Mim's recs

Just like every night when you’re done closing up the restaurant, you see Sangmin waiting on the other side of the road, sitting patiently on the bench there, ready to walk you home. 

You wave at him as you near the edge of the path, one hand carefully holding the takeout container of a freshly made double serving of his favourite meal that you cook at the restaurant. Sangmin gets up from the bench with a bright smile, always so happy to see you, and waves, making you smile just as brightly, even if you’re exhausted from the long hours cooking away in the kitchen. But Sangmin always cheers you up. 

He’s such an upbeat guy despite his unfavourable circumstances, and you genuinely enjoy these walks home listening to him tell you about his day and telling him about yours in return. You can’t wait to hear if he made a new friend at the dog park today, where he likes to hang around and offer to play with the dogs of the elderly folk who can’t run or throw balls and sticks for their pets. Sometimes, the owners even give him some cash in return or buy him a coffee or ice cream from the stands, weather permitting. It’s a reminder that there is still good in this shitty world.

Just as you’re about to cross the street, a couple of cars get close enough that you remain in place to let them pass and intend to cross after they’re gone, when it’s safe.

The chance doesn’t come as both cars suddenly swerve to pull up in front of you, making you take a few steps back as you stare at the vehicles suspiciously. The engines don’t turn off, and the doors on the side closest to you open to allow masked, suited men to get out. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath and hold your free hand up as they approach. “Wait, wait, wait!” You exclaim, kicking out as they reach out to you with clearly every intention of stealing you away. “I said wait!” You glance over to Sangmin as you hear him yelling your name, voice getting closer. “Stay there, Sangmin!” You warn loudly. “Stay out of this!” You crouch, still with your free hand up so that you can put the container on the floor. “Okay, I’ll go with you, just leave him alone,” you inform and let out a breath of relief when the bulky man directly in front of you stops trying to reach towards you and signals his men to wait. “Give me a sec, seriously, I’ll go,” you promise and shuffle aside to peer around to where Sangmin is being held back by a couple of the men. “It’ll be okay, Sangmin. Enjoy your dinner, okay. I’ll see you soon.” 

Sangmin murmurs your name brokenly, clearly not trusting these men to bring you safely back, and honestly, neither do you. But he stops struggling to get to you and stumbles back when the men let him go with a little shove to create more space. “Be safe,” he pleads as you follow the men to get into the closest car. 

“You too.” You give him a soft smile before you’re in the car between two burly men and the door is shut. You want to watch Sangmin as the car pulls away, want to see him pick up his meal so you know he will eat well, at least tonight, but you can’t. Just as you turn your head to watch through the rear window, something sharp jabs into your leg. You yelp, turning to look down at the culprit and find a needle stuck in your leg. “You asshole,” you mutter. 

Moments later, you’re unconscious.

Something about this woman is familiar to you, but you really can’t tell what it is. It doesn’t help that her cronies have given you one swollen eye, and the other eye’s vision is blurred with blood that trickles down from your split eyebrow. 

Whoever this woman is, though, she clearly doesn’t want to get her own hands dirty, even if she looks very pleased with the bruised and bleeding state of you.

“Okay, okay,” you groan once you’ve caught your breath from the round of beating you’ve just received. “I give. Who the fuck are you?” You question, peering at her.

Despite not being able to see her clearly, you can see the way her whole posture changes; from smug to dumb, offended shock. “Who am I?” 

“Yes; who are you?” You repeat, almost rolling your eyes. 

“How dare you?!” She stalks over and one of her men grabs a fistful of your hair from where he stands behind you, to make you look up at her as she leers over you. “I am the most powerful woman in this whole city!” 

“Pretty sure I’d know who you are if that’s true,” you retort and choke out a laugh when she finally hits you herself; an open-handed slap that drags the multiple rings on her fingers across your already bruised cheek, drawing shallow gouges in your skin. 

“How dare-!” She starts to screech, yet the door opening behind her cuts her off as she looks over. 

Curiously, you look over too, and the tall man who enters looks vaguely familiar to you too. At least, the leather jacket and glasses he’s wearing do because he’s too far away for you to make out clearly.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He demands. 

Ah, you recognise his deep voice and suddenly understand why he’s familiar to you. He’s a regular at the restaurant and favours the same dish as Sangmin, though this guy worked his way through the entire menu before settling on that particular one. 

You’ve only talked to him a few times, when it’s late enough that the wait staff have already been sent home, but the owners always stay open for this guy; meaning, if they’re busy, you have to deliver his meal to him. He always compliments your cooking and thanks you genuinely, but other than that, you’ve never said much to one another. Other than last Christmas when he asked if you would consider making him something special off menu and gave you a wad of cash to sweeten you up. 

Even before the suspicious stack of cash was handed to you, you just knew in your gut that this guy is in shady dealings and seeing him walk into this room and not even flinch at the battered condition of you, it only confirms it.

“Teaching your little whore a lesson,” the woman sneers and turns back to you. “She needs to learn that she can’t get away with touching what’s mine.”

“I still don’t know who the fuck you are,” you point out. 

Just as her hand is about to come down to connect with your cheek again, the newcomer grabs her wrist. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns. “She’s not done shit wrong. I’ve told you before that I’ve never fucking cheated on you. She’s just a fucking cook.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Jeon Wonwoo,” she hisses.

“Don’t be fucking delusional, Ahn Yerim,” he retorts and looks at the man behind you. “Untie her.”

“Sir, Miss Ahn said-” the thug starts, yet shuts up and releases his grip on your hair when Wonwoo glares. The man behind you quickly moves to untie your arms and legs from the chair.

“You don’t listen to him! You listen to me! You both work for me!” Yerim exclaims.

“We work for your father, not you, sweetheart,” Wonwoo reminds and lets her go to approach you and carefully help you up. “Come on,” he encourages as he puts his arm around your waist to support you. 

“I am your wife! Treat me with the respect I deserve!” 

“I treat you with more than you deserve,” Wonwoo grumbles as he pretty much half carries you out of the room. You’re trying to walk, but they had tied your ankles to the chair legs so tightly that your feet are sparkling painfully with every dragging step as the blood rushes back in. “Did they break your legs?” He wonders concernedly as he stops and adjusts his left arm behind your back as you grip onto his shoulders for stability.

“No, extreme pins and needles.” He makes a noise of understanding and sweeps you up into his arms, hooking his right arm under your thighs to carry you.

“Do me a favour and shut your eyes; you shouldn’t see where we are.”

“Can’t see the gang HQ?” You muse, and snigger when he glances at you with a flat look. “Alright, whatever, Mr Jeon Wonwoo.” Obligingly, you shut your eyes and decide to lean your head against his broad shoulder and rest a little. 

“What’s your name?” He wonders. 

“Don’t even know the name of the woman your wife accused you of cheating with?” He sighs, making you snigger again before you tell him your name, which he only hums at. “Your wife is a real fucking bitch, you know?” 

The sigh he lets out sounds like he more than knows how true those words are.

Instead of taking you home, or back to the restaurant, or a hospital, or a random fucking street corner to leave you to figure out your way from there, Wonwoo drives to the outskirts of the city; to a building site that you know got abandoned after only one block of fancy apartments were built. The company, who still owns the land, had a lot of issues with permits and tried to sell the project on, yet no-one wanted to take over from their immense fuck up, so it’s been abandoned for at least a year now.

At least, you thought it was, but perhaps Wonwoo likes to take advantage of the lack of witnesses at the edge of the city and bury his victims here. It’d be a smart move. There doesn’t seem to be any security around; even the road leading to the site is far enough out of the way that there are no traffic cameras along the stretch. 

“I hope you don’t like burying your victims alive,” you murmur as you eye the abandoned building materials still piled up along the partially finished, dust covered road you’re travelling down.

“What?” Wonwoo glances over at you but you’re staring out of the window with a displeased pout. “I’m not going to fucking bury you alive.”

“Ah, good, I’m in the firm belief I would not enjoy that at all.” 

“You… No, I don’t think you would. I don’t think anyone would.”

“I dunno, some people are into some shit, Wonwoo. You’d be surprised.” You look over at him and notice a strange expression cross his features. It’s one you’re familiar with from other people and know it means they’re suddenly questioning their decision to be in close proximity to you.

After shaking his head slightly and letting out a strong exhale as he looks back to where he’s driving, Wonwoo speaks again. “Look, I didn’t bring you here to kill you, but to protect you.” 

“What?” 

“My wife is a fucking psycho. You saw that, and I know she’ll have people looking for you to steal you away again. So, I’m putting you in one of my safe houses so she can’t do that. Understand?”

“She doesn’t know about this safe house?”

Wonwoo scoffs and shakes his head. “No. She doesn’t know about any of them. Nobody does; just me. You’ll be safe here, trust me.”

“I really don’t think trust comes into this, more like I don’t have a fucking choice.”

“That too,” he confirms simply. 

There’s nothing more that can be said on the topic, so you both remain silent for the last short section of the drive. Even when Wonwoo parks up in the underground parking of the only complete building, then leads you into the lift up to an apartment on the sixth floor, neither of you say a word.

That changes when you step into the apartment and look at the sparse décor for the modern apartment. “Wow, a true minimalist, aren’t you?” You muse, glancing at the sofa you can see from the entrance hall, then over to the kitchen perfectly within view due to the open layout of the bottom floor of the apartment. There’s a glass staircase on the other side of the living area, with a short hallway behind it, but other than that, there truly is not much to look at.

“It’s just a safe house; it’s supposed to be functional, nothing more.” 

“How can you function in such a lifeless place?” 

Wonwoo sighs and nudges you from behind, so you’ll move out of the way and let him pad across the expensive marble-look flooring in his socks to the kitchen. “Just take your shoes off and get your ass over here.”

After putting his shoes neatly aside and putting your own next to them, you shuffle over to the kitchen and perch yourself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, where he’s rummaging through an extensive medical kit, which you hadn’t even seen him procure. 

“Got the good stuff?” You joke, leaning over to peer into the bag. “Wait, is that morphine?” You gasp, reaching for the packet of pills, but he slaps your hand away. 

“You don’t need morphine.”

“I’m in pain, Wonwoo,” you try, pouting at him, but he gives you a disbelieving look. “Ow.”

“You can have ibuprofen or paracetamol.”

“What kind of a gang member won’t give the good stuff?” You huff and turn away to peer at the kitchen. Honestly, you don’t even want morphine. You just wanted to see if he would give it to you, but you have your answer now and have no reason to push it. 

“Are you an addict?” 

“No, just bored.” 

“So, you want drugs?”

“No. Just seeing how you’d react.” 

“You’re very fucking weird, you know?” 

“Yes,” you confirm and look at him before pointing to the fridge. “I’m guessing that’s empty?” 

“Yeah, there’s long life stuff in the cupboards though, some military rations and instant ramen.” 

“Good ol’ instant ramen.” 

He just hums, then finally has everything he wants from the kit set up on the counter. “Alright, face me; let me get a look at the damage.” Obediently, you turn on the stool to face him as he moves closer while removing his jacket to toss onto the counter, leaving him a simple black t-shirt and jeans. 

“How come you’re not in a suit like those assholes?” 

“I’m off the clock.” 

“Then why did you turn up?” 

“My wife sent me a video of them beating you,” he informs, gently turning your head from side to side with one hand on your jaw delicately, to not aggravate the bruises on your skin. “Couldn’t let her do that to an innocent person.” 

“Aw, how noble of you, Mr. Thug.” 

“Not a thug.” 

“Mm, sure.” 

“I’m not.” 

“I’ve seen your bruised knuckles when you’ve come into the restaurant, Wonwoo, the split lips and bruised cheeks. Even seen the outline of your weapon under your clothes. By that, I mean your gun.” 

“What else could you mean?” You just giggle, and he sighs, understanding the euphemism, though he doesn’t grace you with a further reaction, not wanting to focus on that subject at all. “Don’t make me regret saving you.”

“No promises.” 

Despite his stern expression and stiff posture, Wonwoo is gentle as he tends to your wounds attentively; talking as softly in his low voice as he can to warn you when he’s about to do something that might sting or asking you to move in various ways to give him better access. 

“Alright, all done,” he declares sometime later when he straightens up and steps back from you, eyes still darting over your seated form for any wounds he’s missed.

“Thanks.”

“Mm, my fault anyway.”

“It is,” you agree, earning an unimpressed look from the man before he turns to start tidying up. “Is there anything to drink?” 

“The tap water is safe,” he informs before opening one of the cupboards to pull out two glasses, which he fills from the cold tap then puts one on the counter in front of you. “I’ll get groceries in tomorrow. Write a list of whatever you want or need for the next week.”

“I’ve got to stay here for a week? I have a job, you know,” you point out before gratefully picking up the glass to gulp down the contents as he finishes cleaning up, his own glass of water barely touched. 

“I know. Write a resignation and I’ll post it through the door tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want to resign! I like that job!”

“They won’t hold out until you’re back, and I don’t know when that will be yet. We need to wait it out until my wife has given up tormenting you.”

“How long will that be?” 

“No fucking clue, she’s been tormenting me for years.”

“I don’t understand why people stay with someone they don’t love anymore.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, and you think this is one of those circumstances where it’s really not your place to push, so you drop the topic.

Once Wonwoo is done cleaning up, including both of your drinking glasses, he leads you upstairs to one of the bedrooms. To your surprise, it looks fully furnished, even if there’s not any décor, but it’s more liveable than downstairs.

“Wow, a dresser and TV,” you whistle, eyeing the items as Wonwoo pulls the bedding off of the large bed. 

“It came partially furnished,” he explains. 

“There’s no TV in the living room.”

“I said partially.” 

“Weird they put a TV in the bedroom before the living room.” 

“The sockets are all there, they just didn’t get around to it. They were going to get custom TVs made for all the apartment living rooms, but didn’t get the chance before the project got shut down.” 

“I didn’t know anyone bought an apartment.” 

“Bought is a stretch,” he muses, piling the stale bedding by the door before grabbing another set from a drawer under the bed to sniff at, then shrugs and starts to make the bed.

“Is this technically squatting?”

“No.” He huffs a short laugh. “It’s my apartment, just more of a gift. The whole building is mine.”

“Ooh, check you out, Mr fancy property owner.” You move over to help fix the fitted sheet to the mattress, earning a grateful nod from the man. “What did you do to get this gift?”

“Let the CEO keep his life.”

“And he only gave you a single building in an unfinished building site? The audacity! If he values his life that much, he should’ve given you a lot more.”

“He offered me any building of his I wanted, he owns a lot in the city centre too, but I asked for this; I knew it’s out of the way. He promised to not try hard to get the site up and running again, so I’ll have privacy. Which, to me, is the most valuable thing anyway.”

“Mm, fair,” you concede and work alongside him to finish setting up the bed. 

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere. The front door is already locked, and you won’t be able to unlock it. You can’t leave, so don’t bother trying,” he warns seriously before turning and leaving the bedroom. 

With a sigh, you perch on the edge of the bed and wait, rubbing your feet over the fluffy rug below you, to twist your socks around and around your feet in boredom until he returns.

It’s almost ten minutes before he returns with a pile of fabrics in his arms and a basket of what looks like toiletries, with a toilet roll perched on top. 

“You look like a maid,” you comment amusedly. 

Wonwoo just sighs then puts the items on the bed. “Here, bathroom stuff. I’ll get you scents you like tomorrow, but you’ll have to use mine for now.” He hands you the basket, so you look at the toiletries curiously, popping the caps to sniff the contents and making pleased sounds.

“I like these.”

“Okay, saves me buying toiletries tomorrow.”

“I need sanitary items.” He looks at you. “My period is due soon.”

“Ah.” He blinks at you a few times dumbly before nodding. “Okay, just write down what you want, and I’ll get it.” 

