eliyah ✮

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you didn’t go to school for two weeks after it happened.

at first, you told your parents you were just tired. that maybe you were coming down with something. that your body ached. and it was true, in a way—your body did ache, but not from any illness they’d understand. the ache sat deep in your chest, in your lungs, in the pit of your stomach. it made it hard to breathe, hard to eat, hard to sleep without waking up in tears.

you cried until your throat burned. until your pillow was soaked. until your fingers curled into your sheets in the middle of the night, wishing you could claw him out of your memory. you kept replaying it over and over again—how he held you, how he kissed your forehead, how gently he moved inside you, how he fed you soup and looked at you like you were made of glass. and then how he broke you in the same room he touched you like you mattered.

you didn’t understand.

you couldn’t understand.

someone who loved with actions—who tied your shoelaces when they came undone, who waited at the gate after school, who sat in silence with you in the library just to be near you—how could that all be a lie? how could someone fake the way his thumb brushed over your hand while you solved equations, or the way he held you like the world outside your bedroom didn’t exist?

you told yourself there had to be something real in it. maybe not all of it. but something. he couldn't have done all that just for a bet… right?

but while you cried yourself sick, the others were laughing.

heesung and his friends—jay, sunghoon, the others who had always hovered around like shadows—were joking about it in the cafeteria. about how you’d fallen hard. about how easy it had been. jay even said he didn’t think you’d go through with it. sunghoon just laughed and said, “i guess love makes girls blind.”

and heesung?

he laughed too.

smirked and said, “i told you. i knew she’d give in. i know her type.”

and maybe something in him tightened when he said it. maybe something in his chest flickered, sharp and bitter. but no one noticed—not even him. because in front of his friends, his pride had to survive. so he played along. like you had meant nothing. like none of it had mattered.

and yet… when you came back, everything changed.

you walked into school two weeks later with your head held a little higher. your eyes were tired, but they didn’t tremble anymore. your uniform was the same, your hair was the same, but there was something different about the way you carried yourself. you smiled at your teacher when she welcomed you back. you answered roll call like nothing was wrong. when people whispered in the halls, you didn’t flinch.

you told everyone your parents had taken you out of town to visit your grandmother. “we didn’t plan it,” you said easily. “they just made the decision last minute. no signal where we were.”

you sat in class like normal. you took notes. you even hummed quietly during break.

and people noticed.

not in the cliché, dramatic way. not like you suddenly became the “hot girl.” it was quieter than that. it was in the way people looked twice when you walked by. the way they hesitated before talking about you. the way they no longer saw you as invisible, but as something they couldn’t quite define.

and heesung noticed too.

he saw the way your posture had changed. the way you didn’t glance around nervously anymore. the way you answered questions with confidence, how you laughed with classmates you never used to talk to. something about your presence was louder now, even if your voice wasn’t.

and for the first time since he left your house, he started remembering.

he remembered how your hands shook when you first held his. how your eyes lit up when he brought you strawberries one afternoon because you mentioned liking them in passing. how he watched you sleep once, and something inside him clenched in a way he didn’t understand back then.

he told himself it was all an act. that he was just playing the part. that every kind gesture, every glance, every soft breath against your skin was planned.

but not all of it was.

some things just... happened. some moments weren’t rehearsed. and now, watching you from across the room, something sharp curled beneath his ribs.

regret.

and that feeling only deepened when, one afternoon, you were walking past the lockers and someone called your name.

“y/n!”

you turned, blinking, and found a boy you didn’t recognize very well—jake, from class 1-b. tall, warm smile, honey-brown hair. he jogged over with a little out-of-breath laugh.

“you dropped this earlier in the hallway,” he said, holding out your pen.

you blinked at it, surprised. “oh… thank you. i didn’t even notice.”

“yeah,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “figured you’d want it back. it’s cute. the little star charm’s cool.”

you laughed, a small, real sound. “it was a gift. from myself.”

he laughed with you. “solid choice.”

he walked with you to class that day. not flirtatious. just easy. light.

and heesung saw it all from the other end of the hall—your laugh, your comfort, the way jake looked at you like you were bright and new.

and something in his stomach twisted.

for the first time, he wasn’t part of your world.

he had no place there anymore.

and maybe—just maybe—that was the part that hurt the most.

heesung didn’t notice it all at once.

at first, it was just a quiet discomfort. something small. like the subtle ache of a bruise you forgot was there until someone brushed against it. a flicker in his chest that he ignored. a hollow feeling he pushed down with laughter and noise.

he told himself he didn’t care. that he had won. that it was just a bet and he had gotten what he wanted. his friends kept saying it, too—how easy it was, how good the payoff had been, how funny it was that you actually cried.

but every time they said your name like it was a joke, something in him tensed.

still, he smiled.

still, he laughed.

because that’s what he was supposed to do.

until you came back.

you walked into school like someone who had been rebuilt. not louder, not flashier, not dressed any different—but something in you had changed. you didn’t slouch anymore. you didn’t stare at the floor when people passed. your steps were quieter, but more certain. like you didn’t need to be noticed to be seen.

and worse—you didn’t look at him.

not once.

not even when your eyes passed over his. you looked right through him. like he wasn’t there. like the boy you gave yourself to had died and become someone you didn’t recognize anymore. it was the first time he realized you could move on. that maybe he hadn’t broken you the way he thought he did.

and that’s when it started.

the ache.

every day after that, it grew heavier. he tried to ignore it—he flirted with other girls in the hallway, he laughed louder than necessary, he stayed out late. but none of it filled the space you left behind. the silence of your absence followed him everywhere, curling like smoke around his collarbones, pressing against his lungs.

and then came jake.

at first, he didn’t even know the guy’s name. just some quiet boy from a different class—friendly, golden-haired, always polite to teachers. but suddenly, he was sitting beside you during lunch. carrying your books when your arms were full. walking with you to the gate after school. he never touched you too much, never made it look like anything romantic, but it didn’t matter.

heesung saw the way you smiled around him.

not the way you used to smile at heesung—shy and tentative—but brighter. lighter. like you were no longer afraid of breaking.

and worst of all, jake did things heesung used to do.

he tucked your hair behind your ear when the wind blew too hard. he waited for you outside the library, leaning against the wall with both hands in his pockets like it was the most natural thing in the world. he passed you notes in class—not cheesy ones, but simple things like “don’t forget to eat lunch today” or “i hope your morning was kind.”

and every time heesung saw one of those moments unfold, his chest tightened.

because he remembered.

he remembered how you used to look at him like that. how you used to reach for his hand without thinking. how you once whispered “thank you for choosing me” after he kissed your forehead in your room.

he told himself it was all fake. that he had played a role, nothing more.

but some of it hadn’t been fake.

some of it had been instinct.

some of it had been real.

and now it was gone.

sometimes, at night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of the way your voice trembled when you said you were happy your first time had been with him. the way you clung to the blanket when he stood to leave. the way you ran after him, bare feet against the floor, tears already falling—and he didn’t turn around.

he should have turned around.

now you were healing without him.

and he… he was unraveling.

that's why he didn’t expect to see you again that day.

it was just a normal afternoon—at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. the courtyard was half-empty, students trickling out after class in lazy, aimless waves. heesung had been walking with jay and sunghoon, shoulders slouched, backpack hanging loosely from one strap, half-listening to some story jay was telling that didn’t really matter.

he wasn’t paying attention. not until he heard your laugh.

soft. low. the kind of laugh that used to only come out when you were comfortable, when you forgot to be afraid. he froze instinctively—eyes lifting before his mind could stop him.

there you were.

sitting on the edge of a planter box under the tree near the gate, legs crossed at the ankle, your head tilted as you listened to jake say something beside you. he was holding a bottle of water, a backpack slung over one shoulder. he handed it to you, and you took it with a small smile, your fingers brushing his for just a second.

heesung couldn’t hear what you were saying. but you were smiling. you looked healthy. rested. you looked like you hadn’t spent weeks crying over him in the dark. you looked like you’d finally let go of the hand that once shattered you.

and you didn’t look his way—not once.

that was the part that felt the heaviest.

“damn,” jay muttered beside him, loud enough for the others to hear. “she moves on fast.”

sunghoon snorted. “wonder if she cried in jake’s arms, too.”

they laughed. a few other boys chuckled with them. someone else said, “what was her name again? the one you took home? y/n, right?”

heesung didn’t say anything. he kept walking, but his pace slowed.

“maybe she’s just collecting boyfriends now,” jay added with a grin. “first heesung, now jake. who’s next?”

“bet jake has no idea she was begging heesung to stay, crying like a kicked puppy.” sunghoon whistled. “guess jake likes secondhand toys.”

the laughter grew louder. more shameless. more cruel.

heesung stopped walking.

he didn’t say a word. he didn’t laugh. he just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it ached. his fingers curled tighter around the strap of his backpack, knuckles white.

they were still talking about you like that. like you were nothing more than a punchline. like you hadn’t mattered. like you hadn’t loved him.

and he said nothing.

because saying something would mean stepping out of the mask he’d been wearing this whole time. it would mean breaking the image. it would mean admitting that you weren’t just another girl. that what he did wasn’t just a joke. it would mean facing everything he’d been trying to ignore since the moment he left your house and walked away from the girl who had given him everything.

he told himself it was better this way. that it was cleaner if he stayed silent.

but his silence was starting to rot him from the inside out.

you were still sitting there, unaware. jake stood up, pointing at something in his phone, and you leaned slightly to look. he held the screen closer, and your knees brushed lightly—casual, natural, the kind of touch heesung remembered vividly.

and for a second—just a second—he wished he could go back.

not to change what happened, not to undo it, but to tell you that it hadn’t all been a lie. that not everything had been a game. because when you smiled at him, something inside him had moved. and when you cried, something inside him hadbroken. he just hadn’t known what to do with that feeling. so he buried it. mocked it. pretended it never happened.

and now it was too late.

jay slapped a hand on his shoulder. “what, you mad he’s got her now?”

he didn’t respond.

just shook him off gently, like the touch annoyed him.

because yeah. maybe he was mad.

but not at you. not at jake.

he was mad at himself—for letting go of the only person who ever looked at him like he wasn’t just a name behind a pretty face. for breaking something he didn’t know how to fix. for being too much of a coward to say, “stop,” when they started laughing.

and for still staring at you like you were his, when he gave you every reason to walk away.

he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

the room was quiet except for the hum of his fan and the soft ticking of the clock on his desk. it was late—past midnight, maybe closer to two—but sleep didn’t come easily anymore. not the kind that left you rested. not the kind that made mornings worth waking up for.

his body was still. but his mind wouldn’t shut up.

he hated how loud your memory was in silence.

he closed his eyes and it came rushing back. the way your fingers curled in his shirt when you kissed him the first time. how you trembled under his touch but still whispered “i want this with you.” how you winced when he entered you, how your nails dug into his back as you cried out, how you smiled, teary and flushed, afterward, whispering “i’m happy it was you.”

he hadn’t meant to remember all of it—but it wouldn’t leave him alone.

the way you used to wait by his locker just to walk home together. the way you brought him tangerines because he said he liked them once. the way you blushed whenever he tucked your hair behind your ear. how you laughed when he teased you softly. how your voice always dropped when you said his name like it meant something more.

he thought he’d buried all of that. he thought forgetting you would be easy.

but nothing about you was forgettable.

he sat up in bed, breathing heavy now, like the air around him had thickened. there was a tension in his chest—an ache that didn’t go away when he rubbed his hands over his face. it stayed there, lodged in his ribs, aching like guilt, like grief, like a question he’d never asked himself until now:

did i love her?

and the silence answered back:

yes.

yes, he did. maybe not from the start. maybe not all at once. but somewhere along the line—between the library books and your gentle voice and the way you looked at him like he was someone worth loving—he had fallen for you.

and now you were gone.

really gone.

not just physically, but emotionally. spiritually. you no longer belonged to his world. you no longer turned at the sound of his name. he could pass you in the hallway and it would be like walking past a ghost.

he hesitated, looking at his phone on the nightstand.

his heart beat faster.

his hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, thumb hovering over your contact. it was still there. he never deleted it. he never even changed your name. just y/n—plain, simple, the way you saved yourself in his phone that first night.

he stared at it for too long.

what do i say?

what could i say?

sorry? i miss you? i didn’t mean it? i was wrong?

they all felt hollow. they all felt too late. but he pressed the call button anyway, like maybe—maybe—you’d still want to hear his voice.

it rang once.

then the screen went black. call declined.

he froze.

his stomach dropped.

he tried again. and this time—

“this number is not available.”

his throat tightened. he tried to breathe through it, but his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

you had blocked him.

not muted. not ignored. not paused.

blocked. completely. entirely. with finality.

and just like that, it hit him like a blow to the ribs.

she doesn’t want to hear from me. she’s done.

what did he expect?

that you’d pick up in the middle of the night, voice soft and sleepy, still waiting for him? that you’d cry again, say his name, beg for answers? that you’d run into his arms like nothing had happened?

how fucking foolish.

his fingers tightened around the phone, then let it drop beside him with a dull thud.

you weren’t waiting. you weren’t hoping. you weren’t his anymore.

you had walked away. healed. outgrown him.

and he—he had stayed the same. still pretending. still running. still hiding behind silence and laughter and people who didn’t care if he burned.

he laid back down, arm over his eyes, chest hollow.

he wouldn’t call again.

he wouldn’t message.

he wouldn't show up pretending to be brave.

not because he respected your decision—but because he was a coward.

and because facing your rejection now would destroy what little was left of him.

so he let the silence stay.

just like you had.

days had turned into weeks, though heesung wasn’t sure when the shift had occurred. time had begun to bleed together, slow and indistinct, like the blur of water slipping down a window during a storm. everything felt quieter than before, but not in the peaceful way—no, it was the kind of silence that made his skin itch, that wrapped around his lungs and refused to let go, like grief that hadn’t quite finished forming. he still walked the same halls, still sat in the same classrooms, still laughed at the same tired jokes, but the world around him felt distorted, as if nothing was quite where it used to be. and it wasn’t. not really. because you weren’t there anymore—not in the way that counted.

you didn’t look at him anymore. didn’t flinch when you passed each other. you didn’t hesitate, or soften, or seem remotely affected by the empty space he left behind. and maybe that was what finally started to eat at him—not your absence, but your indifference. it was easier when he thought you hated him. hate meant fire. hate meant he still lived somewhere inside you. but now... now you looked through him like he had become translucent, like he no longer held a single thread to your world. and god, it hurt more than he could stand.

he told himself he didn’t care. repeated it like a prayer each night when he stared at the ceiling in his dark room, one arm slung over his eyes to block out everything except his thoughts. but the truth clawed at him like something alive. he remembered everything—your hands in his, the soft pull of your smile, the way your head fit perfectly on his shoulder, how your voice cracked when you said “i’m glad it was you.” he had tried to forget, but it came back in waves, sharp and suffocating. he remembered how you kissed him like he mattered, how you trembled but still trusted him, how your eyes fluttered open afterward, full of something so painfully pure it nearly undid him.

he couldn’t forget. not anymore.

the ache that came with those memories had become unbearable—dense in his chest, heavy in his throat. and when he walked into the chemistry lab that afternoon, all he wanted was to disappear for a little while, to escape the noise of the halls and the suffocating press of guilt that followed him like a shadow. he didn’t expect to see you there.

you were standing near the lockers, facing away from him, your body half-tucked behind the tall cabinet where the beakers and tongs were kept. you moved carefully, methodically, as if each motion served a purpose. your back was straight, your hair pulled out of the way, the sleeves of your uniform rolled just slightly. you looked so calm, so self-contained. you looked nothing like the girl he remembered sobbing under a blanket while he walked away.

he froze. completely.

for a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. he felt like the air had thickened, like he had walked into a memory and it had decided to come alive just to punish him. his gaze locked on you, and as if some invisible string snapped taut between you, you turned.

your eyes met.

and everything around him went still.

his heartbeat stuttered. there was a pressure behind his eyes, behind his ribs, like something raw had clawed its way out of him. and for the briefest second, he thought maybe—maybe—there was something still left. maybe you’d say something, anything.

but then you blinked, cold and calm, and turned away again without a word.

you folded your lab coat neatly, placed it on the stool beside you, and grabbed your bag. you were already halfway to the door when his body reacted before his mind could.

“wait—”

his voice cracked through the silence, rough and desperate.

you paused, fingers on the sliding door, shoulders tense.

“please. y/n… wait.”

he moved toward you, slowly, like every step cost him something. and just before you could open the door, he reached out, fingers brushing your wrist.

you flinched.

your reaction was immediate, electric—your body snapped away like he had burned you. your eyes turned to his, not wide with surprise or hurt, but narrowed with fury and something else—disgust. your voice, when it came, was sharp and low and full of ice.

“don’t touch me.”

he stepped back instinctively, guilt spreading across his face like poison. he lifted his hands slightly, palms open as if to show he meant no harm. but it didn’t matter. it was already too late.

“i just… i need to talk to you,” he said, voice softer now, almost breaking. “please. i know i don’t deserve it. but just let me—”

“you used me.” your voice cut through the room like a blade, and he fell silent instantly. “now you want me to believe you care?” you shook your head, bitter disbelief dripping from every word. “don’t insult me. save your guilt for someone who asked for it.”

he took a shallow breath, but your words didn’t stop.

“you didn’t defend me when they laughed at me.” your tone trembled now—not with weakness, but with pain long held. “you laughed with them.” you stepped forward, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “so don’t act like you regret it now.”

his lips parted, his throat worked, but nothing came. not until you finally said the last thing he’d been terrified to hear.

“you never loved me, heesung.” your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away. “you loved the way i looked at you.”

that broke him.

he looked down, shoulders heavy, breath unsteady. he wanted to deny it, to explain, to beg—but the truth swelled inside him like a wound finally bursting.

“i did,” he said softly, eyes flicking back to you, desperate. “i did love you. i swear i didn’t know it until after, but—” he choked, biting down the panic that rose in his chest. “yes, it started as a joke. a fucking stupid bet. but it stopped being one the moment you smiled at me like i meant something. when you held my hand, when you kissed me back, when you… when we were in your room, and i held you—”

you slapped him.

hard.

his head jerked slightly to the side, the sting spreading across his cheek like fire.

you were shaking now, but your voice was steady.

“don’t you dare bring that night up.”

your eyes were red, but not from weakness. from rage. from betrayal. from the kind of heartbreak that people don’t walk away from whole.

“you planned it. all of it. you got close to me just to win. you let me fall. you let me love you knowing the whole time you were going to rip me apart. and you did.” your voice rose, thick with tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. “i hate you, heesung. i hate you. leave me alone.”

he opened his mouth, but you were already walking away, grabbing your coat and bag, shoving past him like he wasn’t even there. and this time, he didn’t follow. he didn’t try to stop you. he just stood there, one hand on his cheek, chest collapsing in on itself.

he watched you disappear through the door.

and for the first time, he didn’t just feel regret. he felt loss. real, permanent, irreparable loss.

and he knew.

you would never look at him again.

not even with hate.

because even that… required caring.

