the buzzing hotel, avoiding the crowds and nodding at Joshua as you weave through the terrace.

‘You know, my mum and dad stayed together the night before their wedding.’ 

*Twenty-four years ago*

“Yoon Jeonghan!” His mother’s voice boomed through the small home, your full name quickly following, but it was fruitless. The two of you were already running out the door, giggling, both of you with handfuls of the cookies that his mother had spent hours making.

“This way,” you tell him, and the seven-year-old boy nodded, following you without any further questions. Just like you did him.

Pushing aside a broken board in a fence, you and him slipped through into an abandoned looking backyard. On the other end of the yard, there was an old wooden shed and exactly where you were leading him. The once fresh and crisp wood now weathered from age and the elements; the door barely held onto its hinges, and a window that had several cracks in it.

Your hidden oasis. Yours and Jeonghan's little hide out.

Inside the old building, cobwebs covered corners of the walls. There was an old lawnmower that was rusted and abandoned to time and a built-in table to one side that was already filled with other snacks and drinks you both swiped from each other’s home. There were also two small sleeping bags laid out to be able to sit on the ground without getting your bottoms dirty.

“I can’t believe she fell for that,” Jeonghan giggled, setting his share of the cookies onto a broken plastic plate, one your grandmother threw away and you dug out of the trash to use in your ‘hide out’.

“I told you, she would. She’s like my grandma when she is baking.” You tell him with ease. Your seven-year-old confidence was admirable, your share joining his on the plate, except for one that you were going to eat. Taking a bite of the soft warm cookie, you continued to talk with your mouth full, “It was all a matter of striking at the right moment. You know this, Hanni.”

“She is going to be so mad at me when I get home,” He chuckled, his own mouth now full of cookies. You roll your eyes, reaching up from your place on the ground to grab two juice boxes, because you knew Jeonghan’s mom wasn’t going to be that mad. Not like your grandma would be at least. “She will be!”

“She never stays mad at you,” You quipped, dropping your cookie to cross your arms, a pout already forming. “You hardly ever get in trouble.”

“That’s not true!” Jeonghan shot back, copying you exactly, but stuck his tongue out in the process. “You don’t know how often I get in trouble. Especially because of you!”

“I don’t tell you to join in! I suggest!” You could feel your body growing hot with annoyance, dropping your arms with your fists now clenched. “You are the one who gets me in trouble all the time!”

“Yes, you do! You pulled my hair the last time I didn’t go with one of your plans!” Jeonghan snapped, and you gasped like he had just insulted your entire doll collection. Then you hit his arm, and his face darkened. “See! You hit me if I don’t agree with you!”

“You pushed me in the mud the last time I disagreed with you!” You countered, your young voices rising as you both did, getting into each other’s faces. “And I was grounded for a week after that too! I couldn’t watch TV because of you!”

Somehow this turned into a little squabble, where you and Jeonghan grabbed each other. Your hand was in his short dark hair, while he was trying to swat you off, crying out to let him go. In the middle of it, one of your feet kicked the plate that held your stolen cookies, breaking the plastic further and the baked treats were now being trampled by your feet.

“Look what you did!” Jeonghan yelled,  pointing to the cookies when he finally was able to get your hand out of his hair while you stood there. Your face contorted into anger, and more offense that he would blame you when he was being the mean one.

“I didn’t just do that! You did too!” You retorted, and the young boy rolled his eyes. “Our cookies are ruined! And so is our little spot! You need to clean that up!”

“No, you!”

“You!”

In the end, the two of you ended up sitting on opposite ends of the sleeping bags. Arms crossed, backs facing each other, while the broken cookies and plate rested between you both. The silence was loud as you both refused to be the one to speak first, both of you too stubborn to break first.

In the end it was Jeonghan who broke the silence, standing to grab another juice box for you both and a packet of candies that you liked from the table. A peace offering in a way. You shot him a look, your eyes dropping to the candies and juice box before up to his face. His gaze was softer, with an apologetic expression on his face.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, and you tried to keep up being mad, but the way his bottom lip jutted out as he apologized made it hard. Instead, you reached out and took the offerings, and he sat down next to you.

“Sorry too...” You mumbled, sharing the candies with him before cleaning up the broken plate and ruined cookies.

*Thirteen years ago*

“Oh my god, Jeonghan, stop hogging the joint!” You whined, reaching for the rolled up paper that had your weed in it, but Jeonghan seemed to be trying to smoke it all to himself.

“Give me. Remember its puff puff give. I only did one puff.” He retorted, holding the joint just out of your reach so you were practically falling into the eighteen-year-old boy.

“Bullshit! That was more than one; hell it was more than two! It was like three!” You argued back, your arm still outstretched to grab the joint from him, “Yoon Jeonghan, if you don’t give me that joint now, I am beating your bitch ass up.”

“Please like you can take me,” Jeonghan laughed, attempting to put the burning joint back to his lips, his other arm trying to push you back while you fought to grab it from him.

You both were back at the shed again, the same old structure still holding out even after all these years, but things were different. The old lawnmower was now gone and sitting next to the it, collecting more rust and cobwebs in its new home, the webs in the corners no longer there, and the sleeping bags had changed to an old loveseat that one of your friends found. The juice boxes and snacks that were once on the table were replaced with a pizza box, a half empty bottle of Jeonghan’s dad stolen whiskey, a baggy of cheap weed, and some rolling papers.

And the two seven-year-olds who would hide away in it with stolen snacks, or other things to entertain were now eighteen. Freshly graduated from high school, stuck in that limbo stage where you both weren’t quite adults but not quite children anymore, and preparing for the next steps in your life. You were going off to a school abroad while Jeonghan was staying back in your hometown, choosing to go to a local college first.

“God, you’re so annoying,” You pouted, practically pushing him back and sitting on his stomach to grab the joint, but laughter was filtering out of you before you could stop it. Bringing laughter from the pinned man below you, a lazy smirk played over his lips like he was meant to win this no matter what. “Jeonghan, you’re going to smoke it all!”

“Then I will buy you more!” He argued, and you slapped his chest. Grabbing your wrist before you could hit him again, Jeonghan’s grip held you there as he lifted the joint to your lips. Like instinct, you took a deep inhale, letting the harsh herb fill your lungs and altering your non-sober state more. You try to free yourself from him, so you can smoke it how you wanted, but he wouldn’t let you.

Pulling back finally, you blew the smoke from your lungs into the air, and it was then that Jeonghan let you go, only to be smacked in the chest once more before you slipped off him and back to your seat next to him. Your leg tucked under you, your bare skin pressing into the old wood by your weight, but you ignored any possible splinters that may come from it.

“You suck, you know that?” You tell him, and this earned another chuckle from him.

“And you blow. We’re both whores here.” Jeonghan teased, placing the joint between his lips to rest his arms behind his head. Each breath inhaled the smoke from nearly finished joint into his lungs. His long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, but there were several strands that fell loose around his face.

His old Sublime shirt torn in a different place and showed off his stomach from the way he was laying, skinny jeans, and a gold chain with angel wings that was once yours laying against his throat. Skin glowing from the setting sun and the lantern behind you both, making him look ethereal.

You envied how beautiful your best friend was.

“Give me that,” You quipped, taking the chance to swipe the joint from him. A triumphant smile was playing over your lips before you realized that it was nearly gone. “You asshole, you smoked most of this.”

“And you drank most of my whiskey. Call us even.” He answered dismissively, closing his eyes briefly.

“Whatever,” you told him, taking whatever hit you can of the joint before putting it out, smashing it hard against the wood. Silence followed, the two of you sitting at the doorway of the shed, your eyes scanning the overgrown yard and the half burnt down house just feet from you.

It’d been like that for years, with no one coming to do anything about the destroyed home or the property it stood on, making it a haven for you and Jeonghan growing up, and a place of many things. Your first kiss with a boy that smelled like he used a whole can of body spray to cover that he hadn’t bathed, Jeonghan’s first kiss with a girl who tried to fight you over him.