“Sounds like a plan; you know, provided you give me something to do that with.” 

“Oh, right.” He chews on his lip thoughtfully before sighing and moving around to sit beside you as he pulls his phone from his pocket to unlock. “You’ll have to write it in a note on my phone, but I can’t let you use my phone blindly, so I’m going to watch.” 

“Understandable,” you agree, accepting the device once he has his notes app open on a blank note, so that you can start typing out a list of items for him to buy at the shop tomorrow. 

“Write your clothing sizes too. I have limited clothes myself here and just gave you one set to wear to bed. Oh, put detergent down, there isn’t any here. Put the brand if you’re particular about that stuff.”

“Nah, I’m good with whatever smells good and does the job,” you assure, while typing down ‘laundry detergent (nice smelling one)’. “Are there cleaning supplies?” 

“I’ll get more,” he promises then motions to the list, so you write it down.

Although it should not be this easy to sit side by side and make a grocery list together, it is. It’s domestic, even, in a very, very, very weird fucking way. The man’s wife is out for your blood, due to her own delusional accusations against the pair of you, yet you’re sitting here making a grocery list together as if you’re actually roommates who regularly do this. Very strange indeed. 

“Alright, that’s all I can think of,” you decide, after looking over the surprisingly extensive list one last time, before handing his phone back.  

“I’ll go shopping in the morning before work,” he declares as he gets up and tucks his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll let you get some sleep now; you must be tired after all this shit.” 

“Kinda pretty awake, actually. Does the TV work?”

“Should do, the one in my room works at least. There’s no Wi-Fi here though, so it’s just satellite channels.”

“If this one doesn’t work, we’re swapping rooms.”

“No,” he replies in a firm tone before exiting the room, pulling the door up behind him and leaving you in silence.

“Well, fuck you too,” you mutter and get up to use the bathroom.  You change into the sweatpants and t-shirt he left for you before climbing into the slightly dusty smelling bed to turn on the TV. 

Although you aren’t tired when you climb into bed, that quickly changes as you curl up under the covers with your eyes on the 90’s rom com playing on the TV, soon lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, or whatever time it is when you tiredly trudge downstairs, you discover that Wonwoo is a man of his word. 

There are various bags of shopping in the kitchen, all full of items from the shopping list. From clothes in the sizes that you wrote down, to perhaps far too many packets of sanitary towels; it seems that either Wonwoo has no idea how periods really work, or he intends to keep you for longer than just this cycle length. Either way, he listened and must’ve really tried hard to get everything on the list, with no regard to his financial state, as every piece of clothing has a brand name attached, not just cheap stuff from a superstore like you had expected him to buy. 

Although you genuinely would be okay with the cheap stuff, and never quite see the appeal in such expensive clothing for daily wear, you appreciate it and make a mental note to thank him when you next see him.

A few minutes later, when you’re done perusing the contents of the bags and have moved to the fridge, you finally notice the brand-new magnetic whiteboard on the front with a note scrawled in black ink from Wonwoo. 

It’s simple; just him telling you that he will be back in a few days to check on you, while also reminding you to not try to leave the apartment and also keep out of his room. You had no intention of going into Wonwoo's room, but now that he’s told you not to, you kind of want to.

For now, you just focus on making yourself something to eat before taking the shopping bags up to your room to make yourself at home for the foreseeable future.

It’s only been two days since Wonwoo left you all alone and you’re already so bored and restless that the moment you hear the beep of the lock disengaging on the front door, you’re rushing over from the kitchen to greet him like an excitable puppy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He mutters with a bewildered frown as you crowd close and peer up at him. 

“I’m bored, Wonwoo,” you whine, eyes flickering over his tired features. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” You finally back out of his personal space and take the bag from his hands as he works on removing his shoes and leather jacket, suit beneath today. The contents of the bag clinks as you take it, making you peer inside curiously. “Are you planning to mix wine and whiskey?” You wonder.

“No, just didn’t know what you’d prefer.”

“So, you bought wine for me?”

“No, that’s mine. I thought you’d be a whiskey girl, seem like the type to like the burn.” 

“Ha,” you snigger. “You got me, but I’ll drink anything.” You take the bag into the kitchen, where you had been starting to make yourself dinner. “Hungry?”

“Fucking starving,” he confirms when he follows you a moment later, unbuttoning his suit jacket to remove and toss onto the dining table carelessly, eyes on the ingredients you have laid out on the kitchen island. 

“Pour out,” you say, pointing to the wine bottle on the counter as you focus on getting extra ingredients out to cover Wonwoo’s portion too. He just hums and moves around to get out the wine glasses from the cupboard and corkscrew from the drawer.

As you cook, Wonwoo sits at the breakfast bar, head propped on his left fist and wine glass he’s slowly emptying, in his right. He hasn’t said a word since sitting down, just watches you work, and you’re honestly not even sure he’s entirely present. He looks like he could fall asleep any second, and you don’t think the wine he’s drinking is helping.

“Hey,” you call, tossing the cork, from where it lays on the counter, at him. He jerks back when it hits him on his forehead. He blinks at you dumbly, eyebrows furrowed in displeased surprise while you cackle at his expression. “You look like you’re going to fall asleep upright.”

“I’m fine,” he argues and drinks the last of the contents of his glass before reaching for the bottle to refill his glass, then your own, even if yours is still basically full. 

“Bullshit.”

“Just focus on the fucking food.”

“Mm, alright, but if you fall asleep, I’m eating your share too.”

“Do that, and I’ll take you right back to my wife and let her do whatever the fuck she wants with you,” he warns, entirely serious. 

“Wow,” you mutter, eyebrows raising as you take in the dangerous tint in his eyes. “You’re serious about your food, huh?”

“Only when it’s your cooking.” 

“Damn, you must be sleep deprived to say shit like that.” 

He sighs and slumps a little in his seat as he realises that you’re right. “It’s why she thinks I’m fucking you.” 

“What?”

“Because I eat your cooking, go out of my way to eat it, and I never eat hers.”

“Ah, yes,” you hum, a sarcastic edge to your voice. “That age old saying; the way to man’s bed is through his stomach.” 

Wonwoo lets out a chuckle and leans back on his fist as his eyes tiredly track your movements. “Knowing her dumbass, she actually thinks that’s right.” 

“It obviously wasn’t her method.”

“She can’t cook for shit. It’s no wonder I don’t eat it.” His expression turns disgusted. “Even I cook better than her, and I can’t cook shit either.”

“That’s fucked up man; everyone should be able to cook at least two decent meals.” 

“Never needed to and don’t exactly have the chance to learn how. She thinks she’s some kind of trophy wife and won’t let me in the kitchen to try.” He sighs and lets go of his glass to free his right hand so that he can rub at his eyes under his glasses. “She knows I’m hiding you, won’t stop fucking bugging me. Can’t get a minute’s fucking peace in that house at the moment.”

“Ah, that’s why you look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“She doesn’t shut the fuck up when I’m there, so I’ve been avoiding it as much as possible. But at the end of the day, she’s my wife, so I can only avoid her so much.”

“Wild thought right here, but have you considered a divorce?” You muse and point to the plate cupboard, prompting him to get up and reach down two dinner plates to place on the side near you. 

Instead of sitting back down, he starts to load up the dishwasher with the dishes, which you’ve been putting in the sink to deal with after dinner once you’ve finished using them. “Not as simple as that,” he mutters. 

“Why not?” 

“Just isn’t, and it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Thanks to you and your delusional wife, I have no business of my own anymore, so I have to be up in yours.” 

“Well, don’t.” 

“I’m fucking bored, Wonwoo.” 

“Read a fucking book.”

“Nerd.” You don’t even look at him, but you don’t need to in order to know that he’s giving you a very unimpressed look; you can practically feel his gaze burning into the side of your face from over your left shoulder. “Either you give me all the gossip every time you visit, or you get me something to entertain me.”

“Like what?” 

For a second, you almost say a sex toy or twelve, but you think he really would stop talking to you then, and he’s your only method of socialisation, so you hum thoughtfully instead. “I guess seeing as there’s no internet, and you wouldn’t trust me with access to the outside world even if there was, a games console with a bunch of games on disc to play will do.”

“You like video games?”

“Not really.” You shrug and finish plating up dinner. “I’ve been intrigued, but I’ve always been more into cooking and baking. That’s just not as fun when I’ve got no-one to share it with. I can game on my own, at least.”

“You like to bake too?” You hum in confirmation. “I didn’t know that.”

You can’t help but laugh shortly as you look at him incredulously. “Why would you know that? We don’t know shit about each other, Wonwoo,” you remind him.

“Ah, right.” He nods and takes the last pan to rinse then put in the dishwasher, while you take your plates to the table to set down. Wonwoo follows moments later with the wine and sits down opposite you. “This looks amazing, thank you.” 

“Mm, of course. Not going to let the only person who can entertain me starve, am I?” 

“Guess not,” he huffs a quick laugh and picks up his fork. “What kind of games do you want?”

“I don’t really know; a variety, maybe, so I can try different types.” 

He makes a noise of understanding. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“You’re the best.” He gives you a raised eyebrow look. “At least the best I can do with no other option.” He scoffs a laugh, lips turning into a more genuinely amused smile as he turns back to his food yet says nothing and eats, so you do the same.

A few days later, Wonwoo is back just in time for dinner with his hands empty, making you squint at him sulkily as he nears where you’re setting the dishes on the table. 

Last time when he left, it was the morning, and you were asleep in your room, so he had written another note on the whiteboard telling you when he’d be back; so today, you had made his favourite meal and sides from the restaurant. You had planned the timing for when he said he would be back, and thankfully, he is still a man of his word and arrived perfectly on time.

At least, with this, he is a man of his word, because he had said he’d bring you a games console and games, yet here he is, empty handed.

“What? I’m on time,” he defends as he sits down. He’s not in a suit today, but jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It must be nice to be so unfairly attractive that even such a simple outfit looks effortlessly incredible. 

“And empty handed,” you mutter sulkily and drop down into your seat.

“It’s in the car,” he informs, rolling his eyes a little as he grabs his cutlery and immediately scoops a mouthful of food into his mouth. 

You watch as he makes strange sounds as he tries to exhale the heat from his mouth while still chewing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You wonder, prompting him to look at you. “There is literally steam, of course it’s hot.”

“I’m starving,” he replies, only just managing to cover his mouth as he talks, so that you don’t see his partially chewed food. “Barely eaten since last time.”

“What the fuck? Why?” You gawp.

“Told you; she won’t let me in the kitchen, and I refuse to eat her cooking.”

“There are plenty of restaurants, even fucking convenience stores to get a sandwich or instant ramen!” 

“Can’t eat that shit after having your cooking.” He shrugs. As if it’s no big deal. As if he hasn’t just essentially admitted he’d rather go hungry than eat food that you haven’t made. 

Perhaps to him it’s nothing, but no one has ever sounded so committed to any aspect of you before, even if it’s a byproduct of you, not actually a part of you. But it still hits you right in the chest and makes you unable to do anything but stare at him dumbly as he continues to shove too much food in his mouth before it’s cool enough to be practical.

“I’ll bring it up after dinner,” he declares a few moments later, snapping you back to reality without looking up at you, still too focused on his food.

“What?”

“The shit in the car.” 

“Oh, why didn’t you just bring it up with you?” You wonder as you pick up your cutlery to get started on eating your own serving.

“There’s too much shit for one trip, and I wanted to eat.”

“Too much shit?” You give him a questioning look when he glances at you. “How much did you buy, Wonwoo?”

“It’s not that.” He waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll understand later.”

After dinner, once he’s finished cleaning up, and while you sprawl over the still far too big couch in wait, Wonwoo goes down to the car and returns with a hand truck hauling multiple cardboard boxes. He unloads them into the lounge then leaves, after telling you to wait for him to be back. He locks you in the apartment once again before making another trip down to his car and returning without the hand truck, but now he has a suitcase that you recognise and a duffle bag you do not.

“Hold, did you break into my fucking apartment?!” you gawp as you sit up, pointing accusingly at the man. 

“No. I have your keys.” He pulls your keys from his jacket pocket then tosses them onto the side console with his own as he removes his shoes. 

“What the fuck, how?” 

“My wife had them, remember?” 

“Oh…” You nod a little in understanding. “I assume you will not be returning my phone to me.” 

“No. It’s off and somewhere else. Can’t risk you turning it on and getting tracked,” he answers simply before walking over to start opening the biggest of the boxes, while you pout at his back.

It’s only when he pulls an old, boxy TV from the box, spilling packing foam everywhere, that your interest is pulled away from grieving the, hopefully temporary, loss of your phone. 

“The fuck?” you mutter, rolling off of the couch to shuffle across the rug on your knees until you’re peering over his shoulder as he sets the TV up on the unit. “Excuse you, sir, but we are in the modern age.”

“Shut up, the console doesn’t work with our TVs,” he retorts.

“What console did you even buy?” 

“I didn’t buy it. It’s one I’ve had since I was a kid, so you better fucking look after it,” he warns, giving you a stern look. 

“I can respect other’s property, unlike you.” He gives you a bewildered look. “You broke into my apartment.”

“I had your fucking keys,” he reminds with a roll of his eyes before turning back around to return to setting up the outdated TV before pulling over another box to open. 

“I didn’t give you permission to go there; you broke in.” 

“I thought you’d want some of your own shit. Last time I try and do something fucking nice for your ungrateful ass.” You stare at him for a moment before shuffling closer to abruptly hug him from behind, making him jolt then tense up. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Being appreciative.”

“Well stop it; it’s fucking weird. Just go back to being an ungrateful shit.” 

“No. You smell really nice, what cologne do you use? I want some.”

“I brought your perfume from your apartment, wear your own shit.”

“No, I like yours. Let’s swap.”

“Fuck off.” He shakes you off of him, making you snigger before you move over to open the last box, which looks brand new, to peer inside and notice random items from your apartment inside. 

You don’t know why Wonwoo thought you’d want the novelty beer mat, which you stole from a bar, that you kept on your coffee table, but it’s in the box and makes you giggle when you see it. All the other items are much more understandable; your jewellery box, makeup bag, perfume, the blanket from your couch, and the teddy bear that sleeps with you. 

“You got a boyfriend you didn’t mention?” He wonders, when he glances over and spots you holding the teddy and brushing your fingers over the soft fur. His eyes land on the love heart pattern of its t-shirt then he turns away.

“No.”

“Caught up on an ex?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Just wondering, damn.” 

“Oh, so you get to dig into my love life, but I can’t yours?”

“Never fucking mind,” he grunts, all but glaring at the console as he sets it up. 

You peer at him and sigh. “Fucking idiot man.” He turns his head to shoot you a warning look over his shoulder. “What? You are!”

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

“No.” You raise a challenging eyebrow when he turns further towards you; a clear attempt to silently intimidate you. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. If you were willing to let me get hurt, I wouldn’t still be here,” you reason logically.

Wonwoo continues to glare at you for a moment before he turns away with a grunted curse, making you snigger. “Stop being a brat, or I won’t be so nice from here on out.” 

“Kinda sounds like a challenge to me, if I’m honest.” Your words make Wonwoo stop what he’s doing to sigh heavily, eyes closing as he takes a moment to gather himself. Deciding to leave Wonwoo alone, lest you actually make him lose his temper with you, you turn and look at the bear in your hands. 

A bittersweet little smile lifts your lips as you think about Sangmin. He had gifted you the bear on Valentine’s day; he wasn’t hitting on you and made a big effort to let you know that. He had simply seen the bear and decided to use all the change he had in his pocket to buy it for you, as the most heartfelt thank you and sign of his appreciation for all the meals you make for him.