You can't remember the last time you'd spent a summer feeling this bored.

Before your social life was destroyed by Jake and his gang of equally lame friends, you were cool. You used to get invited to things, used to get blackout drunk at clubs every night. Used to go on vacations with your “friends” and post aesthetic photos on your Instagram. You used to smile to yourself, scrolling through comments under your posts left by boys who wanted you and girls who wanted to be you.

It was a performance, sure, and it took a great deal of effort to look that effortlessly flawless. It was fake, inauthentic, and downright draining to spend your time with people who only smiled with you for a photo, daggers clutched behind their backs. And in a way, it was almost liberating now being at the bottom of the social hierarchy, knowing there's nothing else for you to lose.

But at least back then, you had something to do. At least you weren't stuck in a half-empty house that isn't yours, surrounded by male filth, sweating because Jake's landlord doesn't see fixing the air conditioning unit as a priority.

Your place isn't much better, though, and as much as you despise admitting it, you prefer existing in the space of Jake's disgusting roommates than to endure the side eyes and snide comments of your own roommates.

You'd spent most of the day waiting for the hours to pass, lounging on the living room couch. And you were hoping to spend the rest of it alone until Jake got home—you know, considering he's kind of the only person who actually talks to you these days, but your peace is disturbed by a creak in the floorboards.

“Holy fuck, I’m sweating my balls off,” a male voice, loud and uncaring, enters the room.

"Get out," you immediately snap, not bothering to look up from your phone as you mindlessly scroll.

"My house, my rules," Heeseung replies, and you let out a big huff. You let your phone fall to your chest, turning your head to the side to see him flick the TV on. The Super Smash Bros title screen music plays, and you glare.

"Aren't those things handheld?" you gesture vaguely to the gaming console, "Just play in your room."

"Aw, but I wanna play here, with my favourite person," he teases, tossing you a remote. It falls into your lap. "Now scoot."

You push yourself upright, tucking your knees beneath you just as he collapses onto the far end of the couch. A scoff slips from your lips before you even realize it, arms folding across your chest, and for a moment, all you do is blink at him.

"I'm not playing your stupid game."

"Come on." Heeseung rolls his eyes, clicking around to the character selection menu, "Just one round. It'll be fun."

"No."

"You've been sitting on that couch staring at your phone for two hours. You're bored. I'm bored. Let's be bored together."

"You're bored because you're unemployed. I'm bored because you decided to ruin my life. There's a difference."

"Ruin your life? Please. The video was funny for like a week. Nobody cares anymore,” he waves it off dismissively, his tone of voice sounding almost like he means to reassure you. “I’m sure it feels like the end of the world, but trust me, you'll go from ‘campus slut’ to ‘normal girl’ in no time.”

You look down, your phone lighting up in your lap. It's just an email from your school newsletter. Nothing you care about. But it wasn't long ago when your phone used to light up with messages from active group chats, likes and comments on your posts, and invitations to parties. It was superficial and hollow, but it was something. Hell, even the jokes about you being a slut were something. Now, it's like he said: nobody cares. 

Heeseung's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read—not pity, exactly. He knows better than to pity you. You strung his best friend along for months, took Jake's fragile little heart and decided to stomp on it. But he already got his revenge. There's no reason to antagonize you further.

Though you linger around their place rent-free, cussing out him and the other guys on a daily basis, he thinks maybe, just maybe, if he is kind enough, that somewhere in that cold, dead heart of yours, he could find a glimmer of kindness in you, too.

"You know you're allowed to do things, right?" He says it casually, waving his controller around, "Like. Fun things. Things that aren't just waiting for Jake to get home."

"I don't wait for him," you snap, "And I do things."

"You stare at your phone and insult Sunghoon."

"Those are things."

"Those are not things. Those are coping mechanisms." He nudges your shoulder with his controller, "Come on. I'll go easy. I promise not to tell anyone if you suck. Pinky swear.”

"And if I don't suck?"

He laughs, “Then, prove it.”

You look at the controller. Then at Heeseung. A month ago, he was your enemy. One of the four men responsible for all the hate comments, the jokes, and the strangers calling you a slut you endured.

He never apologized—none of them did—but sometimes he does things like this. Something like a peace offering. Like, letting you eat the rest of his leftover takeout. Bringing you a blanket when you fall asleep on the couch. Asking you to play a stupid game when you're clearly bored out of your mind. You can't tell if it's out of guilt or out of sheer boredom from his chronic unemployment.

He's not your friend, but you think he might be closer to one than any of the people you used to hang out with ever were.

"Fuck yeah!" Heeseung shouts, delivering the final blow to your character. "Take that, bitch!"

Playing video games against someone who spends twenty-four-seven holding a controller is, as it turns out, not even a little bit fun.

You didn't really try the first round, but seeing him celebrate his win like it was some kind of accomplishment made you want to crush him. So in the second round, you tried just a bit. Not because you care or something, but because it can't be that hard to push a bunch of buttons around and kill your opponent, right?

You lose again. And again. And you don't know what round it is at this point, but you do know the hours were flying by and that you'd just about had it with pretending like you don't want to scream at him.

"This game..." You grip the controller in your hand, hands trembling with pure rage, and when you catch a glimpse of his ever-present grin from the corner of your eye, you lose it. "This game is so fucking stupid!"

You hurl the controller at the ground with full body force. It’s not calculated or intentionally cruel, like anything you usually are. It’s a raw, knee-jerk reaction you don’t even think to second-guess.

It lands with a crack that's louder than you expected. The joystick snaps off, rolling around on the floor, and the plastic body skids across the hardwood. You both stand there, staring with your jaws slack, taking in what just happened.

"Dude." Heeseung looks at you, horrified. "That's Sunghoon's console. You can't just—"

"What the fuck was that?" Sunghoon's voice erupts from his room not even a second later, followed by frantic heavy footsteps. "You better not be destroying my shit or I swear to god I will—"

He stands in the doorway, hair ruffled, and his gaming headset hanging around his neck still. His teammates can be heard through the device, calling out comms to him, but he freezes when he lays his eyes on the scene of the crime. He takes in the sight: his Nintendo Switch remote, broken, and the two of you standing around and staring at it.

You open your mouth, "He—"

"She did it." Heeseung immediately points a finger at you. Not even a moment of hesitation.

You gape at him, as if you weren't about to do the exact same thing to him. That son of a bitch. That traitor. How dare he try to be nice to you only to leave you to deal with Sunghoon's wrath alone? You stare at his pointed finger, scowling at him. And here you thought you had developed an understanding.

"Well, slut?" Sunghoon says low, narrowing his gaze at you. He leans against the frame of the doorway. "Did you? 'Cause if you did, that's coming straight out of your wallet. Or should I say Jake's wallet? Wouldn't be surprised if the idiot's paying for pussy, seeing how you're always here."

Paying me? You scoff at the comment, but momentarily cast it aside.

You need to think of how to get yourself out of trouble, and you need to do it quickly. You mentally start to flip through every trick in the book that you know: Crying here wouldn't work—Sunghoon, of all of Jake's roommates, would feel no remorse for you. Sweet talking wouldn't work either—he's the kind of nerd who probably jerks off to his own Valorant rank instead of women. The only other option? You glance at the door. You just need to buy time.

"First of all, 'captain of the esports team'—which is just a fancy way of saying 'the school's biggest virgin' by the way," you start, enjoying how he squirms at the insult, "I wish Jake were paying me. It'd make all of this bullshit a lot more tolerable."

You're already turning to Heeseung, who's still pointing at you like a tattletale.

"And you. Look how eager this jobless loser is to point a finger at me. Jake told me all about the time you broke Sunghoon's old headset. I heard it was a big deal, wasn't it?" You fold your arms, "but sure. Blame the resident slut, right? Very convenient for you."

"What?" Heeseung gapes. "You evil bitch, what the fuck is wrong with—"

"Man, you're always destroying my shit, I swear to god," Sunghoon glares him down, like he’s suddenly reliving the event that happened years ago all over again.

"Dude. She's obviously lying, you dumb fuck."

"Maybe,” he glares at you for a moment, not exactly offering you any grace, but unconvinced. Sunghoon, as Jake describes him, is not the kind of guy to just let things go. And lucky for you, the information your situationship freely feeds you has proven to be useful ammo in daily household battles like these. He points a finger back at Heeseung, “But you've ragequit before, and we both know she doesn't give a shit about this game." 

"Oh, my god." Heeseung looks at him, completely floored. "You're serious. You think it's me."

"I'm just saying, you have a track record."

"What about her track record of being a lying whore?" He fires back immediately.

You don't flinch. You've been called worse. You've been called worse by thousands of people who watched a video they filmed.

"Takes one to know one, whore-seung. Now, are we done? Because, unlike you, I have plans today that don't involve rotting on this couch, arguing over shit that isn’t my problem.”

"Plans? You mean plans to take dick?"

"What about it?" You snap back, "At least I get—"

The door clicks open. Two sets of footsteps.

Jake is there, still in his internship clothes—button-down slightly wrinkled, tie loosened, hair a mess from a long day. And beside him, Jay. They've been carpooling together for their summer jobs. Jay's still in his own work clothes, looking marginally less exhausted but equally unimpressed by whatever is happening in his living room.

Jake takes in the scene in approximately two seconds: the broken controller, Heeseung's indignant posture, Sunghoon's barely contained rage, and you, examining your nails like a cat who just knocked over a vase and dared someone to prove it.

His eyes meet yours immediately.

"Hey, Jake, bro." Heeseung jerks his thumb toward you. "Can you get your bitchass girlfriend to stop breaking shit in our house and blaming it on me?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," you say too quickly, not even looking up. "Not that I'd expect a guy whose longest relationship is with his right hand to understand the difference between dating and tolerating someone's existence."

"Oh, sorry. What should I call you, then? His personal prostitute?"

"I’d rather be a hooker than an unemployed, backstabbing, bitchless loser—“

"Alright, alright. That's enough." Jay steps forward, positioning himself between you and Heeseung. He glances around, eyes landing on Sunghoon, who is already crouched by the TV, unplugging his Nintendo Switch from it. "Sunghoon, what happened?"

"One of these dipshits broke my controller," he gestures vaguely behind him, "And neither will fess up. So congratulations, the whole house loses its Smash Bros privileges."

"I didn't break anything.”

"She spiked it like a football," Heeseung gapes in shock at how easily the lie had fallen from your lips, looking from Jay to Jake, "I saw it. With my own two eyes."

"I didn't even want to play. He practically begged me to."

"I was trying to be nice to you."

"I don't want your pity."

Jay rubs his temples.

"Listen. Not that I want to defend the spawn of Satan right here," Sunghoon says, finally lifting the gaming console port in his hands, scooping it up like a newborn baby in his hands, "but this guy does have a history of destroying shit in the heat of gamer rage and lying about it. Just saying."

"That was years ago!" Heeseung snaps, turning back to the two other guys, "Don't get me started with him. Do you see what I'm dealing with?" Heeseung shakes his head in disbelief. He moves towards Jake, hands on his shoulders. "Jake. You know me. And you definitely know her. This obviously wasn't me, right?"

Jake looks between all of you. His expression is unreadable. He catches your eye only briefly.

"I mean..." He pauses, "I've only seen one of you ragequit before. That's all I can say."

You smile, and his eyes meet yours. You catch the flicker of an unspoken understanding. He just did you a favour. You both know where that leads.

"Well," You sigh, self-satisfied, walking towards Jake in the doorway, "I think we've reached a verdict, right?"

"No. No, we haven't." Heeseung scoffs, trailing behind you. "You know what you did, you—"

Jay grabs Heeseung's shoulder.

"Just let it go," he mutters, offering a pat on the back, "It's not worth it."

"She called me jobless!"

"You are," Sunghoon adds. Heeseung whips his head around.

"She called you the school's biggest virgin."

"And for the record, I'm not—"

"For the record, nobody believes you," Jay cuts in, flatly, "Now let's just... breathe. It's just a controller. We can take it in tomorrow."

"I'm not doing shit," Heeseung growls, "We're letting a guilty woman walk free just because she has a guard dog now. Unbelievable."

"I just want a new controller, you dickhead," Sunghoon bites back.

"Well, you're not getting it from me!"

Sunghoon and Heeseung continue to argue, Jay trying to keep them apart.

Jake's hand finds yours amidst the noise, warm and familiar, and before you know it, you’re being led down the hall. The sound of voices rising and overlapping fades to nothing as he ushers you into his bedroom. You let out the most wicked grin the moment the door shuts, though he doesn't appear nearly as impressed.

"Did you really have to do all of that?" he raises a brow, and both of you flinch when you hear a thud from somewhere in the living room. The fight continues, but you both ignore it.

"Do what?" You blink up at him. "I told you. I'm innocent."

"Sure you are," he scoffs. "You know he's been trying to get along. He doesn't want to hate you."

"Trying and failing. He's a backstabbing bitch. He knows how much Sunghoon hates me and still threw me under the bus."

"Sunghoon hates both of you, if it makes you feel better."

"Why would that make me feel better? I don't give a shit what that reddit-forum-dwelling creature thinks of me. I just think all the slut-shaming is tired and boring. He could at least come up with a more creative insult, you know."

"Well, I tried," he sighs, "You're welcome for defending you, by the way. Even if we both know you broke that controller."

"Allegedly."

You look him up and down. He's already hard. He usually is when he walks through the front door. You've learned to read the signs—the way he shifts his weight, the way his eyes linger, the way his voice drops just slightly when he says your name.

These days, he’s enjoyed making you work for it. He likes how needy you are after a day of complete boredom. He likes seeing you want him the same way he’s always wanted and still wants you.

Selfishly, he also likes knowing he’s the only guy who gets to see you like this, now that you’ve lost the whole unattainable, untouchable hot girl image. The long lineup of your past admirers had fled the moment you got exposed for what you truly are. So now you’re stuck with him.

Though from the way you eye him down, biting your lower lip, he can’t help but think you’re exactly where you want to be. Even if you’re reluctant to admit it.

“What do you want today, Jake?” You drop to your knees without hesitation, looking up at him through your lashes. “You defended me, so I’m feeling generous. Don’t be shy.”

Right. He just saved you from accountability. Now you owe him something in return. Sometimes he forgets that’s how this whole thing is supposed to work.

You lean forward, your face nudging the bulge, mouth already half-parted like you’re desperate to have him down your throat.

It's routine at this point. You've gotten used to this "not-so-transactional but still pretending to be transactional" exchange. You know what he likes. Though you also know there are a lot of things in that freaked-out, sexually repressed mind of his that he has yet to request. The thought makes you laugh every time: that the boy who tried to blackmail you and asked for a blowjob in exchange for doing your homework still tries to hold back like he’s afraid of hurting you. His hand finds your hair, and you take that as a sign that today, he wants the regular.

"How do you want it this time, hm?" You work at his belt, practiced and efficient. "Want me to swallow? Or you wanna finish on me?"

You're startled when he yanks your head back, away from his crotch. His fingers are gentle but firm under your chin, directing your face up to look at his.

"Actually...” he hesitates, a spark behind those big brown eyes of his. That’s how you know that whatever he's about to ask for has been on his mind for a while. “Can I try something else?"

You're flush against his cock, and he's humping up into your soaked, clothed pussy. The friction is maddening—not enough, almost enough, your thin underwear the only barrier between you.

"Please," He moans, breathless. He's a wreck beneath you, frustrated with what you won't give him. "Please, let me just try it once."

You shake your head, a pretty sound escaping your own lips at the feeling of him rubbing against you.

"I'm not letting you hit it raw. Are you stupid?"

Your fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, and he watches you like you're some kind of dream as you slide the material down your legs. You mount him afterward, absolutely throbbing at the feeling of his pretty tip sliding along your folds, catching at your clit. Both of you gasp.

"I got you out of trouble, and you asked what I wanted." He chokes out, brows furrowed. "That's what I want."

"Too bad."

Your hands fasten around his shoulders as you move your hips. Back and forth. Lost in the rhythm. Desperately grinding down, chasing a kind of pressure and friction that makes your thoughts go fuzzy around the edges.

"Get a condom, Jake," You sigh, nodding toward his bedside drawer.

He doesn't reach. His hands stay firmly at your hips.

"I want to feel you," he shakes his head defiantly, "I earned it. Come on, just let me try."

Suddenly, his tip catches at your entrance, and he certainly notices because he's digging his hands hard enough into your hips to bruise them. But you? There's not a thought that seems to cross your mind as you continue to move your hips around, whining every time his tip is nudged against your entrance—never going in, just kissing it.

You scrunch your brows together. You'd be lying if you hadn't thought about it before, too. And just the feeling of the tip of him against you, hot and leaking with need, has you spiralling.

You let out a whimper when his dick does just a little more than nudge you this time. He suppresses his own pathetic noises as you take in just the tip—your pretty little pussy hugging him so nicely that he has to fight his own demons just to not thrust up into you.

"Just the tip," You finally manage, your voice weak and unconvincing, "Just this. If you want more, you need to wrap it. I'm serious."

He nods, swallowing dryly, not really wanting to settle, but he's taking anything you'll offer at this point. Anything that brings him closer to what he actually wants. His hand moves to clamp down on the rest of his length, keeping himself from going deeper.

He's been having dreams about it ever since that one time, a few weeks ago, he'd finished from fucking your thighs. It was supposed to be a punishment for you—he can’t remember what for, exactly—but the memory of his cum painting your needy cunt tortured him every night since, and he desperately wanted to feel what it would be like to sink himself in there and feel all of you.

You move in shallow thrusts, and it's pure torture for him when all he wants to do is bury himself so deep inside of you. He tries to make do with just his hand and the tip of himself inside you, but he wants more. He needs more. This is not nearly enough.

"I promise I'll pull out," His voice is strained. You flash him a glare. "If you let me, I promise. It will feel so good. Don't you wanna feel it too?"

"Jake..." you whimper.

A little more than just the tip slips past you. Your body betrays you, sinking just slightly lower. You don't know what you're supposed to do when he's looking at you like that- when the curve of his dick feels so good against your walls that you can't possibly think straight.

You let out a final, frustrated sigh, "You'd better pull out, or else."

He's watching in awe and pure shock as you decide to sink your hips fully, burying him to the hilt inside of you. For a moment, neither of you moves. He's not even breathing. His hands are frozen on your hips, fingers pressed so hard they'll leave marks, and his eyes are locked on the place where your bodies meet like he didn't believe his own eyes. Like he didn't think it would ever happen. Like he didn't know this was allowed.