You spent nights in the shed to avoid your grandparents and their old fashion but offensive words, many with Jeonghan right next to you. Refusing to leave you while you refused to crash at his place, because you knew his mom would call your grandparents. You got high and drunk for the first time with him next to you, and blasted music through a shitty speaker that neither of you could explain the origin of.

Hell, you two used it as a place to hide once when you had the cops called on you for stealing. You don’t think either of you had ever been so scared thinking you were caught, but it didn’t stop you because the thrill left you both laughing until your stomach hurts.

You laughed, cried, and felt every emotion you could think of in this shed, with Jeonghan beside you. In a week's time, you will be on a plane to a new country with a family friend willing to house you during your studies, and away from your home. Away from your life, away from the little shed. Away from the comforting blanket of your hometown.

Away from Jeonghan.

“You’re thinking too loud again,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, turning your gaze toward your best friend. He was still laying back; arms folded behind his head as a pillow and prop, with his eyes on you. A small sad smile played on his lips, because he knew what you were thinking about too. “Talk to me, bug.”

"You're a bug. I should squish you," You answer back, matching his smile as you watched him let our a breathy laugh.

“I would like to see you try. You couldn’t even get the joint from me.” He then lifts his leg to nudge you with his knee. “Now, talk to me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I mean, yeah your face is, but it’s at least pretty while being it.” He offered and you slapped his knee. He then sat up, giving you the famous lazy Jeonghan smirk you grew up seeing, but you could tell it was only a front.

“Just… growing up.” You told him, gesturing between the two of you, “We’re no longer kids anymore…”

“Debatable.” He murmured while you spoke.

“…we graduated high school and are preparing to be thrusted into the real world. We’re having to finally grow up and face life. I’m…” The words failed you then, and in its place was a soft choking sound. A sob that wanted to burst through, but you managed to swallow it back while blinking the sudden tears that wanted to fall. Jeonghan could see it all as he nodded. “I’m leaving… leaving everything I know…” This time your voice cracked, “Leaving you.”

“Please, the moment you agreed to marry me on the playground at five you were stuck with me.” Jeonghan answered, doing what he did best, trying to make light of something instead of showing what he’s really feeling. And you hated that it would work more times than it didn’t. “Just… there is going to be some distance between us. It’s not like I’m not a phone call or message away, and we’ll see each other again. This isn’t a final thing.”

“It feels like it is.” This comment made him tsk at you.

“It doesn’t to me.” He shook his head, watching through broken windows as a car passed by. The driver wouldn’t even know you were sharing one of the last times together before life took hold of you. One of the last times you would be free like this, this age, in the moment, and with the only person, besides your grandparents, who stuck by your side.

Someone you grew up with, someone you got into trouble with, someone who never was fake with you. Someone you saw every day and spent most of it with. Your best friend.

“It doesn’t?”

“Of course not. How could it be when we are still so young?” He asked simply and you could only listen to him, “It’s also not like you are leaving for good. Your grandparents are still here; your friends are here… I am here.”

“But what if our lives don’t allow room for each other anymore?” This earned another tsk, as well as an offending sounding laugh. Hurt flashed across his eyes before he looked away, like it was preposterous to even say something like that.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ll always have room for you in my life.” He said curtly, and you dropped your shoulders while making an over exasperated sigh. That wasn’t what you meant.

“Ugh, Hanni, I don’t mean it like that.” He turns his attention back to you, before flashing it toward the whiskey bottle. “I mean... what if even when I come home… we don’t have time for each other? We don’t get to see each other. You’re going to be working, going to school, and eventually you’re going to fall in love and have a partner. Same for me too.”

“I’m not sure how that sounds any different than your previous statement,” Jeonghan mumbled this, pushing his lip out in a pout. Reaching out, he caught a tear falling with his thumb, only to yank his hand away and shake it like he touched lava. This did what he wanted it to, which was to laugh.

“Hanni…”

“It’s okay. I forgive you for hurting my feelings. This is a hard time for us both,” There was so much honesty to his words, it was also written all over his face. He was trying to not think about the inevitable, which was you were leaving. Not the forever he had declared, but it was still hard. “It’s not just you losing something, I’m losing my best friend. My partner in crime. Who am I going to get into mischief with? Joshua?”

“I mean… at least he’ll keep you from getting arrested.”

“If he’s not too busy fucking anything that will let him.” Jeonghan rolled his eyes, “But I’m serious. You’re not the only one who loses something in this. Except I’m not accepting that this is it, because it’s not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do, I’m Yoon fucking Jeonghan. I can bend the will of others with a flick of my wrist, and this will bend to my will.” You still don’t look convinced, and he clicks his tongue before speaking again, “How about this? If life takes us on different paths that separate us further, then the year we turn thirty-one, we meet again. You and me… and any husbands, wives, fiancés, life partners or children we may have. Somewhere nice, somewhere where our busy lives can’t touch us. Where we can catch up, and remember that it’s always been us, and it will always be us.”

“Really?”

“Yes, now ask me what will happen if life doesn’t do that.” He smirks, and you giggle.

“What will happen if life doesn’t?”

“Then we do it still!” He announced throwing his arms up, before one found its way over your shoulder. “No matter what, no matter where life takes us, we meet the year we turn thirty-one.”

“Why thirty-one though?”

“Because it’s too cliché to meet when we turn thirty. Goodness, this isn’t one of those romance movies you make me watch.” He gave you a brief squeeze before getting up to grab the whiskey bottle. “So, what you say?”

“I can easily argue that the last three romances we watched was because of you, not me.” Jeonghan sat back down next to you, the bottle in his hand, but it remained unopen. His attention was on you, his eyes watching you as you try to find the words. Every part of him told you that he was serious about this, and it helped ease an ache that was building in you. “And let’s do it.”

“Perfect. Now let’s drink to the future.”

A week later, you were clinging to him at the airport as your grandfather got your luggage together. This time tears weren’t holding back, Jeonghan wasn’t able to say anything to help because he was busy fighting his own. Instead, he just held you as you gripped at the offensive SpongeBob shirt he was wearing, soaking it with not just your tears, but the mascara and eyeliner you had thickly drawn on. Only to have it cried away telling your best friend goodbye for now.

“Hey,” Jeonghan’s voice was soft when he pulled back, making you look at him. His eyes were shining, and red. Evidence that he’d been crying, though you knew he’d insist he’s actually high, and it nearly broke you. “Remember what I said. The year we turn thirty-one.”

You nodded, and he gives you a soft smile.

“I’ll send you the details, so make sure you have the entire year free.” He teased and you let out a soft laugh before jumping from him, pinching you. You break away from his grasp to hit his shoulder. This earned a soft laugh from you, your eyes dropping to the angel wing necklace that still rested around his neck.

“I’ll be sure to have all my information changed by then.” You laughed, and he pinched your side again. Your name then came from behind you both, your grandparents calling to you. It was time to go. Looking back at Jeonghan, you gave him a watery smile, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” This was the first time his voice finally cracked, and a tear started to fall. It was real. It was happening.

“I’ll text you when I land.”

“You better.” He teased. “I will see you again.”

“See you again.”

**A year ago**

Your phone chimed right as you were cooking dinner, cutting off the music playing briefly, but you weren’t able to stop what you were doing to look. Too focused on making sure that you didn’t burn anything, but the couple that was in the kitchen with you noticed.

“Need me to check that?” You heard Celeste ask, and you looked over your shoulder, to her and Soonyoung grabbing the plates and cutlery for the table.

“No, it’s okay. I can check it later,” You waved her off, “Dinners ready, and we have a proposal to go over.”

“I thought there was no work talk at dinner?” Soonyoung teased, making you shoot your friend and co-owner a look, only to earn a playful wink back. He then turned to his fiancé with a smile, “If we’re working while we eat, you might as well open two bottles. One for us and one just for her.”

“Watch it Kwon, or I’ll run this company with Celeste instead” You warned him, grateful that Celeste was already stepping in to grab his collar to drag him out of the kitchen with everything to arrange at the table.