At this point, Sangmin really is your best friend, perhaps your only friend. You value him so greatly and constantly find yourself wondering and worrying over the man since Wonwoo’s wife kidnapped you a week ago. You’ve been his only source of stable sustenance for months now; you dread to think of how much he’s struggling to feed himself without you handing him a hot meal every night.

“Hey, uhm Wonwoo?” You call, tone quieter and uncertain. It makes Wonwoo stop what he’s doing to look over at you, but you’re still looking at that bear and don’t notice. 

Wonwoo stares at you contemplatively for a moment; takes in the concerned furrow of your eyebrows and the tender way you handle the bear. “What is it?” He asks, his own tone softer now, noticing that whatever is on your mind is serious for you. He wasn’t aware you even know how to be genuinely serious like this. Even when you were tied to a chair by thugs getting bruised and battered, you didn’t seem like you were taking the situation all that seriously. 

“Will you do me a big favour?” 

“Depends.” 

You sigh softly and look at him. “There’s a homeless man who I feed every night after work. He meets me outside of the restaurant and walks me home. He’s… I’m the only stable source of food he has. Will you check on him, buy him a meal? And assure him that I’m okay. He was there when those assholes took me.”

“Oh.” He silently watches you for a moment longer, in surprise at your genuine, selfless request, while you keep your sincere gaze glued to him. “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“He’s my only friend, all I have here. He’s really a good guy; he’s got a giant heart and will always put others first. It’s how he lost everything; ran himself thin and got his kind nature taken advantage of. I need to know that he’s okay and will continue to be until I can go back and look after him.”

“Okay,” he agrees softly with a nod. “I’ll look out for him until it’s safe for you to leave.” 

“Thank you.” You relax a little as you give him a grateful smile. 

“You’re welcome.”

Although it’s usually a few days before you see Wonwoo, he turns up the day after you ask him to check on Sangmin. 

When he enters the apartment, you’re sitting on the floor close to the boxy TV in the lounge, playing one of the games on his childhood game console. 

“Oh, didn’t expect you today, would’ve started dinner if I knew you’d be here,” you comment, after flickering your gaze over to him, then focus back on the screen.

“Why does that sound like you won’t eat dinner if I don’t turn up?” he accuses, approaching, sans shoes, to sit on your left, grab the other controller from in front of the console, and immediately jumps into the game with you. 

“When I get hungry, I’ll eat. I don’t have any kind of schedule to keep, you do.” Wonwoo makes a noise of understanding in response yet says nothing more.

Until the end of the level, you’re both focused entirely on the game and only talk when Wonwoo gives you tips and guidance. He played this game many times in his youth, so he knows it far better than you, even if it’s been some years since he last played it.

“What’s for dinner then?” Wonwoo prompts, plucking the controller from your hand to place down as the level ends. 

“Uhh, fuck knows,” you answer with a shrug before getting up and shuffling to the kitchen. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“In case you forgot; it’s my fucking apartment,” he scoffs, turning off the TV, after saving the game properly. Once the console and TV are both turned off, Wonwoo saunters over to the kitchen to lean on the island at the opposite side to you, with his forearms laid flat on the granite surface and fingers casually laced together. 

“You got a thing for cooking, or something?” You wonder upon realising that he’s watching you with the same interest he always does when you’re cooking. Then again, maybe he’s just making sure you don’t slip poison into his portion. It’s only been just over a week since you met, so you wouldn’t blame him for being cautious.

“Just curious. I told you; I can’t cook for shit.”

“Then wash your hands and get around here,” you demand. “No better way to learn than by doing.”

“You serious?” he mumbles as he straightens up. You just hum. Wonwoo stares at you for a moment before moving to roll up his shirt sleeves, wash his hands and then join you for his first ever cooking lesson.

It’s hours after Wonwoo arrives that you find out why he broke what you thought was going to be the schedule for his visits. 

Cooking dinner takes almost three times as long as normal with him at your side; for a gang member he’s ridiculously cautious with the kitchen knife you instruct him to use. Then, the two of you get distracted talking about the video games you’ve tried, so eating dinner takes longer than normal too.

So, here you are, four hours after he arrived, returning to the lounge to relax on the couch. You’re both very glad to have a comfortable seat after the past four hours of sitting on the hard floor, standing to cook and clean, and barely cushioned dining chairs. 

“Oh, I went to the restaurant while I was in the area today,” he informs, drawing your attention to him, instead of staring at the little spread of video games on the floor by the TV unit as you try to decide what to play next. Wonwoo is already looking at you and when you look at him, he continues talking, knowing that you’re now paying attention. “Met Sangmin.” You straighten up a little, eyes widening slightly in silent question, silent concern for your friend. “He…well, I won’t lie; he looks like shit.”

“How bad?”

“He’s barely eaten or slept since you were taken,” he answers. “He’s been looking for you, asking around where he can and got into some trouble a couple days ago; so, he looked fucked up too.” 

“Fuck.”

“Mm.”

“You gotta let me go see him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Wonwoo scoffs and shuffles to slouch down and let his head rest on the back of the couch as he turns his face skywards, looking at nothing in particular on the ceiling. “My wife is still after you; you’re staying right fucking here.”

“I can’t let him suffer!”

“I know,” he rolls his eyes before tilting his head just enough to peer at you lazily from the edge of his vision. “I told you that I’d look out for him until you can do it, and I’m a man of my word.”

“What did you do?” You ask softly, your worry starting to melt away. Something about Wonwoo really does make you believe him, at least about this; that he’s a man of his word. You trust him about this, as crazy as it is to trust the husband of the woman who fucking kidnapped you and had her minions beat you up because of her delusions.

“Put him up in a motel and gave him some cash for food. It should last him a couple weeks, provided he doesn’t fucking waste it.” He turns his face to the ceiling again, no longer looking at you as he yawns. “I’ll check on him in a few days and keep you updated.”

“Ah.” Your head bobs a little in approval as relief swims through your veins and warms your chest. “Thank you, Wonwoo, seriously.”

“Mm, I’m counting this as it makes us even for my fucking psychotic bitch of a wife kidnapping and beating the shit out of you.” 

“She didn’t beat the shit out of me. That would’ve been entertaining. Does she even know how to fight?” Wonwoo’s scoff is answer enough that no, his wife doesn’t know the first thing about fighting. “She would’ve broken her hand trying to break my face or something.”

“Doesn’t do shit with her hands, anyway, wouldn’t make a fucking difference if she broke them.” 

“Oh?” You grin slyly at him, even if he isn’t looking at you. “She’s more of a mouth kinda girl, huh?” Now Wonwoo looks at you, utterly unimpressed and borderline glaring, making you giggle. “What?” 

“My sex life is none of your fucking business.”

“Never mentioned you,” you muse with a shrug. “A lot of people who accuse others of cheating tend to be projecting their own misdeeds.”

“Know from experience?”

“Mm, yeah, been accused of cheating many times. I guess we’re similar in that regard; loyal to our partners even if they don’t believe it.” You shrug and get up to turn the TV on, then sit in front of the console to eject the cartridge to put away in the correct case.

“Not playing that one anymore?” he murmurs, rolling his head to watch you peruse the selection of games. 

“How tired are you? You’ve yawned like three times since sitting down.”

“I can go a few rounds, if you’re asking.” You immediately smirk over your shoulder at him. “Keep it in your fucking pants, pervert.”

“I respect the sanctity of marriage, even if it’s a loveless one,” you assure and turn back to the games, to select one to put into the slot and boot up the console. “I tried to play this earlier, but I kept dying, and it pissed me off. I think it’ll be easier in multiplayer though.”

“Mm, it is,” he confirms and stretches noisily before joining you on the floor, handing you a pillow to sit on while sitting on one himself, and accepts the controller you give him. As the game loads up and the start credits play, Wonwoo explains the basic idea of the game to you in a low voice, adding little tips about the controls and secret moves that will help you survive the beasts and tricks designed to overwhelm single players.

With Wonwoo at your side, the game is so much easier, and you enjoy yourself so much that you don’t realise the time pass, until Wonwoo declares that it’s close to sunrise, and he needs to get at least a couple hours of sleep before work. He leaves you to try some bonus levels that you unlocked together, but it’s not as fun alone, so you give up and go to bed as the sun rises, while silently looking forward to Wonwoo’s next visit.

Even though, most of the time, the apartment is pretty boring alone, you manage to keep yourself busy gaming, cooking, and cleaning every inch of the apartment repeatedly. Sometimes, it feels like time drags, yet it also feels like you merely blink, and it’s been over a month since Wonwoo locked you up here. You can’t tell exactly how long it’s been with your lack of sleeping schedule without the man around, but an educated guess puts it at, roughly, almost five weeks.

At first, every time you see Wonwoo, you ask if his wife has stopped being a psycho yet and if you can go home. You’re never surprised when he says no, to both questions, and tells you that you need to stay a while longer. 

Then, the man’s visits change, and it’s not three days between visits; sometimes it is, but sometimes it’s less. Though soon enough, Wonwoo is at the apartment every single day. If not to stay the night in his bed and take advantage of not having to share a bed with his wife, then to simply spend a few hours with you to eat and game. 

Though sometimes, he turns up and just lays on the couch to nap for no more than an hour before he leaves without a word. He always looks utterly exhausted on those days. You can’t help but wonder if this apartment is the most practical place for him to crash when he needs a nap during the day. Surely, the man has safe houses closer into the city centre; ones easier to get to and that don’t take as much of his time with travel. But you never bring it up; honestly, you’re just glad for the company, however wordless it is.

For a little while, you stop asking him when you can leave. It clearly annoyed him that you asked every time he visited, but it also frustrated you to never have an actual answer as to when you can go home. There’s only so long you can live in this apartment before you lose a grip on yourself and get reckless.

It’s probably been almost two weeks since you last asked, so you think it’s about time you bring it back up again, even if it’s 3pm and Wonwoo has clearly arrived with the intention of napping. 

You’re in the process of making yourself lunch when he enters the apartment, so he’s drawn to the kitchen after removing his shoes and jacket, where he slouches at the island and gratefully starts to eat the sandwich you place in front of him. It was supposed to be yours, but you can make another, he looks like he needs it.

“When can I go home?” You ask bluntly, causing Wonwoo to stop chewing mid bite and look over at you, but you’re focused on your task and don’t notice, until you flick your gaze up at his silence. “Well?”

Wonwoo lets out a heavy breath through his nose and gets back to chewing. Once he’s swallowed, he answers in a way you hadn’t expected. Usually, he always says either ‘not yet’ or a flat ‘no’. Yet today, he finally gives you a more solid answer, “depends.”

It’s just one word, but it makes hope start to flutter in your chest.

“On?” you ask, with your full attention on him, suddenly not all that hungry when faced with the potential sweetness of freedom just around the corner.

“If you’re willing to learn how to use a gun and carry one on you at all times.”

Just like that, the fluttering in your chest ceases and the excitement that had started to warm your veins is sucked away as if it had never known a home in you in the first place. “You’re insane, aren’t you?” you accuse with a scoff and turn back to making your lunch.

“I can’t let you leave if you can’t defend yourself; I’ll end up following you all the fucking time to make sure you’re safe,” he reasons, waving a hand vaguely before taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“It’s not really any of your business,” you point out while looking at him. “I appreciate that you protected me in the first place, but you’ve done the noble thing; you don’t have to do anything else.” 

Wonwoo looks up at you as if you’re stupid. “I do if I want you to be safe.” 

“As long as she’s alive, I won’t be safe, not really.” 

“Are you suggesting I kill my wife?” he baulks in disbelief at the potential insinuation within your words.

You shake your head and pull a face as if he’s the stupid one this time. “No…” your expression morphs into something considering as your head tilts slightly, while pondering his words. “Though, it would be a two birds one stone situation.” 

Wonwoo’s whole expression furrows. “Fucking hell, all this time locked up with only an asshole like me for company has warped your mind. You’ve gone fucking insane.” 

“Always been there.” You shrug casually. “I don’t think a man who goes against his wife to protect another is an asshole, anyway.” 

“I’m literally in a gang,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, and?” You give him an unwavering look. “I’ve met much worse people than you in my life, Wonwoo, and I will again. You’re sweet in comparison.” 

“I’ve really fucked your head up, haven’t I?” 

“Told you, I’ve always been like this”. 

“Calling gang members sweet?” 

“Once or twice.” 

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow as if he isn’t even sure if he heard you correctly. “What?” 

“Look, let’s not get off track,” you decide, while waving a hand dismissively. Wonwoo eyes the knife that you wave around vaguely but you don’t pay his borderline concerned expression any attention. “I want to go home. I have people waiting for me, and there’s only so long until they come looking, so, I’d like to go before that happens.” 

“You live alone; I’ve seen your apartment, it’s barely big enough for you. And your neighbours definitely wouldn’t notice if you don’t return; they say you’re never home,” he points out. 

“Stalker. Maybe your wife did have reason to worry, huh?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start that shit; you know we never had an affair because we had never even fucking met properly until she kidnapped you!” 

“Defensive,” you tease. 

“You’ve really fucking lost it,” he declares flatly.

“Then let me fucking leave, and you won’t have to deal with me anymore!” you exclaim frustratedly. 

“I want to deal with you!” he returns immediately, before you both fall silent and stare at one another. You’re both surprised by the sheer honesty in his words, that they even fell from his lips in the first place.

You gather yourself and manage to speak first, deciding to make a joke to try and break the strange tension that’s appeared in the air between you. “Better not let your wife hear that; she’ll jump to conclusions. Unless you mean the permanent ‘sleep with the fishes’ kind of ‘deal with’, then she’ll probably suck your dick in joy.” 

Just as Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond, eyes intense on you, his phone starts to ring in his inside blazer pocket. He sighs heavily before pulling it out and walking down the hall to talk privately in one of the empty rooms.

When he returns, you’re sitting at the table eating your lunch and have packed up the rest of his into a container, already knowing that he’s being called into work.

“We’ll finish that talk later,” he declares as he grabs the container from the island behind you.

You don’t even look over at him as you respond, “pointless circles don’t end, Wonwoo.”

You don’t see him leave, or hear his socked footsteps walk away, but a few moments later, you hear the front door open and close before the lock engages, and you’re left alone wondering just what the fuck your life has come to. 

You just hope that he gives you control of your life back soon; before things get even more fucked up.

Never would you have thought Wonwoo to be the type of person to avoid difficult situations or topics; you thought he’s far too straightforward to ever do such a thing. But when he doesn’t turn up the day after your interrupted discussion in the kitchen, you start to wonder if you got him wrong.

Then he doesn’t turn up the next day either, and you really think that’s being a little bitch and avoiding returning so that he doesn’t have to pick up that conversation with you.

Yet, on the third day, you recall that he was the one who had said you’ll finish the talk another day and as he’s proven; Jeon Wonwoo is a man of his word. You believe him, and suddenly, you don’t think he’s avoiding you but has likely grown very busy with work or his psychotic wife. 

However, when day four rolls around, you start to get worried that something has happened. Admittedly, you’ve grown fond of Wonwoo over the past weeks; his stupid smug smirk when he beats you at a game, his proud little shy smile when you praise his very gradually improving cooking skills, his soft snoring when he naps on the couch in the middle of the day. 

Sometimes, you truly do wonder if this is what Stockholm syndrome is: growing to actually like the person who has locked you up and genuinely wanting to spend time with them. You think others would probably say it is and that you shouldn’t care for the man. But he makes it easy, as much as you don’t want to have this attraction for him. You think that if you had got to know him under different circumstances, you’d probably feel the same way, anyway.

Regardless of if the man is technically holding you hostage or not, he’s married, and you respect that commitment and vow too much to ever want to have feelings for a married man. 

Still, you can’t help how you feel, and you worry when it’s past dinner time on the fourth day, yet Wonwoo still hasn’t shown his face. 