"Fuuuck." The curse is ripped out of him, barely more than a breath. "Holy shit. Fuck."

You rise. Painfully slow. Watching his face the whole time—the way his jaw goes slack, the way his eyes flutter half-closed, the way his fingers twitch against your skin like he's afraid you'll slip away from his grasp. Then you slam your hips back down.

His whole body jerks. A sound tears out of him—something between a moan and a sob, completely involuntary, completely unguarded.

"Holy shit. Holy shit—"

You do it again. And again. Finding a slow rhythm that makes your own breath catch, your own thoughts go hazy around the edges. He feels so good inside you with no barrier or distance. Just him, just you, just the wet slide of your bodies meeting. It’s intimate, and real, and far more difficult for him to handle than he ever thought it’d be.

"Wait." His voice is weak. Straining. "Wait—fuck—I'm—"

But you're not listening. You're too far gone, chasing your own high, riding him with single-minded focus. Your head thrown back. Your lips parted. He's watching himself disappear inside you, stuffing you full, and you're making sounds you haven't made before, sounds you didn't know you could make, and they're driving him absolutely insane.

"Wait—please—I can't—"

His hips buck up into you involuntarily, and his hands are grasping at you desperately, trying to slow you down, trying to warn you, to stop you, but you're so tight and so wet and so perfect around him that his brain has officially stopped functioning.

"I'm gonna—fuck, I'm gonna—"

You feel it before you fully register what's happening. The way his body seizes beneath you. The strangled, almost pained sound that rips from his throat. The hot spill of him inside you, marking you in a way he hadn't yet.

You freeze.

He's still coming. Still twitching inside you, little helpless jerks that he can't control, and he's muttering something—shit, sorry, shit—over and over like a prayer.

The silence that follows is deafening.

You blink, staring down. His chest is heaving. His face flushed. He's still buried inside you, and he can feel the evidence of what just happened dripping down his shaft. He swallows at the feeling of your ever-present glare.

"Jake..."

"I'm sorry."

"I said pull out."

"I didn't mean to. It just—"

He doesn’t try to go on. He has no excuse. He's not even sure he made it to ten pumps inside you.

In his defence, he tried to warn you. He tried to hold back. But you felt so good, and looked so good taking all of him like that, and fuck, he's a little bit obsessed with watching his cum drip out of your pussy right now, twitching and needy because you hadn't yet gotten your own release.

"What is wrong with you?" You scoff finally, "You dumbass, you—"

"Oh my god,” he sighs, eyes completely fixated between your legs, “Shut up."

Before you can react, he's flipping you, and your back hits the mattress. The air leaves your lungs in a surprised huff. He's above you now, caging you in with his arms, his body still flush against yours. His cock slips out of you in the movement, and you both make a sound at the loss—his a low grunt, yours a pathetic little whimper you didn't mean to let out.

He slides his fingers through your cum-soaked folds, watching you squirm beneath his grasp.

"Just stop being a bitch for one second. Please."

His voice is steady. His gaze is steady. His fingers are tracing slow, deliberate circles around your clit, and you're trying very hard not to let him see how much it's affecting you. He doesn't miss a single expression, mentally noting exactly what kind of reaction he’s earning from every gesture, storing it in his memory somewhere like he’s collecting data.

You whimper when his fingers press inside you, filling you up the way you desperately needed.

The sound you make is humiliating. A high, breathy whine that you couldn't have suppressed if you tried. Your back arches off the mattress. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He's filling you up—and though it’s not the full stretch of his cock, it’s at least enough. His fingers curl inside you, finding a spot that makes you gasp.

"I could've taken Heeseung's side, earlier,” he mutters, not so much to you, but more so to himself. “I could've taken what I wanted and left you all needy. But I didn’t.”

Whatever he’s saying falls on deaf ears.

You just let your head fall back against the pillow. Let your eyes flutter closed. Let your hips roll against his hand, chasing the pressure he's giving you.

“You’re lucky I’m so nice to you,” he smiles at you, “Say thank you.”

He's watching you the whole time—you can feel his gaze on your face, heavy and intent—but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when his fingers are moving like that. Not when his thumb is doing that thing. Not when the tension in your stomach is coiling tighter and tighter and… begrudgingly, the word slips past your lips.

"Thank you, Jake."

His fingers move faster. His thumb presses harder.

"Good girl,” he coos, “My good girl. All mine.”

The tension snaps, and you come apart around his hand—gasping, trembling, your nails raking down his back. He works you through it, gentler now, murmuring something against your throat that you can't quite hear over the rush of blood in your ears.

When it's over, you lie there. Breathing hard. Staring at the ceiling. The ceiling of his shitty apartment, in his shitty bedroom, with his shitty roommate still yelling about the broken controller somewhere down the hall.

But at least Jake isn’t shitty.

You curl into his side, breathing him in. If you still had friends, they’d probably tell you how stupid it is to cling to a boy who quite literally blackmailed you. But it doesn’t feel so stupid when the weight of him under your fingertips is real, and the sound of his heart beating through his chest makes you feel so alive.

The cum dripping from between your legs makes your eyes snap open. You roll over to your side to face him.

"You're buying the Plan B."

He gives you a sorry-eyed look, the one you'd seen more than a few times before and can never seem to stay upset at as he reaches for you, pulling you flush against his chest.

"I know."

He presses a kiss to your forehead. Your heart swells.

"And you're making me breakfast tomorrow."

He lifts your chin, hand stroking your cheek.

"I will."

He leans in and kisses you. It’s unhurried, unbothered. A little lazy, if anything, and your hands loop behind his neck. On instinct, you rake your nails through the hair at the back of his head, just—an action that always seems to earn you a delightful little grunt from him.

"And," you continue, pulling away just as he tries to chase your lips, "You’re telling Sunghoon I didn't break his stupid controller."

He hesitates. "I'm pretty sure you did—"

"He doesn't need to know that."

He snorts, and there’s a thoughtful pause. A smile forms on his lips.

“I’ll tell him on one condition.”

The following day, there’s a stillness to the house, different from the usual. You don’t hear Heeseung’s typical, ungraceful movements throughout the house; his music playing too loud in his headphones, singing under his breath, or stomping around and yawning.

And now, you’re peaking out of Jake’s bedroom door, glancing towards the living room where you know Heeseung currently sits, thinking this is the worst thing Jake could have possibly asked you to do.

“I’ll deal with Sunghoon’s broken controller if you promise me to be nice to Heeseung from now on.” Jake’s voice echoes in your head.

“Why should I?” You had frowned, “He called me a slut. Multiple times.”

“You called him a jobless loser multiple times.”

“Because he is jobless.”

“And you’re a slut. What’s your point?”

You sigh at the memory of the exchange.

You walk over there. The two of you stare at each other like outlaws before a shootout, neither willing to draw first.

“Need something?” He asks flatly.

“No.” You plant yourself at the very edge of the couch, on the opposite end. “Just bored.“

“…Okay?”

You watch him flip through the channels mindlessly. Everything on TV sucks. You’re not even sure why they pay for cable.

“Jake said he’ll buy Sunghoon a new controller, by the way.” You finally say. He turns. You continue. “Just thought I’d let you know. In case you were worried about your empty bank account.”

A sigh of relief escapes him.

“You’re a real bitch, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me. So…” you wince before the next words even leave your mouth, but you remind yourself of what you promised Jake; that you’d at least try. “Let’s be bored together. Or something.”

He looks at you suspiciously. You can’t really blame him for it. You glare back, looking him up and down. You take in the stupid anime character in his shirt and his ratty old high school gym shorts that have definitely seen better days. Months ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead trying to willingly interact with someone like him unless it meant making your life easier.

“Well,” he nods towards the TV, “We’ve got no more Smash Bros thanks to someone, so I hope you like 90s sitcom reruns.”

“Actually, I’ve got something way better in mind.”

“Like?”

“Like…” You grin, nodding to the hallway. You both hear Sunghoon yelling at his game like usual, and Heeseung quirks a brow. “Unplugging his pc from the router?”

“…I’m not watching that.”

“But we watched your reality TV bullshit for hours!”

“Oh, please. You were more invested in it than I was.”

Jake and Jay pause before the door, the sound of your voice and Heeseung’s bickering from the inside. They’d gotten used to entering a house of chaos for the majority of the summer. You’re talking over each other. Fighting over something stupid. And if Sunghoon’s angry group chat texts from earlier that day were anything to go by, he knows you got up to no good again. But this time, it’s a bit different. He can hear it. Seeing how Jay turns to look at him, Jake assumes he hears it too.

“Am I going crazy, or are they willingly interacting?” Jay quirks a brow.

“She’s learning how to play nice.”

“Is that it?” He scoffs, rummaging for his keys, “Or did you tell her to play nice?”

“I encouraged it.”

“You should start encouraging her to pay rent while you’re at it, since she’s always here.”

“You’re complaining. But she’s the only one who helps with dishes after you cook,” Jake hums. “She’s arguably a better roommate than some of the people in this house.”

They open the door. And neither you nor Heeseung seem to notice or care because he’s still crouched by his laptop, fumbling with the HDMI cable while you scroll on your phone.

"So, unplugging the router, huh?” Jay says, loud and disappointed like a father as he kicks off his shoes. "That's a new low."

"We don't know what you're talking about.” Heeseung doesn’t even look up. You don’t look up from your phone either.

“No idea.”

“Zero.”

“I don’t even know how to unplug the router.”

“Well, I could believe that,” Heeseung grins, but immediately drops it when you flash him a glare.

"Sunghoon’s been blowing up the group chat. All caps. He says he lost fifty ranked points."

"Oh no," you mutter, still scrolling, “He lost his ultimate nerd status symbol. What a tragedy.”

"Truly devastating.”

"You know he's going to retaliate, right?” Jake smiles lightly, leaning against the doorframe. Only then do you look up, eyes raking down his form. “You've started a war."

"A war he won’t win,” you grin, “now that we’re a unified front.”

Jay sighs—the long, exhausted sigh of someone who has accepted his role as the only functional adult in this household. "I'm making dinner. Try not to destroy anything else while I'm in the kitchen."

"No promises," you and Heeseung say in unison.

Jay pauses. Looks at Jake, then lowers his voice, "Jesus fuck they’re in sync now.“

“I know.”

“They’re going to terrorize all of us.”

“Not me,” Jake grins, “but you and Sunghoon? Yeah, you better lay low a while.”

Jay scoffs, muttering something about needing a new apartment. He disappears into the kitchen, and soon the smell of whatever he's cooking starts to fill the house. Heeseung is still fiddling with the laptop, trying to get the streaming site to load without buffering.

Jake joins you in the living room minutes later, his work clothes gone, a fresh t-shirt on, as he drops onto the couch beside you.

You immediately curl into his side like a cat. His arm goes around you, and you’re grasping at him, pulling him impossibly closer. A blush creeps to his cheeks when your fingers interlock with his hand.

“Missed me?” He raises a brow, half joking, because you always deny it when he asks. But, truly, you’re not usually this casually intimate. It has his heartbeat doing pathetic little skips all over again.

“Shut up,” you reply. That’s not a denial this time. The thought makes him even more flustered.

Both of you seem to forget that Heeseung is in the room until he lets out a loud, fake gag.

“Ew. I’m going to throw up.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your Stockholm syndrome situationship? Absolutely not,” he rolls his eyes, “And if you two do anything weird on that couch, I’m gonna start making Jake wear a chastity belt. God knows he needs it.”

“Well, I can’t disagree with that,” you grin, enjoying how the tinge of pink on Jake’s cheeks burns just a little brighter despite the way he scoffs at your joke.

The opening scene starts. It’s some action movie he picked, with superheroes you know nothing about. Jay occasionally peeks in while whatever he’s making cooks in the oven, and Heeseung occasionally starts blabbering with Jake over which character is from which comic book and which appeared in which universe.

You’re not really listening, but in a moment of stillness, you catch Jake’s eye. There’s an unmistakable warmth in his gaze.

You lean in, your voice just a whisper. “Kept your promise. Happy?”

“Very.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you tease. He’s impossibly hard under the blanket you’d thrown over each other. You’ve behaved so far, for Heeseung’s sake. But… “You want me to do something about it?”

He bites his lip, looking down at you. Your tank top, one strap slipping off your shoulder, the way your chest looks in that neckline. And your expression, a not-so-innocent smile paired with a doe-eyed gaze. The same girl he fell for months ago. Only this time, you actually want him.

Jake ponders your request longer than he should. He could drag you out of the room and have you right this very moment. It’s too tempting. Instead, he shakes his head, squeezing your hand. You squeeze his right back. He’d rather stay like this.

You stand near the center of the living room, red solo cup dangling from your fingers, wearing a black crop top that barely qualifies as a shirt and a skirt short enough that you’d tugged it down twice on the walk over. Not that you care. You know you look good. The stares confirm it, the way eyes track you when you move through a room, the way conversations pause just slightly when you laugh.

“Babe!” Mina’s voice cuts through the music, and you turn to see her shoving her way through a cluster of drunk business majors, her own outfit just as devastating as yours—a tight red dress that clings in all the right places. She’s holding two fresh drinks, wearing that wild grin that always means trouble.

You take the cup she offers, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”

“I’m bored,” she announces, taking a long sip. “This party’s gotten stale. Everyone here is so predictable.”

You glance around. She’s not wrong. Same people, same drama, same bullshit. Heeseung is doing keg stands in the corner while Jake hypes him up, Jay is flirting with some girl from your Econ lecture, and everyone else is just going through the motions of a typical Friday night.

“So what do you wanna do?” you ask, leaning against the wall. “Leave?”

“No.” Mina’s eyes glitter with mischief. “I want to make a bet.”

You laugh, already intrigued. Mina’s bets are legendary—last semester she’d dared you to steal a traffic cone from campus security, and you’d done it just to see the look on her face. “I’m listening.”

She leans in close, her breath smelling like vodka and cherry chapstick. “See that guy over there?”

You follow her gaze across the room. At first, you don’t see who she’s talking about—there’s too many people packed into the space—but then the crowd shifts, and you spot him.

Park Sunghoon.

He’s standing near the bookshelf, looking deeply uncomfortable in a neat button-up shirt and glasses, holding what appears to be a bottle of water. His posture is stiff, like he’s not sure what to do with his hands, and he’s nodding along to something Heeseung is saying with this polite, awkward smile.

You know who he is, obviously. Everyone does, but for different reasons than they know you. Where you’re known for the parties, the chaos, the way you light up every room you enter, Sunghoon is known for being the biggest nerd on campus. Statistics and Data Science major, perfect GPA, the guy everyone goes to when they’re desperate for tutoring. You’ve seen him around—usually in the library, hunched over a laptop, or walking to class with his nose in a textbook.

“The nerd?” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What about him?”

“I bet you can’t make him fall for you.”

You almost choke on your drink. “What?”

Mina’s grin widens. “Come on. Look at him. He’s like… a different species. You really think someone like him would ever go for someone like you?”

There’s no malice in her words—this is just how you two operate, all teasing and challenge—but something about it pricks at your pride. “Someone like me?”

“You know what I mean. Party girl. Confident. Hot as fuck. He probably faints if a girl even looks at him.” She gestures toward Sunghoon, who is now adjusting his glasses and looking around like he’s searching for an escape route. “I don’t think he’s ever even been to a party before tonight. Heeseung probably dragged him here.”

You study Sunghoon more carefully. He’s taller than you expected, with sharp features that might actually be attractive if he didn’t look so perpetually nervous. His hair is neat, parted carefully, and his clothes scream “I iron my shirts on Sunday nights.”

“That’s the bet?” you ask, turning back to Mina. “Make him fall for me?”

“Yep. And I’m talking actual feelings. Not just him stuttering around you—I want him gone for you. Pining. Obsessed.”

You laugh, loud enough that a few people glance over. “That’s almost too easy.”

“Then you won’t mind putting money on it.” Mina pulls out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “Two hundred dollars says you can’t do it.”

Two hundred dollars. That’s not nothing—that’s a weekend trip, or a new pair of boots you’ve been eyeing, or enough drinks to not worry about your bank account for a month.

But more than that, it’s the principle. The idea that Mina thinks you can’t do something, that Park Sunghoon is somehow immune to you, needles at something deep and petty in your chest.

“You’re on,” you say, shaking her hand. “Two hundred dollars. And bragging rights.”

“Bragging rights,” Mina agrees, her grin turning wicked. “This is going to be so fun to watch.”

You drain the rest of your drink, feeling the alcohol warm and loose in your veins, and set the empty cup on the nearest surface. “How long do I have?”

“End of the semester,” Mina says. “That’s what, fourteen weeks? Should be plenty of time. If you’re as good as you think you are.”

“Please.” You flip your hair over your shoulder, already feeling the familiar thrill of a challenge. “I’ll have him obsessed with me by midterms.”

Mina cackles, pulling you into a quick hug. “God, I love you. Okay. Go work your magic.”

You glance back toward Sunghoon. He’s still standing with Heeseung and Jake now, looking like he’s barely contributing to the conversation. Jay has joined them too, and the contrast is almost funny—three effortlessly cool guys and one awkward nerd who looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.

The smart play would be to approach him tonight, start planting the seeds. But you’re tipsy and the party is loud, and you know first impressions matter. You need to do this right.

“Not tonight,” you say, turning back to Mina. “I need a strategy.”

“Ooh, strategic. I like it.”

“Monday,” you decide. “I’ll figure out his schedule, and I’ll make my move.”

Mina raises her fresh drink in a toast. “To the downfall of Park Sunghoon’s GPA and emotional stability.”

You clink your cup against hers, grinning. “He won’t know what hit him.”

Monday morning comes with a hangover you shake off in the shower and a determination that feels almost dangerous.

You dress carefully—a tight cropped sweater that shows a sliver of skin above your low-rise jeans, paired with heels that make your legs look longer. Your makeup is flawless, lips glossy, and you know you look good because your roommate actually stops mid-bite of her cereal to stare.

“Where are you going looking like that?” she asks.

“Library,” you say, grabbing your bag.

“The library?”

You just smile and head out.

You’d done your research last night, scrolling through social media and asking around until you had a decent sense of Sunghoon’s schedule. Turns out, he’s a creature of habit—every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he’s in the library from 9 AM to noon, tutoring students for credit. Something about needing volunteer hours for his degree, or maybe it’s for some honors society. You don’t really care about the why. You just need the when and where.

The library is quieter than usual, the Monday morning crowd sparse. You spot him almost immediately, sitting at one of the large tables near the windows, his laptop open and a stack of textbooks beside him. He’s alone right now, tapping away at his keyboard with the kind of focus that makes you think he’s probably forgotten the rest of the world exists.

You take a breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk over.