Twenty minutes later, the three of you were sitting around the table, two wine bottles open with one in front of you and one between the couple. You all were talking animatedly about the proposal that you and Soonyoung were putting together, hoping that the potential investor takes on your ideas and help launch your small business globally. Soonyoung had been right to have your own bottle open; it helped ease the tension that was building in your shoulders over all this, and there were more laughs than not.

“I think we should add some tiger imagery to the presentation; you think we can do that?” Soonyoung suggested a wine glass coming up to his lips, only for it to be stopped by his fiancé. He looks at her with confusion as she only shook her head. Celeste supported his love for tigers, but even she knew when to draw the line.

“I should hire you as our creative director,” You joked, tipping your own wine glass in her direction. “You can save me from a lot of tiger themed merchandise and advertising.”

“I love you, but if I took that, I probably would be canceling the wedding instead of planning a honeymoon,” Celeste laughed, and Soonyoung looked offended. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I know how you are when you’re working. We met at work, remember?”

“Of course, I do. I barely was able to focus at meetings because all I wanted to do was look at you,” You actively rolled your eyes as the couple stared at each other like they hung the sun and the moon for each other, and it reminded you just how single you have been for the last few years. Happily single, but not when you were around these two being so sickeningly in love.

“Gag me.” You muttered making the two look at you. Celeste playfully stuck her tongue at you, and Soonyoung pretended to growl. That was when you knew that you had lost them both to being lovey toward each other. You took this chance to check your phone, remembering it had gone off while you were cooking.

It was a message. From Jeonghan.

Your eyes widened as your fingers tightened around the stem of your glass, or you were going to drop it onto the table and spill wine all over the place. Casting your eyes up, you were relieved to see your two friends were still too busy staring at each other to notice your reaction.

You and him hadn’t really spoken in nearly six years, not since you came home for your grandfather’s funeral. Of course, you would wish each other a happy birthday, send the occasional meme, or a quick hello, but other than that, you barely spoke. You didn’t want to admit that it was hard for you to respond because it made you want to go back to being that eighteen-year-old again.

But you knew what this was about. You had turned thirty recently, and his thirtieth was a few months away, which meant that the promise the two of you had made at eighteen, smoking and drinking in that abandoned shed, was also coming due. And he was reaching out to solidify the plans.

You should’ve waited to read and respond after your friends left, when you had time to yourself, but you didn’t. Clicking the notification, you unlocked the phone to read the message. Only to find it was confirmation for your plane tickets, and a set of dates. The first week of April next year, and for a week.

Back home. Where you hadn’t stepped foot in nearly six years.

A few more messages had followed.

Jeonghan: Told you to keep your schedule open. Jeonghan: See you in April, bug.

**two days before**

You might’ve been overthinking it. No, you were overthinking this as you stared at an empty suitcase, piles of clothes folded around it on your bed, bags of new clothes at the foot of the bed, and your toiletries all laid out on your bathroom counter. All waiting to be packed.

None of your clothes had felt right, the makeup you chose to bring felt too plain, and your nerves were starting to suffocate you. A part of you felt like you shouldn’t feel this nervous, because it was just Jeonghan, but another part felt you were justified because it was Jeonghan. You hadn’t seen him in person since your grandfather’s funeral, only ever seeing his life through photos that he posted online.

Picture of him traveling with Joshua, and with your other friends, and relationships that never seemed to last a few months before the person disappeared from his photos. You watched his success in becoming a pharmacist like he had always wanted and was making a life for himself. He owned his own home, and he appeared happy with his life.

You had done the same, but away from him. You made a life where you now were, and selfishly barely looked back; especially after your grandfather had passed. You made friends where you were, had relationships, started a business with Soonyoung, and you made a life for yourself. You had become a different person, like he had.

This fact wasn’t the only thing that had your nerves starting to settle uneasy in your gut. You were both different, and what if that difference was so great that neither of you could enjoy your time together again. Uncomfortable strangers the entire week instead of old friends looking to reconnect.Not only that, but what if also being back home made it worse? That being there was more painful than it should be, and it made you resent your oldest friend for bringing you back?

Then your phone chimed, with a message coming through.

Jeonghan: See you when you land. Jeonghan: And stop overthinking things. I can hear your thoughts all the way over here. Haha.

That made you burst out in a laugh, because of course this silly line he used to say to you growing up would help loosen some tightness in you. It didn’t settle your nerves though, it only unraveled them, so they weren’t making you want to throw up and cry at the same time.

You responded.

You: Too late, so deal with it.

His response was instantaneous.

Jeonghan: Gladly.

**April**

You swore this entire journey had been one big April Fool’s joke with the way everything had gone wrong. You managed to finally pack everything, though you still weren’t happy with your choices you couldn’t just go naked, but you overslept the morning of your flight. The ride you had ordered was canceled at the last minute, making you late to the airport and nearly missed boarding.

Checking in had been a nightmare, and then there was a delay taking off.

When the plane did finally set off, you thought you would be in the clear for now. It would be smooth flying after this, and the bad luck got itself out of the way now than following you the entire trip. You hoped that the long flight will go well and give you a chance to rest, or Jeonghan was going to see you have an absolute crash out over it all.

You managed to get enough sleep, so you weren’t as cranky when you landed, but it left you feeling stiff. You even tried to stretch some before unboarding, but it and the awkward shuffling didn’t help. Gripping at your carryon, your focus was to get your suitcase and out of the airport. There’s a bed somewhere calling to you, and you were ready to meet the call.

With your suitcase now secured, you checked your phone to see if Jeonghan was there yet after insisting on picking you up instead of ordering a ride. Except when you looked around the semi-crowded airport, you didn’t see him anywhere. There was no sight of the famous Jeonghan smirk, no sign being dramatically held up with your name, or anything like that.

Your phone started to ring in your hands.  

“Where are you?” You answered, pressing the device to your ear and skipping any and all pleasantries. This earned a chuckle on the other side, and your eyes immediately narrowed. Even with the time apart, you knew never to trust that chuckle.

“About that…” He started slowly, showing you were right not to trust it. There was no way he was going to try and fuck with you, but you should’ve known better, “I am running late, car troubles, won’t be there for a few hours. You’re going to have to wait until I get there.”

“Yoon Jeonghan…” You took in a slow breath, trying to fight the annoyance that was bubbling under the surface. No, he wasn’t going to do this to you after the trip you’ve just had, “You better not be fucking with me right now.”

“I wish, I could say I was,” There was a sigh to his voice, but before you could let him have it, he continued, “I am very sorry, bug. I wish I was there to see you right now. With your hair an absolute mess, your sweater falling off you, and the way you are pouting right now. It’s so cute.”

“Huh?” You blinked, looking down at your body. Your sweater had fallen from your shoulders and was resting right at your elbows while strands of your hair escaped the loose ponytail you had put up. How the hell did he know if he wasn’t there? Before you could question it, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Twisting around, Jeonghan was standing there.

The phone still pressed to his ear, eyes shining with excitement and mischief, and that smirk that you once knew oh so well. His hair was shorter than the last time you seen him with it back to his natural dark brown. He was in a simple black t-shirt with a matching jacket and a pair of white pants, and you couldn’t stop the way your heart skipped at the sight of him.

“April Fool’s. Forgive me?” He teased, barely able to hang up the call before you were throwing your arms around his neck for a hug. The force of you jumping into him made Jeonghan stumble back slightly, but once he was able to catch his footing, his arms wrapped around your waist.

He pulled you so close your body was pressed against his like he had been desperate for this moment, but you were no better. Nuzzling your nose into his shirt, taking in the scent of his perfume and the way he held you tight. His own nose pressed to your hair, breathing in the faint smell of your perfume and shampoo, fingers flexing and squeezing gently at your sides.

Both of you forgot that you were still in the middle of the airport.

“You asshole!” You finally bursted out when the two of you parted, slapping his arm while he laughed at you attempting to scold him. He saw the smile forming over your lips, making the smirk he was wearing turn into a genuine smile. One that nearly stole the very breath from you, “That wasn’t funny.”

