nana.

you reached the end of the ballroom, facing the wall. where else can you go? going around in circles would lead to nowhere. if you hide, he might send out his men to come and find you and that is too much trouble.

"miss y/n!"

sigh. he's near. you've never agreed to this in the first place. your father had arranged for you a marriage of convenience. it was something you were prepared for growing up. it was your life purpose after all, already determined ever since you were born—to debut and get married in order to improve your social status.

you knew all that, yet, the books you've read taught you something else. from time to time, you would always read books in your quarters. it taught you things about the world, things your mother never taught you about. it also taught you about love, that marriage does not force two people together for their personal benefits, rather, it happens when two people love each other.

and it became your dream to find someone to love and to be loved.

so that is why even when you were the most sought out person after your debut last spring's debutante ball, receiving over a hundred marriage proposals, you've never accepted any of them even with their so-called gifts that they use to impress you.

you've never felt the type of love you've read in books. although you never knew how it feels like, you just know it, and you know that you would feel it once you've found the right person.

love is such a mystery, but it's a beautiful one.

you've rejected all of the marriage proposals, going from a hundred to ten, then ten to none. and now, you might've been the only one in your batch of those who debuted last spring who's not married and such is looked down upon.

that is the reason why your father had created this arranged marriage. it could've been fine, but your suitor is not.

you suddenly hear his footsteps getting closer and closer. is there anything else you can do?

looking around, you caught sight of someone familiar, someone who lives to infuriate you. you had no choice, do you?

"hey, min," you wrapped your arm around his, a grin on your face hoping that it looked convincing enough that you were in love with him when, in fact, you're not.

you detest him.

"what-" minho was taken aback by your sudden demeanor, but before he could say anything, you immediately pulled him to the middle of the ballroom to join the couple of people who were dancing.

if you act like you're in love with minho, maybe your suitor could drop his proposal.

minho smirked.

oh dear.

"you despise me but now took me here to dance. i knew no one could ever resist my charms," he looked down at you, eyes filled with exhilaration. it would be so good to wipe that smile off his face, but not now.

"ugh, i brought you here so you can embarrass yourself with your dancing skills. now let's just dance until the music ends," you say.

"sure, but maybe you'll be the one to embarrass yourself." he lends out a hand to you, "shall we dance?"

"at least you have manners." you took his hand with no hesitation and you smiled, "we shall."

you put your left hand on minho's shoulder as he put his right on your waist, the other hand interlocking with yours and the both of you danced with the music.

it was quiet for a while. the both of you weren't speaking, only focused in the moment of the two of you swaying to the orchestra playing waltz of the flowers by tchaikovsky.

never had you ever imagined that you would be dancing with your enemy.

it was as if you suddenly forgot what brought you here.

unexpectedly, you accidentally stepped on minho's foot. "ow," he squinted in pain. even so, he still continued. "it hurts so much. there was so much force there."

you raised a brow, "i think you deserve it though."

"hm, but i didn't think you were this bad at dancing as i thought."

"maybe it's because you aren't a good partner," you rolled your eyes.

minho spun your around as he had a smug look, "you know, you're the only one who has the audacity to speak like this to me, the duke. no one would dare talk informally like that. but it's fine, you're an exception."

suddenly, you felt your heart beating fast. was it because you couldn't give a retort? was it because of the look he was giving you?

the air around you changed. you notice how the both of you are so close to each other, only a few inches apart and the way he's holding you tight by your hand and waist. his eyes were staring straight at yours as his mischievous smile was still there.

all of a sudden, you felt a piercing look from behind you, breaking you from your daze. when you looked back, you saw your suitor watching you carefully as he was waiting for you.

the music was coming close to an end.

what can you do once the dance is over? are you going to run away again? even so, at the end of the day, he's going to be the one you would have to marry.

noticing the distraught look on your face as your eyes were looking at the floor, minho couldn't hide his concern, "miss, are you okay?"

you sighed as you decided to tell him, "i'm going to get married."

"who?" minho immediately asked.

you glanced behind you, "the man with a bouquet of flowers."

minho followed to where you were looking at, and as he noticed the man you were talking about, he looked at you bothered. "him? the prince of the kang family whose family is corrupt? why-"

"i had no choice. i was the only one left who wasn't married. father wanted me to get married and the prince was the only one interested in me." minho could feel your tight grip on his hand.

he was enraged and the music ended. when your suitor was about to go to you, minho's hand grabbed yours as he pulled you and ran.

"hey!" the prince shouted, yet the two of you still ran. all eyes on you both, but it was something that didn't worry you. rather, you feel excited about what was happening. you were at ease as you looked at the man in front of you, holding your hand as the both of you were running away to who knows where.

eventually, the two of you stopped somewhere in the gardens, sitting down and catching breaths. it was a large garden and you don't know how to get out, but that wasn't important anyway.

"i've never ran that much in years," you laughed.

"same here." when minho started to calm down, he said something that you would never think he would say to you, not even in a million years, "marry me."

you blink rapidly as you stared at him in confusion. he looked away in embarrassment. he was thankful it was dark outside. if not, you might see how red he was. "what? do you want me to say it again?"

when you didn't reply, he breathes out as he continued, "you're not the only one who's not married you know. my parents keep pestering me to find a wife. i know you don't like me, but you don't deserve someone like him."

he stands up, both hands on his waist, "aren't you grateful? the most amazing person in the world is willing to marry you."

you chuckled. even at a situation like this, he still managed to show off. it's lee minho after all.

and maybe now you understood everything. you now know why it was fun to have a banter with him every time you see him, why your heart skips fast and why running away with him made you feel euphoric even when it should've been the opposite.

and now you know why you hated him when you first met him because of what he made you feel that you couldn't explain.

you let out a hand to him and teased, "where's my ring? you have to give me a ring if you dare to propose to the most astonishing person in the world."

minho was bewildered.

you chuckled.

"i'll marry you."

it was love all along.

,

"according to your file," the dark-haired man in front of you mumbled. not just any dark-haired man, it was the substitute for miss eunji, therefore your new tutor and also the substitue professor for one of your university subjects, "you have attended schools only for women during your whole life, is that right?"

"why is that relevant?" you questioned shyly, your gaze fixed on the hems of your skirt while you were fighting the urges to make eye-contact with him.

"it isn't," he replied, his eyes leaving the sheet of paper in front of him picking up in the fact that you couldn't even face him, "i just thought it was interesting".

"it is better that way," you added, "attending to only-women schools".

"how is that better?" he queried, tilting his head slightly and smiling at your shyness.

"less temptations" you answered, still without being able to lift your gaze up, "that's what my mom says".

"is that what you think?" he questioned again, emphasizing the you.

"yeah, i think so" you replied, fidgeting with your fingers, "temptations take you away from the right path, so i try to stay away from them as much as possible".

minho rested his whole body on his leather office chair, feeling both amused and conflicted by your mindset.

the story of how he ended being a professor at a university conformed by only women students was long but, to make it shorter, he needed a good curriculum before earning his master's degree in international studies. since he already had his bachelor's degree, he decided to apply for a part time job as a substitute professor at ewha university for women. however, he didn't count on having to do these types of work. he wanted to teach, not being some sort of tutor/counselor.

"we are young" minho mumbled, not knowing how to carry the conversation. originally, the first meeting with you as your tutor was meant to talk about any difficulties you had related to college, professor or an specific subject. however, as soon as he read your file and curriculum, he couldn't help but ask questions related to your life, something that was not completely right, "we should be experiencing life, going out with friends, stuff like that".

"i have fun" you muttered, licking your lips while your eyes threatened to look up to him, "it's just... not the convencional way of having fun, i guess".

"do you have any hobbies?" he queried.

"i am part of a group in my local church" you replied, smiling softly while recalling the fun activities you did with them during the weekend, "i am also part of a book club and a debate club, i would consider those my hobbies".

"i see..." minho mumbled, his eyes analyzing every single fragment of the file the last teacher crafted specifically for you, "you have very remarkable grades. almost perfect, i must say".

"thank you sir", you replied, your cheeks turning red as you lifted your gaze to meet his.

much to your surprise, he was already looking at you, "you can just call me minho".

"i don't think that's appropriate, sir".

"i am only 3 years older than you" he shooted with a soft smile, almost too welcoming.

too tempting.

"but you are my professor," you rushed to say, blinking in several occasions due to the nervousness, "i must treat you with respect".

"i would prefer if you call me by my name" he said softly, giving you a reassuring smile, "just think of me as a friend".

you nodded slightly and gave him a confused look.

attending schools were only women students were allowed really affected your social and conversational skills with men. you hardly ever spoke to one, other than those who conformed your family, so being in front of a tempting, yet soft-spoken man was something that mad you feel uneasy.

the way he looked at you, to be more precise, made you feel uneasy. whether it was during class or right there during your private meeting, you couldn't help but feel a strange sensation on your lower abdomen every time he laid his eyes on you. you couldn't describe it or explain it, but it felt unfamiliar.

"as far as i am concerned, these meetings are meant to help you out with any troubles you could be having related to school, assignments, subject or professors" he listed, gathering the sheets of paper that were scattered all over his desk, "is there something i can help you with?"

you looked at him for a few seconds in silence, your heart pounding fast while your breathing acquired a sketchy pace, "i don't have any issues with school at the moment" you mumbled, your cheeks glowing red as you considered the idea of trusting him, "however i do want to talk about something".

a look of surprise was imprinted on his face as soon as he heard you saying those words, genuine concern and interest grew inside him by the minute.

"go on," he mumbled, his body tensing up slightly while he separated from his leather chair, "like i said, you can think of me as a friend".

you gave him a quick smile before going back to your anxious countenance, your sweaty hands fidgeting against each other while your right leg did repetitive movements against the floor. up and down.

"do you... have any hobbies?" you queried, your question taking him a bit by surprise.

"yeah, i do" he replied, almost confused by how embarrassed you looked while asking that question, "i like going out with my friends during the weekends, reading, drinking, watching videos on my cellphone, researching..."

"do you go to parties often?" you interrupted, your eyes shining while the conversation started to flow a bit more casual than before.

"i do, yeah" he scoffed, knowing that –based on the previous conversation you both had– you were probably not allowed to attend to them, "they are very fun, specially when close friends are there".

"do you drink?"

"casually"

"do you smoke?"

"not my thing" he mumbled, laying back on his seat again, "how are these questions related to the tutoring session?"

"they aren't" you rushed to explain, "you just make me kind of curious".

"you don't have much male friends, do you?" he inquired, losing all the professionalism he was supposed to have, being now a young professor. still, you didn't seem to mind it.

"not really," you shook your head, parting your gaze from him, "like i said before, they are a temptation and they must be avoided".

he nodded slightly and agreed, even though he didn't really shared the same mindset as you.

still, he thought it was kind of sad.

you were strikingly attractive and you could have any person you wanted with the snap of a finger. however, you were not quite interested in that.

and that was a tragedy because, ever since the first time he saw you inside that classroom, sitting on your desk with both of your legs crossed, he knew that you could've had him at your mercy if you would've wanted to.

"i see" minho mumbled, his eyes lost in the endearing way you looked at him, "women are a temptation as well, you know?"

"it's different" you rushed to say, the sensation on your lower abdomen intensifying each time you locked your eyes with his, "men only want one thing, that's why they are a temptation for us".

"and women don't want that too?" minho replied, trying his hardest to divert the conversation to any other friendly topic that didn't involve talking about sex with one of his students.

"i don't" you shyly admitted, lowering your gaze again and fixing it on the pattern of your skirt again, "or at least i think so".

the last part came out more as a whisper than actual words, but the dark-haired substitute still managed to pick on them.

"it is completely natural" he explained, again, fighting the urges to make such an awkward conversation any longer than it needed to be, "it's not a matter of religion it's just... human needs".

"it's a sin."

"if you are looking through the lense of religion, then it is." minho replied.

as twisted as it sounded, he couldn't deny te tension he felt towards you at that exact moment. of course, he never thought of you that way before.

he had promised to himself that he was going to be as professional as he could in order to perform well at his new job but, right now, having you in his office in front of him with such innocence and curiosity imprinted on your face, he couldn't help but think about all sorts of filthy things he would like to teach you.