He doesn’t notice you at first. You have to actually stop in front of his table and clear your throat before he looks up, and when he does, his eyes widen slightly behind his glasses.

“Um,” he says, his voice soft and uncertain. “Hi?”

“Hi,” you say, flashing your most disarming smile. “You’re Park Sunghoon, right?”

“Uh. Yes?” He blinks up at you, clearly confused about why you’re talking to him. His gaze flickers down for just a second—taking in your outfit, probably—before snapping back to your face, his cheeks flushing pink.

Perfect.

“I heard you do tutoring,” you say, sliding into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. “For Statistics?”

“Oh.” His expression shifts slightly, relaxing into something more familiar. This is territory he knows. “Yeah, I do. Are you… do you need help with a class?”

“Desperately,” you lie, letting a little frustration creep into your voice. “I’m in STAT 400, and I’m completely lost. Like, I don’t even know where to start.”

STAT 400 is a class you could probably teach at this point—you’d aced it last semester—but he doesn’t need to know that.

Sunghoon nods, pulling out a notebook. “That’s a tough class. What specifically are you struggling with?”

You wave a hand vaguely. “Honestly? All of it. Probability distributions, hypothesis testing… I just can’t make it click, you know?”

He’s scribbling something down, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay. Yeah, I can definitely help with that. I tutor that class a lot, actually.”

“Really?” You lean forward slightly, resting your chin in your hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I was seriously worried I was going to fail.”

His eyes flicker to you again, and you can see him trying very hard not to stare. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s fighting to keep his focus on his notebook.

“So, um,” he says, clearing his throat. “When works for you? I usually do sessions twice a week, an hour each.”

“Whatever works for you,” you say easily. “I’m pretty flexible.”

He checks his phone, scrolling through what looks like a calendar. “How about… Tuesdays and Thursdays? 5 PM?”

“Perfect.” You pull out your own phone, typing in the times. “Should I meet you here?”

“Yeah, here’s good.” He looks up at you, and for a moment, you’re struck by how dark his eyes are behind those glasses. “Can I get your name? For my schedule.”

You tell him, and he types it into his phone, his fingers quick and precise.

“Got it,” he says, offering you a small, polite smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Looking forward to it.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and give him a little wave. “Thanks, Sunghoon.”

His blush deepens at the sound of his name, and you have to bite back a grin as you walk away. This is going to be easier than you thought.

You show up to the library on Tuesday at 4:55 PM, which is late enough to seem casual but early enough to seem eager. You’ve dressed down slightly from yesterday—a fitted long-sleeve shirt that still manages to show off your figure, paired with jeans that sit low on your hips. Still hot, but approachable. You’re playing a character here, and the character is a girl who’s struggling with statistics and needs help, not a girl who’s about to ruin someone’s life for two hundred dollars.

The guilt hasn’t hit yet. Right now, it’s still just a game.

Sunghoon is already at the same table by the windows, his laptop open and a thermos of what you assume is coffee beside him. He looks up when you approach, and you catch the tiniest flicker of surprise in his expression, like he half-expected you not to show.

“Hi,” you say, dropping your bag onto the table and sliding into the seat across from him.

“Hi.” He closes his laptop and pushes it aside, pulling out a notebook instead. “Ready to get started?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh. “Fair warning, I’m really bad at this.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and there’s something unexpectedly kind in his voice. “Everyone starts somewhere. Can you show me what you’re working on in class right now?”

You pull out your own notebook—you’d actually done some prep work last night, writing out problem sets from the STAT 400 syllabus you still have saved on your laptop. You’d deliberately gotten some of them wrong, made your handwriting a little messier than usual, added some confused notes in the margins. It has to look real.

Sunghoon takes the notebook and studies your work, his brow furrowing in concentration. His fingers tap against the edge of the paper, a nervous habit, and you notice that his nails are neatly trimmed, his hands surprisingly elegant for someone so awkward.

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “I see what’s happening here. You’re getting tripped up on the notation, I think. The concepts aren’t that complicated once you understand what the symbols actually mean.”

He flips to a blank page in your notebook and starts writing, his handwriting neat and precise. As he explains the basics of probability distributions, you force yourself to pay attention, nodding along and asking questions that someone who’s actually confused would ask.

“Does that make sense?” he asks after a few minutes, glancing up at you.

“I think so,” you say. “Can you go over that last part again?”

He does, patient and thorough, and you notice the way he relaxes slightly when he’s teaching. The nervousness fades, replaced by something that almost resembles confidence. This is where he’s comfortable—explaining things, breaking down complex ideas into manageable pieces.

It’s… not what you expected.

You’d thought this would be painful, sitting through tutoring sessions for a class you don’t need help with. But Sunghoon is actually a good teacher, and there’s something almost soothing about the way he talks through problems, his voice low and steady.

“Try this one,” he says, sliding the notebook back to you with a new problem written out.

You make a show of working through it, deliberately hesitating in places, second-guessing yourself. When you write down the final answer—which you know is correct—you look up at him uncertainly.

“Is that right?”

He checks your work, and a small smile crosses his face. “Yeah. That’s perfect.”

The praise shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

“Really?” You let yourself sound surprised, pleased.

“Really. You’re getting it faster than you think.”

You beam at him, and his cheeks flush pink again. He looks away quickly, clearing his throat.

“Let’s do a few more,” he says.

The hour passes faster than you expected. By the time Sunghoon checks his phone and announces that your session is up, you’re almost disappointed.

“Same time Thursday?” he asks, packing up his things.

“Yeah, definitely.” You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks, Sunghoon. You’re really good at this.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He ducks his head, and you catch the small smile on his face as he turns away.

As you walk out of the library, you pull out your phone and text Mina.

Session one: complete. He blushed like four times.

Her response is immediate: you’re evil. i love it.

Thursday’s session follows a similar pattern. You show up right on time, dressed in a crop top and high-waisted pants that make Sunghoon’s eyes widen for just a second before he forces his gaze back to his notebook. You work through more problems, ask more questions, let him guide you through concepts you already understand.

But this time, you start to push things slightly.

“God, I don’t know how you keep all of this straight in your head,” you say at one point, leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms above your head. The movement makes your shirt ride up slightly, exposing your stomach, and you don’t miss the way Sunghoon’s gaze flickers down before he quickly looks away.

“It’s just practice,” he says, his voice a little strained. “Once you do enough problems, it becomes automatic.”

“You must be so smart,” you say, propping your chin in your hand and looking at him with wide, admiring eyes. “Like, seriously. I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water in most of my classes, and you’re just… breezing through everything.”

He shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not that smart. I just work hard.”

“Don’t be modest.” You nudge his foot lightly under the table with yours, and he actually jumps a little. “You’re like, a genius. Everyone says so.”

“I’m really not,” he insists, but you can see the pleased flush creeping up his neck.

You let it drop, returning your attention to the problems in front of you, but you’ve planted the seed. Compliments, physical proximity, attention—these are the tools you know how to use.

Near the end of the session, as Sunghoon is explaining something about confidence intervals, you let your knee bump against his under the table. It’s brief, could be an accident, but you see the way he falters mid-sentence, his train of thought derailing completely.

“Sorry,” he says, blinking rapidly. “Where was I?”

“Confidence intervals,” you prompt, biting back a smile.

“Right. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and continues, but his voice is slightly shakier now.

When the session ends, you pack up slowly, deliberately taking your time.

“Hey,” you say as he’s closing his laptop. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you tutor? Like, I know it’s for credit or whatever, but you’re already so busy. Don’t you ever just… want a break?”

He seems surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I guess I like helping people. And it’s good practice for me, too. Explaining things helps me understand them better.”

“That’s really nice,” you say, and you’re surprised to find that you actually mean it. “Most people wouldn’t go out of their way like that.”

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though.” You give him a warm smile. “Anyway. Thanks again. I actually feel like I might not fail this class now.”

“You’re not going to fail,” he says firmly. “You’re doing really well.”

Something about the conviction in his voice makes your chest tighten, but you push the feeling aside.

“See you next week,” you say, heading toward the exit.

As you leave, you glance back and catch him watching you. He looks away immediately, his face flushing, and you can’t help the satisfied smile that crosses your face.

This is almost too easy.

By the third week of tutoring, you’ve established a routine. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 5 PM, the same table by the windows. Sunghoon is always there early, his materials already laid out, a thermos of coffee within reach. You’ve started to learn his habits—the way he taps his pen against the table when he’s thinking, the way he pushes his glasses up when he’s concentrating, the way he smiles when you get a problem right.

You’ve also started to push boundaries more deliberately.

You sit closer to him now, close enough that your arms brush when you’re both leaning over the same textbook. You ask him to show you how to work through problems on your laptop, which means he has to lean in close, his shoulder pressed against yours, his face inches from yours as he points at the screen.

He’s still nervous, still awkward, but he’s getting more comfortable with you. He makes eye contact more often, laughs at your jokes, occasionally offers comments that aren’t strictly about statistics.

“Are you going to the game on Saturday?” you ask during one session, glancing up from your notebook.

“Game?” He looks confused.

“The basketball game. Against State.”

“Oh. No, probably not. That’s not really my thing.”

“What is your thing?” you ask, genuinely curious despite yourself.

He thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. I like hiking, I guess. And I play chess online sometimes.”

“Hiking?” You raise an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the outdoorsy type.”

“Why not?” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“I don’t know. You just seem like you’d rather be inside with a book.”

“I can like both,” he points out, and there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or challenge.

“Fair enough.” You grin. “Maybe you should take me sometime. I could use the exercise.”

His eyes widen. “Oh. Uh. I mean, if you want. There’s a good trail about twenty minutes from campus—”

“I’m kidding,” you say quickly, laughing. “Can you imagine me hiking? I’d die.”

“Right.” He laughs too, but it sounds slightly forced. “Yeah.”

You almost feel bad for teasing him, but you push the feeling aside. This is the point—keep him off balance, make him think about you, wonder about you.

Later in the session, when you’re both bent over a particularly complicated problem, you reach out to point at something on the page. Your hand brushes against his, and you let it linger for just a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s fine,” he says, but his voice is tight, and when you glance at him, his jaw is clenched. Interesting.

After that session, as you’re walking back to your apartment, Mina calls.

“How’s Operation Nerd going?” she asks immediately.

“Good,” you say. “He’s definitely noticing me.”

“Noticing you, or noticing you?”

“Both, I think.” You push open the door to your building, nodding at a couple of girls you recognize from a party last weekend. “He’s still really awkward, but he’s warming up.”

“Have you guys hung out outside of tutoring yet?”

“No. I’m taking it slow.”

“Slow?” Mina sounds incredulous. “Babe, you have like eleven weeks left. You need to speed this up.”

“I know what I’m doing,” you say, climbing the stairs to your floor. “If I come on too strong, he’ll get suspicious. He’s not stupid.”

“Fine, fine. You’re the expert.” There’s a pause, and then: “Are you having fun, at least?”

The question catches you off guard. “What?”

“I mean, is this entertaining? Or is it just a chore?”

You think about the way Sunghoon’s face lights up when you get a problem right, the way he listens so intently when you talk, the way he’s slowly becoming less guarded around you.

“It’s fine,” you say eventually. “He’s not as boring as I thought he’d be.”

“High praise,” Mina says dryly. “Okay, well, keep me updated. I want all the details.”

After you hang up, you find yourself thinking about the question. Are you having fun?

The honest answer is yes. You are. And that should probably worry you more than it does.

The following Tuesday, something shifts.

You’re halfway through the session when Sunghoon’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, frowns, and then looks at you apologetically.

“Sorry, do you mind if I take this? It’s my friend.”

“Go ahead,” you say, waving him off.

He steps away from the table, phone pressed to his ear, and you watch as his expression shifts from confused to annoyed to resigned. When he comes back, he’s running a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, sorry. That was Heeseung. He’s having people over tonight and wanted to make sure I’m coming.”

“Are you?”

“I guess. He’ll give me shit if I don’t.” Sunghoon sits back down, but he seems distracted now, his usual focus scattered.

“You don’t sound excited,” you observe.

“Parties aren’t really my scene,” he admits. “Too loud, too crowded. I usually just end up standing in a corner wishing I was home.”

You laugh. “Then why go?”

“Because Heeseung, Jake, and Jay are my friends, and they actually want me there. I think.” He says it like he’s not entirely sure, and something about that makes your chest ache.

“They definitely want you there,” you say. “Those guys don’t do pity invites.”

He looks at you, surprised. “You know them?”

“Everyone knows them. We run in similar circles.” You lean back in your chair, studying him. “How’d you end up friends with them, anyway? No offense, but you’re not exactly the typical crowd they hang out with.”

“We lived in the same dorm freshman year,” Sunghoon says. “Heeseung and I got paired as roommates, and Jake and Jay lived down the hall. They kind of… adopted me, I guess. I don’t really know why.”

“Maybe because you’re cool,” you suggest.

He snorts. “I’m definitely not cool.”

“You’re cool in your own way.”

“That’s a nice way of saying I’m a nerd.”

“Being a nerd isn’t a bad thing,” you say. And then, before you can think better of it: “I’ll be there tonight, probably. At Heeseung’s thing. Maybe I’ll see you.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe.”

The rest of the session is slightly stilted, both of you distracted by the knowledge that you’ll be in the same place later, outside the safe confines of the library. When you pack up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.

“Hey, um. Thanks. For saying that. About me being cool.”

You smile. “I meant it.”

And as you walk away, you realize with a start that you actually did.

Heeseung’s apartment is packed when you arrive just after ten, Mina in tow. The music is loud enough to make the walls vibrate, and the air is thick with the smell of beer and too many bodies in a small space.

“This is going to be good,” Mina says, already scanning the room. “Is your nerd here yet?”

“Don’t call him that,” you say automatically, and then catch yourself. Since when do you care?

Mina gives you a look but doesn’t comment. “Well? Do you see him?”

You crane your neck, looking over the crowd, and finally spot Sunghoon near the kitchen. He’s wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt—the most casual you’ve ever seen him—and he’s talking to Jay, looking significantly less uncomfortable than you’d expected.

“There,” you say, nodding toward him.

“Oh my god, he’s actually kind of hot when he’s not dressed like someone’s dad,” Mina says.

She’s not wrong. Without the button-ups and the overly neat hair, Sunghoon looks… different. Younger. More relaxed. And yeah, hot.

“I’m going over,” you say.

“Good luck,” Mina calls after you, already veering off toward the makeshift bar.

You weave through the crowd, dodging drunk dancers and people shouting over the music. When you reach the kitchen, you tap Sunghoon on the shoulder.

He turns, and his face lights up when he sees you.

“You came,” he says, and he sounds genuinely happy about it.

“I said I might,” you reply, grinning. “Hi, Jay.”

Jay gives you an appreciative once-over—you’re wearing a tiny black dress that leaves very little to the imagination—and nods. “Hey. You two know each other?”

“Sunghoon’s my tutor,” you say.

“Tutor?” Jay looks at Sunghoon with mock suspicion. “You didn’t tell me you were tutoring hot girls.”

Sunghoon’s face goes red. “It’s not—she needed help with stats—”

“I’m just giving you shit,” Jay says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go find Jake. You two have fun.”

He disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Sunghoon alone in the relative chaos of the kitchen.

“Want a drink?” you ask, already moving toward the counter where someone’s set up a chaotic array of bottles and mixers.

“I’m okay,” Sunghoon says, holding up a bottle of water.

“Of course you are.” You pour yourself something strong, turning back to him. “So. How are you surviving so far?”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” he admits. “Maybe because you’re here.”

The comment catches you off guard. It’s surprisingly bold for him, and when you meet his eyes, there’s something there you haven’t seen before—a flicker of confidence, maybe, or just the tiniest bit of flirtation.

“Smooth,” you say, taking a sip of your drink.

He looks immediately mortified. “Sorry, that was—”

“I’m kidding. It was sweet.” You step closer to him, close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. “You should let yourself relax more often. You’re less uptight when you do.”

“I’m uptight?” He sounds offended.

“A little,” you tease. “But it’s part of your charm.”

Before he can respond, someone cranks the music even louder, and the kitchen suddenly floods with people trying to escape the living room. You’re jostled forward, and Sunghoon reaches out instinctively to steady you, his hands landing on your waist.

For a moment, you’re pressed against him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, to see the way his pupils dilate slightly behind his glasses.

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t let go immediately.

“It’s okay,” you murmur.

The moment stretches, tension coiling between you, and you realize with a jolt that your heart is beating faster. Not because you’re playing a role, but because he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it feels…

It feels good.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod.

He takes your hand—his grip warm and surprisingly steady—and leads you out of the kitchen, through the crowd, and out onto the apartment’s small balcony. The noise fades to a dull roar as he slides the door shut behind you, and suddenly it’s just the two of you under the night sky.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking out at the campus spread below. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He stands beside you, close but not touching, and for a few moments, neither of you speaks.

“Can I ask you something?” he says eventually.

“Sure.”

“Why did you come tonight? You said parties are your thing, so you probably had other options.”

You turn to look at him. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”

His breath catches. “Really?”

“Really.” You’re not sure if you’re lying anymore.

Sunghoon holds your gaze, and something shifts in the air between you. He takes a step closer, and your pulse spikes.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly.

“Me too,” you whisper.

And when he smiles—a real, genuine smile that makes his whole face light up—you feel something crack open in your chest.

This was supposed to be simple. Easy. A game.

But standing here with him, the city lights glittering below and his hand just inches from yours on the railing, you’re starting to realize that you might be in over your head.

Sunghoon is already at your usual table, but today there’s something different. Instead of his typical setup of laptop and textbooks, there’s a white paper bag and two coffee cups.

“Hi,” he says when you approach, and he looks almost nervous. “I, uh. I brought coffee. And pastries. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just guessed. I hope that’s okay.”

You stare at the cups, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in your chest. “You brought me coffee?”

“Yeah. You mentioned last week that you didn’t have time to grab any before our session, so I thought…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is that weird? That’s probably weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you say softly, sliding into your seat. “It’s really sweet.”

His face lights up, and he pushes one of the cups toward you. “It’s a vanilla latte. But if you don’t like it, I can—”

“Vanilla latte is perfect.” You take a sip, and it’s exactly the right temperature, exactly the right sweetness. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

“You’re welcome.” He’s smiling now, that soft genuine smile that makes your heart do stupid things.

The session proceeds normally—problem sets, explanations, the comfortable back-and-forth you’ve developed—but the coffee and pastries feel like something more. Like he’s trying to take care of you in his own quiet way.

Halfway through, while you’re working on a problem, Sunghoon speaks up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say, not looking up from your notebook.

“Why economics?”

You pause, pen hovering over the page. “What?”

“Your major. Why did you choose economics?”

No one has asked you that in a long time. Most people just assume you picked it because it’s practical, or because you wanted something that would make money, or because you didn’t know what else to do.