“It was a little funny.” He still hadn’t let go of you, his hands resting on your hips like they always belonged there, his gaze drinking you in. Then he stepped back, withdrawing his hold on you to reach for your suitcase handle, “Now, let’s get out of here before you shove me into the cargo hold of one of these planes.”

“You would deserve it,” You retorted earning an eye roll from him. One hand placed firmly against the small of your back, and the other pulling your suitcase behind you. With cool precision, Jeonghan directed you out of the airport while chatting with you about his day and asking you about your flight.

Like it was all part of a daily conversation you would always have, and there was no time between your last full conversation that wasn’t in text.

“After you,” Jeonghan announced, making sure to open the passenger door for you while providing an overexaggerated bow that made you playfully swat his shoulder. A giggle escaped you as you got into the car, while he finished putting your suitcase in the back. Settling into the driver’s seat, he flashed you a lazy smile and you missed the way his hand twitched slightly to reach for yours. Instead he put the car into drive. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You know, you never told me where I was staying.” You told him, your eyes watching the way the town looked now. Businesses that were once there on the main street gone, replaced with franchise stores and popular food spots. Places that you once occupied with your friends or grandparents gone, showing that the town was growing and changing like you had.

It didn’t feel like your old home, but there was still something about it that told you it was. Just with a different look.

“Easy. With me.” He said with no hesitation, making you look at him. He had a pair of black sunglasses on, leaning back against the driver’s seat with one hand on the wheel while the other rested on his lap. Looking relaxed as he drove through the familiar streets. Stopping at a light, he cast a glance your way and you weren’t sure, but you thought that his relaxed smile faltered slightly. “Rather get a room? The old motel is still open, but you might have to cuddle with some roaches and a few rats.”

“I think I am good on that,” You don’t hide your look of disgust, and this made Jeonghan start laughing as the light turned. “I would like the bed I sleep on be free of other occupants.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, his focus on the road letting silence fall over you. The radio was playing quietly, and you started to notice the familiar names of the streets.

They were the same names you would see every day growing up, the same streets you used to run around growing up. You chance a glance toward Jeonghan, only to find his focus on the road but the look on his face told you that he was waiting for your reaction.

Especially once he turned on the familiar street that the two of you grew up on.

“I knew you moved close to family, but I didn’t know you…” The words stopped in your throat when you pulled up to a beautiful home. It looked newer compared to the others on the street. White with grey trimming and a neatly cut yard with a stone pathway that lead right up to a small porch with a planter next to the door.

It was beautiful and unfamiliar, but you knew this property. It didn’t matter how long it had been since you came back; you knew exactly where you were.

“Come on, bug. Let’s get inside.” Jeonghan didn’t give you a chance to process your thoughts before he was shutting off the engine and unbuckle both of your belts. He was out of the car, leaving you there staring at the empty seat that he had once occupied.

It was the sound of the trunk closing that you were able to kick start back up and rushed to get out the car to follow him up the small pathway to the front door. Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes wide staring at the home and Jeonghan’s back.

Once inside, you didn’t stop to look around the home, instead your feet took you from the front door, through the open living room to a set of glass doors. If Jeonghan had said something to you, you didn’t hear it because your focus was getting to the backyard. You barely looked around the yard itself, just that it was well taken care of.

No, your focus was on the shed that was in the same familiar place. You could feel tears starting to burn your eyes, memories flooding back to you, your eyes flicking over to the fence that once had a broken board. It was fixed with forsythias and azaleas flourishing in front of it, but you could still see a young Jeonghan popping through it while you waited for him at the shed.

“It’s not the same one.” Jeonghan said softly behind you, but you didn’t look back, not wanting him to see a few tears fall. “The old owners finally sold the property four years ago to a realtor company. They rebuilt the house and tore down it before putting the place back on the market.”

“And you bought it.” You responded, finally looking at him. He had his hands in his pants pockets, balancing on the balls on his feet, while his eyes were on you, catching more tears starting to fall.

“Yeah, well, with the help from my parents. With conditions obviously,” Jeonghan continued, keeping his attention on you, “Moment I moved in, I had the shed put back in. It’s used to actually store shit, not a hang out like we used to have it, but just something didn’t feel right without it there.”

“What was the conditions?” You asked in a small voice, trying to wipe away the wetness from your face, when Jeonghan caught your elbow. Pulling you into a hug, he let out a soft tsk.

“Let’s not worry about that right now.” It was a clear deflection, but he wouldn’t let you wiggle away from him to call him out. Then his hands found its way to your sides and started to tickle you.

“Jeonghan!” You let out a small squeal, giggling while trying to get away from him. His own laughter mixed through yours in a sweet melody, helping you forget your tears.

“Come on, let me show you to your room.” His arm thrown lazily over your shoulder, directing you back toward the house. “And no roaches or rats to cuddle with.”

Jeonghan gave you a brief tour of his home, a kitchen and living room open floor style. Three bedrooms, the larger one with an ensuite on one side, while the two smaller ones with a Jack n Jill style on the other. Your room faced the yard, giving you perfect view of the shed, while Jeonghan had the larger room.

He left you to unpack and get cleaned up from your travels. The shower felt good, hot water helping you loosen the still sore muscles from your long flight and fight off the fatigue that you didn’t know was creeping up on you. By the time you had gotten out, your skin felt flushed from the heat with your hands and feet slightly wrinkled. The towel Jeonghan had left out was dark grey, soft and fluffy and felt like heaven against your skin.

It felt good to be out of your airport clothes and in a soft pair of leggings and oversized t-shirt. Your hair was still slightly damp, so you left it loose around your bare face Now that you were back around Jeonghan, the nerves you were feeling all but melted away and didn’t feel like you needed to look all done up just to lounge around the house.

“Hope you’re hungry.” He announced proudly when you finally emerged, setting two beer bottles on the table with a spread of take out. He wasn’t looking your way. “You took so long I managed to make us a feast.”

“Make us a feast huh?” You laughed, crossing your arms as you take in the sight before you. “Wanted to make sure it was authentically homemade by including the plastic containers?”

“I mean, only the best for…” His words died on his tongue as he went to look at you, his hand slowly dropping to his side. There was a flicker of awe and desire that went across his face before he shook his head, and it was replaced with a smirk. “…you...”

“I feel so honored,” You went to pull out of the chairs to sit, but Jeonghan had beat you to it by pulling it out for you instead, before taking a seat next to you, focusing on the containers. Grabbing both beers, you popped them open with ease and set them down in front of you both.

Dinner consisted of the two of you stuffing your faces, battling over the last pieces of meat, which he won by cheating at rock, paper, scissors. You drank several beers between you each while talking about work, friends, family, and life. You told him about meeting Celeste in college then later Soonyoung through her, the jewelry business that you and him thought up after too many bottles of wine, how it actually was doing well, and the couple’s upcoming wedding.

While Jeonghan told you about college, the trouble him and their friends got into, updated you on his parents and sister, and about the pharmacy he works at with Joshua. You laughed over stories, and it felt like no time had passed between you.

“What about relationships?” Jeonghan asked, leaning back in his chair with a beer close to his lips, watching the way you swirled your beer around in the bottle. “Anyone special?”

“Just a vibrator named Owini with two I’s.” This made Jeonghan raise a brow as he took a sip. “O.W.I.N.I. Orgasm when I need it.”

“Clever.” He coughed out after nearly choking on his beer, laughing at the name.

“What about you? Anyone in your life?” It was your turn to watch him, trying to gauge his reaction. Jeonghan was leaning back against the chair, looking forward with a half-smile playing over his lips.

“No one special. At least not for a long time.” He answered finally, finishing his beer with a smack to his lips. Licking them, he sat the beer down onto the table before standing and stretched. He ignores the confused expression on your face with his sudden movements, “Let’s get this all cleaned up bug and have a few more beers. Maybe watch a movie or something.”