"how else can i look at it?" you genuinely questioned, licking your lips nervously, "my whole life i have been told that it is wrong, that's what they have taught me".

"why is that?" minho counter-attacked, "you must have a good answer other than because it goes against god's word".

however, he was wrong.

your whole life you were taught to think of sex like something repulsive, something dirty. something that shouldn't be discussed nor performed. something that was reserved for only old adults that loved each other and were united in marriage by the power of god.

but you didn't know why it was that wrong.

"i don't know" you whispered again, your cheeks turning bright red by the second.

minho licked his lips and spreaded his legs, feeling the familiar –yet inconvenient– pressure on his bulge.

"having sex or feeling attracted to the idea of having sex it is not a sin" he mumbled, "it is something natural, something that your body needs".

"how do you know when your body needs it?" you questioned and, for the first time in the whole meeting, you could listen him swallowing hard.

"i don't think we should-"

"please" you pleaded, lifting your gaze up and focusing on him, "i want to know more about it".

minho gave you a hesitant look before diverting his gaze to the clock hanging from the wall in his office.

19:32.

"y/ln i don't think it's an appropriate topic to be discussed during these tutoring sessions" he spitted, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about joining that little game you were innocently trying to play.

"you said i could think of you as a friend" you muttered with some despair in your voice, "and friends help each other out when they have doubts, isn't that right?"

minho closed his eyes slowly for a second, reconsidering all the unprofessional stuff he said during the meeting that leaded him to end up in this situation.

"when you look at me," you continued, your eyes fixing on his while you tilted your head, "i feel weird, like a chill traveling along my body. my whole skin feels a lot hotter, and i feel some sort of pressure in my lower abdomen".

when he heard you mouthing out those words, he knew that he could no longer hold back or resist you. even if it was wrong, due to the academic relationship you two had, he was determined to move forward.

"what else do you feel?" he queried, his body tensing up again while he leaned on into his desk.

"i feel something" you shyly admitted, your gaze falling all the way to your shoes again.

minho swallowed hard, his bulge inside of his pants growing harder everytime you spoke. "and that something, does it feel good?"

"it does" you replied, "never in my life i've felt that before, or maybe i have but not as much as i feel it when you look at me".

minho stood up from his chair and walked all the way to the chair next to yours, sitting down with his legs spreaded open while he leaned forward to try and cover his bulge.

"so, minho" you whispered, the lingering eerie feeling of calling a figure of authority by his name, "have you ever had it before?"

"sex?" minho replied, his deep and intense gaze admiring every single inch of your body now that he was closer to your figure, "yes, i have".

"i am curious," you continued, "to know how it all feels like".

"look" minho mumbled, his guilty gaze looking at the door of his office –that felt maybe too formal for a 23 year old– and then at you, "i don't mind moving forward, but we should be doing this here".

you were too nervous to even second guess your decision, and only noticed that you were still inside of the university campus until he pointed it out. your body turned around to face the clock on the wall, 19:40.

"i have to be home by eight" you mumbled, trying to tell him that you didn't have much time. the trajectory from college to your house was at least 25 minutes long and, after being in a complete oblivion the whole meeting, an inevitable sentiment of fear started growing inside you. "god, my mom is going to kill me".

"you are staying at my place tonight." he mumbled, seeing your accelerated movements while you frantically stood up from your seat, "tomorrow it's another day and we can think about a solution".

"no, you don't understand" you rushed to say, picking up your backpack from the floor and rushing to the door of the office, "you don't know her, she is probably mad right now, she is going to p-"

"y/n" minho's deep voice interrupted you, almost serenenting you. the man stood up from his seat and approached your figure by the door, one of his hands softly touching your waist and automatically making you squirm under his touch.

he smiled, cute.

"can you please answer something for me?" he questioned, your whole body tensing while you felt the warmth of his palm against your body. even if you were fully clothed, you could swore you felt your skin burning, ablazing.

"y-yes?" you muttered, your glossy eyes raising up to meet his.

"do you trust me?"

you blinked once, twice and even three times, trying to containing the tears. only then, the realization hitting you like a velocity train.

this was wrong, in so many levels. not only it was against your beliefs, but it could get you in trouble at college too. a professor working at an only-women univeristy, hanging out with one of his students? it could get him fired and you in a lot of trouble, even expelled.

sure, he was almost the same age as you and, if you had met him in a completely different context, then things would've been slightly different. but this whole situation represented a lot of danger, not only for you but for him as well.

"we can get in trouble" you whispered, your hand resting on the door handle, "it is not a matter if i believe if this is right or wrong, but you shouldn't be doing this either".

"i shouldn't be doing a lot of things and i still do them because i want to" he replied, his body leaning in closer to you.

his warmth, his smell, the way his breath caressed your cheek. it was all new and extremely exciting for you, making ravages inside of your mind. the sudden urge of submitting to his presence was too strong for you to handle it and, even when you had absolutely no knowledge of these situations, you wanted to learn from him.

you wanted him to teach you everything there was to know about it.

his head slightly tilted to face the clock to his right, the corners or his lips twisting in a smile. 19:45. "seems like you are not going to be home in time" he softly teased, his heart skipping a beat or too as he admired the fear and arousal in your eyes, "why don't you let me take care of you tonight?"

"but-"

"we will figure out tomorrow an excuse" he whispered in your ear, his hand traveling from your waist to your lower back, pulling you closer, "but tonight, i will take care of you, alright?"

you nodded slightly, giving in at the number one temptation you were warned about your whole life: men.

but how can you resist minho? everything about him was inviting to you, from the way he talked to the way his eyes scanned every single part of your body. the irrational part of you always dreamed about giving in to sin, and it was all his fault.

countless nights you found yourself thinking about him, feeling that same pressure on your lower back that was only relieved each time your hips moved in circular motions against the mattress. and, even then, the feeling didn't go away until you finally fell asleep.

some days, you would woke up in the middle of your sleep feeling a warm sensation in between your legs after a disastrous dream with him. you would pray over and over again for forgiveness for even thinking about those things even in your dreams.

but to answer his initial question, and for a completely unknown reason to you: yes, you trusted him.

"take me with you, please".

you awaited for him a few blocks away from college, agreeing in taking different paths to avoid be seen or recorded by the security cameras at the entrance of the campus. as you walked away, both of your hands holding on for dear life to your backpack, you felt the sudden urge to run.

run away from your temptations and from your sins.

but at the same time, your body didn't cooperated with your mind. your body was eager to be educated, to explore, to learn. your body needed his touch, your body needed to experience those feelings people talked about in movies or t.v. shows that you usted to watch behind your mother's back.

and you knew that, judged by the warm feeling between your legs.

you waited for him at the nearest bus stop, sitting down at the bench while you covered part of your thighs with your backpack, holding it against your body with trembling hands.

minho's black sports car didn't took long to appear into your vision, slowing down as he approached the bench you were sitting on. as the true gentleman he was, he got out of the car to open the door for you.

the rest of the trip was spent in silence, the only audible things were the soft song playing on on the radio, your heart beats and you accelerated breathing. minho turned to face you every once in a while, offering you a soft and reassuring smile each time.

your gaze fixed on the way his hands maneuvered the steering wheel, the veins popping on his arms making your body squirm in your seat. you were too into him to even think things through, you simply couldn't.

he was intoxicating and you were not strong enough to fight someone like him.

"what are you thinking about?" he queried without parting his gaze from the road.

"you are very attractive" you whispered, not bothering to look away once he caught you lost in his image.

he gave you a side smile that slowly turned into a smirk. he knew that, but he liked hearing it from you.

he always found pleasure in corruption. watching people become their worst yet best versions of themselves. it was just too thrilling, to ruin a pretty body and a pretty mind. and it was even more thrilling when that pretty body and mind also came with a pretty face and endearing personality, like you had.

"and you are beautiful" he replied.

simple, blunt and, most importantly, completely honest.

he knew it since the very first time he saw you sitting inside that classroom, how you were going to wreak havoc inside him. even so, he managed to stay and act professionally throughout the whole semester, only falling into the sweet temptation once you admitted that you felt exactly the same about him.

that's why you were so special. because he had been craving you since he met you, but you were merely just a fantasy to him. something he wanted to have, but that he mentally convinced himself that he wouldn't.

until that night, of course.

the sudden stop of the vehicle interrupted your trail of thoughts, your eyes analyzing every single part of the environment you were in. it was a parking lot, from an apartment complex.

he opened the door for you, allowing you to get out of the car while you fixed your skirt. "you live alone?" you asked him.

"i have been living alone for a while now, yeah" he replied, pushing the buttons outside of the elevator as you two waited patiently, "besides working as a substitute teacher on ewha, i also work in research projects. they pay off really well".

"i can tell" you whispered to yourself. judged by only the parking lot and the cars there, you automatically picked up the fact that you were probably in a very luxurious neighborhood.

money, another temptation.

as the elevator doors opened and you got inside, the whole mood surrounding the both of you shifted. like magic. going from being painfully awkward to an interesting tension, you caught minho staring at you every once in a while.

"how was your first kiss?" he bluntly asked, out of the blue. you choked on your own saliva, coughing slightly while your eyes opened like plates.

"oh, i-" you mumbled, licking your lips "it was- mess".

minho cocked one of his eyebroys in surpise, his gaze fixed on the silver doors that were now starting to open slowly in front of the both of you, "why was that?"

he stepped outside of the elevator and you followed him, walking along a hallway that seemed straight out of a very expensive hotel. "it was a dare" you replied, your eyes sticked to carpet beneath your shoes, "in highschool. one of my girl friends introduced me her neighbors and we were just fooling around. i felt awful afterwards".

minho opened the door to his apartment and, much to your surprise, it was more minimalistic than you thought it would be. everything was white, except for the furniture that was either beige, black or the same color as the rest of the place.

"it felt awful because you felt guilty or it felt awful because it was a bad kiss?" he queried, placing the keys on a small coffee table next to the door and closing it right behing him.

"we were like 16" you shyly replied, "i don't think he even knew how to kiss someone properly".

minho turned around with a soft smirk, gently cornering your body between his and his door. your whole body started shaking in anticipation, the warmth between your legs returning as soon as minho's face was mere centimeters away from your face, "do you want to know how it really feels to be kissed?" he questioned with a deeper voice. his gaze was now completely dark, his breathing was a bit faster than usual and his glistening lips were almost driving you to the edge.

but you were already committed to it.

"please," you whispered, tilting your head slightly, "please teach me".

and without losing any more time, his lips crashed into yours. slowly, very slowly. your heart pounding faster than before, just in the middle of it you wondered what the hell you were going to do. you didn't know how to kiss and, based on the previous chat you two had, he seemed to have a lot of experience.

still, you were a fast learner. picking up on what he did, you decided to do the same. gently brushing your lips against his, his tongue swiftly touching yours with slow motions, his teeth gripping your lower lip and earning a sweet, unknown sound out of you.

"it feels good, doesn't it?" he asked you still with your lips brushing against each other and both of your eyes closed.

"yes, minho".

his hands traveled from your hips to your arse, caressing it softly while he lifted the fabric of your skirt up. god. you sighed at the action, feeling timid at the thought of someone else seeing your naked body.

"you have such a pretty body, you know that?" he mumbled, his touch sending shivers down your spine, "very, very, very pretty body".

his hands found the hems of your underwear, slightly pulling it down and off of your legs. you flinched at the action and he noticed it, locking his gaze in an intense eye contact with you while your panties made their way down to the floor. "it's okay, angel" he whispered, his eyes imprinting the image of your lustful gaze into his mind, "i will take care of you, i promised it".

you nodded slightly, wanting to hide your face in the crook of his neck due to embarrassment. you knew that your underwear was a mess, you could feel the wetness in your core as soon he stripped your panties off of you.

"we have to make an agreement" he mumbled with both a lustful but more serious tone than before, pulling your skirt down again after he finished removing your underwear, "if i do something that you don't like, you have to say a word and i will stop".

"which word?" you muttered, slightly squeezing your thighs together almost instinctively.

his eyes scanned the whole living room of his own apartment, thinking long and hard about a distinctive safe word only to end up with a very common one, "red".

"red" you repeated to yourself, making sure to not forget it.