Now that you’re worried about Wonwoo, you can’t face gaming because it makes you think of him. So, you spend most of the day scrubbing the apartment from top to bottom, until everything that can sparkle, does. You even clean the rooms neither of you use.

You’re in the middle of putting the freshly washed and dried pillow covers back on the couch pillows when the sudden sound of the front door lock disengaging pings through the quiet apartment. 

Immediately, you look over, and your eyebrows lift as Wonwoo shuffles into the apartment, covered in blood. He doesn’t notice you at first as he locks the apartment back up one handed. His right hand is shoved into his trouser pocket suspiciously, like he’s trying to not move it, or perhaps not let you see it. 

“What the fuck?” You speak, making Wonwoo’s head lift quickly. 

Worry floods into his eyes, and he lifts his left hand placatingly towards you, after tossing his blood smeared car keys onto the side unit. “It-” he cuts off when you point firmly at his feet as soon as he takes a step forward, making him fall still in confusion.

“Stay there,” you order before turning and walking off, leaving Wonwoo staring after you puzzled.

You go to the laundry room to grab the stack of spare, dark grey towels, then go to the kitchen to get the roll of bin bags, before returning to the entrance hall. Thankfully, Wonwoo is still standing where you left him, though he’s removed his shoes now, and they’re haphazardly shoved aside. 

“Strip,” you demand, while dropping the towels onto the floor so that you can pull a bag from the roll and shake it open.

 “What?” he mumbles.

“You’re covered in blood, and I spent three hours scrubbing these fancy ass floors of yours today; you’re not getting blood on them,” you warn, giving him a stern look. 

He scoffs but obediently starts to do as told and moves both of his hands to his belt to start working it open. His right hand is bloodied, but it doesn’t look that much worse than his left hand, so you assume he wasn’t hiding it from you. “May as well be your floors, you’ve lived here more than me,” he mumbles as he works with a tense expression on his face, which tightens every time he moves his right arm even minutely. 

“Well then, I’m definitely not letting you fuck up my floors with your blood. Don’t be rude and bleed on my fancy ass floors.” 

Once Wonwoo’s belt is open, along with the button and zipper of his trousers, he starts to try and push them down his legs, but the blood oozing from the stab wound on his left thigh is making the material stick to his thighs. Plus, now that he’s moving it more, you can see that there is definitely something wrong with his right arm, as he can barely move it. In fact, he’s only moving the lower part of his arm, but even that is limited.

Realising that you’ll be here all night, if not longer, if you leave Wonwoo to strip himself, you sigh and put the bin bag down to get to your knees in front of him, so that you can peel his trousers down his legs for him. Wonwoo says nothing, but he lets out a relieved little breath, clearly glad for your help, and steps out of his trouser legs in turn as you hold them open. Once they’re entirely off, you make sure the pockets are empty before tossing them, including the belt, into the bin bag. 

Silently, you work to remove Wonwoo’s socks, then get up to get him out of his blazer and previously white, now half blood-red shirt; all of the clothing you throw into the bag to throw out and put everything from his pockets on the side unit.

As Wonwoo stands in front of you in his black boxers and previously white vest, you can see the strange shape of his right shoulder. It’s very clear to you what’s wrong with it. 

“It’s dislocated, isn’t it?” you question; Wonwoo wordlessly hums and nods in confirmation. “Alright, I’ll cut your vest off,” you decide, knowing that getting Wonwoo to lift his arms up is very impractical. You move over to the side table to grab the knife, which you had removed from a hidden inside pocket in Wonwoo’s blazer, and remove the little leather sheath from the blade, before turning to approach him with the knife.

Wonwoo steps back slightly, holding his left hand up between you with slightly alarmed eyes. “Whoa, what the fuck? You can’t just approach a man with a knife like that.”

You can’t help but scoff at his obvious hesitance and concern about you holding a knife only half an arm’s length away from him. “Don’t be a wimp. You’ve clearly been stabbed already tonight; what’s another flesh wound?” 

“You’re more psychotic than my wife,” he deadpans, left arm lowering to his side, deciding that you’re no threat now that the immediate worry has left. You’re right; he’s definitely already faced much bigger threats to his safety than you tonight.

“Careful, sweetheart,” you coo and tap the tip of the knife against the centre of his chest. You can’t help but notice the way he swallows thickly at your action and his eyes darken a little with interest. “Insult me again like that and my hand might slip.” You abruptly lower the knife to the hem of his vest and use it to ping the elastic of his boxers. His eyes darken further, and you smirk amusedly. “That’s an interesting reaction to having a knife aimed at your dick.” 

“That’s not my dick,” he murmurs, voice a little lower than usual.

“Huh, right.” You look down as you drag the knife down to touch the tip to where his dick is obviously sitting snug in his boxers, before looking back up at him. “Better?” 

He takes a moment before responding, eyeing you intently; you can practically see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes, “you’re not the woman I thought you are, are you?” 

You shrug. “Depends who you thought I am.” 

“A sweet, innocent cook, who makes the best food I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Well, some of that is true,” you giggle before lifting the knife to cut down the centre of his vest. Now that it’s served its purpose, you toss the knife onto the side table and remove the stained and ruined material from his body to put in the bin bag. “Alright, let’s get a look at you,” you say, before walking around him in a slow circle to carefully inspect his injuries, and silently appreciate his well looked after body while you’re at it. “Let’s put your shoulder back in place, get you cleaned up, and then I’ll patch you up,” you announce once you’re back in front of him.

Wonwoo raises a questioning eyebrow. “You know how to do all that?” 

“Yep,” you answer simply without a single slither of hesitation. It’s enough that Wonwoo doesn’t question you at all and just nods in agreement. 

Honestly, it’s not the first shoulder you’ve put back into place, or joint in general, so even though it’s not the most pleasant sensation in any way, you easily make short work of the task. 

While Wonwoo catches his breath back and gathers himself, you lay a towel on the ground in front of him, to minimise the amount of blood that ruins your hours of hard work cleaning the floor. 

Once he’s ready, Wonwoo doesn’t have to be prompted to step onto the towels. He does so quietly and then looks at you in wait. 

“What?” you ask.

“How the fuck am I supposed to move from here if you don’t move the towels? Unless you want blood on your floors?” he reasons, raising a blood smeared eyebrow at you.

“Oh, honey, there’s only one reason I get on my knees in front of a man, and that’s not gonna happen,” you point out with a scoff. “Shuffle.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Either stand there until you’re entirely dry and won’t get my floors dirty, or you can shuffle.” You shrug carelessly and pick up the rest of the towels to take to the stairs, so that you can lay the material out over the steps protectively. 

When you turn around on the stairs, once all of the towels are laid in place, you spot Wonwoo awkwardly shuffling along the floor in a way to keep the towel under his feet. You can’t help but crack up laughing at the sight of this tough, blood covered and injured, high-ranking gang member dragging his feet across the floor; silently obeying your demands to keep the floor clean. And you hadn’t even had to threaten to make him clean any mess he creates with his own toothbrush in the morning; though that definitely would’ve been the next step if he had been a stubborn ass. 

Wonwoo hears your laughter and glares over at you shortly before looking back down to focus on his efforts to get to the staircase. It only makes you laugh even harder, hard enough that you have to sit down so you don’t fall down the stairs.

A handful of moments later, when he passes you on the stairs, he flicks your head. You just giggle then get up to follow behind him up the rest of the steps. There’s already a towel waiting on the floor at the top, so Wonwoo, once again, shuffles across the shiny floor on a dark towel to get to his destination.

Even once in his bathroom, Wonwoo remains on the towel and follows you to the shower, which you turn on, on his behalf.

Once you’ve made sure he has everything he needs close to hand and a clean pair of boxers waiting for him on the counter, you turn to look at him with a teasing grin. “Can I trust you to shower on your own, or are you going to pass out from blood loss?” 

“I haven’t lost that much blood,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. 

You giggle and nod, backing up to the door. “Alright, I’ll wait outside, though.” Wonwoo just nods in understanding, so you step out of the bathroom and pull the door up most of the way just in case he needs you.

Leaving the door open seems to have been a very smart move, because not long later, you hear Wonwoo call your name awkwardly. You can only just hear him over the water, so you know that if the door was shut, there would not have been a chance you’d be able to hear him.

“Yeah?” You ask, sticking your head into the room to find him standing out of the stream of water, with his still bloody back mostly to the door, and his hands holding a small towel in front of his crotch, even if you can’t see anything from this angle regardless of the cover. 

“I can’t reach my back well enough with my arm like this,” he admits, making short eye contact with you as he indirectly asks for your help. 

Without a word, you enter the room and grab the soapy washcloth he offers, so that you can diligently scrub all of the blood from his back, then notice he’s missed patches on his left upper arm, so you clean there too.

“Alright, inspection time,” you declare before looking over the back of him from head to toe and back again, to thoroughly check for injuries that need to be dealt with and any blood he missed. “Turn,” you demand once satisfied with his backside, and also taking a moment to appreciate his backside. 

Obligingly, Wonwoo turns to face you and watches you as your gaze travels over his body from this angle, stepping closer to get a better look at certain injuries or run the cloth over his skin diligently. 

When you’re done with all of the exposed skin, your attention moves to the towel he’s clutching over his crotch before you grin amusedly and meet his dark gaze. “What if you’re injured there, Wonwoo?” you tease with a dramatic gasp. 

“Don’t,” he warns. “I’m not giving any truth to my wife’s delusions about us, so don’t…don’t say and do stuff like that when I’m in no position to handle it.” 

“I’m curious what exactly that means,” you admit. 

“Then be curious, I’m not elaborating.” 

You stare at him curiously for a moment before nodding. “Finish up and get those on.” You point to the clean boxers on the counter as you head to the door. “I’ll be back with the medical kit.” 

It only takes you a few minutes to go to the kitchen and get the very extensive medical kit from the secret compartment hidden in the kitchen island, plus a bottle of water and an apple. 

Deciding to be kind to Wonwoo’s currently somewhat limited movements, you clean up the dirty towels from the stairs, putting them all in the bin bag, plus Wonwoo’s shoes, before tying it off and leaving it near the front door for Wonwoo to take out tomorrow. 

Figuring that Wonwoo must be in a decent state by now, you wander upstairs with the necessary items and enter the bathroom, to find him leaning against the counter with his boxers on and a small towel in his left hand as he rubs his hair.

He pauses when he notices the bag slung on your left shoulder. “The fuck did you get that?”

“Did you forget where you left it?” You tease, putting the items on the counter beside him.

“I know where I hid that. How the fuck did you find it?”

“I know every inch of this apartment, Wonwoo; I’ve cleaned it enough the past month.” You scoff then take the towel to toss aside so that you can hand him the apple. “Eat that.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“I don’t give a fuck; eat that and drink the water,” you demand, already rummaging in the bag to take out everything you need to play doctor.

Wonwoo stares at you for a few seconds, then looks between the items you’re setting up and your at ease yet confident expression, a few times before giving in with a soft sigh and taking a bite of the apple.

The first wound to deal with is the stab wound on his left thigh; there’s still a little blood trickling from it, but it doesn’t run past his knee, so you know he’s clotting well, and there isn’t any worry really. Still, it’s the biggest of his injuries, so you handle it first. 

As soon as you get on your knees in front of him, Wonwoo makes a comment, “thought you only get on your knees for one reason?” he teases with a little smirk, which quickly leaves when you slap his leg right beside the wound, making him hiss. “Fuck you.” 

You only smile too sweetly at him before getting to work sewing up the wound as quickly yet efficiently as you can. There’s anaesthetic in the medical kit, but Wonwoo insists he can handle getting stitches without it. Still, being repeatedly stabbed with a needle and having the thread pulled through skin is not a nice or pain free sensation for anyone, so you want to get it over with as quickly as possible. 

After cleaning up the blood and covering his thigh, you get up to work on disinfecting and covering all of his other wounds. Most of them are small, and many don’t even require plasters, but there’s a cut across his chest; slicing thinly over his left pec with a starting point over his heart, where the wound is slightly deeper. You’re pretty sure that whoever inflicted this wound had tried to stab him in the heart and kill him, but either Wonwoo or someone else stopped them before they could succeed. 

You don’t linger on it, but it does hurt your heart to see, far more than the wound on his thigh, despite that one requiring stitches, and this one only some gauze to prevent infection. At least the thigh wound wasn’t an attempt on Wonwoo’s life.

Once all of the open wounds are dealt with, all you have to do is wrap his right shoulder to support the joint as it recovers from being dislocated, and then you’re all done.

“You’re really fucking good at this; are you trained or something?” Wonwoo comments as you wash your hands and he’s eyeing your handiwork impressed.

“Or something,” is your dismissive response.

He scoffs and looks over at you. “Now who’s evading questions.” 

“Don’t owe you shit,” you point out and move to dry your hands.

“I saved your life.” 

“Because your delusional wife put it in danger in the first place. That’s not on me.” 

“Not on me either.” 

It’s you who scoffs this time as you think about the tension that keeps appearing between the two of you lately and how he didn’t even try to hide how holding his knife to him earlier had turned him on. It all seems so natural for him; being this way with you. “You can’t expect me to believe she’s accusing you of cheating for no reason.” 

He frowns at you offendedly, and you’re not surprised; you’ve kind of had this conversation before. “Yeah, she’s fucking crazy and projecting her own failings on me. I have never been unfaithful to her or anyone. Never will be either.” 

For a few tense moments, the pair of you just stare at each other and the whole time, Wonwoo’s expression doesn’t change; the burning sincerity in his eyes doesn’t waver. You think maybe you might trust this man too much, because it makes all of your doubts about his relationship morals leave. “Huh, okay,” you respond simply with a nod and move to zip up the medical bag. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” his voice is a little quieter now, a hint of hurt at your doubt of him showing. 

“No, I do, which is why I’m surprised,” you assure and turn to lean against the counter and look at him, so that he can see the honesty in your own eyes. It’s only fair, after all. “Gang member with morals; kinda not the norm.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t see the point in it. If I wanted to fuck other people, I wouldn’t be committed to someone.” 

“Even if it’s someone you don’t want to be with in the first place? Obviously, there’s no love lost in you for her, no love in the first place,” you comment. 

“That’s not your place,” he reminds firmly. 

“Just following the conversation. Your pathetic excuse of a marriage isn’t of any concern of mine.” You shrug and push off of the counter to head towards the door.

“Don’t insult the man in charge of your freedom,” he warns lowly, making you turn to look at him with a scoffed laugh. 

“Why? What else are you going to do, Wonwoo? Send me back to her and let her have her fun?” 

Wonwoo’s expression softens slightly, and he shakes his head a little. “No. Never that,” he responds without a hint of hesitation or doubt in his tone. It sounds something like a promise.

“Then are you going to keep me and have your own fun?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“I told you not to say things like that,” he rushes, gaze turning intense as he eyes you where you stand in the open doorway. His eyes flicker downwards; a quick drag of attention over your entire form, and his tongue darts out to lick his split lip mindlessly.

You can’t help but laugh. “Look whose mind is in the gutter,” you taunt. “I meant fuck me up yourself, not fuck me.” You back out into the hallway slowly, while giving him a significant look. “Think you need to remind yourself of your loyalty moral, Wonwoo. A lot of people consider looking or thinking bad enough to be cheating. If you don’t want your darling wife to be right, you should get a handle on that.” Your gaze flickers over the bathroom quickly before landing back on him. “Oh, and clean the bathroom before you go to bed; I won’t cook for you tomorrow if I see a single drop or smear of blood in here tomorrow.”

With that, you leave Wonwoo watching you leave him all alone with his mind whirling and a growing ache in his chest that he doesn’t think is entirely from the wound you so tenderly cared for. 