“I like understanding how things work,” you say slowly. “Like, why people make the decisions they make. What drives markets, what causes crashes, all of that. It’s like… a puzzle, I guess. And I’m good at puzzles.”

Sunghoon is looking at you with this intense focus, like he’s genuinely interested in your answer. “That’s really cool.”

“Yeah?” You feel oddly vulnerable suddenly.

“Yeah. Most people just say it’s for the money.”

“I mean, the money doesn’t hurt,” you joke, but it falls flat.

“I get it, though,” he says. “That’s kind of why I like statistics. Everything can be understood if you have enough data. The world makes sense when you can quantify it.”

You find yourself smiling. “We’re more similar than I thought.”

“Is that surprising?”

“A little,” you admit. “I thought you’d be all… I don’t know. Textbooks and equations and no personality.”

He laughs, a real laugh that makes his eyes crinkle. “Wow. Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You’re laughing too now. “I just meant—you’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Boring? Uptight? But you’re actually…” You pause, searching for the right word. “You’re actually really easy to talk to.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens. “So are you.”

The moment hangs between you, charged with something you can’t quite name. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re sitting, how his knee is almost touching yours under the table, how easy it would be to just lean forward and—

Your phone buzzes, shattering the moment. It’s a text from Mina: party at sigma chi friday. you coming?

You type back a quick yeah probably and set your phone down, but the spell is broken. Sunghoon has already returned his attention to the textbook, his expression neutral.

The rest of the session passes normally, but something has changed. There’s a weight in the air now, a tension that wasn’t there before.

When you’re packing up to leave, Sunghoon clears his throat.

“Hey, um. Are you doing anything this weekend?”

Your heart skips. “Why?”

“There’s this new exhibit at the art museum. Photography from conflict zones. I thought it might be interesting, and I was wondering if… if maybe you wanted to go? With me?”

He’s asking you on a date. Park Sunghoon is asking you on an actual date.

You should say yes. This is perfect for the bet—spending time together outside of tutoring, building a connection, making him fall harder.

But the thought of it makes your stomach twist with something that feels uncomfortably like guilt.

“I can’t this weekend,” you say, and you’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. “I have plans with friends.”

“Oh.” He tries to hide his disappointment, but you can see it in the way his shoulders slump slightly. “That’s okay. Maybe another time.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Another time.”

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back, and you hate yourself a little bit.

Friday night comes, and you’re at the Sigma Chi house with Mina, three drinks deep and feeling reckless.

The party is packed, bodies pressed together in every room, music so loud you can feel it in your bones. You’re wearing your sluttiest dress—a tiny red thing that barely covers your ass—and you know you look good because you’ve been turning heads all night.

“There’s Jake,” Mina says, pointing toward the kitchen. “With Heeseung and Jay.”

“So?” you say, taking another sip of your drink.

“So, isn’t that Sunghoon’s friend group? Maybe he’s here.”

You scan the kitchen, but you don’t see Sunghoon anywhere. Just his three friends, laughing and drinking and looking effortlessly cool in a way Sunghoon never quite manages.

“I don’t think he’s here,” you say.

“Probably for the best,” Mina says. “You can actually have fun without worrying about the bet.”

But that’s the problem. You’re starting to realize that you have more fun with Sunghoon than without him.

You push the thought away and drain your drink. “I need another.”

The next hour is a blur of alcohol and dancing and the kind of mindless fun you usually thrive on. You dance with strangers, do shots with girls from your econ class, lose Mina somewhere in the crowd. And then Jake finds you.

“Hey,” he says, appearing at your elbow with that easy smile. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

“I am,” you say, and you realize you have to raise your voice to be heard over the music.

“Want to get some air? It’s hot as hell in here.”

You follow him out to the back porch, where it’s marginally quieter and cooler. There are a few other people out here, smoking and talking in low voices, but Jake leads you to a corner that’s relatively private.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much.” You lean against the railing, looking up at him. Jake is attractive in an obvious way—tall, athletic build, sharp jawline. The kind of guy you’d normally go for without thinking twice.

“I’ve seen you around,” Jake says, moving closer. “You’re hard to miss.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Definitely.” His gaze drops to your lips, then back up. “You’re friends with Sunghoon, right?”

The mention of Sunghoon’s name sends a jolt through you. “He’s tutoring me.”

“That’s all?”

“What else would it be?”

Jake shrugs. “I don’t know. He talks about you a lot.”

Your heart stutters. “He does?”

“Yeah. He tries to be subtle about it, but it’s pretty obvious he’s into you.” Jake grins. “Can’t blame him.”

You should ask what Sunghoon says about you. You should care more about the implications.

But you’re drunk and Jake is hot and he’s leaning in, and when his lips meet yours, you don’t pull away.

The kiss is good—he knows what he’s doing, his hands confident on your waist—but it feels wrong somehow. Like you’re kissing the wrong person. When you break apart, Jake is smiling.

“Want to get out of here?”

“I—”

“There you are!”

You turn to see Mina stumbling out onto the porch, clearly wasted. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We need to go. Now.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m about to throw up and I need you to hold my hair.” She grabs your arm, pulling you away from Jake. “Sorry, Jake. Emergency.”

You let her drag you back through the party and out the front door, and it’s only when you’re halfway back to your apartment that you realize you’re relieved.

“Did I really interrupt something?” Mina asks, her words slurring slightly.

“Nothing important,” you say.

“Liar. That was Jake. He’s hot.”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you sound sad about it?”

You don’t have an answer.

Saturday morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and a feeling of vague dread that has nothing to do with the hangover.

You kissed Jake. Sunghoon’s friend. One of his only friends.

It shouldn’t matter. This is a bet. You’re not actually dating Sunghoon. You don’t owe him anything.

But the guilt sits heavy in your stomach anyway.

Your phone buzzes with a text from Sunghoon: Hey! I know you said you were busy this weekend, but if you have any free time tomorrow (Sunday), I’d love to show you that trail I mentioned. No pressure though!

You stare at the message for a long moment.

You should say no. You should keep your distance, maintain the boundaries of this fake tutoring relationship.

But instead, you type: Sure. What time?

His response is almost immediate: 10 AM? I can pick you up.

Sounds good.

You set your phone down and bury your face in your pillow, trying to ignore the voice in your head that’s asking what the hell you’re doing.

Sunday morning dawns clear and bright, and you find yourself actually putting effort into your outfit—athletic leggings, a fitted tank top, your hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Hiking clothes, but still cute.

Sunghoon picks you up at exactly 10 AM in a slightly beat-up Honda Civic that’s meticulously clean inside. He’s wearing athletic gear too, and without his glasses—he’s wearing contacts, he explains—he looks different. Younger. Even more attractive.

“You ready?” he asks as you buckle your seatbelt.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Fair warning, I haven’t hiked since high school.”

“It’s an easy trail,” he assures you. “More of a nature walk, really.”

The drive takes about twenty minutes, filled with easy conversation and music from a playlist that’s surprisingly good—indie rock mixed with some Korean R&B. You learn that Sunghoon is an only child, that he grew up in a small town, that his parents are both engineers and have very high expectations for him.

“Is that why you work so hard?” you ask. “Because of them?”

“Partly,” he admits. “But also because I don’t really know what else to do. School is the one thing I’m actually good at.”

“That’s not true. You’re good at lots of things.”

“Like what?”

“You’re a good teacher. You’re patient, you actually listen, you explain things in a way that makes sense. That’s a skill.”

He glances at you, surprised. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

When you arrive at the trailhead, it’s not crowded—just a few other cars in the small parking lot. Sunghoon grabs a backpack from the trunk, and you start walking.

He was right about it being an easy trail. The path is well-maintained and mostly flat, winding through trees that are just starting to show their fall colors. It’s beautiful in a quiet, understated way.

“I come here when I need to think,” Sunghoon says as you walk. “It’s peaceful.”

“What do you think about?”

“Everything. School, the future, whether I’m making the right choices.” He pauses. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this path that was decided for me, you know? Like, I’m going to graduate, get a good job, make my parents proud. But I’m not sure if it’s what I actually want.”

You’re surprised by the honesty. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.” He looks at you. “What about you? Do you know what you want?”

The question catches you off guard. What do you want?

A month ago, you would have said you wanted to graduate, make money, have fun. Simple things.

But now, standing here with Sunghoon, you realize you don’t know anymore.

“I’m figuring it out,” you say finally.

You walk in comfortable silence for a while, and then Sunghoon leads you off the main path to a clearing that overlooks a small lake. The view is stunning—water glittering in the sunlight, trees reflected on the surface.

“Wow,” you breathe.

“Right?” He sits down on a large flat rock near the edge of the clearing, and you join him. “I found this spot last year. I don’t think many people know about it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He pulls out his backpack and produces two bottles of water and some trail mix. “Snack break.”

You laugh. “You really came prepared.”

“I try.”

As you sit there, eating trail mix and looking out at the lake, you feel something loosen in your chest. This is nice. Simple. Real.

“Can I tell you something?” Sunghoon says after a while.

“Of course.”

“I’m really glad you agreed to come today. I know tutoring is our thing, but I wanted…” He trails off, looking uncertain. “I wanted to spend time with you outside of that. As friends. Or, I don’t know. Whatever this is.”

Your heart is pounding. “Whatever this is?”

He turns to face you fully. “I like you. I know that’s probably obvious, and I’m sorry if that makes things weird, but I can’t stop thinking about you, and I thought maybe—”

You kiss him.

You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe because of the way he’s looking at you, so open and vulnerable. Maybe because you want to stop him from saying more things that will make you feel guilty. Maybe because you’ve been wanting to kiss him for weeks and you’re tired of pretending otherwise.

Whatever the reason, you lean in and press your lips to his, and for a moment, he freezes.

Then he’s kissing you back, tentative at first and then deeper, his hand coming up to cup your face. His lips are soft, and he tastes like trail mix and mint gum, and it’s good—better than it should be, better than kissing Jake, better than anything you expected.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard.

“Wow,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Does this mean…?”

“I don’t know what this means,” you say honestly. “But I like you too. I think.”

He smiles, bright and genuine, and pulls you in for another kiss.

You lose track of time there by the lake, kissing Sunghoon like teenagers, his hands respectful but wanting, your fingers tangled in his hair. It feels right in a way that scares you.

When you finally break apart for real, the sun has shifted position, and you realize you’ve been here for over an hour.

“We should probably head back,” Sunghoon says reluctantly.

“Yeah.”

The hike back to the car is different from the hike out. Sunghoon holds your hand the entire way, his grip warm and steady, and you can’t stop smiling.

This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to actually like him.

But as he helps you into the car and leans over to kiss you one more time before closing the door, you realize you’re completely screwed.

That night, lying in bed, you finally respond to Mina’s texts.

how’s the bet going?

You stare at the message for a long time before typing: Good. He’s definitely into me.

perfect. keep it up. easy money.

Yeah. Easy money.

But it doesn’t feel easy anymore.

The following week, everything changes.

Your tutoring sessions become something more—study dates, really, where you spend as much time talking and laughing as you do working through problems. Sunghoon brings you coffee every time now, always remembering exactly how you like it. You find excuses to touch him, and he finds excuses to touch you back—a hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing when you pass papers back and forth.

On Thursday, after your session ends, he walks you back to your apartment. It’s out of his way, and you both know it, but neither of you mentions it.

At your door, he kisses you goodbye, slow and sweet, and you have to physically stop yourself from inviting him inside.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says, his forehead resting against yours.

“That’s so far away,” you murmur, and you’re surprised to find that you mean it.

“We could… do something over the weekend?” he suggests. “If you want.”

“Like what?”

“There’s a film festival on Saturday. Foreign films. Probably boring to most people, but—”

“I’d love to,” you interrupt.

His face lights up. “Really?”

“Really.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you feel yourself melting into him.

When he finally leaves, you float into your apartment in a daze. Jiwoo takes one look at your face and grins.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” she says.

“Shut up,” you say, but you can’t stop smiling.

That night, you’re lying in bed scrolling through your phone when you see a post on Jake’s Instagram story. It’s from the Sigma Chi party—a blurry photo of the crowd with the caption good times.

And suddenly you remember. The kiss. Jake.

Your stomach drops.

You need to tell Sunghoon. You should tell him before he hears it from someone else, before it becomes a thing.

But how do you explain that you kissed his friend while you were… what? Were you dating him then? Are you dating him now? You never actually defined what this is.

You open your messages with Sunghoon, type out Can we talk? and then delete it.

This is fine. It was one kiss, weeks ago, before you and Sunghoon were actually together. It doesn’t mean anything.

Except it does mean something, because it means you were pursuing the bet. And if Sunghoon ever found out about the bet…

You close your phone and stare at the ceiling, your earlier happiness curdling into anxiety.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Saturday arrives, and you meet Sunghoon at the small independent theater on the edge of campus. He’s dressed nicely—dark jeans and a fitted sweater that makes him look older, more sophisticated. When he sees you, his entire face transforms with his smile.

“Hi,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl.

“Hi yourself.”

The film festival is showing three movies back-to-back, and you settle into your seats with a large popcorn between you. The first film is French, subtitled, about a woman navigating love and loss in Paris. It’s beautiful and melancholy, and halfway through, Sunghoon reaches over and takes your hand.

During the second film—a Japanese drama about family—you rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you. It feels domestic and comfortable and utterly terrifying.

By the third film, you’re barely paying attention to the screen. All you can focus on is the warmth of Sunghoon’s body next to yours, the way his thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, the way he occasionally leans down to whisper commentary that makes you laugh.

When the festival ends and you step out into the evening air, you feel drunk on happiness and caffeine from the terrible theater coffee.

“That was amazing,” you say.

“Yeah?” Sunghoon looks pleased. “I wasn’t sure if it was too pretentious.”

“It was exactly pretentious enough.” You loop your arm through his as you walk. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. I know it’s not exactly a typical date.”

“Who says I want typical?”

He grins and pulls you close, kissing you in the middle of the sidewalk like you’re the only two people in the world.

You end up at a small cafe nearby, ordering hot chocolates and splitting a piece of chocolate cake. The conversation flows easily—he tells you about his thesis project, you tell him about your internship applications, and somehow you end up talking about childhood dreams and fears and all the small details that make up a life.

“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid,” Sunghoon admits. “I was obsessed with space.”

“What changed?”

“I realized I get motion sickness really easily.” He laughs. “Not exactly ideal for space travel.”

“That’s tragic.”

“What about you? What did you want to be?”

You think back. “A lawyer, I think. I liked arguing.”

“That tracks.”

You kick him lightly under the table, and he catches your foot between his, holding it there.

The cafe starts to close, and reluctantly, you both leave. Sunghoon walks you home again, and at your door, the goodbye kiss turns into several goodbye kisses, which turn into you pressed against the door with his body flush against yours.

“Do you want to come inside?” you breathe against his lips.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You unlock the door and pull him inside, grateful that Jiwoo is gone for the weekend. The apartment is dark and quiet, and you lead Sunghoon to your bedroom, your heart pounding.

Inside, you turn to face him, suddenly nervous. This feels different than all the other times you’ve done this with other guys. This feels like it matters.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says softly, stepping closer. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I want to,” you say. “I want you.”

He kisses you then, slow and deep, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fall together, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter, and as he hovers over you, looking down with so much want and tenderness that it makes your chest ache, you think: I’m in so much trouble.

But you push the thought away and pull him down into another kiss, losing yourself in the feeling of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your neck, the weight of him above you.

When you pull him inside your bedroom, the air between you feels electric. Sunghoon’s hands are tentative at first, skimming over your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough in a way you’d never heard before.

“More than okay,” you whisper, reaching up to pull him into another kiss.

That seems to break something loose in him. His kisses become deeper, more urgent, his hands more confident as they explore. You pull at his sweater, and he breaks away just long enough to tug it over his head.

You’ve never seen him like this—shirtless, his body leaner than you expected but defined, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Your hands find his skin, tracing the lines of his shoulders, his ribs, and he shivers under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

The admission sends heat pooling in your stomach. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he looks up at you, waiting for permission.

You answer by pulling it off yourself, and his eyes go dark with want.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and the curse sounds foreign in his mouth, which somehow makes it hotter.

His hands cup your breasts through your bra, and you arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. He kisses down your sternum, your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

“Can I?” he asks, looking up at you.

“Please.”

He unbuttons your jeans slowly, reverently, sliding them down your legs along with your underwear. When you are finally bare before him, he sat back on his heels just looking at you, and you feel genuinely seen in a way that should have made you self-conscious but instead makes you feel powerful.

“You’re staring,” you say, but is no bite to it.

“Can’t help it.” He leans down to kiss you again, his body presses against yours, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

Your hands go to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until he helps you, kicking off his jeans and boxers in one motion. And then there was nothing between you, just skin on skin, his weight pressing you into the mattress in the best way.

“Do you have…?” he starts.

“Nightstand,” you gasp. “Top drawer.”

He reaches over, finds a condom, and you watch as he rolls it on with shaking hands. When he settles back over you, positioning himself between your legs, he pauses.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he said, his eyes searching yours.

“I will. I promise.”

He pushes into you slowly, carefully, and you both groan at the sensation. He fills you perfectly, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he drops his forehead to yours, breathing hard.

“Okay?” he manages.

“So okay,” you whisper. “Move. Please move.”

He did, starting with slow, deep strokes that have you gasping and clutching at his shoulders. His technique was unpracticed but enthusiastic, and when you shift your hips to find the angle you need, he paid attention, adjusting immediately.

“Like that,” you breathe. “Right there.”

“Here?” He hits the spot again, harder this time, and you cry out.

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

He set a rhythm then, his hips snapping against yours, one hand braced beside your head and the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and the sounds he makes—low groans and whispered curses—were pushing you closer to the edge.

“You feel so good,” he pants against your neck. “So fucking good.”

Your nails rake down his back, and he hisses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he regains control. You can feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension building low in your belly.

“Touch yourself,” he says, his voice strained. “I want to feel you come.”

The command sends a shock of heat through you. You slide your hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation combined with the feeling of him inside you is too much.

“Sunghoon,” you gasp. “I’m—”

“Come for me,” he says, and that’s it.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body tensing and shaking as pleasure rolls through you. You feel yourself clenching around him, and he groans, his movements becoming erratic.

“Fuck, I’m—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just buries himself deep and comes with a broken moan, his body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath. Then he carefully pulled out, disposed of the condom, and collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms.

“That was…” he started.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice still shaky.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your lips. “You’re amazing.”

And lying there in his arms, your body still humming with aftershocks, you feel something crack wide open in your chest. Something that feels dangerously close to real feelings.

Later—much later—you lie tangled together in your sheets, Sunghoon’s arm wrapped around you, his breathing deep and even. You should feel satisfied, content.