"if you want me to stop, just say the word," he explained his hand traveling from your arse onto your lower back, pulling your vulnerable body against him one more time, "if i do something you don't like, or you don't feel comfortable with, say the word and i will stop".

you nodded in agreement, feeling how his hand pushed you slightly away from the door. he started walking towards a black door located next to the living room and you followed him right after, wondering what was next for you.

but just as you were about to enter his room, your phone rang inside of your backpack.

"don't pick up" he ordered you, shooting a glance at you once he saw you stopping in silence, "you are with me now".

the way he said those words was both frightening and comforting. you found him intimidating but, at the same time, he made you feel protected. even if things were chaotic outside of his small apartment, he managed to brainwash your pretty brain just fine. as long as you were with him, the real world was alright.

"get inside" he commanded, opening the door for you and revealing a not-so-different but pretty neat bedroom. the thing that captured your attention the most was the wall in front of him that was fully covered in mirrors.

he closed the door right behind him, a devilish grin appearing on his face as soon as he saw your curious eyes glancing at the mirror, "don't you look pretty?"

his body approached you from behind, your eyes lost in the reflection of both figures, "it's such a timely event to have these around" he whispered into your ear, talking about the wall of mirrors right in front of his bed, "that way, you will be able to see everything".

suddenly, you felt pressure against your arse. his hands were resting on your hips, tracing the sides of your body every now and then while your gaze got lost in the mirror, not being able to look away for any reason.

"have you ever touched yourself?" minho asked, knowing exactly the answer he wanted to hear.

and if god existed, he probably heard his thoughts.

"no" you shook your head, your body instinctively brushing against his bulge, "i don't know how to".

"why don't i teach you?" he questioned so casually, his ablazing touch burning every single area on your body he touched. you nodded slightly, feeling how he pulled you against him as he walked slightly backwards to meet the edge of the bed, sitting on it while having your back against his chest and your naked core on his lap. "i want you to watch yourself through the mirror" he commanded, lifting your skirt up and exposing completely your core. you couldn't help but look away, not being brave enough to face such image, "can you do that for me, angel? can you be a good girl and follow my rules?"

you looked at him for a few silent seconds before being determined to fulfill your task. your face turning slowly to look at the mirror one more time while his hands took charge into teasing your body, dragging themselves along your thighs and leaving a burning sensation on them.

"look at you," he whispered softly, one of his digits slowly tracing your wetted slit while your whole body squirmed in its place, "does this always happens?"

"it happens when i dream of you" you admitted, feeling your juices coating his digits.

"you dream of me, hm?" he hummed, slightly touching your core as a way of getting you used to his touch. he couldn't help but smile at every sigh that escaped your lips and every sudden movement your body made against his, "how often do you dream of me?"

"constantly" you whimpered, your eyes fixed on the way his slimmed fingers trace your entrance. before continuing with his task, he grabbed one of your hands and guided you all the way to your core, your inexperienced self not knowing exactly what to do.

"with your middle and index finger," he softly instructed, his prominent bulge grazing against your lower back and arse, "you are going to caress yourself here". he placed your digits over your budle of nerves, moving it ever so slightly in circular motions while you let out a deep sigh, "keep doing that for me, will you?"

you nodded in agreement, feeling your cheeks glow red. if this was a sin, why did it felt this good?

you slowly continued with your movements, only stopping once you felt one of minho's fingers stretching your cunt. the sudden pain and awkward feeling made you let out a faint cry, your gaze lost in the way his finger dissappeared inside your hole.

"it may hurt a bit, angel" he numbled with his lips against your shoulders and his gaze lost in the way you unconsciously spreaded your legs even more for him, "but i promise you that it will feel good later".

you bit your lower lip as he started to acquire a soft pace, his digit going in and outside of you at a ver slow rythm, "keep touching yourself for me, please" he pleaded once he saw you stopped, following his orders right away.

and only then, you understood what he meant. the mixture between his fingers and yours was heavenly, too good to be true. and, as he increased his pace, you did the same. your hips bucking up slightly at the feeling, wanting more and more each time an unfamiliar pressure built up in your lower abdomen. soon, one finger was not enough and he took it into account, inserting a second one after he realized how well you were taking him.

"that's it" he praised, looking at how you closed your eyes shut while a series of cries and whimpers left your lips, "you are such a good girl, you are doing so good for me".

you moaned at his words, the sound of his voice only contributing more to your own arousal. the movement of his fingers increased dramatically, forcing you to increase your pace as well while the sweet taste of an unknown sensation started to wash up on your body.

"minho" you moaned with a desperate tone, your legs slightly closing at the overwhelming feeling, "god, i-"

"just let go," he ordered, his available hand forcing your legs opened while the other continued with his work, "be a good girl and cum for me".

never in your life you had touched yourself, let alone having an orgasm. you couldn't quite understand what was happening inside you, but the feeling was too good to be pushed away. still, your hand that was previously rubbing your bundle of nerves, soon found itself trying to push minho's hand away from your core, both of your legs threatening to close shut, "this feels so-".

"come on, angel" minho groaned between his teeth, managing to keep on rubbing your clit with his thumb all while you tried to push his hand away as an instinctive movement, "cum all over my fingers, show me how good i made you feel".

and without being able to hold the sweet explosion inside you, you finally let go. toes curling up, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your body slightly covered in sweat trembling under his arms... it was such a heavenly sight for minho. the way his name slipped off of your lips while you cummed, the sound of your whimpers and moans and the way you held yourself tight against his body as if you were going to crumble down at that exact moment was all he needed to cum right there with you.

but he needed to wait a little longer. he needed to mark you forever, ruin both your pretty body and pretty mind.

"good girl" he praised, admiring how your weak body came from your first high, "you did so well, taking everything i gave you".

"it felt so good" you whispered, your teary eyes and rosy cheeks making minho's bulge twitch inside of his pants, "i never thought- i didn't know it would feel like this".

"it felt good, yeah?" he questioned, his eyes looking at the sight of your hardened nipples beneath your shirt.

"it felt more than good" you replied with hitching breath, your throbbing cunt exposed completely to the reflection in the mirror, "i just-".

"i can keep on making you feel good, angel" he mumbled against your ear, your whole body covering on goosebumps, "may i?"

with no inhibitions or shyness, you nodded almost too eagerly. you stood up from his lap, fixing your skirt and your blouse. he stood up immediately after you, revealing something that you were not prepared to see.

he was big. maybe too big.

he smiled while he saw your gaze fixed on his growing bulge, "you caused this, angel".

you raised your eyes to meet his, his penetrative glance telling you more than his words could ever say. his body approached yours, his desperate hands removing the rest of your articles of clothing until the very last one, leaving you completely naked in front of him and the mirror.

and, even when he was the first person to ever see you like this, you felt far from shy.

the way he looked at you with such lustful eyes made you feel proud, for an unknown reason. his hungry eyes traveling along your body only confirmed the statement he spitted earlier that day: women were also a temptation.

but that didn't matter now, when you were completely naked and at his mercy, ready to take anything and everything he was about to give you.

"do you have any idea how many times i thought of you like this?" he asked you, pulling your naked body against his while his bulge made pressure on your lower abdomen and your hardened nipples grazed against the rough fabric of his shirt, "do you have any idea how many times i came with the thought of your pretty body underneath me begging for me to fuck it and use it?"

the words he used made your thigh squeeze together, such filthy sentences coming from such pretty lips only reminded you of how tempting lee minho was.

"you have no idea, angel".

"why don't you-" you mumbled, "why don't you show me?"

he gave you a soft smile, withdrawing your body from him while he undressed for you. his soft skin looked extremely appealing, a caramel shade. on his abs there was a small scar, maybe too small to be perceived with a quick glance but, if anything, it only made his body ten times more attractive.

removing his pants and underwear, there was the thing you had been anticipating the most. and as soon as you saw him in its entirety, the walls inside your cunt clenched around absolutely nothing.

"get on the bed angel" he ordered, "can you do that?"

you followed his command with no hesitation, laying down on the bed while you opened your legs for him, holding both of your thighs with your hands. he smiled at the realization that he didn't even had to ask you for you to spread your legs. your body instinctively did it.

"are you sure you want this?" minho asked with a raspy voice, his eyes fixed on your dripping cunt. you didn't took long to reply with a subtle nod, your heart racing at ten miles per hour once you saw his firm body leaning against yours. "it might hurt a little bit, but i know you can take it, angel".

and, with that being said, a painful pressure against your tight entrance was quick to appear, followed by a loud groaned from minho himself.

"oh-" you whimpered, closing your legs around him while he slowly thrusted himself deep inside you, "it hurts-".

"shhhhhhh" he whispered, his whole body resting on his forearms while he enjoyed the delicious feeling of your tight, weak walls clenching around his cock, "you can take it all the way in".

you closed your eyes and arched your back against the mattress, the strange feeling of his length inside you making you cry a tear or two because of the pain.

"you are doing so. so. well" he panted, both of your bodies meeting again once his cock was buried deep inside your tight hole, "my angel".

you opened your eyes slightly, finding minho's eyes already fixed on yours. he was too attractive, too seductive. the way he breathed, the grimaces of pleasure he made and the way small groans escaped from his lips each time you clenched around him were enough stimuli for you to start feeling more pleasure than pain, your hips moved in circles against minho as a way to tell him that you were completely ready to take him.

"my pretty angel," he grunted, looking at how your body reacted to him, "so desperate to have me already?"

"i am sorry" you apologized shyly, feeling both aroused and pathetic.

"don't be" he mumbled, pulling himself out of you only to thrust his length in you again, earning another whimper from you, "it turns me on, seeing how desperate you are for me".

his hips started to acquire a pace and, honestly, you would be lying if it said it didn't hurt. but as soon as you felt his thumb rubbing your clit in circles, the now very familiar sensation started to build inside you again.

"look at how well you take my cock inside that pretty cunt of yours" minho praised, his eyes lost in the way your breast bounced every time he pounded his cock inside you, "you clench around me like you had been dreaming of this exact moment for months now, haven't you?"

your cheeks started to feel warmer after such an statement, knowing that it was true. no matter how hard you tried to push those thoughts away on your daily basis, they always came back at night, when you were asleep.

"m-more" you moaned, your hips rolling against his with soft movements in an attempt to intensify the sensations even more.

"you want me to go slower?" he teased, the movement of his hips decreasing dramatically while you whined.

"n-no, please" you begged, your glossy eyes looking directly at him, "faster"

"you want me to go faster?" he queried, "is my angel needy for my cock?"

you nodded without giving him a proper answer. still, your fucked out eyes and your trembling body said anything he needed to know at that point.

and, after teasing you for a while, he finally gave you what you wanted. matching the pace of his hips with the one on his digits, the familiar warmth inside you started to spread rapidly throught your whole body, the electricity traveling from your head to the tip of your toes.

"i feel it again" you cried, closing your legs around his hips, "god, it feels more intense".

"take me" he groaned, leaning into tour body slightly while still caressing your bundle of nerves, "take everything i am giving you and show me how much you are enjoying it".

and as a reflex, you arched your back. minho's soft lips went immediately after one of your hardened buds, sucking and licking on them while your hands traveled all the way to his dark hair.

"minho" you cried, all the overwhelming sensation becoming one, "don't stop, please, don't stop, don't -"

the dark-haired smirked against your breasts, realizing who he turned you into.

someone with no inhibitions, someone who would rather think with her impulses rather than her head. from being a religious, pure college student to a needy, hungry cockslut... he felt proud both of you and what he did.

it was beautiful to see you let go like this, specially when it was for him.

"minho, i am cumming" you cried, arching your back while his hips aggressively bucked into yours, the pace of his fingers against your clit making you shake uncontrollably under him.

"keep going" he groaned, still fucking your cunt, "keep cumming around my cock".

and as you predicted, that orgasm was ten times more intense than your first and previous one.

you clenched around him several times before falling into overstimulation, your vulnerable body crying everytime minho's cock reached the special spot that helped you approach your high the previous times.

he wasn't far from his orgasm as well, but he needed to imprint your image on his brain, in case this was the last time he was going to see you like this.

and only after a few seconds, his cock started to twitch inside of you, warning him that he was just as close to his release.

with a swift movement he pulled himself out of you, milking his cock until the very last drop. your naked abdomen and breasts suddenly became stained with his hot arousal, making the pure and innocent image slowly fade away until it was converted into your pretty body all fucked dumb and covered with his own cum.

such a pleasent sight for a filthy act.