The very next day when you wander downstairs, it’s gone midday, and to your surprise, Wonwoo is in the kitchen, serving up take out onto two plates. 

“Oh, you’re up, good,” he comments when he hears the rustle of your clothes as you get closer. He glances over at you, gaze flickering over you quickly before focusing back on his task. “I was about to come and wake you.”

“You picked up lunch on your way over?” you mutter confusedly, Wonwoo never brings food when he visits, except groceries after picking up a list from you the day before. 

“No, I went and got lunch when I realised you’re not going to come down, and I’m too fucking hungry to wait any more.” 

“That sounds like you didn’t go to work today.”

“Called off for a few days to recover,” he informs and takes the plates over to the table. “Sit,” he says while pointing to your seat, before moving to get you both cutlery and drinks.

Not one to refuse free food, you sit down, and thank him when he hands you your cutlery before digging in; he quickly joins in.

“So,” Wonwoo starts after a little while of the usual comfortable quiet that falls between you if neither of you are talking. It’s strange how easy the silences between you have always been; even before you became whatever kind of vague friends you currently are. 

“Mm?” you respond with your mouth closed as you chew, looking up at him curiously.

“I was thinking that as I’m going to be off work for a few days, you can give me more cooking lessons.”

You straighten up to look at him in questioning surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why are you surprised? You know I want to learn.”

“Yeah, but that sounds like you intend on spending your days off here instead of at home.”

“She’s there,” he responds as if it’s the obvious answer, while pulling a displeased face.

You snort an amused laugh at his expression. “Good point. Alright, sure, I’ll teach you, but you gotta call me Chef.”

“What?” 

“Chef.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Oh, looks like you’re going to forever burn eggs, Wonwoo,” you sing.

“Alright, fine, I’ll fucking call you Chef, but only while we’re cooking, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” He gives you a flat look that makes you giggle. You turn back to your food and ignore the flash of interest in his gaze.

Over the following days, Wonwoo is always up before you and quickly realises that you need to be woken up if he wants something other than takeout or a sandwich for lunch. 

A routine of sorts quickly gets established; Wonwoo wakes you before lunch, so that you can cook together, then he cleans up, at his own insistence, while you get the medical kit ready in the lounge to check and redress his wounds once he joins you. The afternoon consists of a mix of chores and gaming. In the evening, it’s time for another cooking session for dinner before he once again cleans up. Then, the two of you sit in the lounge to game or watch the videos on the video player, which he brought back on his first day off; another one of his childhood items he’s had safely stored away.

It all falls into place so seamlessly that it’s like the two of you have always existed like this, even if the seemingly endless personal questions that Wonwoo likes to randomly bring up prove otherwise.

Sometimes, you answer honestly, but others you don’t, and it’s endlessly entertaining watching Wonwoo try to decipher if you’re being honest or just fucking with him. 

It starts with the very first question on the very first day he’s off work, when you’re expertly handling his wounds and the medical supplies. “Where’d you learn to do this?”

“What’s it to ya?” you tease.

“Just curious about you.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve known you over a month, and I don’t know shit about you, despite you living in my apartment, and that shit’s going to keep up for the foreseeable future. So, it’d be nice to know some shit,” he huffs.

You hum consideringly as you ponder his words, before answering while continuing to clean and redress his thigh wound. “When I was fifteen, I was out with my sister, and we got caught in the middle of some gang shit. She got hurt bad, really bad, and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I couldn’t save her; I didn’t know how. She bled out in my arms, and I decided then that I wasn’t going to be so useless again. I learned how to handle most wounds with both real medical supplies, and whatever is to hand in case of an emergency.”

“Oh…” 

“If I was home, I would’ve put on my latex nurse’s outfit too,” you add as you look up at him and spot the softness around his eyes; the sympathy and understanding pain. 

It abruptly leaves at your words, and he lets out a frustrated, disbelieving sound. “You fucking asshole; I actually believed you,” he grunts disapprovingly, and you just snigger, returning back to your task.

Despite knowing that you’re actively messing with him, Wonwoo still insists on asking you personal questions to try and get a clearer image of you and your story. It’s a great source of entertainment for you, personally, so you don’t mind. Plus, he’s always so helpful; offering his assistance and cleaning dishes before you can even think about it, that you think he deserves the chance to poke around a little.

On the fourth day of Wonwoo being off work, you wake when Wonwoo knocks on your bedroom door then lets himself in. You eye him blearily as you shuffle up to sit against the headboard, while he walks further into the room.

“Are you ever going home?” you mumble, while rubbing at your eyes. When you lower your hands, he’s placing a tray, which you somehow didn’t even notice him holding, on the duvet at your side and sitting on the other side. You notice the plate piled with steaming food, two mugs and two sets of cutlery on top “Oh, breakfast in bed?” you tease with a grin as he hands you a set of cutlery and holds the other, while he picks up his usual mug to sip at his steaming coffee.

He rolls his eyes before answering as you start to eat, “don’t say something weird; I just know you won’t come down to eat it. So, unless I want my hard work going to waste, I need to bring it to you. I’ve had enough of you digging your fucking fingers into my wounds when I try to pick you up to move you when you’re being a stubborn asshole.” 

You ignore his comments about your stubborn streak and your habit of playing dirty and using his healing injuries against him. “How lucky am I?” you coo, entirely ignoring his warning to not say something weird. Teasing him is just too much fun. “Well, I imagine your wife is luckier. You seem like the type of man to go all out on your lucky lady’s birthday; fancy breakfast in bed, whatever gifts she wants, romantic dinner at her favourite restaurant and a day being spoiled.” Wonwoo doesn’t answer, just keeps his gaze on the tray between you as he works on eating his share of the breakfast that he so carefully cooked for you both. “Well shit, you’ve never done that for her?” you baulk surprised. He truly does seem like the doting, romantic type. 

Even this; bringing breakfast to you so that you’ll eat the food he obviously tried very hard to cook, as he hadn’t burned any of it this time, even if it’s pretty bland and under seasoned, just proves that he’s a very doting man when he wants to be. Plus, he waited for you to take a bite first before making any attempt himself. It makes you realise that he always makes sure you go first with everything and quietly goes along with whatever you want; the game you want to play, the food you want to cook, the video you want to watch, he never complains.

It seems crazy to you that Wonwoo has never gone all out for his wife; the woman he promised forever to.

He scoffs. “Why should I? I tried to do nice things at first, but she was always expecting more and bitched.” 

“Has she ever done anything for you?” 

“Other than be a pain in my ass? No.” 

You pull a disgusted yet puzzled face. “Why the fuck did you marry her?” 

“Took one for the team,” he answers honestly for the first time, paired with a casual shrug. Before now, every time you’ve asked about his relationship, Wonwoo has always told you it’s not your business or avoided answering by changing the topic or simply stayed silent.

“What does that even mean?” you wonder, giving him a curious look as he lifts his gaze to look at you.

“Means that she’s the oldest kid, but as she’s a woman, she can’t take over the gang when her dad dies; so, it would go to her brother, who is even more fucking useless and entitled than she is.” The repulsed twist of Wonwoo’s expression gives away his clear disdain for his brother-in-law. “He’d fucking destroy the gang and everything we’ve put so much blood into creating. But the boss will give his son-in-law the position if he’s proven himself, and well, I’ve been in the gang since I was fourteen, so I’ve definitely proven myself after 20 fucking years.” 

“Well…shit,” you mumble, eyes wide as you absorb his unexpected words; unexpected for more than one reason.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement as he chews on another mouthful.

“I did not realise you’re so old!” you gawp, making him look at you with a miniature version of your shocked expression.

He quickly finishes chewing and swallows the food in his mouth so that he can talk. “Seriously? That’s what you took from that, my fucking age?” 

“What?” You shrug defensively. “I thought you’re my age, not eight years older.” 

Wonwoo stares at you dumbly for a few long seconds before he mumbles, “you’re 26?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” He licks his lips a little awkwardly. “I didn’t realise.” 

“Are you saying I look old?!” you sputter in offense.

He quickly shakes his head and holds up his hands placatingly. “No. Just, I guess I’m more used to women like my wife. All her friends are immature as fuck, all spoiled little princesses. She’s older than me, you know? By three years, yet you’re more mature than her. So, I thought based on that, you’re closer to my age at least,” he reasons. It’s a very understandable thought process and assumption, so your posture relaxes again.

“Huh, okay, I’ll accept that, but don’t disrespect princesses like that,” you warn. 

“Should I call them spoiled little daddy’s girls then?” he jokes.

“No.” You pout. “Don’t lump me with them.” 

“You’re a daddy’s girl?” he baulks in genuine shock.

“Yeah.” 

“Didn’t even know you have family, honestly,” Wonwoo admits, making you look at him as if he’s the dumbest person you’ve ever met.

“Did you think I grew out of the fucking ground?” you deadpan.

“Obviously not; I know how human biology works, brat.” He rolls his eyes. “Just…there’s no sign of family in your apartment; not a single photo or anything that could be deemed a family heirloom.” 

You shrug and pick up your mug. “I don’t need those things to remember; I have plenty of reminders on me at all times to remind me of family.” 

“Like what? That necklace you wear?” He points to the chain of the necklace you never take off, where it’s just about poking out from the collar of your pyjama t-shirt.

“No, this is just a cheap thing I got to replace another cheap one and so on and so forth because I just hate not wearing a necklace.” 

“I don’t see you in any other jewellery.” 

“Don’t own any.” 

“Really?” he asks surprised, slightly raising his eyebrows curiously. “Not a single thing?” 

“No. I used to have earrings, but I lost the back of one, so I stopped wearing them and just never got around to replacing them.” 

“Then what do you mean you have reminders on you all the time, if not jewellery?” he sounds genuinely confused and very curious as his attention remains solely on you. 

You motion to the plate as you lean back towards it yourself, dismissing the topic with a simple, slightly firm, “breakfast is getting cold.” 

Wonwoo gets the hint and doesn’t try to push you anymore, just leans in and gets back to eating.

The very next morning after Wonwoo brings you breakfast in bed, he doesn’t wake you with another tray, nor does he wake you to make lunch with him. You get up feeling very off kilter at waking naturally without him being the first thing you see once the sleep leaves your eyes. 

It only gets worse when you go downstairs, and he’s nowhere to be found. 

Bewilderedly, you waddle to the fridge to get the juice and notice a new note on the whiteboard from Wonwoo. It’s a short note, like always, and says that he’s gone back to work and won’t be back tonight, so don’t worry about cooking dinner for him. 

All day, you move around the apartment feeling oddly lost. 

Wonwoo was only home for four days, yet it already feels so strange not having him following you around to ask questions as you complete chores together or peering over your shoulder to learn how to cook or playfully shoving you when you’re playing against each other in a game instead of as a team. You don’t really know what to do without him.

When it comes to dinner, you don’t think before cooking and only realise that you’ve naturally made enough for Wonwoo too when you’re putting a plate in his usual seat and remember that he won’t be here to eat it. 

It feels pathetic to sit staring at an empty seat with a full plate on the placemat in front of it opposite you, as you eat your dinner, but there’s something in you that refuses to let you take his plate away, even knowing his note says he won’t be home tonight.

Only when you can’t handle being in the lounge as it feels so empty without him, do you remove his covered plate from the dining table to box up the leftovers to put in the fridge and put the dishes in the dishwasher.

It’s only 9pm when you crawl into bed freshly showered and turn on your TV to watch something, hoping to distract yourself from the hollow feeling in your chest.

Although you were in bed early last night, you didn’t manage to fall asleep until your usual time, so you’re up after midday again. 

Today when you wander downstairs, you don’t expect to see Wonwoo, as his note said he’ll be back this evening, but clearly, he had already returned and left again. When you enter the kitchen, you spot a little gift bag on the island. 

Curiously, you approach and inspect the bag, trying to find a logo on the packaging, but there isn’t one, though you do find your name on the tag in Wonwoo’s surprisingly pretty handwriting. He doesn’t usually write so neatly; it seems as if he focused on writing your name in a visibly appealing way, instead of the usual scrawls he puts on the whiteboard.

Now that you know that it’s for you, you open the bag, and after moving aside the neatly packed dark blue tissue paper, you spot a black jewellery box. You hesitate before reaching out to pick out the box and open it. 

Immediately, your breath catches, and your heart skips a beat.

Within the jewellery box, seated neatly on a cushioned display covered in dark silk, is a truly stunning necklace and earring set. They sparkle in the light; silver chain and clear jewels polished to perfection as they stare up at you tauntingly. You know they’re diamonds; you just know with everything in you that Wonwoo had purposely gone out and bought you an expensive, extremely high-quality necklace and earrings set to replace your own. And it hurts.  

There is no way that this is nothing; that Wonwoo would go out of his way to pick such a beautifully crafted set for any other friend. You’re pretty positive that he wouldn’t even pick such a nice set for his wife. It feels like he’s putting you higher than her, ranking you as more important, more meaningful to him than the woman he is lawfully devoted to, and that hurts.

It's all too much. You close the box and place it back in the bag, cover it with the tissue paper and leave it there.

As you reheat the leftovers from last night for your lunch, your gaze keeps returning to the gift. Even with your back to the island as you sit at the table to eat, your mind keeps reminding you that it’s there; keeps shouting at you to pay attention to it.

Unable to handle it, as soon as you’ve cleaned up after lunch, you go up to your room to spend the rest of the say sitting on your bed watching TV and pretending that Wonwoo hasn’t royally fucked with your head and implied far too much without saying a word.

When Wonwoo returns, you’re still sitting on your bed watching TV, or at least pretending to. You’ve been restless for the past half an hour, knowing that he’ll be home at any moment and there will have to be a conversation to be had; about the necklace, about him, about you.

Only a handful of minutes after hearing Wonwoo enter the apartment, he wanders into your room through the open door, holding the gift bag in one hand with a genuine frown on his features. He looks both confused and a little upset. “Haven’t you been in the kitchen today?” 

“Of course I have, you think I like starving myself? I enjoy food too much,” you answer without looking away from the TV, even if your full attention has been on him since before he entered the room, before he even entered the apartment.

“Okay, then why aren’t you wearing this?” He lifts the bag slightly.

You hesitate before letting out a defeated sigh and looking at him. “Why did you buy that for me, Wonwoo?” 

“Because you never replaced your earrings and wear a cheap necklace that will break easily and make you buy another. This one will last a long time and has a lifetime guarantee, so you can get it replaced if it does break, but it shouldn’t.” It all sounds so logical, so reasonable, but you know it isn’t. Wonwoo is far too smart of a man to be that dense. 

“Take it back,” you order. 

“You don’t like it? Tell me what you like and I’ll-” 

“You’re a married man, Wonwoo; you can’t buy another woman jewellery.” 

“It’s just jewellery,” he mutters, a hint of defensiveness to his tone. 

“No, it’s not, and you know it.” 

He stares at the bag for a few moments then nods slowly in agreement; admittance to knowing exactly what you’re saying, what he said by buying the jewellery in the first place. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” 

“Thank you.” You relax a little, relieved that he’s agreed to return the gift.

“I didn’t mean to overstep or make things uncomfortable between us; I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, talking softer than you’ve heard him before. It makes it hurt even more; the honesty in his voice, the truth to the depths of his care for you. It needs to stop before it burrows deeper in either of you.

“Well, you shouldn’t. I’m just your hostage. We’re not friends, Wonwoo,” you say, in reminder, even if it hurts you as much to say it as it clearly hurts him to hear it. You can see it in his eyes. But you have to say it; to remind the both of you of the boundaries and moral obligations in place. The reasons why you can’t be anything more than how this all started. 

“Right, yeah, just my hostage,” he scoffs and looks at you, eyes harsh and jaw tense. “Maybe I should treat you that way, huh? It’d make things easier.”