You nod your head slowly, following suit to help throw away the empty containers and put away anything that you two didn’t finish. When you were done, Jeonghan grabbed a few more beers from the fridge and met you at the sofa to find something to watch. Picking some random movie that you couldn’t remember the name, both of you talked and laughed until all the beers were empty and Jeonghan was half asleep on the sofa.

**Day 2**

“Oh, it is so good to see you sweetie!” Jeonghan’s mother wouldn’t let go of you, hugging you tightly as if you were going to disappear on her if she did. The next day the two of you had gone to his parents’ for lunch on his mother’s insistence, “I missed you, my dear.”

“I missed you too,” You answered, giving Jeonghan a ‘save me’ look when she didn’t let go, only for him he didn’t come to save you, instead just watched with mild amusement from his place against the kitchen counter. Releasing you from the hug, she grasped your shoulders to look at you, making you turn your gaze back to her.

“You should not stay away so long,” She scolded, leaning forward like she was revealing a secret, “Our Hanni has not been the same since the last time you left.”

“Oh…” You let out a nervous laugh, looking back toward Jeonghan with a questioning gaze, but he was no longer looking at you. Instead, he was staring warning daggers into his mother’s back. It reminded you how he wouldn’t look at you the previous night either, but before you could say anything further, you were being lead to a table full of food.

“Sit, sit. I hope you are hungry, I made all of your favorites.” You were then gently pushed into a seat, with Jeonghan following and took a seat next to you, “Oh goodness, I forgot drinks. Let me grab those.”

“I told her not to do all this, but she insisted,” Jeonghan had muttered so only you could hear.

“I believe it,” You responded back, leaning toward him with a raised brow, “What did she mean by you haven’t been the same?”

“Nothing, just missed my best friend is all,” He answered simply. For a brief moment you thought his gaze dropped to your lips before he looked away to speak with his mother. Changing the subject all together as well.

The rest of the visit had consisted of more catching up, with Jeonghan’s father and sister coming by to join in, but you were barely able to pay attention. You couldn’t stop looking over toward Jeonghan, feeling that there was something more than ‘he just missed his best friend’.  Like true Jeonghan fashion, he didn’t give anything away.

There was a possibility that you might be looking too much into it, reminding yourself that before you left for college, the two of you were with each other every day, and were inseparable. Hell, every time you came home, you and Jeonghan would always be together. Then after your grandfather passed away, you just… stopped coming back.

It wasn’t that you had wanted to stay away, it just was harder to come back now that both your grandparents were gone. It was hard to come back when you no longer would walk into the home you grew up to them, and life just kept getting into the way. Work ended up taking precedence since you and Soonyoung were focused on your jewelry company, finding the time off had grew harder, or whatever excuse you gave to make yourself feel better for not coming back.

You had known that it had affected Jeonghan, going from having his best friend every day to a few times a year to sparse messages and social media posts, but you didn’t think that meant ‘he hasn’t been the same’.

After leaving the Yoons’, you went with him to run a few errands that he’d needed to run, and the entire time you still had his mother’s words playing in your head. Which he noticed, but like him, you wouldn’t give anything away, giving the excuse you were just in a food coma.

“I don’t believe you, just so you know.” He told you, pushing up his sunglasses with one finger while his other hand rested on the steering wheel. Casting a glance toward you, he noticed that you were looking out the passenger window. “You can keep your secrets for now, but I will get them out of you. I always do.”

“I can say the same for you.” You chirped back, your eyes on the different buildings passing by, taking in the different buildings. Some familiar, some different. You could hear him let out a breathy laugh. “You have your secrets, and I have mine. If I have to spill so will you.”

“Touche, bug.”

Once back to Jeonghan’s, you disappeared into your room to answer some emails and make a few calls for work. You may have been on a trip, but that didn’t mean that you were truly on vacation, and the workload never ends. Soonyoung was a great business partner and assured you that he had it all handled so you can enjoy your time away (since you would be doing the same when he and Celeste went on their honeymoon), but you needed a bit of a distraction.

“You hungry?” Jeonghan had asked at one point, knocking at your door as he opened it. A smile playing over his lips seeing you sitting cross legged on your bed, laptop open in front of you. You had changed into a pair of comfortable shorts and a baggy sweater, your hair pulled back out of your face (save for a strand that wouldn’t stay) and look of concentration on your face.

You didn’t hear the hitch in his breath when you looked up at him, that look of concentration melt away to a small smile as you shook your head.

“I’m still full from that feast your mom made us,” You answered with a laugh, looking back to the laptop and to the email you had been working on. “I’m almost done here, just need to send off a few more emails, and then call Soonyoung regarding a large order of smokey quartz for our Smokey collection. I shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“You do know the whole point of this trip was to also not worry about work?” Jeonghan teased, making his way to the bed and flopped down onto the empty space next to you. Rolling onto his side, he looked up at you with his dark round eyes, shining with mischief with his hand inching toward the laptop to shut. Which you reached out and took with yours, holding it as you placed it back onto the bed. Making him pout.

“I am almost done, I promise.” You told him, not expecting the sudden urge to lean forward to kiss the pout he was sporting, nor the way you were still holding his hand. Or that he had adjusted the hold so that your fingers were laced together.

“Well, when you’re done, I’ll be right here.” He responded, finally letting go of your hand to roll onto his back, pulling his phone out to scroll. You raised your brow at him, he didn’t even look your way when he added, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m lonely out there and you’re in here working.”

“Price to pay on owning your own business.”

Though you did manage to get some work done, you couldn’t really concentrate with Jeonghan lying next to you, now fast asleep with his phone resting face down on his chest. The soft clicking of your fingers against the keys had lulled him into a sleep and you found yourself watching him several times. Taking in the way he still looked like the boy you had grown up with, only older. Thick lashes kissing his skin, skin still smooth but with the hints of age coming through. The lips that were pouting at you earlier, soft and plush looking, partially open with a soft snore leaving him. He looked peaceful, he looked breathtaking, he looked like he was where he was meant to be. Next to you. Your Jeonghan.

Your heart fluttered at this notion, the words your Jeonghan felt different even in your head. Or was it always this way and you just ignored it since he was your best friend.

When you finished your emails and came time to call Soonyoung, you chose to take it outside to not disturb the sleeping man next to you. You also wanted to enjoy the evening weather, finding yourself sitting on the step of the shed to take your call and maybe clear your head some.

The shed wasn’t the same, but the memories were still there when you sat down on the newer wood. The years you and Jeonghan spent in the old rickety building that once stood there, doing things that looking back neither of you had any business doing as teenagers. Drinking, smoking, and everything else that came with being rebellious teens and too much freedom to do it all.

It shaped who you both were as adults, and still a part of who you were. Even if you tried to run away.

“There you are.” Jeonghan’s tired voice had pulled you from your thoughts and tore your gaze from a patch in the grass to him. His face slightly puffy from sleep, and a yawn escaping him as he made his way to you before flashing you a lazy half grin. “Was wondering where you went.”

“I had to call Soonyoung and you were snoring. I didn’t want to wake you or have him questioning if I was next to a walrus.” You teased, unable to stop the corners up your lips to twitch up, earning a chuckle from the slender man.

“So, kind of you.” He muttered reaching you, leaning against the wall of the shed. The sun had already dropped past the horizon, but there was still a glow to the yard, emphasizing the shadows and adding a hauntingly beautiful look to the spring evening. “Clocked out now?”

“I’m always clocked in.” This made him chuckle, before slipping into his pocket to pull out a lighter and a joint. With the rolled herb between his lips, he lit it with the lighter. Taking a deep inhale, you watched him blow the smoke out. Looking your way, he offered it.

“You still smoke?” He asked, and you looked at the joint then back to his face. A brow raised, “Vernon managed to find some for me. I haven’t smoked since the last time you were here…”

“I actually quit myself,” You told him reaching out to take the burning herb and took a hit of it. The paper was damp from his lips, and the smoke felt harsher than it had in the past, making you cough out the cloud of smoke instead of inhaling it. You managed to take another pull from it, filling your lung with the herbal smoke. Allowing the head change take effect.