There is an old saying German people use when they talk about relationships, something a lot of people have made to their mantra. In fact, there are probably millions of similar sayings in other languages which sound much more melodious than the German version, but 'Man sieht sich immer zweimal im Leben' pretty much summed up the situation you had found yourself in once you entered the capacious ballroom of the Kim family.

You always meet twice in life, though the meaning of this saying depends entirely on the other person, because who wouldn't be delighted to unexpectedly see someone they liked again? For someone you had parted with on bad terms however, someone whose name you had rather scratched out and incended until it burned into brittle pieces, this saying would be a threat. And indeed it was.

Essentially, it was a threat you hated to see turning into brutal reality, but as you neared the grand gate embellished with ridiculously kitschy ornaments meant to attract admirers and lowly outsiders of the elite, there was no turning back anymore. This was the point of no return, the official end of your cowardice. Or maybe more like the beginning of the end.

Kim Manor was as pretentious yet fascinating as its owners, a real feast for the eyes (all three of them) but not necessarily a delight for the heart considering the not-exactly-like-a-punch-in-your-face-but-definitely-like-a-confident-nudge air of superiority Mr, Mrs and their son Kim Seungmin liked to demonstrate to anyone who was unlucky enough to be in their presence. They were despicable, to put it simple, but money tended to do that to people. That didn't mean the heir of the family wasn't a great friend and source of information, though, because despite everything that happened two years ago, reuniting with him was worrying you significantly less than a reunion with the rest of the sociétée, especially less than seeing a certain someone again.

What could be said about you, at this point, was that you were a coward. A great coward to be exact; a coward extraordinaire to make it sound more fancy. When danger doomed you took your leave without a glance back, when feelings threatened to grow roots you ripped them out and disposed of them at lightning speed; you really were not the best when it came to relationships. You never dared to walk your own path, nor did you dare to say anything against the path you followed under parental supervision, at least not until three years ago.

Three years ago, you ran.

Away from home, away from your pathetic attempt at being the model daughter you were expected to be, and far, far away from the only person who made your upper class misery bearable. Would anyone other than a coward throw everything away the way you did? You doubted it. But now you were back, although the terms under which you had returned were debatably voluntary.

Whether you were here out of your free will or not didn’t matter much right now, however, because all you had to do now was smile and be pretty for the countless abominable attendees of tonight’s soirée. A six hour act of bliss, nothing easier than that. You were used to this lifestyle and a three year interval of sweet independence unfortunately didn’t let you forget your etiquette, hence your graceful poise. See, you knew how to act, and therefore your mother’s side eye and your father’s furrowed brow were completely gratuitous as you mounted the marble stairs with your navy blue gown gathered carefully in your hand. Why bother educating a child when all you do is doubt them in the end, really?

As always, your arrival was fashionably late. Your stomach thanked your parents seeing that you were greeted by the savory smell of various delicacies you reluctantly had to admit you were glad to consume again, and as if on cue a charming waiter offered you a small tray with an abundance of infinitesimal bits of fish and egg. Maybe it wasn’t as filling as a caesar salad, but for nostalgia’s sake it sure was worth it.

Most people were standing at high tables with a glass of prosecco in their hand, chatting about hot air and insipid company deals while their eyes scrutinized every single other person for potential flaws to mention in their flavorless small talk in hope of spicing it up, though they had to content themselves with the occasional fashion faux pas or unfortunate hairstyle. Rich people were bland yet greedy for gossip, but there wasn’t much to talk about them if you didn’t want to mention their wealth in every second sentence. They were undoubtedly all full of flaws, but those weren’t worth mentioning for people of the same calibre. Nobody wanted to talk about his own faults anyway.

Your parents went off to greet their colleagues and friends to boast about their success with their newest company merger, and you made a beeline for the bar. You had a certain hunch that Seungmin would be occupied with blurring his senses for the remainder of the night, if he was still as bored during soirées as you remembered, and honestly a drink didn’t sound too bad to you either. Tonight would be long, so why should you be so reckless as to witness this torture in a sober state when the hosts’ son himself was most likely getting drunk this minute? Besides, maybe a bit of liquid courage wouldn’t be too bad if you ended up doing what you intended to do when you agreed to accompanying your parents to the manor. The bar wasn’t even ten feet away now.

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned, please.”

“Make that two, Jeongin. I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now.”

You felt a warm hand land on your shoulder before you turned to the owner of the cheerful voice, void of arrogance but instead full of wonder as you looked up at the brunette in front of you. He had grown muscles, chest broad and solid just like his arms which were squeezing you for a jovial hug before he released you with an incredulous smile.

“What are you doing here? I thought I’d seen the last of you three years ago, man! It’s good to see you, Y/N,” Seungmin greeted, and you couldn’t help but grin at the child-like expression on his face. Almost as if Santa Claus arrived in June.

“Glad to see you too, Seungmin, you look great,” you told him as you reached out for the glasses the bartender was handing over to you, thanking the young man before you turned to your friend again. “Never picked you for such a gym freak, but can’t say it looks bad on you. How’s everything been? Still trying to take over your dad’s firm?”

He rolled his eyes at your jab. “The old man is terribly stubborn, but I’m making progress. He appointed me Vize-Chairman last month, if that’s what you’re wondering. Otherwise, everything’s right where you left it. These events still stink, and I still can’t stand your son of a bitch boy-”

He cleared his throat to distract from the growing blush on his cheeks, and you were decent enough to ignore his mistake.

“I mean, there are still some people I’d like to drive over with my AMG. Not that you asked about that, of course. Hungry?”

You liked that about Seungmin. He was easy to talk to because it never went deeper than his current fixation on his obnoxious father, and he never pressed you to reveal more than you felt comfortable with. He read social cues like novels and even if he happened to screw up like earlier, he was quick enough to distract from it. In other words, he was the perfect conversation partner for cowards like you.

“Immensely. I heard you’re serving salmon? What’s the occasion for tonight anyway?”

“Who cares? It’s a reason to get drunk off our asses as long as we’re subtle about it, that’s all that matters, baby. I’m getting you something to eat, you stay where you are.”

“Don’t get distracted, my stomach’s killing me!”

Seungmin left with an arm half raised to wave your concerns off, then disappeared between tuxedos and ball gowns like a magician hiding behind curtains. You could only hope he would be back fast enough before you were forced to flirt with a waiter to get a plate.

Luckily, the high table you had occupied while you waited was safely remote from nosy guests who could pester you with inquisitions, because if there was one thing you hated, it was talking about yourself. Not your real self, you didn't mind talking about your interests and goals and whatnot, but what the average snob had in mind as soon as he approached another supposed snob was nothing other than the general information they could have very well looked up on the internet. Yet nobody bothered doing their research because they actually didn't care, though of course they couldn't admit that to their counterpart. And so they'd begin, 'How have you been?' , 'That a dress from the newest Hermès collection?' , 'Any plans to change the company?' Yada yada yada. Occasionally, you'd be asked about a potential partner to make the conversation seem more personal, but every party knew it was nothing but. You were sick of it.

But to your relief, there was none of that. Some might describe it as the calm before the storm, to sound more dramatic, or simply as a fortunate break. Be that as it may, it didn't last longer than five minutes, though it certainly was not Seungmin's light voice you heard calling for you. Nor was it the bartender's.

It was him.

"Oh my, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter returning from her helltrip," you heard him sneer, and you could perfectly imagine every single wrinkle on his face as his scrutiny hit your ears.

Slowly, because you couldn't trust your legs not to run away just yet, you turned around to see a couple standing just a few feet behind you, the woman next to him unfamiliar to you. Unfamiliar, but admittedly pretty. Even impressively so, with her full blonde mane falling in graceful waves down to her waist, eyes almost literally glowing thanks to the intricate patterns on her lids. You noticed her cream dress almost perfectly blended in with his suit, but it was his cream tie and pocket square that made you hold in your breath. It was weird seeing him so prim and proper for a change.

“Minho.”

You knew it was part of etiquette to greet each other with a kiss to both cheeks, you grew up to hate these customs after all, but it still felt foreign to be this close to him all of a sudden again. He swiftly embraced you, effectively enveloping you in his heavy cologne. You recognized it as the one you got him for his birthday several years ago, though you chose not to think about it for too long. So what if he liked the scent you chose for him?

"I’m glad you’re here again."

He was wearing his I’d-kill-to-be-anywhere-but-here smile. You were used to it, there had been plenty of occasions where he would display it during events like these, but never once had you been on the receiving end of it. Not until now, at least. But there was a first time for everything, as boring old people would say.

“You don’t really look like it,” you mused with a smile resembling the one you were faced with right now, and you watched it morph into a wicked grin. He shook his head as he chuckled, taking several steps back until he stood next to the still nameless beauty.

“What can I say, I’ve never been much of a liar. Why are you here?”

That was more like him; straight to the point with an arrogant edge to his voice. It made you smile in genuity despite the pang you felt in your heart when he squinted at you with distaste, and for the first time since your arrival you felt alive again. The circumstances were far from favourable and actually disheartening if one knew about the history between you both, but the mere sight of him gave you more than three years of “involuntary exile” ever could have given you. Lee Minho, it seemed, was still the bane of your existence.

Because of you, was what you wanted to say, although you weren’t as delusional and flamboyant as to blurt that out without thinking. It would be highly inappropriate given the circumstances, and unlike Minho you were quite a skilled liar. You excelled in hiding the truth, though it was questionable for you if that was a gift to be proud of since retrospectively speaking, it brought more trouble than blessings. But you needed to lie nevertheless.

“I’ve been...asked to return. And I thought a soirée at Seungmin’s would be a good opportunity for a ‘comeback’, if you can call it that. Dunno if I’ll stay much longer though,” you said as you lost yourself in your thoughts. His presence was making you feel dizzy, the presence of the pretty blonde next to him caused an unknown heat to bloom within you, spreading up to your fingertips. This was not what you expected when you agreed to join your parents, not at all.

What struck you even more, though, was that neither him nor the girl bothered to mention her name. You weren’t in the mood for small talk, but it was basic decency to introduce yourself to someone new, right? If Miss Smokey Eyes wasn’t opening her mouth, you’d have to make her open it, so you momentarily tore your eyes from the raven haired man next to her. The latter, however, interrupted you before you could even start.

“That’s too bad,” he said, though his tone made you doubt the authenticity of his statement. “Anyway, I guess we’ll take a leave now, I promised dear Yua here a room tour, you see.”

So Yua was her name. It suited the beauty, but your mind was wrapped more around the slender hand circling her waist than the melodious sound of her name as of now, and then around the flirty wink he shot towards her, making your heart throb just as much as hers probably, but for a completely different reason. Yua, huh.

“Welcome back to the hellhole, though, you’re free to leave whenever you want. I heard you liked travelling,” he jabbed at you once he guided Yua towards the exit of the hall, turning his lean body just enough to sneer at you one last time. Then he turned back, and for the first time you heard his partner’s light, bubbly voice. She was giggling.

This was much worse than you thought it would be. In fact, your expectations were promptly crushed the second he began speaking to you, it got even worse when your voice refused to come out for a snarky comeback, but his blond arm candy was the cherry on top. Of course he hated you, he kinda had every right to, but you frankly still never expected it to go this way. And you thought yourself to be a realist.

“What a-”

“Son of a bitch, right?”

You turned around for the millionth time tonight, but let out a sigh of relief when you were met with Seungmin’s sympathetic smile. He put a plate of fuming hot lemon-roasted salmon on the high table you had been rooted at for the last fifteen minutes and handed you a shining set of cutlery before he gave you an amical pat to your shoulder. You didn’t pay much mind to it once your eyes landed on the dish, though, because after that disaster of a conversation, there wasn’t much that could help soothe your worries other than good old food. And as the daughter of a filthily rich entrepreneur couple, your comfort food exceeded the levels of the average person’s cravings. Salmon just happened to always be there for you, just like now.