Instead, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.

You wake up to sunlight streaming through your window and the unfamiliar weight of someone else in your bed.

For a disorienting moment, you forget where you are, who you’re with. Then Sunghoon shifts beside you, his arm tightening around your waist, and everything comes rushing back.

The film festival. The cafe. Bringing him back here. The sex.

Oh god, the sex.

Your face heats at the memory, and you bury it in the pillow. Sunghoon makes a soft noise in his sleep, nuzzling into your neck, and despite everything—the guilt, the confusion, the looming disaster of the bet—you can’t help but smile.

“Are you awake?” His voice is rough with sleep, muffled against your skin.

“Maybe.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” You turn in his arms to face him, and he’s unfairly attractive like this—hair messy, eyes soft, a small smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

He kisses you, slow and lazy, and you can feel him hardening against your thigh. Your body responds immediately, heat pooling low in your stomach, but before things can progress, his phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand.

He groans, breaking away to check it. “It’s Heeseung. He wants to know if I’m alive.”

“Are you?”

“Barely.” He types out a quick response and sets the phone down. “I should probably go. I have a study group at noon.”

Disappointment lances through you, which is ridiculous. You just spent the entire night with him. “Yeah, okay.”

“Unless…” He looks at you hopefully. “Do you want to get breakfast first? There’s that place near campus that does really good pancakes.”

You should say no. You should put some distance between you, figure out what the hell you’re doing.

But instead you say, “I love pancakes.”

The diner is busy with the Sunday morning crowd, but you manage to snag a booth near the back. Sunghoon orders a truly obscene amount of food—pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns—and you raise an eyebrow.

“What? I’m hungry.” He grins. “Last night was… athletic.”

You kick him under the table, face flaming. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying.” His grin widens. “You’re very… energetic.”

“Oh my god, stop talking.”

But you’re laughing, and so is he, and when the food arrives, you end up stealing bites from his plate while he pretends to be offended.

It’s domestic and easy and terrifying.

Halfway through the meal, Jake walks in with Heeseung and Jay. Your stomach drops.

Jake sees you first, and something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe, or understanding. Then he’s heading over with the other two in tow.

“Sunghoon!” Heeseung says cheerfully, sliding into the booth beside him without asking. “You never came home last night. We were worried.”

Jay smirks, looking between you and Sunghoon. “Clearly not that worried.”

Sunghoon’s ears turn red. “We were just… we went to the film festival and then—”

“And then you stayed over,” Jake finishes, his eyes on you. There’s something unreadable in his expression.

“Hi, Jake,” you say carefully.

“Hey.” He slides in next to you, forcing you to scoot over. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah.”

The tension is palpable, at least to you. Sunghoon seems oblivious, too busy fielding questions from Heeseung about the films, but Jake is looking at you like he knows something.

“So you two are like, together now?” Heeseung asks bluntly.

Sunghoon glances at you, and there’s vulnerability in his eyes. “I… we haven’t really talked about it.”

“We’re seeing each other,” you say, reaching over to lace your fingers with his. “Right?”

“Right.” His smile is so genuine it makes your chest ache.

“Cute,” Jay says, stealing a piece of bacon from Sunghoon’s plate. “Our boy’s all grown up.”

“Fuck off,” Sunghoon says, but he’s grinning.

The conversation shifts to other topics—an upcoming game, someone’s disastrous Tinder date, plans for Halloween. You mostly stay quiet, hyperaware of Jake beside you, wondering if he’s going to say something about the party. About the kiss.

But he doesn’t. He just eats his food and makes jokes with the others, and when they finally leave, he gives you a long look that makes your stomach twist.

“He knows,” you say once they’re gone.

“Knows what?” Sunghoon asks, signaling for the check.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

The next week passes in a blur of classes, tutoring sessions that turn into makeout sessions, and stolen moments in empty classrooms and dark corners of the library.

You can’t keep your hands off each other. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and now that you’ve crossed that line, neither of you can go back.

On Tuesday, your “tutoring session” lasts all of fifteen minutes before Sunghoon is pulling you into his lap, his mouth hot on your neck.

“We should actually study,” you gasp, even as you grind down against him.

“We should,” he agrees, not stopping.

You end up in the single-user bathroom on the third floor, Sunghoon pressing you against the door as he kisses you breathless. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your hips, sliding up under your shirt to cup your breasts.

“God, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathes against your lips. “It’s affecting my grades.”

“Liar. You’re incapable of getting bad grades.”

“Want to test that theory?” His hand slips between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans, and you bite back a moan.

“Someone could hear.”

“Then you’ll have to be quiet.”

He drops to his knees, and your brain short-circuits.

“Sunghoon, what are you—”

“Let me,” he says, already unbuttoning your jeans. “Please. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You should say no. You’re in a public bathroom in the library. Anyone could walk by.

But then he’s pulling your jeans and underwear down, and his mouth is on you, and all rational thought flies out the window.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his hair.

He’s enthusiastic if not entirely skilled, his tongue exploring with scientific precision, trying to figure out what makes you gasp and moan. When he finds your clit and sucks lightly, your knees buckle.

“There,” you manage. “Right there, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He works you with his mouth, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady, and you have to bite down on your fist to keep from crying out. The knowledge that you’re doing this here, in public, with Sunghoon of all people on his knees for you, makes it even hotter.

You come embarrassingly quickly, your orgasm hitting you hard and sudden. Sunghoon works you through it, lapping at you until you’re shaking and oversensitive, and when he finally pulls away, his lips are shiny and his eyes are dark with lust.

“You taste amazing,” he says, his voice wrecked.

You pull him up and kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Your place. Now.”

“I have a roommate.”

“My place then.”

You somehow make it back to your apartment without attacking him in public, though it’s a close thing. The moment you’re through the door, you’re on him, pushing him toward your bedroom and stripping off his clothes.

“Bed,” you command, and he goes willingly, lying back and watching as you undress.

When you straddle him, positioning yourself over his cock, he groans.

“Condom,” he manages.

“Nightstand.”

He reaches over, fumbles with the drawer, and rolls one on with shaking hands. Then you’re sinking down onto him, both of you moaning at the sensation.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips. “You feel so good.”

You start to move, riding him slowly at first and then faster, chasing your pleasure. His hands roam your body—your breasts, your stomach, your thighs—like he can’t decide where to touch you first.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his eyes locked on you. “So fucking beautiful.”

The praise sends heat through you, and you lean down to kiss him, your movements becoming erratic. He takes over then, thrusting up into you hard and fast, and the change in angle has you gasping.

“Touch yourself,” he says, echoing his words from last time. “I want to see you come again.”

You do, your fingers finding your clit, and the combination of his cock inside you and your own touch is too much. You come with a cry, your body clenching around him, and he follows a moment later with a groan, his hips stuttering.

You collapse on top of him, both of you breathing hard, and he wraps his arms around you.

“I’m never going to be able to concentrate in the library again,” he says, and you laugh into his chest.

Thursday’s session is more of the same. You try to actually study—you really do—but Sunghoon keeps looking at you with these heated glances, and his hand keeps finding your thigh under the table, and eventually you give up and suggest going back to his place.

His roommate is at class, and you have exactly ninety minutes before he’s back.

You make the most of it.

This time, you’re the one on your knees, learning what makes Sunghoon gasp and curse. He’s bigger than you expected, and you take your time, using your tongue and lips and hands until he’s gripping the sheets and saying your name like a prayer.

“I’m close,” he warns, but you don’t pull away.

When he comes, you swallow, and the look on his face is worth it—complete bliss mixed with awe.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “That was…”

“Good?” you ask, crawling up his body.

“Understatement of the century.” He pulls you in for a kiss, apparently not caring that you just had him in your mouth. “Your turn.”

“We don’t have time—”

“We have time.”

He proves it by going down on you again, this time with more confidence and skill. He’s a fast learner, you’ll give him that. He remembers exactly what you liked before, adding new tricks that have you squirming and begging.

When you come, it’s intense enough that you see stars, and Sunghoon looks so pleased with himself that you can’t help but laugh.

“What?” he asks, grinning.

“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really into this.”

“Into making you feel good? Yeah, I am.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Is that weird?”

“No. It’s perfect.”

And it is perfect, which is the problem.

Because every moment with him feels more real, and every real moment makes the lie bigger.

That night, Mina corners you at a party at some frat house you don’t remember the name of.

“Okay, what the fuck?” she demands, pulling you into a relatively quiet hallway. “You’ve been dodging my texts for two weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to update me on the bet? Because from what I’m hearing, you and Park Sunghoon are basically dating now.” She raises an eyebrow. “Which is great for the bet, obviously, but you’ve been weird about it.”

“I haven’t been weird.”

“You’re being weird right now. What’s going on?”

You take a long drink from your cup, buying time. “Nothing. It’s going fine. He’s definitely into me.”

“And are you into him?” The question is pointed.

“It’s a bet, Mina. Of course I’m not actually—”

“Bullshit.” She crosses her arms. “I’ve known you for three years. I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

“Do you actually like him?”

The question hangs in the air between you. You could lie. You should lie.

But you’re so tired of lying.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “Maybe.”

Mina’s expression softens. “Babe…”

“I know. I’m an idiot. This was supposed to be easy, and I’m making it complicated.”

“So end the bet. Just tell him the truth.”

“And say what? ‘Hey, funny story, I only started talking to you because my friend bet me two hundred dollars that I couldn’t make you fall for me, but surprise, I actually caught feelings’? That’ll go over well.”

“Better than him finding out some other way.”

“He’s not going to find out.”

“Jake knows.” Mina says it casually, but the words hit like a punch.

“What?”

“Jake knows about the bet. He was there when I made it, remember? And he’s Sunghoon’s friend. You really think he’s not going to say something?”

Your stomach drops. “Jake wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t he? You two hooked up at that party. And now you’re dating his friend. You don’t think that’s going to come up eventually?”

Panic rises in your throat. “We didn’t hook up. We just kissed.”

“Does Sunghoon know that?”

“No.”

“So you’re keeping secrets on top of secrets. Great plan.”

“What do you want me to do, Mina?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I can’t unfuck this situation. It’s already fucked.”

She sighs, her expression gentler now. “Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you. You don’t do feelings, you don’t do relationships. And now you’re in this mess because I made a stupid bet. So I’m giving you an out. Call it off. Keep your money. I don’t care. Just… don’t hurt him. And don’t hurt yourself.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It could be.”

But she doesn’t understand. It’s not about the money anymore. It’s not even about the bet.

It’s about the fact that you’ve built something real with Sunghoon, even if it’s built on a foundation of lies. And you don’t know how to tell him the truth without destroying everything.

The next morning, you wake up to a text from Sunghoon: Can’t stop thinking about yesterday. When can I see you again?

Despite everything—the guilt, the fear, the looming disaster—you smile.

Tonight? My place?

Perfect. I’ll bring dinner.

You spend the day in a state of anxious anticipation. Part of you wants to cancel, to put some distance between you and figure out what to do. But a bigger part of you just wants to see him, to pretend for a little while longer that everything is okay.

He shows up at seven with Thai food and that soft smile that makes your heart hurt.

“Hi,” he says, kissing you hello like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hi.”

You eat on your bed, cross-legged and trading bites of pad thai and spring rolls. Sunghoon tells you about his thesis advisor giving him shit for missing a meeting, and you tell him about your nightmare group project in your econometrics class.

It’s domestic and comfortable and you wish you could freeze this moment forever.

After dinner, you end up tangled together, kissing lazily. His hands are under your shirt, yours in his hair, and it’s not urgent or desperate—just sweet and slow.

“Can I ask you something?” Sunghoon says against your lips.

“Mm?”

“Are we… I mean, I know we said we’re seeing each other, but are we like, exclusive? Because I’d like to be. Exclusive, I mean. If you want.”

Your heart squeezes. “You want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah. I really do.” He pulls back to look at you, and there’s such open honesty in his face that it makes you want to cry. “Is that okay?”

You should say no. You should end this before it gets worse.

But instead you kiss him hard and whisper, “Yes. I want that too.”

His smile is brilliant, and he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. Things heat up quickly after that—clothes coming off, hands and mouths everywhere.

This time, Sunghoon takes his time. He kisses every inch of your skin, mapping your body with his lips and tongue. When he finally settles between your legs, he looks up at you with dark eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he says.

“You. Just you.”

He works you with his mouth until you’re trembling and gasping, and when he finally pushes inside you, it feels different. More intimate. Like you’re not just fucking but making love, which is a thought that should terrify you but instead just makes you hold him tighter.

“I’m falling for you,” he breathes against your neck as he moves inside you. “I know it’s fast, but I can’t help it.”

You should tell him the truth. Right now, in this moment, you should come clean.

But instead you just kiss him and whisper, “I’m falling for you too.”

And the worst part is, you mean it.

Later, after he’s fallen asleep, you lie awake staring at the ceiling.

You’re in love with Park Sunghoon.

You’re in love with the boy you were supposed to play, the bet you were supposed to win. And he loves you back, except he doesn’t really love you—he loves the version of you that you’ve been pretending to be.

Or maybe he does love the real you. Maybe all the pretending has become real. Maybe there’s no difference anymore.

Your phone buzzes with a text from Jake: We need to talk.

You stare at the message, your heart pounding.

Everything is about to fall apart. You can feel it.

And you have no idea how to stop it.

You meet Jake at a coffee shop off campus, somewhere you’re unlikely to run into anyone you know.

He’s already there when you arrive, sitting in a corner booth with two cups of coffee in front of him. He slides one toward you as you sit down.

“Vanilla latte,” he says. “I remembered from that party.”

“Thanks.” You wrap your hands around the cup, more for something to do than because you actually want it.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Jake studies you with an unreadable expression, and you force yourself to meet his gaze.

“So,” he says finally. “You and Sunghoon.”

“Yeah.”

“How long has that been going on?”

“A few weeks. Officially, I mean. We’ve been doing the tutoring thing for longer.”

Jake nods slowly. “He’s really into you. Like, really into you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”

Guilt twists in your stomach. “I know.”

“Does he know about the bet?”

There it is. The question you’ve been dreading.

“No,” you say quietly.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Jake repeats, his tone flat. “So you’re just going to keep lying to him?”

“It’s not that simple—”

“It actually is that simple.” He leans forward. “You made a bet that you could make him fall for you. You did. Congratulations. Now either you tell him the truth, or you don’t. But this middle ground where you’re pretending everything’s fine? That’s fucked up.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. “I know it’s fucked up. I know I should tell him. But how do I do that without destroying everything?”

“Maybe everything deserves to be destroyed if it’s built on a lie.”

The words hit harder than they should. You take a shaky breath. “Why do you care so much? You barely know him.”

“He’s my friend. And he’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this.” Jake pauses. “And honestly? I don’t think you deserve to hurt yourself like this either. I saw your face when you’re with him. Whatever started as a bet isn’t a bet anymore. You actually care about him.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Tell him the truth. Before someone else does.”

Your blood runs cold. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. I’m warning you.” Jake’s expression softens slightly. “Look, I’m not going to tell him. That’s not my place. But Mina was drunk when she made that bet, and there were other people around. Someone’s going to say something eventually. And it’s going to be a lot worse if he hears it from someone else.”

He’s right. You know he’s right.

“I’ll tell him,” you say. “I just… I need to find the right time.”

“Don’t wait too long.” Jake stands, leaving his coffee untouched. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d understand. He’s not perfect either. None of us are. But he deserves honesty.”

After he leaves, you sit alone in the coffee shop for a long time, staring at your phone.

You pull up your messages with Sunghoon, dozens of texts full of inside jokes and sweet nothings. Then you scroll to Mina, her most recent message asking if you want to go out this weekend.

You type out three different messages to Sunghoon—variations of “we need to talk”—and delete them all.

Tomorrow. You’ll tell him tomorrow.

But tomorrow comes and goes, and you don’t tell him.

You tell yourself you’re waiting for the right moment, but the truth is you’re a coward. Every time you’re with him, you see how happy he is, how he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you can’t bring yourself to shatter that.

The week passes in a strange tension. On the surface, everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon are inseparable—studying together, eating together, sleeping together. He’s introduced you to his parents over video chat, and you’ve started keeping a toothbrush at his place.

But underneath, you’re drowning in guilt and anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It happens on Friday night.

There’s a Halloween party at one of the bigger fraternity houses, and everyone is going. Sunghoon isn’t thrilled about it—he’s still not much of a party person—but you’d promised you’d go together, and he’s trying.

You’d put actual effort into your costume—a devil, complete with red bodysuit, horns, and a tail. Sunghoon is dressed as an angel, which he’d been embarrassed about until you told him how hot he looked in all white.

“We’re very on the nose,” he says as you walk to the party, his hand in yours.

“I think it’s cute. Heaven and hell, together at last.”

“Is that what we are?” He grins. “I’m corrupting you or you’re corrupting me?”

“Definitely the second one.”

The party is already in full swing when you arrive, the house packed with people in various states of intoxication and costume creativity. You spot Mina almost immediately—she’s dressed as a sexy nurse and is already drunk, dancing on a table with some guy from her marketing class.

“I’m going to get us drinks,” Sunghoon says, kissing your temple. “Want your usual?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He disappears into the crowd, and you start making your way toward Mina. But before you can reach her, someone grabs your arm.

It’s Jenna, a girl from your econometrics class. You’ve talked to her a few times, but you wouldn’t call her a friend.

“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you!” She’s clearly drunk, her words slightly slurred. “I need to know—is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“The bet! With Park Sunghoon!” She’s practically shouting over the music. “Mina told Sarah who told me that you made a bet you could make him fall for you. And oh my god, you guys are actually dating now? That’s hilarious. How much did you win?”

Your blood turns to ice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, but your voice sounds wrong even to your own ears.

“Come on, don’t be modest! It’s genius, honestly. I mean, he’s such a nerd, it probably wasn’t even that hard—”

“Stop.” The word comes out harsh, cutting. “Just stop talking.”

Jenna blinks, taken aback. “Whoa, okay. I was just—”

But you’re not listening anymore. You’re scanning the crowd frantically, looking for Sunghoon, praying he’s still in the kitchen getting drinks, praying he didn’t hear any of that.

And then you see him.

He’s standing about ten feet away, two cups in his hands, his face completely blank.

Your heart stops.

“Sunghoon—”

But he’s already turning away, setting the cups down on the nearest surface and heading for the door.

“Shit,” you breathe, pushing past Jenna and fighting your way through the crowd. “Sunghoon, wait!”

You catch up to him outside, on the front lawn. He’s walking fast, his shoulders tense, and when you grab his arm, he jerks away.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cold in a way you’ve never heard before.

“Please, just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” He whirls to face you, and the hurt in his eyes is devastating. “Explain how you made a bet that you could make me fall for you? Explain how this entire thing has been a lie?”