“I think this is way past the point that you could treat me that badly, Wonwoo,” you point out. “You bought me diamonds; that clearly isn’t the type of thing a man capable of doing bad things to me would do.” 

“Would if I’m trying to get my way with you. Buy you pretty things to sweeten you up and make you crawl willingly into my bed,” he reasons and lets his gaze drag over you as if he’s making his point that it’s a very real possibility. Even if you both know that Wonwoo is not that kind of man, despite his status and how easy it would be to get his way with whatever woman he wants if he was cruel in that way.

“You could buy me all the pretty things in the world, and I wouldn’t do that,” you inform firmly.

“Don’t act like you haven’t checked me out; you’ve even said I’m attractive,” he reminds, letting his intense eyes lock with yours.

“And married; I’m not a homewrecker, Wonwoo,” you scoff. “If she wasn’t an issue, I think we both know things would be very different right now.” 

“Would you be wearing the necklace?” 

You hesitate before answering, not wanting to lie but knowing what you’re clearly admitting to otherwise and knowing that it’s not something you ever thought you’d say to a married man. Still, you do. You can’t help but be honest with Wonwoo about this; about the two of you. “Yeah, and not much else.” 

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Alternate Universe - Fantasy

Dubious Consent

Mind Control

enslavement

Slaves

Sex Work

Implied/Referenced Abuse

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

Human/Monster Romance

Forced Pregnancy

Creampie

Kidnapping

Public Sex

Exhibitionism

Degradation

Belly Bulge

Anal Sex

Anal Fingering

Vaginal Sex

Vaginal Fingering

Sex Toys

Multiple Orgasms

Multiple Sex Positions

Multiple Partners

Threesome - F/M/M

Size Difference

Size Kink

Cum Swallowing

Light Bondage

Sexual Overstimulation

Orgasm Edging

Choking

Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation

Breast Fucking

Face-Fucking

Face-Sitting

Angst

Angst and Fluff and Smut

Smut

Rough Oral Sex

Oral Sex

This routine lasted until the two of you graduated high school. Over the years, the two of you had become close as could be, even hanging out on the weekends. There was never room for any doubt in your friendship; even though Dongmin had gone to Oxford University in the UK, which was arguably the most extra school he’d gotten accepted into (you had begged him to go to Columbia University so you could visit New York), you stayed home and worked in your father’s little corner store. But even so, Dongmin traveled home for every long weekend, every holiday, and every vacation he had. And he spent all the time he was home with you.

You’d done a lot of dumb things to get each other out of a lot of sticky situations in the past, but what he was suggesting now was a new low.

“Well, I don’t really think getting married is the best course of action.” You mused as you poured the hot water into the two waiting mismatched coffee mugs.

“You’re not listening!” Dongmin exclaimed as he hopped over the back of the couch and strolled into the kitchen, leaning on the counter as he watched you steep the tea.

“Then explain to me how this is a good idea.”

“Because. I’m pushing thirty now-”

“You’re twenty seven.”

“Pushing thirty. And my folks want to retire soon, and my dad wants me to take his place, which is like, what I’ve been shooting for since I was a kid. But my mom is pushing back because she thinks I’m not mature enough. She says that she won’t even think about letting me join the company until I’ve shown that I’ve settled down.”

“You go to the club literally every weekend. I think I might be on your mom’s side on this one.” You handed Dongmin his mug of tea and strolled into the living room, settling down on the couch, and picking up the remote to browse for a movie to watch.

“Yeah, but if I stop going to the club for a while and make it look like I'm in a serious relationship, then my mom will see how mature I’ve gotten, and let me join the company!” Dongmin gleefully relayed his plan to you as he stole the blanket from your lap and wrapped it around himself, curling into the other corner of the couch.

“And you think that us getting married is your best bet?”

“Not married! Fake engaged. There’s a difference.”

“Let me reiterate; you really think getting fake engaged to me is the best idea?”

Dongmin turned to you, confusion written all over his face, “yeah? You’re like, my best friend.”

“Well, duh. I just think your mom would prefer it if you got engaged to like, another rich girl.”

Dongmin rolled his eyes and snatched the remote out of your hand, scrolling for a moment before pressing play on a random nature documentary. “I think my mom would see it as a win either way. She’s been on my ass to get into a serious relationship since I started university. Which is totally unfair, by the way! Jinwoo hasn’t had a date since middle school, and he’s already on track to be the COO at his dad’s company. And Myungjun’s had like, twelve relationships in the past year and a half, and his startup is already turning a massive profit.”

“Rich people problems.” You sighed, watching as a lion on TV devoured a gazelle.

“Yeah, it is. But I never ask you for anything. I think you owe me. And I can’t keep working at Minhyuk’s parents company forever. It’s getting kind of embarrassing.”

You remembered all the times that Dongmin paid to have you flown out to England, paid for you to stay in fancy hotels, car service, room service, treated you to extravagant meals, the tens of thousands of dollars worth of birthday and Christmas presents he’d bought you over the years. And you realize, he’s right. You do owe him.

“Okay…We need a plan.”

Dongmin practically jumped out of his seat at your sudden agreement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, reaching over to grab the remote, turning the TV down. “But we’re gonna need it to be airtight if we want this to be believable.”

“You’re the smart one. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

As you looked at Dongmin’s gleeful face, you almost regretted agreeing to his scheme. Dongmin saw the crease between your brows, and reached over to poke your shoulder.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I know it’s kind of a lot.”

You brushed him off with a shrug of your shoulder. “No, you’re right. I owe you. This is honestly the least I could do.”

“Then let’s do this.” He grinned, holding up his pinkie finger in front of you. You playfully rolled your eyes with a scoff before linking your pinkie in his.

“Let’s do it.”

January 18th

“No, that one’s not big enough.”

You sighed as Dongmin rejected yet another one of your suggestions. “I’m the one who has to wear it, why do you have such a strong opinion?”

“Because I’m the one buying it!”

You and Dongmin were currently at a swanky jewelry shop searching for the perfect engagement ring. At seven in the morning. On a Thursday. Neither of you were in a particularly good mood.

“Shouldn’t you want a smaller ring, then?” You questioned his logic, looking up at him with a cocked brow.

“Hey, only the best for my future wifey-poo.” Dongmin made a kissy face at you, causing you to audibly groan in disgust, pushing his face away. You ignored his giggles as you felt your phone buzz. You saw the most recent text was from your father, asking you to come into work early to help him open his corner store.

“Okay. Well, I have to go to work.”

“Nooooo! You can’t make me do this by myself! The dinner’s next weekend and we won’t have time to meet up again before then.” He protested, grabbing your arm and bouncing on the balls of his feet like a spoiled child- which he was.

“I would say I trust you, but I don’t. You know my ring size, I don’t want anything big, I don’t want anything gold, do not get me anything square cut, and for the love of God, please just ask the lady at the counter for help instead of just buying me the first thing you see that you don’t hate.” You patted his shoulder and made your way out the shop, waving a goodbye to him over your shoulder. You could see Dongmin’s downtrodden expression in the reflection on the glass door as you left. You just hoped he would get you something understated. You would be having to wear it every day for the foreseeable future.

You and Dongmin had spent nearly three hours the other night working out your plan.

Dongmin had invited his parents over for dinner at his swanky penthouse next Saturday night. He’d hired a fancy chef to make the dinner, and a decorator to make his apartment look not so “twenty seven year old single man-child”. After the main course and right before dessert, he would stand from his chair and announce that he had something important to say. Then, he would turn to you, get on one knee, and propose with whatever hopefully not-ugly ring he’d chosen today. To which his parents would hopefully be overjoyed and proud, and after at most a few months, they’d realize how mature he’d gotten since getting engaged, and give him the job in their company.

You weren’t sure it would work, you weren’t sure how long it would take, but you were determined to go through with it. After all the amazing opportunities and experiences that Dongmin had given you over the years, you figured that the least you could do was pretend to be his fiancee for a few months.

January 27th

Today was the day he would propose. You’ve never been this stressed in your entire life. A package had been delivered to your door with a note from Dongmin inside, “Blue has always been your color.” You had been staring at the dress in the box for the past ten minutes, trying to not think about how many thousands of dollars he’d spent on it. He was right, though. He’d taken you to Japan for spring break a few years ago and the two of you’d gotten a color palette analysis done. You’d have assumed he’d forgotten all about it, but the beautiful navy dress on your bed proved otherwise.

You looked at the time on your phone, the numbers 4:27 glared up at you, eliciting a sigh from your mouth. The weight of your actions was starting to weigh down on your shoulders. Why did you have to agree to this? It’s not like you didn’t like Dongmin’s family- they were fine! From the limited interactions you’d had with them over the years and from what Dongmin’s told you about them, they were perfectly nice people. But it was only natural for you to be a little bit intimidated by them. They were wealthy, powerful people, and you were about to get “engaged” to their son.

You got ready slowly, almost unconsciously dragging out the process as long as you could. Your phone rang right as you were slipping on the sleek black pumps Dongmin had bought for you last summer while he was vacationing in Paris.

“Yes?” You picked up the phone, looking at yourself in the mirror one last time before meeting your doom. You looked good. Hopefully good enough.

“I’m waiting in the car. Are you ready?” Dongmin’s pixelated voice rang out through the phone. You grabbed your purse, put on your coat, took a deep breath, and walked out your door.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Without another word, Dongmin hung up the call. You scoffed and dumped your phone in your bag. You silently thanked whatever invisible force was on your side that day, as the elevator in your building that had been broken for the past two months had finally gotten fixed. You were not looking forward to walking down six flights of stairs in those heels.

As soon as you walked outside your building, you spotted Dongmin’s fancy black car. You couldn’t see him through the tinted windows, but you knew it was him when his driver stepped outside and walked around the car to open the back door for you. You slid into the backseat where Dongmin was playing a game on his phone. He looked up at you briefly, mumbling a “Hey”, and going back to staring at the screen.

You rolled your eyes at your iPad kid of a best friend and rested your head on the window as the car drove through the busy city streets.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled up to Dongmin’s penthouse. No matter how many times you’d been there, you would always be in awe at the massive building.

“You okay?” You turned to look at Dongmin as he spoke, meeting his eyes, seeing the concerned look on his face, you put on a smile, and lightly punched his shoulder as his driver opened the door.

“Of course. Not like I’m about to pretend to get engaged to my best friend in front of his family or anything.”

Dongmin didn’t look convinced as he took your hand in his before you had the chance to leave the car. “You know, it’s not too late to back out.”

His words didn’t do anything to quell the uncertainty in your stomach. But still, you put on a brave face and playfully rolled your eyes. “As if anyone else would be willing to get engaged to you.”

Your words seemed to sate Dongmin’s concern as he rolled his eyes in turn and shoved your arm, prompting you to step out of the car. You looked up at the tall building in front of you and took a shaky breath. It’s not like it was real. You didn’t actually have to get married to him or anything. It was all temporary.

“They’ll be here any minute. We should go up.” Dongmin’s warm breath on your ear caused you to jump, prompting him to flash you a confused look. You shook your head and followed him into the building, mentally hyping yourself up for the night that was to come.

|

“You look beautiful, darling.”

Dongmin’s parents had arrived ten minutes after you had, and you had been internally screaming the entire time since then. You were sat next to Dongmin at the table in his huge dining room with his mother sitting directly across from you. 

“Ah, thank you so much. You know, Dongmin bought pretty much my entire outfit.” You replied, doing your best to keep your shaky hands still as you cut through your expensive steak. You could see Dongmin trying to hold in his laughter in the corner of your eye. Clearly seeing you in intense mental turmoil was funny to him.

“Oh, our Dongmin has always been such a thoughtful boy.”

Thoughtful. Hilarious.

“Yeah, he’s great.”

“So, dear, are you still working at your fathers shop?”

You took a sip of wine and wiped your fingers on your napkin. “Yeah, I am. But I’m planning on applying to some jobs in corporate. Even if just working in the mail room or reception.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure we could find you a job somewhere in our company. I’m sure I know someone that could use a secretary or assistant.” Dongmin’s father spoke up, causing Dongmin to choke on his wine. You lightly patted his back as he coughed into his elbow, offering a tight-lipped smile to his confused parents.

“That’s very kind, but you really don’t have to do that.” You spoke over Dongmin’s coughing.

“We’d love to have you in our company, really. You and your parents are practically family.”

Dongmin took a deep breath as his coughing fit came to an end. “Are you guys for real?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we be?”

Dongmin stayed quiet for the rest of the main course, leaving you alone to continue awkwardly conversing with his parents, and ignoring every kick under the table that you gave him.

“So Dongmin, why did you set up this dinner, anyway?” Dongmin’s mother asked, leaning back in her chair as dessert was being made.

“Well…” Dongmin started. ‘Here we go’ you thought as your leg started shaking. “You know that the two of us have been friends for a long time.” He continued, taking your hand in his, looking at you with what anyone on the outside would see as fondness, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he was struggling to not burst out laughing.

“I hope this doesn’t come as a shock to you two, but we’re ready to take the next step…” Dongmin rose from his seat and pushed it to the side, immediately dropping to one knee in front of you. He softly spoke your name as he looked up at you. You could tell he was about to lose it.

You heard his mother gasp from the other side of the table as he continued, “You’ve been by my side for as long as I can remember. You’ve been my best friend, my partner in crime, and my biggest supporter. We’ve been through every step of our lives together. But I want to go through the next part of our lives…With you as my wife.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that his speech was very sweet. But you did know better. And now you were the one struggling to hold in your laughter.

Dongmin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, “Will you marry me?” He opened the box and your jaw hit the ground. He did good. He did really good. The ring was exactly what you wanted. It was a small round cut diamond surrounded by smaller gems on a beautiful silver band.

You ecstatically nodded your head, holding out your hand for Dongmin to slip the ring onto your finger. The two of you stood up and hugged each other tightly. “I asked the lady at the counter.” He whispered in your ear. You giggled into his shoulder before his mother spoke up.

“Well, it’s about time!”

The smiles immediately dropped off of your faces. 

…What?

The two of you pulled away from each other, slowly turning to look at his parents as they beamed at the two of you from across the table.

“The two of you have been attached at the hip since you were kids. It was only a matter of time.” His father agreed, holding his wife’s hand as the two of them looked up at you with an endearing gaze.

“...Huh?”

February 11th

“Oh yeah, my mom is throwing a valentine’s day party and she wants to know if you’re gonna be there.”

Dongmin was in your kitchen drying and putting away dishes as you washed them.

“Why would I be there?”

“...Because we’re engaged?”

“Oh, yeah.”

You hadn’t actually forgotten. You couldn’t now that your parents knew. As soon as your mother had shown up to work the day after the dinner, Dongmin’s mom was immediately gushing about the engagement that you had forgotten to let your mom in on. Your mom immediately called your dad to tell him about it, and then he immediately called you.

You couldn’t just tell them that it was a lie- they were just so happy about it, you didn’t have the heart to break it to them.

“I can’t just show up to my parents' valentine's party without my fiancée.” Dongmin whined as he put away your ancient cast-iron frying pan. You rolled your eyes behind his back.

“You don’t have to show up at all, actually.”

“Let’s be real for a second. There is no way that my mother will let me get out of going to one of her parties, and I really don’t want to go by myself.” Dongmin gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which caused you to physically hold yourself back from laughing in his face.

“Pleeeeease. I’ll buy you a new outfit for it. I swear to God, you’ll be the prettiest girl there. I’ll have to be constantly throwing hands to keep those gross corporate men’s hands off my gorgeous fiancée.”

“Whatever. I’ll go. You don’t have to buy me a new outfit.” You relented, drying off your hands before opening the fridge to grab a soda.