“I dunno what his mother has got to do with whatever the hell this just was,” you grumbled while attacking the feeble leaves of escarole decorating the china plate. “But what happened to him? The Minho I knew never spoke with so much pettiness, hell he never even did so much as smirk! And who’s the blondie? Can’t believe she got him to match clothes for heaven’s sake, absolutely incredible if you ask me...”

Seungmin shrank under your heated rant and furious hacking on your plate, hands subtly searching for your knife to secure it for his own sake (because how could he be sure the three years outside of sophisticated society didn’t turn you into a homicidal savage?) before clearing his throat. “Honestly, I never understood what you liked about him. But I guess you leaving him without so much as a text message really broke him, or something like that. Why did you leave, anyway?”

“It’s complicated, to sum it up. Besides, I don’t think you really want to know, it’s too boring of a story anyway.”

Kim Seungmin was tolerable and polite at most, but he was far from being a confidante. Next thing you knew your cowardice would cover all tabloids, or even worse, your parents would find out, and there was absolutely nothing good coming from your parents’ knowledge about your lovelife. Was there ever?

“If you say so.”

Your friend was also quite easily convinced, which was why a single sentence from you managed to appease his curiosity almost instantly. With a careless shrug, he finally handed you back your knife and dug in himself; it was the city’s most popular chef’s dish and he had been waiting all night for a taste after all.

"Does he still dance?"

Seungmin looked as if he were about to tell you there was hardly anything he cared less about than Lee Minho's favorite pastime on Fridays, but a quirk of your brow held him up.

"He never stopped."

Minho praised himself to be undeterred under any circumstances, but there was one variable he kept overlooking. Despite his poise and apparent coldness, it was you who made him stir once again, just like years ago. He was no stranger to your charms, by far not, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get angry with himself when he felt his heart palpitating rapidly at the sight of you.

You looked different; your hair cut to a different length and your choice of clothes less scandalous than just a few years ago, yet he couldn’t help but find even your simple a-line dress perfectly fitting for you, despite the fact that he used to love how you liked to provoke your parents with low cuts and tight skirts when you were a teen. Adulthood looked great on you, to say the least. Almost too great.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was furious after seeing you, and he had to resist the urge to order one of the hard liquors as a means of distraction, because he couldn’t afford to get drunk tonight. He’d promised Yua to personally drive her home, and as much as he regretted his decision right now, he wasn’t one to go back on his word.

And so he led her out of the hall, pretending to guide her until he was out of your sight before he released her from his hold and let his arm dive into the pocket of his tuxedo instead. With a sigh, he leaned against one of the large pillars holding up the ceiling of Kim Manor. It looked like an embarrassing knock-off of an ancient Greek temple, but people usually praised the building for its elegance, admiring the marble stone and shining ornaments. It was easy to blend people with a bit of gold and ivory, but Lee Minho was not one of them. He despised the building and everyone in it.

“Now sweetheart, I’m sorry for letting you down but our room tour is unfortunately cancelled. I don’t even know where the restroom is, so you won’t have much fun with me,” he drawled, taking out his phone to check his notifications.

He was tagged in several selfies for fame, but none of the people he was tagged by interested him that much; one of them happened to be standing right in front of him. She crossed her arms with her lips pursed, and he instantly knew this was the sign of a nuisance arriving. Maybe he should have come alone tonight after all, though the look on your face when you saw the blonde redeemed his decision in the end. It had been a small triumph, at the very least.

“You are driving me home, right? You promised you would, if you forgot.”

“Of course I didn’t, I never forget promises,” he soothed her worries. “We’ll leave right now, don’t worry.” And there, she smiled again. It was funny to see her so relieved and enthusiastic about leaving, but it only played into his hands tonight, so he pushed himself off the pillar and led the way out.

“Who was she, by the way? And don’t try to make some shit up, I saw the way you looked at each other back there. There has to be some kind of spicy history between you and her, an ex maybe? Or an affair? She looked pretty livid to see you with me, I almost apologized, goodness.” The girl babbled and conspired to no end, brewing up scenarios like the screenwriter of a telenovela without exhaustion, but Minho didn’t pay her attention anymore. He was brewing his own scenarios at the same time, though the ones he had were centered around a more peaceful period of his life, just when he had met you.

“An ex? Don’t kid yourself,” he scoffed then, a dry chuckle leaving his lips. “That would at least give a name to what we were before. There’s no description for her and me.”

At least, you hadn’t been kind enough to give him one, though he liked to call it an almost. An almost something, a maybe, or perhaps just a fever dream, but he could still feel your lips on his nevertheless. Though stronger than that were the pictures of the day he had met you, pictures which wouldn’t stop filling his mind no matter how strong he tried to struggle against them. All he could do was watch and dive into bitterness.

He was a freshman in uni back then, and as you would expect a freshman in uni to be, he had nothing but bullshit in his head. Trying out drinks and secretly buying weed from the guy sitting at the very back in his Gen Ed class were things he had already done during the first few weeks after entering college, and being the son of a renowned gourmet chef and an accomplished designer had its perks when it came to connections too. Not one club had dared to reject him, even if the bouncers were known to be unrelenting towards most, but Minho had always been luck in person, he’d always been invincible.

Nevertheless, as son of a renowned gourmet chef and an accomplished designer, there were plenty of events to attend at every god given day and to his dismay at nights as well, and not even being luck in person could save him from the miserable boredom of conversing with snobby pretentious people who only invaded his space for a trophy (a selfie or an autograph, depending on their ressources and his temper) and proceeded to ignore him right afterwards. In short, Minho was plagued with fame, though he wasn’t as naïve as not to take advantage of it.

That soirée at Kim Minju’s house was extravagant so far, which was to be expected by the lively star designer, but after the third round of golden glitter rain and champagne showers, he decidedly had enough of it. There were at least four hours more to go, and even more patience to be gathered if he didn’t want to die of boredom now, which meant only one thing: he needed a distraction.

He was currently stuck, however, because he was held off by the host herself who ushered him to have a drink with her, and who was he to decline the lady? She was bubbly and honestly quite adorable for someone who could almost be his mother, though the things she talked about were slowly but surely boring him to an excruciating death the longer her voice drilled into his ear. With an occasional nod, he signalled his attention while his eyes desperately searched for an escape from the never-ending well of words. A danceable song instead of the idle piano solo, a broken glass he needed to help clean up, his parents calling for him or maybe even-

“Has anyone seen a necklace?”

Now this was ideal.

There you were, eyes squinted as you mustered the horrible flower pattern on Ms Kim’s carpet which probably cost more than the jewellery you had bought your necklace in the first place, and Minho wanted to kiss you right then and there. As a thank you for giving him the opportunity to ditch, of course. At a second glance, your lips did look plenty kissable, but that was probably the alcohol and the too high dose of testosterone in his system talking, and he was quick to snap back to his ‘conversation’ with Ms Kim.

“I’m terribly sorry, Ms Kim,” he apologized in the most genuine tone he could muster up, “But it seems like my help is needed. It was nice talking to you though, I’ll make sure to read up on Frida Kahlo one time!”

“That’s alright dear, there is plenty of time to talk later. She a friend of yours?”

Her question was legitimate, but it still stung because he’d have to lie somehow that you were not just a mere acquaintance he only knew the name of. Though, he’d rather lie than be stuck in an involuntary lesson about surrealism, so why not amp it up a little?

He made a bold move towards you and showed his most convincing grin to the host of the night. “In fact, she’s my girlfriend. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to look for her necklace before the party is over, it’s a family heirloom, you see.”

The woman nodded slowly, eyes half closing as she gullibly uttered her purest understanding for the most ridiculously made up story he could ever have come up with, and it could have gone perfectly if it wasn’t for you. That was the first time he had underrated your effect on him.

“I have no idea what he is talking about, Ms Kim, but as long as he’s helping me I’m happy to kidnap him for a while. I hope you don’t mind,” you mused with a suspicious look thrown at him, but you still didn’t decline his offer. He really was luck in person, it seemed.

"No, no my dear, you just go and find that necklace of yours. And tell me if I can be of any help, of course!"

"Thanks, Ms K, you're the best!"

Easy, see? There was seriously nothing Lee Minho couldn't luck out of, and now it even got him a pretty little fake girlfriend who was probably going to kick him very hard into a very vulnerable area considering the death stare you were giving his arm boldly placed around your shoulders. And because Minho actually cared a great deal about his ability to get children in the future (believe it or not, he had a soft spot for the little demons), he let go of you the second you reached the safe space of an empty corridor, taking a few steps away from your very much menacing black high heel.

"You do realize you can't just claim a random girl as your girlfriend just because you feel like sneaking off, right?"

"Oh, but I just did," he replied with a grin, "And you're not a random girl either."

Minho watched your brows knit together with amused fascination, the kind you have when you watch an angry kitten try to jump on a sideboard that's four times the size of the poor thing, and waited for your comeback. Which took its time, because your lips were still sealed as you tilted your head.

"Whatever," you sighed then, shrugging. “Are you gonna help me find my necklace or was that also just a part of your act? Because if yes, I’m just gonna go now and look for it myself.”

You were already turning your back to him on your way to the main hall, but he managed to hold you up with a loose grip on your wrist, soft eyes scanning your face for any sign of real anger. They came up empty except for the slight irritation heating your breath, and so he let go again.

“I never go back on my word, you know? So let’s look for it together, four eyes are evidently better than two and mine are of top quality, just letting you know.”

That was a shameless lie, he couldn’t see shit without his lenses but you didn't have to know that, at least. All you needed to know was that he was willing to help you, and you sure seemed to buy it after all, considering the suspicion slowly fading away from your features to make space for a beautiful smile as the corners of your lips curved up just the right amount to lift your cheeks and squeeze your eyes. A Duchenne smile? Sweet.

“Alright,” you gave in. “I think I lost it somewhere close to the buffet but only took notice of it after stuffing my face with shrimp salad, although I don’t regret doing that, to be honest. Have you tried the food here? I heard it’s from a star cook, or something like that.”

He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling, but he caught himself before you could think he was ridiculing you. “I think I heard a word or two about him, he’s pretty well-known around here.”

Thankfully, the area was not as stuffed with people as it had been an hour ago, and so you began searching tables, chairs, decorations and the floor for what you told him was a silver Swarovski necklace with the characteristic swan pendant; a gift from your mother.

“She’s not the giving presents type of mother, so I’m kinda attached to it,” you had said, and Minho knew what the look in your eyes meant: desperation.

He was familiar with it from personal experience, which made him want to help you all the more, because honestly your smile suited you much more than your current expression. And so he trained his eyes even more, until finally, he discovered a fine silver chain lurking between a small pile of purses and phones on one of the tables nearby. He’d found it.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You perked up at the sound of your name, fluster visible in your features at the realization that he actually knew your name. (It wasn’t necessary for you to know he had only found out through an Instagram post on stupid Kim ‘If-you-don’t-do-as-I-say-I’ll-tell-mommy’ Seungmin’s account, he decided.) “Hm?”

“I think I found it.”

Hurrying, you walked towards the table he was standing at and examined his discovery, only to show him a bright smile of relief yet again, hand on your chest as you sighed heavily. “I almost thought I’d lost it forever, shit. Thank you so much, really.”

“No problem, I’m glad I could help. Besides, I owed you for letting me use you as an excuse earlier, so we’re even.” Granted, calling you his girlfriend hadn’t been necessary at all, but he’d never been the best liar. Lying was something for people with less extravagance, and Minho was nothing but.

“Yeah, I still think that was uncalled for, but whatever,” you argued, though you didn’t actually look that vexed about it at all. “Next time you do that, give me a warning, at least. Or just never do it again, that’d work too.”

“Noted. Want me to put your necklace on for you?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have been that forward after all. You took a step away from him, eyes darting around everywhere but his line of vision, unsure. Almost like a deer caught in headlights, only that this deer was wearing a violet lace dress that probably cost a whole forest of deers and a matching set of jewelry. Except for the necklace that was still in his hold.

“Uh, sure?”

You stepped closer then, flooding him in the light odor of oranges and cinnamon as you did, and turned your back to him. With deft hands, Minho opened the chain and made sure the pendant was facing the right way before he carefully closed the clasp around your neck, making you let out a hiss against your will when the cold metal hit your skin.