A silence followed, just the two of you passing the joint between you. Leaning back, your eyes went up toward the sky to take in the darkening sky as the stars start to appear. While Jeonghan just watched you.

“What did you mom mean?” You asked softly, after a few minutes of feeling his gaze and the joint passing between you. Looking down at the nearly finished joint, now a roach at this point, flicking some ash handing off it. “How weren’t you the same?”

“Were you?” He returned your question with one of his own, reaching for what was left of the joint. You let out a scoff.

“Of course I wasn’t. I lost both my grandparents within a year of each other, had to watch my uncle stick that stupid for sale sign in the ground before the dirt settle so he could pay his debts…” You waved your hand in the air at nothing, before dropping it into your lap. Pushing your tongue into your cheek, you continued. “I was hurting, I was angry at my uncle, I felt like I had nothing here that was mine anymore, and I just wanted to run away.” You took a breath, closing your eyes to hold back the angry tears that were prickling behind them. Remembering that feeling ruined your high. “I left already not the same, but how were you?”

Jeonghan didn’t respond for a moment, the flick of the lighter making you look toward him to find that a second joint appeared and was lighting it. He took a quick inhale of the sweet herb, before handing it to you.

“You need this more than I do,” He muttered as you took it, making you tempted to throw it at him and tell him to go fuck himself, but you stopped yourself. He looked up toward the sky, crossing his arms and you took in how he looked. His baggy jeans, and a shirt that had enough room for the both of you, hair sticking up from sleeping in your bed, and a pair of wired glasses. Ones he had to of thrown on after waking up.

You were slow to take a hit of the herb, watching him carefully.

“You had me.” He finally said, not answering your question. It should’ve infuriated you and call him out if you didn’t look so confused. Licking his lips, he looked at you before repeating himself. “You had me here still. I thought I was home for you too.”

Maybe he was answering after all, in his own cryptic way.

“You were… you are…” You told him, before sighing, “I don’t regret how long I’ve been gone, but I do regret not keeping in touch better with you. I should’ve tried better for that.”

“Maybe, but you’re here now.” Jeonghan leaned forward and took the joint from you. “I plan to make sure you remember that you’re home with me.”

You watched as the joint pressed between his lips, the way his eyes closed slightly as he took a hit, unable to tear your gaze away. Slowly his eyes opened and you could see there was a sign of mischief there. Hiding away the vulnerableness that he’d been displaying. You watch the way his own gaze dropped to your lips then back to your eyes, blowing the smoke gently from the side of his mouth.

“Why do I feel like you are trying to make me fall in love with you?” You asked, meaning for it to be a tease but it came out breathier then you meant. Part of you thinking he might kiss you, but instead he let out a laugh, leaning back against the shed wall. Like nothing happened.

“Who knows, maybe I am.”

**Day 3**

To say you didn’t really do anything was a bit of an understatement. There has been no plans for the day, aside from the plans to meet friends later, so you just laid around. Collecting your energy for a night out drinking and spending time with old friends. Well, at this point they felt more like Jeonghan’s friends rather than your own, but he had insisted that wasn’t the case. That everyone missed you and were excited to see you again.

Jeonghan also continued on the day like the previous night didn’t happen, as if he didn’t look at you like he wanted to kiss you, or ‘joke’ about you falling in love with him. He just laid around with you, bugging you at random times about how bored he was, but wouldn’t get up to do anything. He would whine about how warm you were, but he seemed to scoot closer instead of away.

He would random poke you if you weren’t paying attention to him, complain about anything you turned on, but refused to choose anything. And the entire time used his pouty voice if you snapped at him.

 “That’s it!” You growled out, grabbing the hand that attempted to pull a strand of hair falling into your face, distracting you so his other hand could tickle at your side. With his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your tank that had ridden up, making you jolt and grab that hand as well. Wrestling to get him to stop.

You’d forgotten that Jeonghan was a lot stronger than he looked, and could easily break your hold, but instead he was letting you think you were overpowering him. Filling the room with laugher, and in your wrestle, you found yourself straddling him.

Then you both froze, realizing how close you were. The tips of your noses brushing, both breathing heavy from the exertion, eyes locked with a new emotion coursing through you. Deeper than desire. Your hold then loosened on his wrists.

Now this wasn’t the first time you had ended up like this, you had many times in the past wrestling with each other. You’d done it since you were kids, with it always ending with you both laughing and unable to keep annoying the other.

This time…this time it was all different.

Your name fell from his lips before you were kissing him, which Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to return. His hands dropped down to your waist, pulling you closer until your chest was flushed against each other. A whimper left you at the desperation that flooded him, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, wanting more—which you willing gave him.

His lips felt like heaven against yours, and the way his tongue teased yours it left you needing more of him. More and more. Your fingers pushing through his soft strands, while his dug into your hips to pulling them down to grind on him. Feeling him already hardening underneath the soft grey fabric of his sweats, making you grow hot with need and dampen your underwear.

Then you broke from the kiss, staring at your best friend in shock while he stared at you with desperate need in his heavy lidded eyes. His bottom lip swollen from your kiss, hands still holding onto your hips like a vice, and his arousal pressing against you. With your own body ablaze with the same need right down to your core.

“I…” You scrambled off him to stand, “I… we shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry… I… I need to get ready for tonight.”

Before Jeonghan could answer or stop you, you were already rushing to your room. Slamming the door behind you as you went, leaving him to stare at the space where you had been standing. Licking his lips, he slammed his fist onto the sofa cushion in frustration but stopped the frustrated groan that wanted to escape. Standing, he took off toward his room.

The ordered ride to the bar was an awkward one, with neither of you would speak or look at each other. You on one side of the backseat, playing with the pockets of your cargo pants before readjusting your tank and cardigan, the fabric not feeling like they fit right. While Jeonghan sat on the other side, looking out the window while his own hands were balled into fists on his lap.

The kiss hung between you, leaving you unsure how to approach it while Jeonghan was just unreadable. There’d been moments you thought he was angry with you, others he seemed frustrated, and then finally he appeared…sad. It ate at you, making it even harder to find the words.

The sound that erupted from the group when you entered the bar was almost deafening, and making others look your way. You were then showered with hugs, first by the girls and followed by Seungcheol, Vernon, and Joshua. Jeonghan had disappeared to the bar, leaving you to greet everyone.

“It’s been way to long,” Eunji couldn’t stop saying, hugging you for what felt like the nth time, “I thought you weren’t ever coming back.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just… needed to be away.” You answered, when she finally let go of you for good, but that was because her fiancé, Vernon, had pulled her back to his side.

“No need to explain to us. We understand.” It was Vernon who spoke up, a finger wrapped through a hoop of Eunji’s pants, keeping her in place. “What matters is that you’re back.”

“And me missing you all matters too, ya know?” You pointed out with a teasing smile, when a cold glass of beer was pushed into your hands, making you look up to see Jeonghan had rejoined the group. He didn’t look at you, instead moving to Seungcheol and Joshua, leaving the others to surround you. Looking down at the beer, you hoped that your friends didn’t pick up the tension between you. Which by the silence and looks everyone was giving each other, you knew better.

You could see the way Eunji was about to open her mouth, only for her fiancé’s hand conveniently found its place over it. Minnie, who had been waiting for her moment to give you a proper hug, gave you a questioning gaze, while Seungcheol, Joshua, and Joshua’s wife looked at Jeonghan.

“I see one thing hasn’t changed,” Minnie had murmured into your ear, taking the beer so she could get an actual hug from you, “We are going to be talking about this.”

As the night went on, the tension between you and Jeonghan had loosened with him eventually finding his way back to your side. Arm thrown over your shoulder, like he hadn’t been giving you the cold shoulder since running from him and the kiss you shared, as he talked and laughed with everyone. Poking, teasing, and smiling at you like you hadn’t just rejected him in one of the worst ways possible.

It had helped you relax outwardly, joining in with the talking, teasing, even leaning into him and his touch. It was easy to do, even with the tension burning between you, it was easy to lean into his warmth like he would you. Except inwardly, you had a war raging on. One that involved the very man you were leaning into.