“It’s not—it wasn’t all a lie—”

“How much?” His voice cracks. “How much did you win?”

“Sunghoon—”

“How much?” He’s shouting now, and people are starting to stare.

“Two hundred dollars,” you whisper. “But I don’t want it. I never wanted it. That’s not what this is about.”

He laughs, a bitter sound. “Right. So what is it about? Entertainment? Did you have fun? Watching the awkward nerd fall all over himself for you?”

“No, it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you played me. You pretended to need tutoring, pretended to be interested in me, pretended to—” His voice breaks. “Did you fake all of it? Every moment, every kiss, every time you said you cared about me?”

“No!” Tears are streaming down your face now. “I didn’t fake it. I swear, I didn’t. It started as a bet, yes, but it became real. My feelings are real.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” He’s crying too, and seeing him cry because of you is the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. “How am I supposed to believe anything you say when everything has been a lie?”

“Because I love you,” you say desperately. “I love you, Sunghoon. That’s real. That’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”

For a moment, something flickers in his expression—hope, maybe, or want. But then it hardens again.

“You don’t love me,” he says quietly. “You don’t even know me. Because if you did, if you cared about me at all, you wouldn’t have done this. You wouldn’t have—” He stops, taking a shaky breath. “I need to go.”

“Please don’t leave. Let me explain properly, let me—”

“There’s nothing to explain.” He takes a step back, putting distance between you. “You made a bet. You won. Congratulations.”

“Sunghoon—”

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to talk to you. I just… I need you to leave me alone.”

And then he’s walking away, and you’re standing alone on the lawn in your stupid devil costume, crying so hard you can barely breathe.

Behind you, the party continues, oblivious to the fact that your entire world just imploded.

You don’t remember getting home. One minute you’re on the lawn, the next you’re in your apartment, Mina’s arms around you while you sob into her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she keeps saying. “I’m so, so sorry. I should never have made that stupid bet. This is my fault.”

But it’s not her fault. It’s yours.

You’re the one who accepted the bet. You’re the one who lied. You’re the one who kept lying even after you started developing real feelings.

You’re the one who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart.

Your phone won’t stop buzzing—texts from people at the party, from Jenna apologizing, from people you barely know asking if it’s true. You turn it off and curl up in bed, still in your costume, feeling like you’re suffocating.

“What do I do?” you ask Mina, your voice hoarse from crying.

“I don’t know, babe. Give him time, maybe? Let him cool off, then try to talk to him again?”

“He said he doesn’t want to see me.”

“He’s hurt. People say things they don’t mean when they’re hurt.”

But you saw his face. The betrayal, the devastation. That wasn’t just hurt. That was something deeper.

You’d made him believe someone could care about him, could see past the nerd label and the awkwardness and love him for who he is.

And then you’d proven that it was all an act.

“I ruined everything,” you whisper.

Mina doesn’t argue.

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache and swollen eyes. Your phone is still off, and you’re afraid to turn it on.

But you force yourself to. You need to know how bad it is.

The damage is worse than you thought. There are dozens of messages, multiple group chats discussing the drama. Someone apparently recorded part of your argument with Sunghoon and posted it online. Your mentions are full of people calling you a bitch, a heartbreaker, cruel.

And they’re not wrong.

You scroll through until you find messages from people who actually matter. Heeseung sent you a long text that essentially amounts to “what the fuck is wrong with you.” Jay’s is shorter but somehow more cutting: “He really loved you. I hope it was worth it.”

Jake’s is the one that makes you cry again: “I warned you. I hope you figure out how to make this right.”

There’s nothing from Sunghoon.

You open your conversation with him, looking at the last messages he sent—a string of heart emojis in response to a photo you’d sent of your costume. It was less than twelve hours ago, but it feels like a lifetime.

You type out a message: I’m so sorry. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but please, let me explain. What I said last night was true. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.

You stare at it for a long moment, then delete it.

Words aren’t going to fix this. Nothing is going to fix this.

You’ve lost him.

And it’s entirely your own fault.

The first week without Sunghoon is the worst week of your life.

You stop going to parties. You can barely drag yourself to classes. Your carefully constructed social life—the one where you were always the center of attention, always having fun, always in control—crumbles around you.

Because it turns out that when people know you’re capable of something that cruel, they look at you differently.

Mina tries her best to support you, but even she doesn’t know what to say. She canceled the bet immediately, told you to keep your money, apologized a hundred times. But it doesn’t change anything.

You avoid the library completely. You can’t bear to walk past your usual table by the windows, can’t bear to remember all those tutoring sessions that turned into something more. Your statistics homework sits untouched—you can’t bring yourself to look at probability distributions without thinking of Sunghoon’s patient explanations, his neat handwriting, the way his face would light up when you got a problem right.

Your roommate Jiwoo walks on eggshells around you. She brings you food you don’t eat, suggests watching movies you can’t focus on, and eventually just sits with you in silence because that’s all you can handle.

“You need to get out of bed,” she says on day five, opening your curtains despite your protests. “You haven’t showered in two days. You’re not eating. This isn’t healthy.”

“I know.”

“So get up. Take a shower. We’ll go get coffee or something.”

“I don’t want coffee.”

“I don’t care what you want. You’re getting out of this apartment.” Her voice is firm but kind. “Come on. I’ll wait.”

You drag yourself out of bed, shower on autopilot, and put on clothes that aren’t pajamas for the first time in days. When you look in the mirror, you barely recognize yourself. Your face is pale, eyes hollow and red-rimmed. You look like you’ve been through a war.

You feel like it too.

Campus feels different now. You walk with your head down, avoiding eye contact, hyperaware of every whisper and pointed look. The story has spread—everyone knows about the bet, about what you did. Some people are sympathetic, but most just see you as the girl who broke Park Sunghoon’s heart for two hundred dollars.

You deserve it. Every bit of judgment, every dirty look. You deserve all of it.

Jiwoo takes you to a small cafe on the edge of campus, one you’ve never been to before. It’s quiet, mostly empty, and you’re grateful for the anonymity.

“Talk to me,” Jiwoo says once you’re settled with your drinks. “What are you feeling?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.” You wrap your hands around your cup. “I keep thinking about his face. When he found out. I’ve never seen anyone look so… broken.”

“Have you tried to reach out?”

“What would I even say? ‘Sorry I made a bet to make you fall in love with me’? There’s no apology big enough for what I did.”

“Maybe not. But maybe he deserves to hear that you’re sorry anyway.”

You shake your head. “He said he doesn’t want to see me. I have to respect that.”

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up. I’m accepting that I fucked up so badly there’s no coming back from it.” Your voice cracks. “I lost him, Jiwoo. And it’s my own fault.”

She reaches across the table to squeeze your hand. “For what it’s worth, I think your feelings were real. I saw how you were with him. That wasn’t fake.”

“It doesn’t matter if they were real. Not when everything else was a lie.”

You start seeing Sunghoon around campus, though “seeing” isn’t quite right because you make sure he never actually sees you. You’ve become an expert at ducking into buildings, changing directions, hiding behind groups of people.

Each glimpse of him is like a knife to the chest.

He looks tired. Sad. He’s always alone now, you notice—no more walking with Heeseung and the others, no more sitting in groups at the dining hall. He’s retreated back into himself, back into the lonely, isolated version of himself that existed before you.

Before you ruined everything.

On Tuesday at 5 PM, you walk past the library and see him at your old table. There’s a girl sitting across from him—you don’t recognize her—and she’s working through what looks like statistics problems. He’s explaining something, using the same patient tone he used with you, and seeing it makes you feel physically ill.

He’s moved on. He’s replaced you.

Which is what you wanted, right? For him to be okay? But watching it happen feels like dying.

Week two is somehow worse than week one.

You run into Heeseung at the gym. You’ve been going at odd hours to avoid people, but apparently not odd enough. He’s on the treadmill next to yours, and for a moment you consider just leaving. But he speaks before you can.

“You look like shit,” he says bluntly.

“Thanks.”

“Sunghoon looks worse.”

Your chest tightens. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Too bad.” Heeseung stops his treadmill and turns to face you fully. “You fucked up. We all know it. But I’m not here to lecture you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I’ve known Sunghoon since freshman year, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he was with you. And I’ve also never seen him as miserable as he is now.” He pauses. “And because Jake told me what you said. That you actually fell for him.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to him. Even if he won’t admit it.”

You stop your treadmill too. “What do you want me to say, Heeseung? That I’m sorry? I’m sorry. That I wish I could take it back? I do. That I love him? I—” Your voice breaks. “I love him so much it’s destroying me. But he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I don’t blame him.”

Heeseung studies you for a long moment. “He’s stubborn. Probably the most stubborn person I know. When he decides something, it’s really hard to change his mind.”

“So I’m fucked.”

“I didn’t say that.” He grabs his water bottle. “I’m just saying, if you really love him, you’re going to have to fight for it. Because he’s not going to make it easy.”

“He shouldn’t have to make anything easy. I’m the one who screwed up.”

“Yeah, you did. But people screw up. That’s life. The question is whether you’re going to let one mistake define you, or whether you’re going to do everything you can to make it right.”

He leaves you there, heart pounding, his words echoing in your head.

On Saturday morning, you wake up to a text from Mina: brunch? you need to eat and i miss you

You almost say no. But Jiwoo would just drag you out anyway, so you agree.

Mina picks the place—a cute little diner near campus that does bottomless mimosas on weekends. It’s the kind of place that’s usually packed, but you arrive early enough to get a table.

You’re halfway through your pancakes when the door opens and Sunghoon walks in.

Your heart stops.

He’s not alone. There’s a girl with him—the same one from the library, you realize. She’s pretty, with long dark hair and a sweet smile. She’s laughing at something he said, and he’s smiling back, and seeing them together feels like someone reached into your chest and ripped your heart out.

“Oh shit,” Mina breathes, following your gaze.

You can’t look away. You watch as they’re seated at a booth near the window—the same booth you and Sunghoon sat in that Sunday morning after your first night together. The morning when everything felt perfect and possible.

The girl says something and Sunghoon laughs—really laughs—and you realize with a sick feeling that you haven’t heard that laugh in weeks. Not since before everything fell apart.

“We should go,” Mina says, already signaling for the check.

“No.” Your voice sounds strange, hollow. “It’s fine. We were here first.”

“Babe—”

“I said it’s fine.”

But it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. You watch as they order coffee, as Sunghoon does that thing where he pushes his glasses up when he’s happy, as the girl reaches across the table to show him something on her phone and their fingers brush.

Does he touch her the way he touched you? Does he kiss her like he kissed you? Does he tell her about the hiking trail, about his dreams of being an astronaut, about all the little things he shared with you?

Has he replaced you that easily?

“I need to go,” you say abruptly, standing up. Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor, and several people look over—including Sunghoon.

Your eyes meet across the diner.

For one terrible, eternal moment, everything else falls away. It’s just you and him, all the hurt and love and regret hanging between you like a physical thing.

His expression shifts—surprise, then pain, then carefully controlled blankness. He looks away first, turning his attention back to the girl across from him with deliberate focus.

The dismissal is clear. You mean nothing to him now.

You barely make it outside before you start crying.

Mina follows, wrapping her arms around you while you sob on the sidewalk. People walk past, staring, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“He’s moved on,” you choke out. “He’s already moved on.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe she’s just a friend—”

“Did you see the way he looked at her? He was happy, Mina. Really happy. Like he is when he’s—” You can’t finish the sentence. Like he was with you.

“Come on,” Mina says gently. “Let’s get you home.”

You let her lead you back to your apartment, your mind stuck on repeat. The image of Sunghoon laughing with that girl, the way he looked away from you like you were nothing, the realization that you’ve truly, permanently lost him.

This is what you deserve, you tell yourself. This is the consequence of your actions.

But knowing you deserve it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

That night, alone in your room, you finally let yourself break completely.

You pull out your laptop and open the folder of photos from the past few weeks. There are dozens—candid shots of Sunghoon studying, selfies you took together, photos from the hiking trip. In every single one where he’s looking at you, his expression is so full of love it makes your chest ache.

He really did love you. Completely, genuinely, without reservation.

And you destroyed that.

You find yourself scrolling through your text messages with him, reading through months of conversation. The early ones are formal—just coordinating tutoring sessions. But they gradually shift into something more. Long conversations about nothing and everything. Stupid jokes. Good morning and goodnight texts. The kind of constant communication that happens when you can’t stop thinking about someone.

The last text is still the string of heart emojis he sent in response to your costume photo. You’d been so happy that night, getting ready for the party, excited to show him off to everyone.

And then it all came crashing down.

You start typing before you can stop yourself: I saw you today at the diner. You looked happy. I’m glad. You deserve to be happy. I know you don’t want to hear from me, and I promise this is the last time I’ll bother you. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. What I did was unforgivable, and I understand why you hate me. But I need you to know that my feelings were real. Are real. I fell in love with you, Sunghoon. Really, truly in love. And I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, and I know it doesn’t change anything, but I needed to say it. You made me want to be a better person. You made me see that there’s more to life than parties and surface-level friendships and keeping people at arm’s length. You made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling. And I ruined it. I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me because I was selfish and careless and stupid. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even expect you to respond to this. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you. I’ll always love you.

You read it over three times, your finger hovering over the send button.

Then you delete it.

He’s moved on. He’s happy. And sending that message would just be selfish—making yourself feel better at his expense.

So instead, you close your laptop, turn off your phone, and cry yourself to sleep.

The next morning, you wake up to pounding on your door.

“Go away, Jiwoo,” you mumble into your pillow.

“It’s not Jiwoo.”

You bolt upright. That’s not Jiwoo’s voice. You stumble to the door and open it to find Jay standing there, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“We need to talk,” he says.

“I don’t—”

“It’s about Sunghoon. Let me in.”

Your heart racing, you step aside. Jay walks in, looking around your disaster of an apartment—tissues everywhere, empty takeout containers, your laundry piled in the corner.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “You really are a mess.”

“If you came here to insult me—”

“I came here to tell you that Sunghoon is miserable.” Jay turns to face you. “That girl you saw him with? That’s his cousin. She’s visiting for the weekend, and he agreed to show her around campus. But according to Heeseung, the entire time they were at that diner, he kept staring at the door like he was hoping someone specific would walk in.”

Your breath catches. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’s too stubborn to admit that he misses you. And you’re apparently too much of a coward to fight for him.” Jay crosses his arms. “Look, what you did was shitty. We all agree on that. But Sunghoon isn’t some innocent victim in all this either.”

“Yes, he is—”

“No, he’s not. He put you on a pedestal. He built up this image of you as this perfect girl who chose him over everyone else, and he didn’t give you room to be human. To make mistakes.” Jay pauses. “I’m not saying what you did was okay. But I am saying that relationships are complicated, and people fuck up, and maybe if you both actually talked to each other instead of suffering in silence, you could figure this out.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Have you actually tried? Like, really tried? Or did you just accept his initial reaction and give up?”

You don’t have an answer to that.

“That’s what I thought.” Jay heads for the door, then pauses. “He’s going to that hiking trail. The one he took you to. He goes every Sunday morning. Maybe you should accidentally run into him.”

“Jay—”

“Or don’t. Keep wallowing in your guilt and let him keep wallowing in his hurt. But I’m telling you, you’re both miserable apart. So maybe it’s worth at least trying to be miserable together.”

He leaves, and you stand in your apartment, his words echoing in your head. Maybe it’s worth at least trying.

Sunday morning dawns gray and overcast, threatening rain.

You almost take it as a sign to stay home. But you’ve spent two weeks being a coward, and you’re done with that.

You dress in the same athletic clothes you wore the first time Sunghoon took you hiking. No makeup, hair pulled back. This isn’t about looking good. This is about being honest.

The drive to the trailhead feels both endless and too short. Your hands shake on the steering wheel, and you have to give yourself a pep talk in the parking lot before you can get out of the car.

Sunghoon’s Honda Civic is already there.

He’s here.

You start up the trail on unsteady legs, every step feeling monumental. The trees are mostly bare now, leaves crunching underfoot, fall having settled fully into the world while you were busy falling apart.

You find him at the clearing overlooking the lake, sitting on the same flat rock where you first kissed him. His shoulders are hunched, head down. Even from a distance you can see the exhaustion in his posture. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping any better than you have. You step into the clearing.

He hears you immediately, head snapping up. When he sees you, his expression cycles through surprise, pain, anger, and finally settles on something carefully neutral.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you.”

“I thought I made it clear—”

“I know. Five minutes. Give me five minutes, and if you still want me to leave after that, I will. I’ll never bother you again.”

A long pause. Then he gestures stiffly to the rock beside him.

You sit, leaving space between you, and for a moment you both just stare out at the lake. The water is choppy today, reflecting the gray sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “I know that’s not enough. But I need to say it again. What I did was cruel and selfish and unforgivable, and I hate myself for it.”

“Why did you do it?” His voice is quiet. “Was I really that much of a joke to you?”

“No. You were never a joke. That’s the thing—you were supposed to be. It was supposed to be easy. I was supposed to play a part, win the bet, and move on.” You take a shaky breath. “But then I actually got to know you. And everything changed.”

“When?” he asks. “When did it become real?”

“Maybe when you brought me coffee without being asked. Maybe on Heeseung’s balcony. Maybe the first time you made me laugh for real.” You look at him. “I don’t know the exact moment. I just know that somewhere along the way, pretending became impossible because what I felt was completely real.”

He’s quiet. You press on.

“I saw you at the diner with your cousin. I thought she was someone you were moving on with, and it destroyed me. The idea of you loving someone else—” Your voice breaks. “That’s when I knew I couldn’t just accept losing you without a fight.”

“Jay told you she was my cousin,” he says flatly.

“Yes. And Heeseung told me you still had feelings for me. And Jake—” You pause. “Jake warned me weeks ago to tell you the truth. I should have listened.”

“You should have told me from the beginning.”

“I know. I was a coward. I kept telling myself I’d do it tomorrow, and then tomorrow became two weeks, and then it was too late.” Tears stream down your face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me easily. I’m not asking for that. I’m just asking for a chance to prove that I’ve changed. That my love for you is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”

Sunghoon is quiet for so long you think he’s going to ask you to leave. Then he speaks.

“I’ve been miserable without you,” he says roughly. “I’ve been trying to be angry. Trying to hate you. But every time I come here, I think about kissing you on this rock. Every time I tutor someone new, I compare them to you.” He exhales. “I told my cousin about you. She called me an idiot for not hearing you out.”

Something flickers in your chest. “You talked about me?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He finally turns to look at you, really look at you, and his expression breaks open. “You look terrible.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah.” He reaches out hesitantly, brushing a tear from your cheek. The touch sends electricity through you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you every single day.”