“There, done. I must say your mother has great taste, it suits you a lot,” he uttered when you turned to face him again, and he prayed with all his might that he was just imagining the heat creeping into his face. He couldn’t afford blushing in front of a girl after merely putting a necklace on her, he wasn’t a loser, goodness.

But then why couldn’t he take his eyes off you?

“She is quite fashionable,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, fingers playing with the small pendant just above your clavicle. “I’ll be off then, my parents are probably looking for me by now. See you?”

“Sure. I don’t think you’ll be able to live without your handsome, lovely fake boyfriend from now on, so you can expect to see me very soon.”

Your laughter rippled through the room when he winked at you, making you shake your head in disbelief at his audacity. He liked the sound it made, but even more the effect he already had on you; it gave him hope he wasn’t the only one feeling some kind of connection already. And something about your coy smile told him he was not delusional for once.

“Well then, see you around, babe,” you teased as you turned to the exit. “I’ll miss you terribly!”

And then you were gone, vanished like lavender in an abyss of gold and black.

That was the day he fell in love.

“God, you're so dramatic sometimes.”

Minho startled, suddenly snapping back from the involuntary time travel through his memories only to see his blond companion for the night impatiently waiting for him to enter his car.

“Are we driving home or what?”

He hated the effect you were having on him again already.

The subtle building of Seoul Dance Center hadn’t changed one bit since you left the country three years ago. It still looked as clean and sleek as always, deluding outsiders to think nothing much of it, even though it harbored the country’s most promising dancers ever since its foundation. You had seen every crevice of its interior as a teen, always watching from the very back when you came to visit, and it was safe to say you had only seen grace walking across the studio’s lacquered floor.

Grace, better known as Lee Minho, was just as delightful to observe as always.

With light feet, he flitted across the floor, turning and swinging to a sweet pianoforte playing through the stereo system on the wall. He moved with ease, as if he were born to do so, and you found yourself mesmerized as you slowly sunk against the wall you were watching him from. He couldn’t see you, thankfully, because he was too immersed in his work, and you had carefully tucked yourself into a less obvious corner so you weren’t easily discovered. It was childish of you to hide like this, you were aware of that, but what other choice were you left with? There was no way he’d let you even close to the studio, yet you needed to talk to him, bad blood or not. There would be plenty of time to kick you out afterwards.

Suddenly, the music ceased.

“What are you doing here?”

So much about being hidden. You immediately straightened your back when he turned to you, trying but failing to suppress your fidgeting hands. It was a nervous tick, the way you cracked your knuckles, and he was most likely well aware of your jittery state but if he was, he chose not to change his demeanor the slightest bit. Instead, he stepped even closer, brows knitted tightly as he glared at you.

“Minho,” you said, voice hoarse all of a sudden. “I’d figured you’d be here. Can we talk?”

He scoffed as he crossed his toned arms. “Certainly not. What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

Well, he was right about that, you couldn’t exactly blame him. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t keep trying, at least. “I know you’re mad at me and you obviously have every right to, but-”

“Mad at you? Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” he snarled, “I haven’t felt a damn thing ever since you decided to go on ghost mode without even bothering to call me, alright? I’ve turned numb, thanks to you, but you wouldn’t care about that now would you?”

You gulped.

“Yeah, I thought so. Why would you, anyway? As long as it doesn’t concern yourself it suddenly becomes irrelevant to you, so why did I even expect you to think about me for a second? I must have been out of my mind,” he chuckled, his sinister laugh cutting you into pieces the longer he talked. “So no, princess, I’m not mad at you. You can go now.”

He was fully aware of what that name meant to you, there was no doubt about it. And yet he had deliberately used it against you, with an edge so sharp you couldn’t believe it was Minho who was in front of you right now. The Minho you knew had been sassy, sure, but his words never bore harm. But this Minho was different. Vexing.

“Look,” you persisted. “I’m terribly sorry for just leaving like this, okay? Believe me, there was nothing I wanted to do more than stay with you, honestly, but do you think I had a choice? They caught me slacking off, neglecting my studies and whatnot because I started to have my own priorities, things I was ready to sacrifice this whole lifestyle for.”

You didn’t have to elaborate on who ‘they’ were, nor on your priorities. Both you and him knew that it was Minho.

“And when push comes to shove, my parents always choose the more drastic method, we both know that. Sending me abroad, making me change my major, that’s a piece of cake for people like them, just because they can. Minho believe me, I’m so sorry,” you croaked.

Minho didn’t look convinced.

“I can’t really believe someone who kept quiet about something like this for three years, Y/N. I’m sorry, too.”

He left you then, broad shoulders tense as he retrieved his duffel bag from the floor and slid through the glass door, without a glance back. Your eyes felt glossy as you let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding and slumped against the wooden studio wall, but you didn’t let yourself sob just yet.

Being kicked out of the studio wouldn't have hurt this much.

"Y/N, dear, what do you think of Chan?"

If it was common courtesy not to speak about a person who could be found in the exact same room, merely ten feet away, this rule did not, apparently, apply to your mother. She did have the decency to lower her voice to a faint whisper, to be fair, but the not so subtle tilt of her head towards the man in question generously made up for it. It was pure luck he didn't see her.

"I doubt my personal opinion will matter, Mom," you whispered back, eyes focused on the mustard coloured handkerchief you had carefully splayed on your lap. You loved Korean homemade food, but you really didn't need it to taint your cream dress tonight; it would only give your parents more opportunities to belittle your lacking manners in front of the small group of the elite of the company.

"I'm asking because I care about your opinion of course, sweetie."

You highly doubted that too, but decided not to say it aloud. Both you and your mother knew how invaluable your opinion was to your parents (especially concerning the company), so there was no need arguing about it anymore. You'd done lots of that in the past, which in the end had resulted in a three-year 'voyage' to Japan which could have very much been described as a try-out for hell. Even if you did miss the freedom you had there (because hell there was nothing compared to the inferno you knew you'd be facing once you turned back), leaving home and certain people for a second time wasn't as attractive anymore, and so you kept quiet and nodded in mock understanding.

"He's a decent man, mother. It was a good choice to hire him considering his influence on the company's success throughout the last years, so naturally I respect him very much for that."

Read: Bang Christopher Chan; an idol, a genius and, not to forget, your parents' son they never had. With the charm of a Golden Retriever and the work ethic of, say, a Rottweiler, this man was one, an excellent employee and two, your worst nightmare. To clear any misconceptions up; you didn't have anything against Chan, at least nothing personal. You just had everything against the way your parents seemed to forget ever having reproduced their own child whenever this gold bar of a man stepped into the building, making you question why on earth you were even urged to comply with anything your parents said when Chan ended up as their target of affection in the first place. Yes you were envious and yes, it was childish of you. But envy did that to people.

"Very nice words indeed", your mother chirped, excitement glowing in her features like little things did. In fact, you only ever remembered her looking like this when her late father had died (a hatred against parental figures had always run deep in your family, as well as the common trait of treating your children like gnat shit). "It seems like we were not mistaken in our choice to appoint you as speech giver for next month's banquet. You'll give a great disquisition for dear Channie after your father appoints him as his successor, certainly."

Pause. Rewind.

"Father will do what?"

She tilted her head to the side as if your alarmed tone was hard to interpret. "He'll give Chan the position of Vice Chairman of course. Didn't you know? We've been preparing for this for almost a year now, honey."

Now this was a new low, even for them.

Of course, it would be weird of you to be moved by this. You allegedly hated everything and anything related to your parents' business as a rule, including the employees that made up the hell place and you most certainly did, without a doubt.

But a truth which weighed heavier than any personal bias was the fact that you had been working for this damned company for the better part of two years now, right after being forced to change your major into a more "business appropriate" one, one that did not ask of you to analyse a Gothic painting, but to keep track of deposits and payouts and whatever the hell else an enterprise needed attending for. And had you done just that? You did. With not only a broken will, but a shattered heart too, you had accepted to leave home to change, for the better of your company, or for the childish hope for parental approval or maybe for both, but you had done it nevertheless.

All that only to have the ultimate gratification snatched away from you by a man who most unfortunately deserved it just as much, though that didn't make you feel the slightest bit better, if you were being honest. You were, more or less understandably, pissed beyond reason, your eyelid subtly twitching as your smile froze.

The mustard tissue crumpled in your hard grip, wrinkling to a huddled ball of heavy cloth as your hands curled into fists underneath the table cloth, but you managed not to lose composure just yet.

"I guess the news didn't make it to Japan in time, otherwise I would have congratulated dear Chan months ago," you chuckled dryly. "And I most certainly wouldn't have come back either, seeing that my parents, funnily enough, forgot about me yet again. I've had enough of your bullshit, Mom."

"Y/N, that's no way of speaking!"

"And I don't give a damn," you chirped at last, shrugging when your father attempted to stand up from his chair with a glare you presumed was meant to scare you. It didn't, which made you let out a mental sigh of relief.

You merely gave him a wicked grin before you stood up, grabbed your purse and stormed off, leaving the group of sorry socialites in their dinky private dinner room.

It was safe to say you had just disowned yourself within a matter of three minutes, which surely had to give you bonus points somewhere in the Hall of Unruly Children, but you'd have to collect those one other time.

Right now, you felt like retching your soul out.

"I'm telling you, the chicks in normal clubs are so much more interesting than this high society shit!"

It wasn't even ten p.m. yet, and Han Jisung was already whining. Not that Minho wasn't used to his best friend's rather sensitive make-up; there was honestly not a day that went by without complaints, and the rowdy brunette was impressively creative to put it simply. It could be the rain, or the sun hitting his face a bit too harshly from a certain angle, or even his feet being suffocated in his shoes (it surprisingly didn't matter which kind of shoe), but tonight it evidently was the scandalous difference between a prestigious VIP club and a conventional hotspot in downtown Seoul.

Jisung sighed as he fiddled with the cork coaster beneath his drink, furrowing his brows."You can't even ask a pretty girl to buy her a drink without being slapped by her lawyer's business card in here, how am I supposed to find someone to spend the night with now?"

"That's a serious problem, bud. We should make an announcement or something," Minho replied dryly, eyeing the crowded dance floor with an expression that could very well be seen on someone who observes a hoard of insects waddling on food that was supposed to be saved for dinner. "Maybe 'Young, currently unemployed architect because he's leeching off daddy's money needs sweet girl to distract him', that's what the ladies love. Trust me, 's quite effective."

"Fuck you too, dickface. Really, why am I even talking to you? And why'd you bring us here of all places when there is a perfectly fine club just a few minutes away?"

The longer they spent here, the more Minho was inclined to ask the same question, though he wouldn't admit that to his tanned friend. Which was why it was lucky for him that Jisung was never shy of speaking his mind, because now all he had to do was to subtly fail at rationalizing the previous decision to enter this bore of a club in the first place, which was not a great feat at all. He didn't even remember what drove him to go here anyway.

"It had good reviews, but to hell with them. Wanna get out of here?"

There was a certain perk about being best friends which had always fascinated Minho. At some point, you magically become one organism which thinks and acts the same and picks up the slightest clues in metalanguage and subtle glances, completely reducing the necessity of speaking to a humble bunch of words. With Jisung it was the same, and so a simple look from the latter told him all he needed to know: 'Thank God you finally see reason, I might as well kiss the lights out of you.'

He'd felt the same with you too, once.

"I won't trust your choice of bar ever again man, just to be clear."

Now that was fair, more or less.

If you believed Jisung's very much convincing monologue he was giving during the twenty minute trek to a club called Cakeshop (Minho didn't even try to make a joke related to the rapper named after a literal coinage, which he sadly only realized three days later), conventional clubs were perfect for hookups.

The liquor was cheap, the music tolerable and the women all the more easy-going and totally free of the infamous silver spoon stuck up their behind, which was exactly what he was going for. He wasn't looking for the girl of his (parents') dreams, only for someone to spend approximately four hours with, and that was absolutely impossible with some CEO's daughter who would only threaten to file charges if he dared to simply vanish from her life after a night well spent, obviously, right? And besides, all he wanted was a seat at a raunchy table and get drunk off his ass, simple. No need for a thirty thousand won vodka when a thirty won soju could do the job just as much, was his self-proclaimed epigram.