“I’m going for a cigarette.” Minnie announced, lifting Seungcheol’s hand off her knee to stand, grabbing her designer bag in the process, “Who’s coming with me?”

“I will,” Eunji practically jumped out of her seat, looking around the table for anyone else, both of them stopping briefly on you and Lily, Joshua’s wife. Subtly hinting that you were to join them.

“I have to pass. I been trying to quit, and don’t want to be tempted, sorry.” Lily answered, sipping at the bright blue cocktail she had ordered.

“Never apologize for that. You got more will power than I do,” Minnie waved her hand, her eyes going back to you, “Anyone else?”

“I’ll go,” You announce, standing with Jeonghan’s arm falling from your shoulder as you did. Making him look at you with a confused expression, “Just need a bit of fresh air. I’ll be back.”

You barely make it out of the bar before you were being cornered by the two women.

“Okay, spill.” Eunji demanded as Minnie pulled out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing two and a lighter from the box. One for each woman.

“What are you talking about?” You attempted to feign ignorance, but it was clear the two didn’t buy it. The three of you were very close growing up, they witnessed how you and Jeonghan were, and still knew you better than you realized.

“Either one of three things is going on here. You two either have nothing to talk about, and it’s awkward as shit…” Minnie responded, placing the cigarette to her lips and lit it.

“Which is impossible with you two,” Eunji chimed in, taking the lighter from Minnie to light her own. “No matter how many years have passed.”

“You got into a stupid fight over something like the color of his socks, or…” Minnie walked closer, holding the cigarette out enough so the smoke wasn’t hitting your face, taking in how you crossed your arms and looked away. Leaning in, it felt like the last one was more of a secret, “Something happened between the two of you…”

“And you were the one to freak out.” Eunji finished for her, “And now it’s awkward.”

“Why would it be me?”

“Because it’s always you.” Vernon’s voice popped up behind you, causing the three of you to jump. He casually walks past you to Eunji, taking his cigarette in the process to take a drag, “I had a feeling they were doing that weird best friend gang up thing.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You answer, feeling your cheeks starting to burn.

“They kissed,” Vernon took another long drag of the nicotine stick, causing your jaw to drop opened, “Jeonghan told us in there.”

“Of course he did,” You muttered, watching the way Eunji and Minnie were ready to start jumping for joy.

“Finally?!” Eunji asked with excitement, but from the look on Vernon’s face, as well as yours, that Jeonghan didn’t stop there. Flicking the ash off the cigarette, the younger man took one more drag before handing it back to his fiancé.

“And that you freaked out and ran.”

“I didn’t run, I didn’t even leave the house.” You tried to defend yourself while your two friends excitement started to deflate.

“No, but you locked yourself in your room.” It was times like this that Vernon made you wonder how easy it was to get away with murder. Eunji will be able to find love again, she can move on, and you could disappear. Change your name, live in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere.

“Ugh,” Eunji let out a groan, dropping her head back and shoulders down in frustration. While Minnie could only stare at you, gaze unreadable as she pressed her cigarette to her lips, with one arm crossed her midsection.

“What?” You asked, your own frustration started to bubble over as it slowly started to occur to you that your friends knew something that you didn’t know. Something that Jeonghan clearly was aware of, but not you. Something about you and him. “I kissed him, yes. We were wrestling and it just happened, but it shouldn’t have. It just made things awkward and could just ruin our friendship.” You didn’t mention how much you wanted to do it again but couldn’t risk losing him for good. “What is with this ‘finally’ shit, anyways? Like shouldn’t you guys be worried that this could ruin our already fragile friendship.”

There was a silence as the three looked at each other. Like it dawned on them that you really didn’t know.

“You really don’t know?” It was Minnie who asked, taking another long drag as she moved her gaze to you again, followed by the couple behind her.

“Know what Min?” You sighed, dropping your arms to your sides, but there was something deep in you that told you that you already knew. Something that was sitting inside you for years, and you refused to acknowledge it, because it was easier than to face it.

There was a beat of silence between the four of them, with Eunji focused on her cigarette, Minnie watching you with an almost pitied look, and Vernon pushing his tongue into his cheek. Each of them waiting for the other to either come out with it, or for it to finally dawn on you. For you to finally see it.

“That he’s in love with you…” It was Vernon who said it, since neither of the girls spoke up, then his attention went to Minnie, “You think I can get my own smoke?”

You stood there in absolute silence while a pack of cigarettes exchanged hands, staring at your friends. It wasn’t that you had needed to process this, it wasn’t that at all. Instead, the words reached into your chest, into your heart and pulled out something you already known. Something he was trying to tell you, that he’s been trying to tell you.

“You guys are insane,” You finally spoke, looking away from them, pulling your cardigan around you when a cool breeze hit. “Jeonghan loves me, but he’s not in love with me.”

“Are you saying that to convince us, or convince yourself?” Minnie then asked, taking the pack back, her voice soft and understanding. You didn’t answer, still not looking at her, Vernon or Eunji, not trusting yourself to. “Did Jeonghan tell you what his parents condition was when they helped him buy that house?”

“No…” You had asked Jeonghan at least twice what this condition was, but he wouldn’t answer and would change the subject. Instead of pushing though, you just let him change it, so you didn’t have to actually hear it.

“The condition was that he settle downs like the rest of us,” She continued, and you could feel your mouth go dry, make your stomach churn uncomfortably. Unsure if it was from the alcohol, hearing all this, or both, “Or he would have to pay them back every penny.”

This made you look up to see her smiling at you, with it being as soft as her voice. Minnie flicked the ash off the near finished cigarette, your friends letting you take in what you were being told.

“What does that have to do with me, though?” You asked, feeling like you already knew the answer without it having to be said.

“Because.” Dropping the cigarette onto the ground, the taller woman hooked your arm with hers to walk back to the bar. Leaving Vernon and Eunji to finish their own smokes, “For him, the condition wasn’t just anyone, because to him, it only would be you.”

You’d barely made it back into the bar before Jeonghan had let out an overexaggerated yawn as he announced that he was going to order a ride home. This earned a chorus of groans from everyone, except for you. Your brain was already a buzz from the conversations outside, with the only thing you could do was stare at him. The bill of his hat pulled low, with it and his hair falling over his eyes. There was a deep frown playing over his lips, and body language reading that he no longer wanted to be there.

“You staying?” He asked you, making you blink out of your thoughts, already having his phone out to get a ride ordered. Several pairs of eyes turn to you, waiting for your response. Minnie had found her place back next to Seungcheol, leaning into her boyfriend, watching you with a knowing gaze.

Telling you to go with him.

“Nah, I’m getting tired myself.” You answered, letting out a chuckle, “I honestly am surprised I managed as long as I have. I’ve traded a night out at the bar with a bottle of wine at home, and most times in bed.”

Jeonghan nodded, already having the ride ordered, and the group advanced on you. Hugging you tightly, telling you to keep in touch, and to visit more often. With Minnie hugging you a little longer than everyone.

“Call me tomorrow, okay?” She whispered in your ear, “If you don’t plan to return his feelings, then let him down gently.”

Neither of you said anything on the ride back to Jeonghan’s, but this time the silence felt different. It wasn’t tense like it was on the way to the bar, it had shifted after being out for a few hours to something that you had a hard time describing. His tired silence, leaning back in the seat with his eyes out the window, watching everything pass by. One hand resting against his head while the other rested between you both.

Beckoning you to take it.

Except you didn’t, with your own gaze looking out the car window as well. Vernon and Minnie’s words heavy in your head.

“He’s in love with you.”

“…because to him, it only would be you.”

“If you don’t plan to return his feelings, then let him down gently.”

They left you with one of two choices by doing this. Finally face what was always between you and talk to Jeonghan, or you run away again. Get the earliest flight you can and leave before Jeonghan could wake up. Continue to run away. Destroy a lifelong friendship, one that you were meant to reconnect during your stay, because you were the coward.