“You aren’t wearing your ring.”

You looked down at your left hand before looking back up at Dongmin, “Yeah. Our parents aren’t around, why would I?”

You didn’t see Dongmin’s pout as you flopped onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you settled into the squishy furniture.

“Okay, but I spent a lot of money on that rock. Also, didn’t you say it put off that creepy guy who works at the coffee shop?” Dongmin hopped over the back of the couch to sit right next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Well, yeah. I wear it in public. But why would I wear it when I’m in the comfort of my own home?” You moved his arm from your shoulder, opting to ignore the disappointed sigh that came from your best friend.

“I’ll take you shopping for the party tomorrow. Get you a cute dress and shoes or whatever.”

“You don’t have to spend money on me, Dongmin.”

“I don’t care. I want to.”

You glanced at Dongmin to see him pouting with his hands in his lap, watching silently as you scrolled through Netflix instead of snatching the remote from your hands and picking a show like he usually would. You sighed and laid your head on his shoulder, feeling his breath stop for a second before he rested his head on top of your own.

Dongmin is your best friend. He’s helped you so much in so many ways, and you genuinely would do anything for him, and you think he’d do the same for you. Ever since you agreed to get fake engaged to him, there was a thought in the back of your mind; “What if this ruins our friendship?” You pushed it aside at first, brushing it off as a stupid anxiety-induced worry. But every day since then, the thought has only grown more and more prominent.

“I’m free after two.”

You could feel the smile in Dongmin’s cheeks and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as you finally settled on a movie.

God, you hoped you were wrong.

February 14th

“Keep your eyes closed!”

“They are closed.”

“You better not be peeping.”

“This may come as a shock to you, but I actually really do not want to see you naked!”

You were in Dongmin’s bedroom getting ready for his parents' valentine's day party. You’d have gotten ready at your own apartment, but Dongmin had called you over to help him decide on what to wear, so you decided to just bring your clothes with you and get ready there. Which was probably a good idea, because unlike your apartment, Dongmin’s penthouse actually had a full-length mirror and good lighting.

Dongmin had taken you shopping the day before, and despite your protesting, bought you an inordinately expensive, albeit beautiful, blush-pink dress, and a pair of white pumps. They were beautiful, and although you appreciated Dongmin being so willing to spend money on you, you hated knowing the actual number that he was spending.

“Okay, you can look now.”

You waited patiently for Dongmin’s response after he opened his eyes, but he just looked at you with a blank stare. You looked down at yourself, thinking you might have forgotten to zip a zipper, or your dress had gotten stuck somewhere.

“What?”

“No. Nothing. It looks good.” Dongmin cleared his throat and pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly typing something before standing up and leaving the room. “You coming?” He called over his shoulder.

“...Okay…” You said under your breath, grabbing your phone from his vanity and following him out of the room. You felt Dongmin’s eyes on you as you put on your coat, looking up at him with a raised brow, he quickly turned away and busied himself with tying his shoes.

“Okay, let’s go.” Dongmin quickly hurried out the door, leaving you behind in a confused state. You shook your head before turning out the lights, setting the alarm system, and locking the door behind you.

You knew you were in for a long night.

|

“Well, aren’t you two just a beautiful couple!” Dongmin’s mother called the two of you out immediately as you walked through the doors to their impressive home. You were no stranger to the glamour and wealth of the Lee’s life, but it still threw you off to see so many beautiful, wealthy people all in one place. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Lee.” She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, and her son with a tight embrace. You looked around the room to see some vaguely familiar faces; you recognized Park Jinwoo’s parents conversing with Dongmin’s father, someone by the drinks table who you were pretty sure was named Yoon Sanha, and the three of Dongmin’s friends that you were actually on a first-name basis with, Bin, Myungjun, and Minhyuk, greeted the two of you with a wave from the other side of the room.

“Well, you two have fun! We have food, drinks, desserts, whatever you like!”

“Thanks, mom.” Dongmin took your hand and led you over to his friends, meanwhile, the sudden realization that you hadn’t seen any of these people since long before your fake engagement hit you like a ton of bricks. You could see them smirking at the two of you as you neared. Dongmin felt the shift in your demeanor and he turned to look at you, your face had paled as if all the blood had drained from your face. 

“Just be chill.” He whispered to you as you neared the small group. You gave him a small nod, and quickly plastered a smile back onto your face.

“Hey guys how’s it-” Dongmin was cut off by Myungjun grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that the two of you were even dating! And now you’re engaged!”

“Yeah, man. How could you not tell us?” Minhyuk added on as Bin shook his head in disappointment at the two of you.

“Believe me, it was a surprise for us, too.” You joked as Myungjun turned to you and wrapped his arms around you in a back-breaking hug.

“Well, I’m happy for you two. I think we were just all surprised it took you two this long.” Bin smiled at the two of you as he took a sip of his champagne. You and Dongmin briefly made eye contact before awkwardly smiling at the group.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone’s been saying.” Dongmin slipped his hand back into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You gave him a small smile, trying to give off the best “head-over-heels in love” vibe that you could. You weren’t sure how convincing you were being, but Dongmin always was a good actor. He’d make it work.

At some point in the party, you’d ended up at the drinks table, a champagne flute in your hand as you leaned against the wall, trying to recharge from being bombarded with questions and congratulations from people you’d never met. You weren’t sure where Dongmin had ended up- the last you saw, he’d been taken aside by Minhyuk’s father to talk about some business stuff that you didn’t understand nor particularly care about.

You were content with standing in the corner people-watching before someone you hadn’t spoken to for years sidled up to you.

“Well, don’t you look nice?”

You froze in place when you heard the voice of Park Jinwoo addressing you. You slowly turned your head in his direction. Shit. He looked really good. You’d had a little bit of a crush- no, you’d had a massive crush on him while you were in highschool. He was one of Dongmin’s closest friends back in the day, but you’d only seen him a few times since he’d gotten back from university. You thought he was really cute back then, but he’d really grown into his looks. He’d gotten a little bit taller (at least, he was a little bit taller than you, now), he’d gotten a nice haircut, you could tell he’s been hitting the gym, and from your many late nights staying up late stalking his Instagram, you knew that he’d gotten a few tattoos. And he’s single.

“Oh…Hey, Jinwoo. Nice to see you again.”

“No need to be so formal. We’ve known each other a long time.” Jinwoo stood next to you and leaned on the wall, mirroring your stance. “Congrats on the engagement by the way. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Really?” You scoffed, taking a sip of champagne, “seems like you’re the only one who didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I was under the impression that you were into someone else until now.”

His statement caused you to choke on your champagne. You cleared your throat and shook your head. Jinwoo stayed silent, simply smirking at you as he took a sip of wine. “Well, I guess you were wrong.”

“Guess so. It’s funny, I was so sure I was right. I mean, it’s not every day someone you haven’t spoken to in years likes one of your four-year-old Instagram posts at three in the morning.”

You were about to refute his accusation before you were cut off by a very welcome interruption. “You two enjoying yourselves?” Dongmin approached the two of you, a glass of champagne in hand, and an indecipherable look on his face. He stood right beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, staring directly at Jinwoo.

“Just fine.” Jinwoo replied with the same smirk as before, taking a sip of wine as he eyed Dongmin. “You two look good together.”

“Yeah. We do.”

The vibe of the room had massively shifted since Dongmin had approached you two. His hand had moved down from your waist to your hip, and he was holding you tighter than ever. Your eyes darted between Jinwoo and Dongmin, waiting for one of them to say something, but they both remained quiet, their eye contact unwavering.

“Well, I’m happy for you two. See you at the wedding.” Jinwoo gave you a quick wink before flashing Dongmin a smirk and walking off into the crowd. You looked up at Dongmin who still had that look on his face. You’d never seen that look before.

“Let’s go.” He said, grabbing your hand and walking in the direction of the front door.

“Go where?”

“Home.”

“Whose home?”

“Mine.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Okay…But maybe we should say goodbye to your parents and friends first?”

Dongmin paused in his tracks, you could see him roll his eyes before nodding in agreement. He dragged you around the house to bid quick goodbyes to his family and friends before he walked the two of you to the foyer, helping you with your coat, and dragging you into his car. He’d driven the two of you there himself, and you were honestly worried that in his current mood, the night was going to end up with the two of you crashing into a tree.

You stayed silent for the first few minutes of the trip, your hands folded in your lap. You’d rarely seen Dongmin so irritated- his hands were tightly gripping the steering feel, and you could practically hear his jaw clenching. You felt like a scolded child the way you were so hesitant to say anything to him.

“Are you okay?”

Dongmin sighed heavily. Glancing over at you, his demeanor melting as he saw you staring at him with that concerned look on your face. His grip on the steering wheel relaxed, and he reached over to hold your left hand in his own, his thumb lightly brushing over your ring finger.

“I’m okay. Just tired, I guess.”

The two of you stayed silent for the rest of the drive to Dongmin’s penthouse. The car was filled with a tense air, even as Dongmin gently held your hand, you couldn’t help but feel you’d done something wrong.

The two of you made your way up to Dongmin’s apartment, turning off the alarm and kicking your shoes off as soon as you were in the door. Without a word, Dongmin went straight to his bedroom, leaving you sighing as you made your way to the guest room. Usually your apartment was the designated hangout spot, Dongmin always said it was more “cozy”, but you’d still stayed over at Dongmin’s enough for you to have a drawer of clothes in his guest room and a toothbrush in the bathroom.

You had been laying in bed for at least an hour at that point. You’d tried to sleep, you really had, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what you could have possibly said to make Dongmin act the way he did. So you resorted to scrolling on your phone to calm your mind, before you heard a light knock on the bedroom door.

You padded over to it, cracking it open to see Dongmin on the other side, nervously shifting his weight between his feet.

“Hey…” He whispered, leaning on the doorway as he looked around the room, doing all he could to not make direct eye contact with you. “I…I guess I wanted to apologize for being a total dickhead tonight.”

“Yeah…You kinda were.”

He smiled at the ground, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Well, I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know. I don’t really have an excuse.”

His eyes finally met yours.

“Are we cool?”

You let out a short laugh and rolled your eyes, poking his arm before responding, “we were always cool.”

He smiled fondly down at you, reaching his arms out, prompting you to lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist, your head comfortably resting on his chest. The two of you stood silently for a minute, his head resting on top of yours. Before pulling away, he gave you a quick peck on top of your head, flashing you a quick smile before taking a step back.

“Goodnight, fiancée.”

“Goodnight, fiance.”

You were friends. Best friends. You always would be. But you were starting to like hearing him call you that.

June 20th

You thought it would be over by now. You thought it would’ve been a few months, a couple family dinners, maybe a fancy corporate party or two, Dongmin’s parents would give him a job in the company, and you could call off your engagement and go back to your normal lives. And yet here you were, six months later. Still engaged- fake engaged. Every time you got together with Dongmin’s family, he’d whisper to you, “I’m sure they’re gonna give the news tonight.” and yet, they never did. And both of your families and all of your friends were still convinced that the two of you were a happy soon-to-be-wed couple. His parents had even spent Easter at your family’s house. It was starting to feel too real.

And now here you were, sitting in a private plane, getting ready to embark on an all expenses paid two week long vacation to Lake Como- where the Lee family apparently owned a large plot of property. Because of course they did. You hadn’t ever realized exactly how wealthy Dongmin’s family was until you’d gotten engaged to him, and you felt more insecure in your own life by the day because of it.

“You want some more champagne?” At the question, you removed one of your earbuds and looked up from the book in your lap to Dongmin, who was sitting across from you, headphones on with his iPad resting on top of the table between the two of you. You shook your head wordlessly, putting the earbud back in place and returning to the book that you honestly couldn’t have relayed the plot of even with a gun to your head.

Planes are so boring.

Dongmin smirked up at you as if he could tell what was on your mind. “Told you you should have brought your laptop.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, flipping to the next page as if you were actually reading. “Why would I want to bring my laptop when I’m going to Italy? I don’t know about you, but I’m intending to actually enjoy myself while we’re there.”

“I don’t think Dongmin could enjoy himself without bringing his iPad.” His younger brother piped up from the seat across the aisle. 

“You’re literally playing Roblox right now.” Dongmin rolled his eyes as he removed his headphones.

“You cannot stop me from grinding on Dress To Impress.”

“You’re like, twenty five.”

“Yeah, and I’m absolutely eating these little kids up.”

“That’s a disturbing sentence.”

“You’re making it weird.”

“Back me up here.” Dongmin addressed you, taking his headphones off and tossing them to the side.

You stuck your tongue out at him before tossing your book in the same direction as his headphones- you’d finally given up on trying to read.

“You’re the worst.” Dongmin sighed.

“You like it.”

“I don’t get you two.”

The two of you quickly turned to Dongmin’s brother, who was still staring at his computer screen, undoubtedly still beefing with middle schoolers on Roblox.

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracked slightly as you asked the question. You could see Dongmin grimacing at it from across the table.

“I mean, you two have been together for like, years at this point. But I’ve never even seen you two kiss.”

“Years-? I mean, yeah. But what’s your point?” Dongmin stumbled over his words, crossing both his legs and arms in a painfully conspicuous fashion.

“I don’t know, it’s just weird. Are you two on some like, hardcore, celibate, not even kissing until you get married shit? I find that hard to believe since you’re like, always at each other's apartments- also like, why don’t you two just move in together? I’ve been to both of your guys’ places, and Dongmin’s is like, way nicer. I don’t know, you guys just aren’t like, a normal couple.”

You were in shock at how hard Dongmin’s brother clocked you. You hadn’t thought of any of that. Why the hell wouldn’t you two have kissed? Normal engaged people kiss. The two of you had never even had your mouths anywhere near each other.

“I’m sorry I haven’t ever made out with my fiancée in front of my little brother. That’s not something I’m into.” Dongmin mused as he picked up his headphones from the floor of the plane, placing them back over his head and resuming his show. You let out a silent sigh of relief at his smooth recovery. 

This was going to become a problem.

June 25th

You hadn't realized that mega yachts were a real thing until this morning when you and the Lee’s packed into the fancy black car that picked you up at their summer home and brought you to the lake, where you were met with the largest boat you’d ever laid eyes on.

After being “confronted” about your strange relationship by Dongmin’s brother on the plane, that same night, you and Dongmin stayed up late in your shared room discussing ways to make your relationship seem more natural.

“Well, we can’t just like, make out in front of your family.” You mused from your side of the ginormous bed in the room that had been assigned to you and Dongmin.

“Normal people don’t make out with each other in front of their families, I don’t think.” He agreed from his side of the bed, “But maybe, we could just like, I don’t know, maybe give each other a little peck on the cheek once in a while. Or call each other stupid pet names like ‘babe’ or ‘sweet cheeks’.”

“If you call me sweet cheeks, I will kill you.”

“No sweet cheeks, then.” Dongmin tossed his phone across the bed and turned to look at you, propping himself up on his elbow. You turned to him with a raised brow, tossing your phone in the same direction.

“What?”

“This is fun.” He smiled up at you, twirling a loose string on the blanket around his finger.

“Is it really?”

“Yeah.” He whispered before turning his back to you and flicking the “off” switch on the lamp on his bedside table. You settled into your pillows and breathed out a heavy sigh. You were having much less fun with this than Dongmin was.

You were currently laying down in a lounge chair on the bow of the yacht in your swimsuit, pretending to watch Dongmin as he repeatedly jumped off the side of the boat and clambered back up, asking you each time to rate his jump and the following splash. Dongmin’s brother was in the chair beside you, arm over his eyes, probably taking a nap. You were going to have to wake him up soon to tell him to reapply his sunscreen.