"I'm telling you, we need to catch a break from all this bourgeoisie bullcrap," he complained as he kicked a loose pebble in front of him.

Minho let out a non-committal hum before stopping in his tracks. There was something -someone- at the very edge of the road, albeit a good hundred meters away, but something about the way their shoulders hung at a painfully familiar angle made him halt. It couldn't be, right? He was being delusional right now, that was all.

Yet, the more he trained his eyes the more he could make out the delicate silhouette of someone he wouldn't have expected to see in the middle of a gloomy alleyway, cream dress tinted in an ugly yellow under the streetlight merely ten feet away. Why here, though?

"Hey man, you alright?"

“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m fine,” he finally snapped back and turned to his younger friend, but he couldn’t tear his attention away just yet. “Actually - do you see her too or am I already drunk?”

Jisung’s gaze followed Minho’s thumb as the latter motioned to the direction of the streetlamp, and after a second of straining his eyes (he was just as myopic as Minho, even if the latter refused to wear his glasses out of pure vanity), his head slowly bobbed up and down in a nod.

“Do you mind if we-?”

“Let’s go, she looks like she might need help.”

Minho admittedly sighed in relief as soon as he got closer to you, although he kept telling himself it was merely to make sure you weren’t fatally hurt. He would not, under any circumstances, entertain you in any other way, but it was basic common sense to check up on a woman who leaned on a hydrant all by herself, because Seoul was a big city and nobody knew what would await you at the next corner. He was mad at you, and he had cursed you to hell and to even worse places in the past, but he wasn’t a monster either. A simple ‘You okay?’ would suffice.

And Jisung had reacted the same way, so it was definitely not the sap in him which missed you terribly being pulled towards you. Absolutely not. And so he picked up his pace, until the street light hit his face.

“What the hell are you doing here all by yourself? You want to be murdered, is that it?”

Alright, that was not a simple ‘You okay?’, but he couldn’t exactly break character right away. The mere sight of you caused fury to brood inside of him, disregarding the growing worry flooding his mind when you finally noticed him. Which grew even more when he saw the smudged mascara on your cheeks and the alarming pile of cheap beer cans right next to you, expanding even more as you put the can you were holding until now next to it. He’d never seen you this reckless before, and to say it was extremely unlike the prim and proper picture he had of you was a cautious understatement. Until now, at least.

You stirred from your improvised seat, ogling him with a cold grin. “Hey Minho. Am I that shitfaced or are you actually talking to me right now?”

“Both.”

Your gaze flew to Jisung whose face displayed the worry Minho was desperately trying to hide, and your face lit up in positive surprise.

“If it isn’t little Jisung! My, have you grown...horizontally.” With a jolt, you pushed yourself up from the hydrant and made a step towards the young architect, fondness evident as you sloppily patted his shoulder.

“Never thought I’d see you again. Actually, I never thought I’d see any of you ever again, especially not you-know-who,” you whispered with wide eyes set on Jisung, as if you were telling him the password to your secret snack stash while trying to keep it from Minho’s prying ears. In reality, the latter was standing right next to you and was painfully aware of who you were talking about, but your silly intoxicated self was nowhere near ready to catch up on that.

He had trouble keeping the amused grin hidden behind a glare, though he was glad that at least his best friend didn’t have to act serious. Jisung chuckled fondly although he couldn’t stop the pink flush spreading in embarrassment when you just kept smiling at him like a proud older sister, and it took several seconds and dramatic looks of panic from him until Minho realized he was currently the only one capable of handling this situation. He would be damned.

You almost jumped when he took a step towards you, seeking refuge behind Jisung who helplessly watched everything unfold. The youngest had always known you to be fierce and headstrong, especially with the man next to you, but this was different. Clearly, something was wrong.

“How long have you been here now?” You shrugged. “Alright, where are your parents, or that buff security guard they practically glued to you?”

“Probably enjoying their crème brulée at your dad’s place for all I know,” you bleated, grabbing for another can at the bottom of the hydrant, though Minho was quick to snatch it from you with a click of his tongue. You looked close to crying again, and he had to admit his heart jolted at the sight, but he kept his resolution still.

“That’s none of my concern anymore, though. I’m done, relegated and probably losing my rights to that sweet villa on Jeju as we speak, and Matthew will probably have to work with Mr Bang Chan from now on. Do you mind?”

“Forget it, you had more than enough for tonight.” If looks could kill, he was probably about to lose a finger any minute now, because your glare was almost ridiculously the opposite of fierce. He could see that you were trying to look mean, but the slight quiver in your lip betrayed you anyway. It was hard glaring back. "And what do you mean, 'relegated'? What'd you do this time, princess?"

Jisung's surprised hum went unnoticed under the volume of your gasp, but it conveyed pretty much the same kind of shock you feel when you finally discover the true plot twist of a crime drama, probably an affair between murderer and detective, only that this story's murderer and detective were right here, supposedly in conflict with each other for a tense three year period.

"Don't think I didn't hear that, meanie," you mock scolded him, to which he merely rolled his eyes. "I quit. I mean my family, I quit my family. You're standing in front of a homeless woman right now, you know."

Minho sighed. "Alright, I'm taking you home now, you need a break. Honestly, the same goes for me. We'll have to take a raincheck tonight, okay?"

A telepathic sign from Jisung told him it was alright, there would be plenty of time for escapades in the future anyway. Minho wasn't too sure about that, but he was glad that Jisung was probably the easiest person he knew. The guy would probably say yes to anything Minho said, which was generally a bad idea considering the amount of mischief swirling in his mind, though it was a major charm all the same. It was what made them stick together all these years after all.

"I'll be off then. It was good to see you again, Y/N," Jisung said before giving you a quick hug. "Call me if this dickface here is too hard on you, he's just pissed you dumped him all those years ago but he actually still-"

"Goodnight, Jisung. Now go."

Screw the telepathic connection.

"Sweet dreams, Jisungie!"

It was good he was so quick on his feet, the little brat, disappearing after throwing a last mischievous wink your way. Still, your giggle made up for the embarrassment he felt once Jisung turned the corner to the next bus stop, but he blamed your intoxicated state for it. You might have been cute, sure, but the memory of sitting wordlessly on his bed during the first three weeks after your departure was the glorious testament for it being simply a temporary feeling, a glimpse of a sensation before everything turned dark.

He wouldn't be fooled twice.

Minho had underestimated you, again. He’d fully expected you to keep up your drunken nonsense until he’d feel obligated to have you driven over to your parents’ penthouse and apologize to them on your behalf, yet you were as taciturn as never before the second you were alone with him, merely sighing once in a while as you followed his hesitant steps to a more welcoming area where his driver could wait for him once Minho called for him. It was as if he had pulled the power plug, shutting down your energy so all you did was walk, with furrowed brows and a worried lip between your teeth as you seemingly sunk into your thoughts, yet he had no clue how to make you smile again. He’d been an expert for that, once.

It wasn’t until you crossed a small grocery shop lit up with garish neon lights that you softly cleared your throat. “Minho?”

“Yes?”

“Uh,” you trailed off, “Can we get ice cream?”

He almost lost his composure then and there. Here you were, drunk and reckless after whatever must have happened before you decided to ‘quit’ your family (he’d have to pry some more to understand what the hell that was even supposed to mean, though he doubted that anything coming out of your intoxicated mouth would be any better than pure gibberish right now), asking him for a late night snack. And the worst thing of it all was that he was perfectly aware of his resolve finally crumbling down the longer he was faced with this annoyingly adorable look in your eyes, meaning he had no choice but to relent. You really were the bane of his existence.

“Now?" He barely suppressed a smile when your head bobbed up and down, like those little bobble head figures in souvenir shops. "Why?”

You shrugged, but he could see you were waiting for his approval when you began fiddling with your fingers again. “It’s been a terrible week and I could use some. I’ll pay for both, if that’s what you’re unsure about.”

“Like hell you will.”

Now, Minho knew very well just how financially comfortable you were, which meant that even a dozen packs of low-cost ice cream would only mildly affect your balance the slightest bit, probably even a hundred. But the same applied to him, except for his pride which was gallantly surpassing your own. In fact, the mere offer was enough to set him off, and the next thing he knew, he was making a dramatic turn to the opposite direction, heading directly to the cramped grocery store with you following close to his heel. Who were you to pay for him?

As you would expect a humble grocery store to be, the sortiment of ice cream was rather small, but apparently that was no problem for you. You could almost forget that the pair of you grew up in sumptuous houses and fancy clothes as your eyes lit up at the familiar sight of an especially sweet popsicle, and Minho couldn’t help but buy the same, albeit he was tempted to buy something else simply out of childish spite. Of course your preferences were still just as similar to his as a few years ago. The only thing that did change throughout the years, apparently, was the relationship between you and him, or so it seemed.

On your way out, as the both of you aimlessly strolled through the buzzing streets of Gangnam, you sighed in contentment. “Remember when we discovered the little convenience store right behind my parents’ company building a few years ago?”

You were smiling, and he knew exactly what you were talking about, although he didn’t understand why you were mentioning that now, four years later.

“They had so many different types of popsicles back then, and we literally bought all of them just because we were never allowed to try any as children, remember? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything sweeter than the blueberry popsicle that day, actually.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you nodded as you eagerly ripped open the package of a bright blue popsicle, holding it up for a moment before you guided it to your lips. He’d already opened his, munching on it as recklessly as always.

“In Kyoto, there was this small corner shop with all kinds of stuff, and one day I discovered this little cool box with tons of blueberry popsicles, all in a two-for-one package. I thought it's weird, you know, why wouldn’t you sell single packages if you only make your customers pay for one in the first place? It’s not very economically effective, at least from a business man’s point of view, but maybe my new major was already starting to rub off on me back then.”

He furrowed his brows, imagining your tale as best as he could while simultaneously questioning at which point his brain had decided to stop pushing you away and instead start to actually listen to you. It wasn’t a bad decision, but a surprising one. “No, you’re right though. It’s weird.”

You hummed in agreement. “But you know what? A week later, I see a boy buying a package, a high schooler probably, with a big fat smile on his face. Looking really happy, albeit very determined for god knows what when I watch him pay, and then he’s outside running so fast to this girl waiting for him, all dolled up in a cute outfit, you get it.”

At this point, your story either had to have a point, or the alcohol in your system was drastically loosening your lips. Yet the glow of nostalgia in your face was admittedly pretty to look at, and Minho caught himself letting his guard down. He didn’t mind listening to you anymore, and if it meant he could sneak glances at the face he never thought he’d see again, then he would gladly let you talk. You didn’t have to know that, though. Not yet.

“Point is,” you declared, swirling your popsicle in the air like a pointer meant to gather attention of an audience whose majority had already lost its focus two minutes into your dialogue, “What is my point? I promise I had a point, but-”

Minho doubted it, but he chose to stay silent for the sake of (his own) peace.

You sighed. “Right, right, okay I know again. Point is, the popsicle was supposed to be shared from the very beginning, not to be bought by some loner who thinks he’s outsmarted the shop owner with a seemingly easy deal. And I was that loner, for the last three years now, Minho. I kept buying the same popsicle every week, eating two instead of one, but once I found out about its purpose it just never tasted the same again, especially not when I kept thinking about who I actually wanted to share it with, you know?”

Your question sounded more rhetorical than genuine, yet he liked to think you actually wanted to see him nod, which he did. Hesitantly, pensively.

“I just want my popsicle to taste like when I first had it, maybe a bit too sugary and very likely to turn my tongue blue, but so refreshing, and just... nice.”

Minho had never been the best with analogies, he wasn’t even sure if what you were saying happened to be one. But still, it felt like he finally understood without having to struggle. You might have lost yourself a couple of times, which he fully blamed on the almost three bottles of soju you had injected, and he might have lost focus here and then (due to alcohol, an internal conflict and maybe also the fact that even your most wasted state managed to swipe his mind blank and still make him flustered, among other things of course), but he was pretty sure he understood what you meant.

He was also positive that he felt the same.

"Why did you never reach out to me?"

And just like that, the bubble popped. It had been inevitable, of course, because acting as if nothing happened was not really Minho’s forte, unlike for you. He hated unresolved issues, while you were pretty much what he would describe as a very huge pile of unfinished business on legs, though that didn’t seem to bother you too much. Again, that was not the case for him.