You needed to make a choice. You needed to make one then.

“I’m going to head to bed, I am pretty tired,” Jeonghan announced once back, making sure the door was locked behind you before flicking his gaze to you. Taking you in, while he forced a smile to his lips and another beat of silence followed.

He was waiting for you to say something, anything. It was your chance, you either faced it or you ran away, but words failed you. They failed you in a way that never happened before with him, and it scared you.

“Goodnight, bug.” He whispered finally turning toward his room, nodding his head like he received his answer again. An answer to a question or a confession that he never said out loud.

It suddenly infuriated you.

“Are you in love with me?” You blurted out, causing Jeonghan to stop only a few steps away, watching the way his back straightened at the question. The accusation.

“Yes, I am.” He answered without hesitation, turning to look at you. That forced smile turning into a sardonic smirk when your eyes widened at how easy it was for him to say it, “I am in love with you.”

“For how long?”

“Does it matter?” The question as simple.

“Yes…no…just tell me.” You let out a frustrated sigh, shoulders dropping as you do.

“I’ve loved you since we were children, even when you would pull my hair,” He let out a chuckle, crossing his arms, “But realized I was in love with you when I had to watch you board that plane for school.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it was easier to watch you go not knowing than if you did.” Jeonghan’s voice was low, the words stripping everything away that he hid behind, letting you see the raw side of him. And he still held eye contact with you.

“And the condition with your parents…”

“I had no intention fulfilling it if it wasn’t going to be you.” You noticed that he had started to close the distance that as originally there, pulling off his cap in the process so you could see his face better. Looking at you in a way he never had before, or that you noticed.

“Why?”

“Because no matter how I pictured my future, when it came to who I would spend my life with…” Jeonghan was now in front of you, close enough that you could feel his breath against your face. His hand ghosting over your cheek. You couldn’t move, you didn’t want to move, you were scared to move, “It’s always you. It’s always been you.”

“Jeonghan…” His name came out in a whisper, tears starting to fall down your cheek and that was when you felt the coolness of his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb wiping away a few away. “You’re an asshole.”

A soft laugh left him, dropping his hand and taking a step back. Taking your comment as a rejection, but it wasn’t. It was far from it. You finally found a name to what that missing piece was when it came to Jeonghan. Your best friend, the boy who would be waiting for you in that run down shed every day, the teen who would get in trouble with you, the young man who let you go even though there was an ache in both your chests, and the man standing before you.

All these versions of him were one thing to you. Your Jeonghan.

“You’re an asshole for not telling me sooner…” You pouted, grabbing the sleeves of his shirt to stop him, refusing to look away from him. His stupid, assholish, beautiful face.

“Yeah?” Jeonghan countered back, inching closer to you, his eyes flicking to your mouth.

“Yeah.”

He then kissed you, heated and hungry, like something inside him snapped; unable to hold back any longer. He had a taste of you earlier, and now that he had you again, he couldn’t keep pretending. You returned the kiss with a fever, gripping at the sleeves of his shirt because if you didn’t, he’d disappear.

His hand finding their place at your hips, squeezing them when you deepened the kiss, greedy to taste him again like you had earlier. This time with the notes of beer still lingering, but you were sure you were just the same. Releasing the sleeves of his shirt, you traced them over your shoulders and up his neck, earning a low groan from him when you gripped at the soft strands of his hair.

Hearing this sound sent a wave of heat down your belly, right to your core, your thighs squeezing slightly and enough for Jeonghan to notice. Making him pull away from your lips, reluctantly since he attempted to dive back in to reclaim them, only to stop himself.

“You’ll need to stop me now, because I have no intentions on it.” He said softly, willing to step away if you didn’t want to. You laugh pushing him toward his bedroom, tripping over each other and pulling off clothes in the process. With your bra and top gone before you made it through his bedroom door.

His shirt following quickly after, giving way to a lean frame with smooth undefined muscles, but you could feel them under your touch. Your cargos off next, leaving you in a pair of grey lace underwear, and Jeonghan had twisted you so the he was the one guiding you to his bed. His mouth claiming yours right as you felt his bed hit the back of your knees, making you drop down onto it.

Looking up to see Jeonghan standing before you, his eyes roaming from your own down your body before returning to them. His expression one of disbelief, like he couldn’t believe you were on his bed, half naked. And just for him.

“Hanni…” Anything you had to say was stopped by his kiss, more heated than any of the others you had shared.

Your hands and mouths touching and kissing anywhere and everywhere you could. His mouth teasing your breasts, sucking at the hardened peaks, while your hands ran over his body. Feeling his hardened cock over his pants before they too were gone. Followed by his boxers, and then your underwear.

“Fuck…your mouth is heaven,” He moaned out when you took his cock into your mouth, swallowing him down your throat eagerly, savoring the taste of him. With a few expert movements, Jeonghan had to pull back to stop from cumming down your throat and ending it all too soon. “We are going to have to revisit this later.”

“But…” Your words were swallowed up by his kiss, tongue claiming yours, pushing your back against the bed, his hips pushing your legs apart. Moaning at the feeling of his saliva slicked cock pressing against your own soaked cunt, rolling your hips up against his. Needing more of him.

When you felt two fingers tweak at one of your nipples, you roll him onto his back, straddling him. Grinding down onto him while one of your hands slip between you to grip his cock. With a gentle squeeze, Jeonghan broke from the kiss to drop his head back with a groan, moving both hands to your hips. The head of his cock catching at your entrance, making you both gasp.

Then you sank down onto him, a silent cry leaving you while Jeonghan’s eyes rolled at the way he stretched your gripping walls, until you were completely onto him. Only you didn’t stay there long, not giving either of you the chance to adjust before you were moving. Planting your hands onto the bed, you lift your hips off him, leaving only the head of his cock in you before dropping down.

Jeonghan’s hands gripped onto your hips, his eyes glazed over from arousal and the sight of you. Seeing parts of you that he only imagined, your bare breasts bouncing with each movement of your hips, your mouth falling open in pleasure, right down to where your two were now connected. The feeling of your walls squeezing and gripping at him was better than any late night thoughts could compare.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he also didn’t want this to ever end. There was no way he could ever go back after this, he wouldn’t be able to go back to anything with you that didn’t involve this. Didn’t involve you being his.

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, grinding down onto him to get more friction, feeling yourself winding tighter. The knot deep in your core threatening to snap. Then one of his hands slide from your hip to between your legs, pushing his finger up to tease your clit. “I’m close…”

“Do it, baby. Don’t hold back.” He tried to play it cool with a smirk, but he was just as much of a whimpering mess like you are. Looking up at you like you were the only thing that ever mattered. You were the only thing that ever mattered to him.

“Shit, Shit…” You chanted, every muscle tightening as you came, “I love you, I love you.”

Then you were on your back, Jeonghan rolling you over without pulling out, taking over for you. Fucking into you with a vigor you never experienced from him.

“I love you…” He whispered into your mouth, cupping your face, his own release following quickly after. Neither of you moved, staying connected as you came down from your highs, with him now pulling back to look at you. Your well kissed lips, your hair a mess from running your fingers through it, and your still glazed over eyes. A scene that made him fall even more in love. “Please don’t leave… stay… I can’t let you go again.”

“Jeonghan…” You sigh, closing your eyes as you attempted to slip off him. Oversensitivity starting to take over, but he kept you there on top of him. “I have to though…” That was when you felt his hands loosen on your hips, and the look on his face nearly broke you, but still a small smile graced your lips, “I mean… If I plan to move back, I got to get everything in order…”

“No you don’t,” He pouted, and you leaned forward to kiss him. Soft, promising. “You can just start back over here… I am not letting you go.”

“Then I guess we need to buy you a plane ticket then.” You tease, brushing a strand of hair from his face. His stupid, assholish, beautiful face that you’ve loved for years. “Cause I do have to go back.”

“We’ll see about that,” He smirked, making you laugh. “I love you. Always you.”

Thank you so much for reading I seriously hope you all enjoyed this!

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