“Babe, watch this!” Dongmin called out to you, prompting you to look over to him, your hand shielding the sun from your eyes so you could see your fiance’s grinning face as he took a few steps back, dripping water onto the freshly mopped floor. He ran forward and jumped off the boat once again, you could see him lurch forward right before he leapt in what you were sure was a poorly executed attempt at a front-flip.

You grimaced as you heard the splash- you had a feeling that he’d landed face-first. Your suspicions were confirmed as you heard coughing as Dongmin climbed up the side of the boat. As soon as he made it back onto the bow, he walked over to where you were laying, and sat down on the ground next to your chair, laying his head on top of your bare thigh. You patted his back as he continued coughing weakly- trying your hardest to keep from laughing at your friend.

“That was great. Ten out of ten.”

He looked back up at you, a look of pure disdain on his face. “I hate you so much.”

You giggled and ran your hands through his hair. He rolled his eyes at you as he rested his chin on your thigh, closing his eyes as you continued running your fingers through his hair, nails scratching his scalp in a soothing manner. You were worried that you were laying on the “head-over-heels in love” thing too thick, but your worries were immediately quelled as Dongmin’s mother entered the scene.

“You two are just so sweet.” She giggled as she approached you, tightly gripping her full glass of champagne.

“They’re disgusting.” Dongmin’s brother protested from his spot, finally waking up from his nap. 

“You’re just jealous.” Dongmin teased, discreetly flipping his brother off as his mother settled into her seat on the younger brother’s opposite side.

“You two have been all up in each other’s business since we landed. Is that Italian air really getting to you guys that much? My room’s right next to yours, I’m just glad you two are quiet when you bang.”

You were so sure he was onto you.

“You poor thing.” Dongmin mused as he wrapped his arms around your leg, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

His brother simply rolled his eyes and laid back down, placing his arm back over his eyes. You turned back to Dongmin, who was already looking up at you with a lazy smile. You hated these moments. The moments that made this whole thing feel like a part of it was real. Because why were you here on a yacht in Italy with his family, with his head on your thigh, and a ring on your finger if no part of it was real?

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Dongmin whispered as he stood up. He leaned over and gently put his hand on the side of your face, giving a short, sweet kiss to your forehead before going inside.

You watched as he walked back inside, trying not to lose your mind as you heard his mother drunkenly giggling from behind you.

God, you hated this.

July 5th

It was the night before the end of your vacation in Italy, and you just couldn’t wait to go home.

Sharing a bed with Dongmin every night of the past two weeks had been nothing short of torture. It wasn’t like he’d been all up in your space, and he didn’t snore- actually, he was very quiet and very respectful of the invisible line that you’d drawn in the middle of the bed, sticking exclusively to his side, and keeping all of his clothes on- despite the fact that you knew he usually slept in just his underwear.

But you often found yourself awake into the early hours of the morning just staring at his back, trying to push the random romantic scenarios about your best friend that your brain was making up into the back of your mind. You told yourself that it was all just because of the atmosphere. I mean, what else are you supposed to think when you’re sharing a bed in a romantic villa in Italy? You were just excited to go back home and sleep in your own bed. Alone.

But here you were, sitting out on the balcony that was attached to your room, glass of red wine in hand as you listened to Dongmin ramble on about something that you couldn’t pay attention to- not while the moon was out in full and it just lit up his features so beautifully.

“You know what I’m talking about?” Dongmin turned to you, his eyes scanning over your face that was undoubtedly just staring up at him blankly.

“Not really.” You hummed taking a big sip of your wine, your eyes met his and you immediately looked away, opting to stare out into the beautiful Italian nature instead of at your beautiful best friend’s face.

“You okay?” Dongmin asked softly, nudging your arm much softer than he usually would.

You took an even bigger sip of wine. “I’ll be okay. Just ready to go home, I guess.”

“Yeah…” He sighed, his eyes still on you. “It’s getting pretty late. You ready to go to bed?”

You were going to miss him saying that.

“Yeah.”

You got ready for bed as slowly as possible, dragging the process out as long as you could. You could feel Dongmin’s eyes on you as you slowly brushed your teeth, and again as you were brushing your hair, and again as you exited the bathroom after getting into your pajamas, and again as you climbed into bed.

The two of you laid there in silence in the dark until, simultaneously, you turned to each other. As soon as your eyes met each other, you could feel your eyes welling up. You didn’t want this to be over.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dongmin whispered, shuffling a little bit closer to you. In the moonlight peeking through the curtains, you could see the worried look in his eyes. You nodded quickly, staying still as he reached out to brush your hair out of your face. His fingers lingered over your jawline, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. “You know, I’m really glad that you were able to come on this trip. I think I’d have gone insane without you here.”

“Yeah?” You whispered back, the feeling of his fingers on your jaw causing your mind to struggle to come up with a witty reply.

“Yeah.” He breathed out, moving his hand to stroke his thumb across your cheekbone, brushing away the tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen. “You’re the best fake fiancée I’ve ever had.”

Right. Fake.

“High praise.” You joked, causing Dongmin to flash you a grin that made your heart ache. You loved his smile.

“I love you, you know? You’re my best friend.”

Friend. Friend. You needed to hammer that word into your mind.

“I love you too, Dongmin.”

He ran his thumb over your cheek one last time before leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, bidding you a goodnight, and turning back around- leaving you laying there, staring blankly at his back

You were so screwed.

December 21st

Eleven months. Eleven. Months.

You’d been engaged to your best friend for almost an entire year.

After your trip to Lake Como, things started to become more complicated. Dongmin’s parents had started asking the two of you to set a date and start looking at venues, menus, dresses, suits, flowers, honeymoon destinations, guest lists- you name it. Your acting in Italy had apparently shown them how “in love” you were with each other, and they were eager for the two of you to finally tie the knot. You had been holding them off by telling them that you wanted to wait until the new year for all of that, but they, especially his mother, were all too ready to get involved in the wedding planning.

You’d started hating being engaged to Dongmin. Every time the two of you were alone together, it just reminded you of your last night in Italy. The way he held your face so gently, and the way he wiped away your tear was constantly on your mind.

But you doubted he even noticed the tense air whenever the two of you met up, as he had been sulking since the end of the summer over the fact that his parents still hadn’t offered him a job yet.

But today was the day of his parents Christmas party, and he was so sure that they would offer it to him tonight. You had your doubts.

The two of you were getting ready in Dongmin’s apartment as you usually did for his parents' parties. You were wearing a beautiful forest green satin dress that you'd gotten as a bridesmaid for an old friend, and the same heels that you’d worn when Dongmin had proposed to you almost a year ago. You were waiting in the foyer for Dongmin to come out of his room, tapping your foot as the seconds ticked by.

“Alright, you ready to go?” He asked in a jovial tone as he entered the room, fixing the cuffs of his suit jacket. He looked up at you in anticipation and stopped in his tracks, his hand freezing on his sleeve as his eyes wandered over your form.

You stood there silently for a good few seconds, waiting for him to say something. But he didn’t. “...Yeah?”

His eyes snapped up to your face and he slightly shook his head, dropping his hands from his sleeve. “Right! Okay, let’s go, then.”

He hurriedly turned off the lights and set the alarm before helping you with your jacket, and offering his elbow to you. You gave him a suspicious glare, but he just grinned at you, guiding you downstairs to where his driver was waiting.

|

You were drunk. But you felt the need to be even drunker. The two of you had been at the party for around an hour when Dongmin’s father tapped the side of his champagne glass and made an announcement: He was finally letting Dongmin into the company. At first, you turned to Dongmin ecstatically, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek and hugging him tightly. He’d wanted this for so long.

But then you remembered.

It was over now.

You and Dongmin had agreed in the beginning that you would be engaged only until his parents offered him a job at their company. You’d agreed to this. You knew this was coming. So why were you sitting in an empty room crying into your champagne?

You didn’t look up as you heard the door open, you were assuming that it was a drunk couple looking for some privacy until you heard a familiar voice speak up.

“Any particular reason you’re sitting alone crying into your champagne?” None other than Park Jinwoo asked as he sidled into the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his beautifully fitting dark blue suit.

You tearfully chuckled, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You know, I was just asking myself that question.” You looked up at Jinwoo who was leaning on his shoulder against an ornate bookshelf, looking down on you with a placid look on his face.

“Trouble in paradise?” He mused as he dragged his finger down the spine of one of the books.

You scoffed at him, leaning back in your chair as you downed the rest of your champagne in one gulp. “Something like that.”

“That’s a shame…He’s been head over heels for you since high school, so I can’t imagine what could have happened.”

Your eyes snapped up to him, he looked back down at you with a knowing smirk. “What do you mean by that, Jinwoo?”

He shrugged his shoulders casually, as if to brush off your question. “I don’t know. What do you think it means?”

“I’m so not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Fair enough. Should probably be getting back to the party anyway.” He offered a hand to you which you rolled your eyes at before taking, allowing him to help you out of your chair. “You’d better get back to your fiance. It’s not a good idea for a pretty girl to be drunk and alone at a party.”

Jinwoo didn’t let go of your hand until the two of you were out in the hallway. He gave you a one-armed hug, smirking into your ear, “well, speak of the devil.”

You turned to see Dongmin standing at the other end of the hall, staring at the two of you, an undoubtedly shocked expression casted over his face.

“See you later.” Jinwoo turned and gave you a wave over his shoulder, leaving you standing in the hallway, swaying slightly. You shouldn’t have chugged that glass of champagne. But as soon as you started to feel a little too dizzy, Dongmin was by your side, his steady hands holding onto your waist.

You leaned into him with a deep sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. As soon as the side of your face made contact with his chest, you felt your eyes welling up. He gently stroked the back of your head, confused at your demeanor, but wanting to offer whatever comfort he could nonetheless.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, gently rubbing his nose into your hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You choked back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest even harder. “Please don’t call me that.”

His hand went still on the back of your head. “Why?”

You took a shaky breath, bringing your hands to his back, gripping into his suit jacket. “Cause it’s over now. Right?”

Dongmin stayed silent, opting to continue gently stroking your hair instead of responding, letting you cry off your makeup into his expensive suit.

“I think I should take you home.” He said to you softly, gently unwrapping your arms from around his body. You sniffled and feebly attempted to wipe away the tears from your face, not daring to look Dongmin in the eye. You nodded at the ground and allowed him to guide you to the front door and help you put on your coat. 

“Stay here for a second. I’m gonna go say goodbye to my parents.” You nodded gently, staring down at your shoes. You’ve never felt so pathetic in your life.

Dongmin returned a minute later, gently taking your hand and leading you to the car. The two of you sat in silence, Dongmin running his thumb over your knuckles, and you, staring out the window, not even bothering to wipe the tears that were running down your face.

You knew it had to come to an end eventually. You always did. But it still hurt.

The car pulled up to Dongmin’s penthouse, and you mindlessly let Dongmin lead you up to his apartment. Your brain was practically dead at that point. He could have been taking you to an old abandoned house to murder you and you wouldn’t have noticed, nor would you have particularly cared.

You let him help you take off your jacket and heels and lead you to his room. He motioned for you to sit down on his bed, which you did, flopping onto it, laying flat on your back, folding your hands over your stomach in an attempt to soothe its churning. Dongmin sighed as he watched you lay down, taking off his suit jacket, shoes, and tie, and sitting down next to you.

“Do you want the ring back?” Your voice cracked as you asked the question, your eyes threatening to shed even more tears. Dongmin sighed as he leaned back, laying down next to you.

“No. I bought it for you.”

Your lips trembled at his words, you quickly wiped away the tears that had started to spill. “I don’t want this to be over.” You finally choked out, your hand covering your mouth to stifle your sobs.

“I know.” Dongmin replied gently, reaching over to wrap his arm under you, prompting you to roll over and dig your face into his chest. “It’s okay.” He whispered as you cried into him. “You’re just drunk. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you.”

Dongmin held you tighter at those words, his brow furrowing as you said it. “You’re not going to lose me, baby.”

“I just want to stay with you.”

“We’ll always be together.”

“It’s going to be different now.” Your tear ducts had finally run dry. You just felt defeated now. Dongmin still held you just as tight as before, one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does.”

This time it was Dongmin’s turn to cry. Yet, he smiled. “I love you.”

“God, don’t say that to me.” You sighed into his neck, rubbing your sore eyes as tears continued to run down Dongmin’s face.

“No, but it’s true. I love you so much.”

You pulled away, he was starting to confuse you. You propped yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. Your confusion grew as you saw him smiling up at you through his tears. “What are you talking about?”

Dongmin leaned up and reached for your face, holding it in the same way he had during that night in Italy, his fingers on your jawline and his thumb stroking your cheek. “I don’t want this to be over, either.”

“...Are you drunk?”

He grinned up at you and brought his other hand to your cheek, looking at you with a kind of fondness you’d never seen on his face before. “Definitely not. I just love you.”

“Dongmin, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that a few times.” You replied, sitting up fully, Dongmin following you, still holding your face. “But what do you mean?”

Dongmin gently smiled down at you, one of his hands trailing down from your face to take your left hand, gently sliding the ring off your finger. Your heart dropped as he did so, tears once more threatening to start spilling from your eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, you completely froze in place as Dongmin slid off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling in front of you, still holding your left hand in his gentle grip.

“..Huh?”

He chuckled at you fondly, his eyes filled with nothing but adoration, and love spread across his face.

“I want to marry you. For real.” His eyes and smile softened as you stared down at him in shock, “At the start of this, I really did just see this me asking you for a favor. I really thought that at the end of this, we would call off the engagement, and go about our lives as normal. I didn’t expect this to go on this long, and I never expected to realize that I was in love with my best friend, but I did. I think I realized it for the first time in Italy. I loved going to sleep next to you every night and waking up next to you every morning, I loved seeing you with my parents and my brother, I loved sitting on the balcony drinking wine with you, I just loved spending every minute of every day with you. And it made me realize that I love you. As more than a friend. And I think I always have.”

He shifted in his spot on the floor, nervously looking up at your confused stare. He really hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by telling you right now.

“It made me realize that I wished this was for real. So, do you want to make it real?”

Just as he was starting to think that he was making a massive mistake by confessing his love to his best friend, you quickly slid off the bed onto the floor, and hugged him tightly, causing him to fall backwards onto the carpet.

“God, I love you so much.” You whispered into his neck, holding him tighter than you’d ever held anyone. He was smiling so hard, he was sure his face could have gotten stuck that way. He hugged you back just as tightly before pulling back and grabbing your face, causing your eyes to meet his.

“So is that a yes?”

“Obviously. Yes!”

Dongmin grabbed your left hand, sliding the ring back onto your finger before his hands quickly went up to the sides of your face and his lips collided with yours. Your hands gripped the back of his shirt as your lips moved against his, fighting back the happy tears that welled in your eyes.

Dongmin pulled back for breath, breathing heavily as he leaned his forehead against yours. He opened his eyes and met yours, “I love you.”

“I know.”

the two of you giggled quietly before your lips met again.

December 22nd

You woke the next morning in Dongmin’s bed, your dress and his suit lay wrinkled on the floor. You groaned into the pillow and turned to your side, almost jumping as you were met with the face of your fiance sleeping soundly next to you.

You smiled softly, brushing his soft hair out of his face, admiring his features in the early morning light.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, reaching up in confusion to grab your hand that was lightly grazing his face. He smiled warmly and leaned into your hand as soon as he realized it was you. “Good morning.” He groaned, his deep morning voice causing your stomach to flutter.

“Good morning.” You replied gently, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He looked up at you softly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand before slowly sitting up and tossing back the blankets.

“How about I make us some pancakes?” He called over his shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom.

“Sounds good.” You stretched and sat up as Dongmin turned on the shower in the other room.

“You coming?” He called out, you smiled and shimmied out from the blankets, your feet meeting the soft carpet on the floor.

“Just a second!”