"'S a dumb reason, really."

"Frankly I don't doubt that, but I still wanna know, Y/N. I’d like to know why I ended up waiting for three years without a word from you, only to be here with you again, eating popsicles as if nothing happened. Don’t you think it’s fairer that way?”

You shrugged while your lips pursed into a pout, the ultimate sign of someone who is perfectly aware that what they’re doing is wrong, but not yet ready to change anything about it. You’d always been stubborn like that.

“I really don’t know what to tell you except that I’m a huge coward, Minho. But you know that already, so I’m sorry to let you down again. I’m simply a mess, that’s it.”

Of course you wouldn’t give in just like that. Minho sighed, rubbing his face with his hand in frustration before he made up his mind. You needed a change of setting, and he needed another drink, which was already waiting for him at home in his fancy albeit unnecessary extra fridge. There was no use wandering about the city where there were loads of distractions which allowed you to escape a conversation that was long overdue, you would probably jump from topic to topic until neither of you was capable of thinking anmore, while he hoped to at least have the upper hand in his own humble abode. Maybe a trip to forgotten memories hidden in every crevice of his apartment would ease your mind too.

“Fine, you don’t want to tell me,” he then relented while whipping out his phone to call an uber. Calling his personal driver seemed to be too much of a hassle, especially the task of ignoring the curious looks he knew he would receive from Changbin. No, he was totally fine with driving in a stranger’s car for a change.

“Maybe some other day then. Now I still have no idea what the hell happened with your parents, although I assume they were as insufferable as I remember, but I’d bet you wouldn’t mind staying over at my place for the night, would you?”

You looked even more shocked than when he’d first approached you during the soirée at Kim Manor several weeks ago. Was he too forward?

“You’re offering me to stay over?”

“I am.” He rolled his eyes when you let out an incredulous scoff. “What? I’m not an asshole, and you’re obviously not sober enough to be let alone. But if you want to deny my magnanimous offer so badly, I guess I’ll just go. You wouldn’t mind that now, right?”

“N-no, wait, that's not what I meant!”

As if on cue the front lights of a speedy Toyota approached the parking lot he was standing at, enveloping the both of you in blaring luminescence before you snapped out of your indecision, reaching out for him but nearly landing on your butt when he sneakily escaped your hold with a small pirouette. It was still fun teasing you, your forehead wrinkling the exact same way as a few years ago, and suppressing his smug grin was absolutely impossible now. It was practically plastered on his face as he watched you sloppily trying to catch up with him.

“Would it hurt you to wait for just a second, dammit,” you huffed as you reached the car, and he offered you his hand after opening the door for you, motioning you to enter.

“After you, milady.”

“Always the gentleman, aren’t you?”

Now you were the one struggling to suppress your smile in a useless charade of irritation, because there was nothing that made your heart stutter and tumble quite as much as the sound of his laugh. It was hearty yet sly, full of joy yet careful enough to only let the people closest to him hear it, and tonight, the privilege was all yours. It sounded even better than what your memory had woven and duplicated for you during the last years, more vivid and charming than a mere sliver of remembrance could ever fabricate.

“Only for you, princess.”

Minho’s apartment was...different, to say the least. You could still recognize its sombre design from when you helped him move in during spring break of his sophomore year, but the total lack of warmth was something you weren’t used to. It was void of pictures or other tiny pieces of memories, only examples of smart decoration were scattered across the dark furniture. The home you were intruding with jittery steps was the picture of sadness, to put it bluntly.

“Can’t believe you removed almost everything after nearly breaking your neck during your move here,” you muttered carefully, pointing to a blank space on his wall where there had once been a small picture of you and him at Seoul Fashion Week. Your dress had been horribly icky that night, not to mention its uncomfortable low cut back, but Minho had noticed even before you started complaining, swiftly putting his jacket over your shoulders and keeping you close with his arm on your waist. That picture was the only one you knew of where your smile had actually been real, and not at all the usual mask of idle politeness. Understandably, it was quite dear to you, and facing a blank space instead obviously didn’t feel very splendid.

You thought he didn’t hear you because he was already heading to his kitchen for a glass of water and an aspirin, but he proved you otherwise when his absentminded response reached your ears. “I didn’t feel comfortable with all that junk hanging on my walls, to be honest. Felt like I was being caged after a while, so I decided to just put everything away and forget all about it. It’s much easier to clean now too, at least that’s what my cleaner says.”

“Is that so.”

He was probably not even aware of his own blow.

“I’d suggest you wash up before you even think about touching my bed. Not to be the asshole who ruins your night,” he tried to explain, but your eye roll told him he couldn’t match your parents even if he tried to. “But you stink of booze. I’ll put fresh clothes for you in the bathroom, so feel free to clean up.”

“You’re lucky I’m not stable enough for a comeback, you know?”

He shrugged before he turned to a hallway next to the kitchen. “Probably.”

Chuckling, you followed him to his generously roomy restroom where you could see not only one, but three different showerheads (which was a bizarre way of showing off his wealth, in your opinion), all beautified by a layer of gold on their handles. Sure, you couldn’t complain about your own financial status (or at least the one of your parents), but gold plated showerheads? That was weird.

“Let me know if you need anything, I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Sure.”

Despite the three gilded showerheads, the water in Minho’s apartment felt just like anyone else’s, which weirdly enough relieved you a great deal, and so you made quick use of his kind offer and scrubbed the drunkenness from your skin. His shampoo smelt rich and woody, which was a contrast to your preferred orange and cinnamon odor in an oddly comforting way, because somehow you felt closer to him now. It gave you hope that maybe after tonight things would be different, because they had to be, right? Things were bound to be right, you could feel it. All you needed was to be honest with him, and that was something that didn’t depend on him, but on your willingness to speak out now, finally.

And after showering and putting on the soft pair of sweats and a surprisingly fitting t-shirt, you definitely were ready. This would be a piece of cake.

With quick steps, you returned to the dimly lit living room after you made sure you didn’t look too much like you had just been driven over by a truck, looking for the familiar head of messy black hair to finally apologize, like you had been intending to for so long. “Minho, can we talk?”

But there was no sight of him.

“Minho?”

No response, not even a clearing of his throat that could indicate where he was. Where could he be?

“Alright, I know it’s rude to snoop around in a house that’s not yours but it’s kinda urgent and oh.”

A snore. A very cute, almost cat-like one, but it was unmistakably a snore, and it came from the room right across from you. You remembered it as his bedroom, and so you slowly approached the door carved from African blackwood until you could grip the handle as your last support before you turned it to open the door, still hesitating to enter.

There he was, dozing off in his black jeans and matching blazer with only his shoes taken off before he had collapsed on his bed. And he’d sent you to change your clothes, the hypocrite. His hair was tousled on the lilac blanket he hadn’t even bothered to cover himself with, and you were tempted to simply coil up next to him and close your eyes. He looked peaceful like this, features relaxed instead of tense for a change, though exhaustion clearly threw a shadow on his face, which was understandable. Tonight had been pretty eventful, much like the rest of the last few weeks, not to mention the physical strain he was additionally put under as a professional dancer. He’d earned his rest.

You weren’t sure what exactly to do, because watching someone sleep was only really appropriate for a short time before it became creepy and weird, obviously, but you still couldn’t help but step closer until he stirred in his slumber. He frowned before his fingers twitched as if he had an incredibly active dream, breathing heavily. You knew it was just a dream, but you still reached out and took his hand to try and calm him down as you interlaced your fingers, kneeling right next to his bed frame until he visibly relaxed with your hold, squeezing your palm while his features turned peaceful again. It made you sigh in relief to see him calm again and to know that you had been of help for him, to know that you weren’t only capable of hurting him anymore.

“I’m here now,” you whispered so quietly you doubted it was louder than your thoughts, “And I’m done being a coward, even if it took me too long to pull myself together. No more running away from feelings from now on, and no more running away from how I feel for you. If you still want me, that is.”

Really, there was no need for you to voice your thoughts, except maybe the childish idea that hearing the words leave your lips would actually make them true. Of course, the one you were making a promise to wasn’t capable of hearing it himself, but you had a feeling that this still counted. The words were out, and there was no turning back. You had banished the cowardice.

Minho groaned.

“And to think I got rid of you, jeez.”

With a jolt of surprise, you released his hand and nearly fell on your butt again if it hadn’t been for his arm reaching out for you at lightning speed, keeping you grounded before you gasped, loudly. “You were awake?”

He had the audacity to laugh smugly. “Duh. You’re not all that quiet, you know? And I couldn’t really wander to dreamland when someone kept professing her undying love for me now, could I?”

“I’m really regretting my choice of words right now. Jisung was right, you are a dickface.” You considered sticking out your tongue in a spiteful gesture, but then figured you weren’t child enough for that anymore. Adults used their fingers for that. Their middle fingers, to be exact.

He only kept laughing when you flipped him off, however, eyes turning into small crescents as his ivory skin folded into small wrinkles of joy, nearly making you drop your act at the sight of his beauty. It had never been fair that he was so stunning, even less so right now, when you were trying yet pathetically failing to be mad at him. “Oh, very mature of you. I guess you’ll stomp your feet next?”

“Considered doing that until you mentioned it. Did you hear everything I said?”

He nodded, and you groaned. Of course you had to make a fool of yourself at every given opportunity, but who told you to actually say what was on your mind in the first place? That stuff only worked in cheesy dramas with no actual plot anyway.

“Right, of course. Guess I’ll go dig my own grave then,” you muttered at the sight of his smirk. “Am I still number one on your list of most hated people?”

“What if you are?”

Minho looked genuinely curious, though you weren’t sure if he was being hypothetical or not. If he was, you'd be surprised by his acting skills. Hesitantly, you glanced at the strong arm still steadying you around your waist, then to the face right in front of your own. You felt hot and cold at the same time when he urged you to answer by a quirk of his eyebrows, gulping before you plumply sat on your butt.

“Then I’ll leave.”

And now it was you who mustered his face for an answer, eyes scanning his every inch for a possible clue, but it seemed like his mien was made of stone, untelling and intimidating like a fine piece of marble. You feared he would tell you to follow up to your words immediately, which would be quite embarrassing after intruding so blatantly (you’d even used his shower and all three of his showerheads), but if he ever did tell you to leave, you wouldn’t blame him. He had every right to.

Yet, before you could explain just that, you were swiftly pulled first to your feet, then right to him on his lilac bed sheets, until you landed with your face dangerously close to his with a yelp and a soft oof from him because he underestimated his own strength. He pretended to gasp for air just for the fun of it before he began laughing with a rumbling chest (a quite broad and oddly comfortable chest, to your surprise), putting a hand on your back and the other over your own palm resting on his chest with a warm look in his eyes.

“You don’t have to.”

Your breath stocked as his words failed to register into your brain. “Are you serious?”

“Yes I am, idiot,” he chuckled. You didn’t even realize his hand gently patting your hair with deft fingers, the feeling so familiar yet new at the same time. “You really think I’d let you go when you’ve just come back?”

He was beaming, and so were you. “I guess not. But why-?”

“Shh,” he shook his head, and you were honestly inclined to listen to him and close your eyes when he kept caressing your hair. You never noticed how much you had needed this before. “I don’t know about you, but suddenly the past three years couldn’t matter less to me tonight. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters, okay? I know we need to talk this out, but we’ll have plenty of time afterwards, and I promise we will if you agree. Let’s just stay like this for a bit.”

And who were you to say no? You had missed this just as much.

“I like the way you think,” you hummed as you slowly coiled up and snuggled deeper into his chest, inhaling the scent of his shampoo which smelled even better on him. It reminded you of all the days you had spent with him in the past, days without worries except for the usual pressure from both of your parents, which were meaningless once you found yourselves in each others’ arms at the end of the day. Returning to these days sounded like a blessing, and for once in your life, you wanted to indulge.

And so you closed your eyes and drifted off, muttering confessions in your sleep which Minho listened to with a smile, because now you were here with him. And you said you would stay.

After twenty-two years of running away and pretending to be someone you were not, you finally found your home. And he was glad to have you.

》》》》》》》》