“I want to forgive you,” he says slowly. “But I’m scared. How do I trust you again? How do I know this isn’t another performance?”

“You don’t. Not yet. I can’t hand you trust—I have to earn it back. Slowly, honestly, for however long it takes. I’ll be transparent about everything. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll do whatever it takes.” You lace your fingers through his. “Just don’t give up on us before we even try.”

“You’d go to therapy?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

He looks down at your joined hands. “I really loved you. Love you. Present tense. I can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard I try.”

“Then don’t try.” You move closer, until your knees are touching. “Let me love you back. For real this time.”

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, something has shifted.

“No more lies,” he says firmly. “No more games. If we do this, we do it honestly. Complete honesty, always.”

“Complete honesty. Always.”

He leans in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You don’t.

When his lips meet yours, it’s careful at first, tentative—like you’re both afraid of breaking something fragile. But then you’re kissing him deeper, pouring everything into it. All the guilt, all the love, all the desperate hope that you haven’t destroyed something irreplaceable.When you finally pull apart, you’re both crying.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Even though I probably shouldn’t.”

“We’ll make this work. I promise.”

“We’d better.” He squeezes your hand. “Can I take you to breakfast? Somewhere new. Not the diner.”

“New memories,” you say softly.

“New memories.”

He stands and offers his hand. You take it.

Three months later, you’re back at the library table by the windows.

Actually studying this time. Sunghoon is beside you, working on his thesis, occasionally stealing your coffee or reaching over to help with a problem. His hand finds yours between pages, a habit neither of you noticed developing.

Things aren’t perfect. There have been arguments, moments of doubt, nights where old wounds reopened. But you’ve worked through them. Therapy helped. Honesty helped more.

Mina waves from across the library. Jake gives you shit sometimes, but it’s affectionate now. Heeseung and Jay have folded you into the group like you were always there.

Your life looks different. Quieter in some ways, fuller in others. Less performance, more presence.

“Want to get out of here?” Sunghoon asks, already packing up his bag. “I know this hiking trail…”

You laugh. “Always with the hiking.”

“You love it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He takes your hand. “Come on. Let’s go make some more memories.”

Park Sunghoon was never just the biggest nerd on campus.

He was the love of your life.

being a match maker wasn't something you sought out, if anything it sought you out after all you didn't know sending out your sisters letters would land her, her soulmate. your sister and her boyfriend had gone through their fair share of tests but made it out each time, not unscathed but they made it out.

their relationship made it abundantly clear they chose each other every time—without fail and their determination to better their relationship was something you deeply admired, even being something you would strive for.

however you didn't bother yourself with something as trivial as boys, or anything of the sort. who needed love when you were always accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) matching people up.

this was a constant, even when you transferred to korea's international university of seoul (also known as kiss) into a dorm with your best friend jake who had graciously asked the board to let you room with him and his friend.

you melted into your desk chair sighing out in relief, decorating your new room had taken more out of you then you'd originally bargained, but at last the room was homey—comfortable and exactly how you liked it with the smell of your vanilla candle burning. you told jake you'd meet him at the welcome party, which really you said to have time to wind down before being overwhelmed with new people.

truthfully you were a little nervous to meet jake's roommate, mainly because you knew nothing about him—not even being able to point him out in one of jake's posts if asked.

you smoothed over the dress you picked out after a long internal debate, you paired it with your favourite necklace and a handbag. the mirror stared back at you whispering spells of confidence through you—you peeled your eyes away from the mirror with a satisfied hum.

before you could overthink going to the party any further you put on your favourite shoes and scrambled out the dorm with a little copy of a map of campus.

the air was light, a little cold but refreshing—this was about the time you regretted not bringing something to cover your arms.

thankfully for your goosebump ridden arms the hall wasn't far at all, you eyed the coloured sigh above the entry way "WELCOME PARTY!" feeling a little unease settle in your stomach.

the sound of laughter and music boomed through your body as you stepped through the room, on a plus you didn't have to graze against anyone to get through or else you would've turned around by now, especially with no alcohol in your system.

as if reading your mind a table packed with refreshments almost materialised in front of your eyes, it peeked through the swarm of people and a familiar brown fluffy haired man stood as he looked over the options.

[ NOW PLAYING > CON LA BRISA ]

a mischievous smile graced your lips as you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making the taller boy stiffen with a subtle rise of his shoulders, he turned his head—eyebrows raised until they settled on you a familiar adoring boyish smile taking over his features.

"y/n!!" jake gasped pulling you into a hug "jake!" you returned against his shoulder, "you look amazing y/n!" he spoke over the music, you laughed complimenting his own outfit before you caught him up on the details of your journey, not noticing a certain blonde watching the exchange.

jungwon raised an eyebrow a smirk playing on his lips watching his friend talk to a girl he couldn't quite see behind him, he walked over as you got distracted with someone asking you about your dress, "i didn't know you had a girlfriend" he joked hush against his ear, eyes drifting over the back of your head, jake shook his head shooting him a eyeroll.

he snaked an arm around your shoulder as you finished your exchange pulling you so your shoulder bumped his, "this is our new roommate y/n" he beamed to jungwon.

your eyes fell him, his fell on you. for a split second you felt a tightness in your eyes—like they wanted to cry for you, like someone had wiped your memories of someone dear to you but your body still knew who he was—he felt so achingly familiar.

with your eyes full of wonder boring into each other you spoke together.

"have we met?".

you watched his lips curl, your own doing the same with no protest, his eyebrows furrowed looking over you as if he was trying to figure you out right there, or try to understand why his heart was beating faster, louder in his ears.

he looked like someone your eyes could fall to easily as your mind wandered into different realms, someone your eyes could find peace in as you thought of places you couldn't recall if asked.

the type of man you'd see on the front of a magazine wearing various designer pieces. only here he was sporting a black jacket with a white undershirt and grey baggy cargos. he knew how to dress, perfectly at that.

he didn't know what he expected when jake had asked him if you could move into their dorms, he just knows he did not expect you. not you with your eyes or your face that would leave people wondering who you were.

he smiled soft and polite "nice to meet you, i'm jungwon", you returned the smile, tilting your head "you too, i'm y/n".

he automatically repeated your name in his head over and over as if he was trying to ingrain your words into the corners of his mind—his brain short circuited when he realised what it was doing. you however didn't see any of this, just a stiffer smile than before and a little nod.

jake looked between the two of you trying to figure out why such a small exchange felt like it had an underlying secret under it. he grabbed a cup for each of you with some liquid sloshing around and pulled it around your shoulders in front of you.

you thanked him with a grin taking a long sip of the mystery substance, the taste of cherry and a liqueur you couldn't name sliding down your throat with a burn, you scrunched your nose giving your friend a nod of approval, your eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde watching his own reaction.

he also scrunched his nose in something between disgust and approval, approval not for the taste but for the alcohol. you all laughed together in uncertain familiarity, warmth seeped through your body, a comforting feeling—a hope for this feeling to continue.

after some time wandering around the room catching up with jake you caught the sight of a well dressed lady your age walking your way, "hii killer dress!, i'm yuri!" she spoke enthusiastically with an american accent eyeing you up and down.

"hi! you too, i'm y/n" you replied as she beamed proceeding to ask you the details of the dress, the discussion quickly switching to uni life "my mom is a professor here" she explained with a point towards the centre of the room towards a tall woman laughing comfortably into a taller man.

after a lot of getting to know your new friend and finding out she had mutual friends with yours, your social battery felt worn out and old wanting nothing more than to teleport home into comfy clothes and a cup of tea heating your palms, you bid your goodbyes to yuri and turned to let jake know you were going to turn in for the night. "we were just about to ask you if you wanted to go home" he replied as his eyes darted around looking for his friend around the hall.

you spotted him first next to the door with a tall black haired boy you'd later know as park sunghoon.

you nudged your friend and dragged your eyes back to where jungwon stood with a pointed look, he gave you a appreciative nod and motioned you to follow him through the wave of people who seemed to spawn in as you were leaving, you for one were thankful everyone came later.

"yo jungwon you coming?" jake asked as he dapped up the mystery man, "yeah" he replied eyes darting between you, the taller mans eyes followed jungwon's landing on you with a charming smile.

"hi, i'm sunghoon" he spoke clearly, you mimicked his smile feeling their eyes taking you in.

"hey, i'm y/n" you returned, he sent jake a look you had seen between friends many times, the slight eyebrow raise, the flick at the corner of his lips. jake raised an eyebrow as if to say don't even think about it.

jungwon unintentionally pulled you out of your thoughts with a cough, "alright we should get going" he spoke angling himself towards the door.

[ NOW PLAYING > NEW KIND OF LOVE ]

you let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding in as you slipped off your shoes and placed them by the others. "tired?" jake sent a comforting smile placing his own by yours. "i have a couple hours left in me".

"good you should come watch a movie with us" he spoke as you led him through the dorm to your room "roommate bonding" he added with a laugh, you hummed placing your bag in it's new home—laying out your pyjamas for the night. "sure, why not" you smiled turning to face him, only to see both your roommates in front of your door frame.

their eyes gawked over the transformation of the once bare room, now filled with.. well you. "this is so comfy" jake exhaled sinking into a beanbag in the corner of your room. "i outdid myself" you replied playfully, jungwon also looked over your room taking in all your interests with slightly widened eyes before they landed on you. "movie in 30?" he asked you both leaning against your door, you both agreed before they dispersed into their own rooms to shower.

the hot water ran over your body like a blanket of comfort as your mind wandered to the first meeting with the blonde boy. you didn't mean it to, if anything you'd tried willing yourself to stop thinking about something you couldn't explain. after all the only explanation you could think of was temporary insanity.

he was a stranger not even 2 hours ago and now? he was your roommate, your pretty head fuck of a roommate and all he had done was look at you. you shook your head comically as a scoff left your lips at the invasive thought and with that you pushed it to the corners of your mind opting to forget about it completely.

unbeknownst to you jungwon's brain was fighting him about the same topic—a string of confusion clouding his usually clear mind, he too chose ignorance.

after drying yourself off and changing into your pyjamas—you opened your door and walked towards the kitchen. jungwon stood by the counter pouring hot water into a mug, his hair freshly washed—a slightly oversized black tee clinging to his body and grey sweats hanging off his hips.

you walked over and grabbed your own mug from the side before settling in step beside him. "hey" you said as you switched the kettle on, he looked over to you, almost like he'd forgotten you'd be here—or at least that's what you thought.

"hey, tea?" he said softly. "yeah how'd you know?" you replied before grabbing a tea-bag and sugar, "just a hunch" he slid closer to you—tilting his cup to show you the contents of the cup, the heat and scent tickling your nose.

"you have good taste" you smiled flicking the teabag into the bin, with his back to the counter he leant against it studying your movements. "so do you" his cat eyes still held the same familiarity you met him with now a curious arch to his brows.

you mirrored his movements leaning against the counter as the steam swirled into the air. "what movie do you want to watch?" he asked "hmm i'll let you and jake decide for today, see if you guys have what it takes" you playfully spoke, he let out an unguarded laugh and for a split second your mind tumbled into a eery silence—only that laugh spinning through you.

"i guess we can't fuck up then" he replied playfully checking the heat of his tea. "i guess not" your lips curled as your eyes met for a few more seconds than either of you intended, you looked deep into each other as if you expected the answers to reveal themselves to you.

you peeled them away first with a polite smile not catching his eyes lingering on you even after you turned.

jake slipped into the room with an exhale and a towel on his head, his eyes fell on you both "hey guys" he grinned lazily rubbing the towel into his damp hair.

he slid in next to you as you replied with your head knocking into his shoulder, "you and your tea obsessions" he scoffed with a ruffle to your hair, you slid away with a huff fixing the strands. jungwon watched in amusement but also something deeper, something he couldn't admit even to himself, a sense of longing—wanting to be closer, the thought was pushed away almost as quickly as it entered his mind.

you pushed yourself onto the counter and sipped on your tea as jake discussed movie options with jungwon. the blonde leaned over into jake's ear, you watched his expression taking a form of delight, his eyebrows lifting, "that might be perfect for her" jake said.

"alright can you fill me in" you looked between them, they nodded to each other, "the conjuring" jungwon looked at you with a corner of his lips twitching up.

you raised your eyebrows with pursed lips before cracking a smile, his lips mimicked your own, dimples peeking through.

you watched for a second, just enough time that it wasn't noticeable or so you thought, that dimple had the power to short circuit your brain, you just didn't know it yet. right now all you could think was that of a child, pretty blonde, pretty dimples, pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty.

he watched your eyes do that thing he saw earlier, the split second of big wide eyes with thoughts running through them at a million miles per hour and then without warning it all stopped as though you were keeping yourself in check, what he didn't notice was himself doing the same.

"did he tell you it's one of my favourite?" you playfully interrogated looking between them "nope just a hunch" he replied with a tilt to his head and a smile as jake shook his head, "-also i saw your books" he added.

you turned your head as a laugh bubbled through you, not seeing how his eyes lit up, his mouth mirroring your own, his bubbly intoxicating laugh.

as your laughs died down jake's eyes caught jungwon's on you, the introvert laughing with girl he met a few hours, a knowing smile graced his lips.

[ NOW PLAYING > CHAMPAGNE COAST ]

you sat in between your two roommates with a shared blanket draped over your legs, your attention on the movie playing in front of you, you got through the movie feeling heaviness in your eyes.

he looked over to you for a split second, doing a double take when he saw your head drooping to the side before hitting jake's shoulder—jake lifted in shock from the sudden weight. he looked over to jungwon, stiffening afraid to wake you. he tried shuffling down so you could be comfier, only to be met with a groan and an arm flailing.

jungwon watched in amusement as jake huffed wrapping the blanket further on you, the movie finished with you breathing softly into jake's lap and legs brushing against jungwon's.

he looked over to jungwon with a small motion to help. jungwon gaped at the sight before him not knowing how to approach this, he teetered forward and blew some air through his nose.

his hand rested against your arm before carefully lifting your legs onto his lap, he pulled you further down as jake lifted your head, you stirred making them both freeze in their steps, as though searching for comfort with a little huff you ended up with your head in jungwon's neck.

he swallowed hard, wide eyes looking to jake as if he could help him, without a second thought he pulled himself to his feet with his arms wrapped safely around you, jake opened the door with a small laugh and peeled back your sheets. he placed you down gently and watched as your lips jutted out in a pout from the lack of warmth.

he couldn't decipher his thoughts—there were too many, for every thought he had about you, your softened features, your pretty lips, your huffs, also came a little voice telling him he's insane, to stop, he listened.

he draped the thick sheets over you before retreating to the safety of his room, mind spinning with ghost of you nestled in his neck.

you cracked the door open with rubs to the eye, a faint sting in your head loomed in the peaks of your head. the two men sat at the kitchen island with cups in front of them, they both looked up, small smiles gracing their lips. "morning" they both greeted.

you rubbed your head managing to give them a morning back, "i don't even remember getting to bed" you spoke as you made your tea, "yeah you were drooling on me" jake laughed loud. you set your cup on the table and groaned "i don't drool!" he laughed louder as you huffed.

"yeah no you didn't, if you did i would've thrown you to jungwon". you brain silenced you at the thought of such an intimate act, well it's normal with jake why not jungwon? you countered to yourself.

it's not the same.

"but jungwon got you to your room safe" he added as he chewed his food, you turned to him and mustered out apologies at that, saying they should've woken you up. he shook his head with a comforting laugh making your eyes meet his and with a rasp to his voice he said "i was glad to, really. besides you looked too peaceful".

you mustered a nod and a thank you not being able to meet his eyes.

"you guy's got classes today?" jake asked as you both sipped your tea. "i've got some induction meetings and then i'm freed" you spoke resting your chin on your hand.

"i've got to be there too" jungwon said finishing his tea. "your dad funded it?" jake asked.

"yeah he asked me to sit in since he can't be there" he spoke impassive. "jake do you have any today?" you asked looking over to him.

"nope gonna be a housewife today" you laughed feeling a little more awake now, the sting in your head now non-existent.

after finishing your tea you changed into some clothes and got ready for your class opting to go without your scarf since it was hiding from you, jungwon was going to your class today—you didn't quite know what to make of this, nothing wrong with getting closer to your roommate that your heart seems to come alive for.

without a word you both put on your shoes with a polite smile between you, he opened the door for you and locked it as you thanked him, you noticed his eyes still looking at you with that same curious gaze, except now it was like he was trying not to and failing.

you fell into step together walking towards the class, now out of the safety of the halls and onto the streets the air was fresh with the smell of rain, colder than yesterday. jungwon stopped in his tracks—his eyes on his phone, you stopped with him, "everything okay?" you asked, he glanced up "yeah, class got cancelled the stand in professor called in sick.. do you want to grab tea?".

"oh, yeah sure" you spoke with a chill running through you.

"are you cold?" jungwon spoke through the sound of birds and the odd car.

"just a little, i couldn't find my scarf" you spoke with a sigh as you looked over to him, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, a black backwards cap sat on his head, a red scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.

he immediately stopped walking, you turned to him with confusion written in your brows, he unwrapped the scarf walking over to you, you backed up "no, no i'll be okay" you spoke fast, firm.

"besides our dorm is on the way to the tea place".

"y/n come here" he raised an eyebrow leaving no room for debate, you stood still as he stepped forward, you thought he'd just give you the scarf, instead he looked at the scarf with concentration as he wrapped it neatly around your neck, as if this was the most important thing in the world in that moment.

"let's go home"

his deep red scarf sat comfortably around your neck, the clean scent of him happily invading your nose, you were picking up on his habits, if you lagged behind for even a second he'd slow down without a thought, always making sure doors don't fall on you without making a show of it.

"if you can't find it don't worry, just keep mine on" he spoke as you walked into the dorm, "no, i'd feel too bad" you looked up at him into his eyes for the first time that day, he faltered mouth opening and closing.

"will it make you feel better if i grab my turtleneck jacket" you made a faux thinking pout before nodding.

"that would make me feel better yes" he sent you a sweet smile, dimple hollowing, your heart flipped involuntarily.

you rummaged through your closet seeing no sign of your scarf—you turned back closing the door to your closet, where is it.

your eyes scanned over the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your bed with it's usual blankets folded lazily at the end. a slight annoyance tinged in you as you walked back to the kitchen.

"hey, back already?" jake greeted you, "yeah class got cancelled but we're going to a tea place if you wanna come?" you asked as you put your shoes back on.

"i'm feeling lazy but i'd looove if you could bring me grape-ade?" he asked with a cheeky grin and a head tilt, you rolled your eyes giving him a nod.

jungwon walked out from his room, now sporting an olive jacket, he grabbed his shoes and walked over to the sofa as you and jake conversed about something you wouldn't be able to remember if asked later on.

"you ready y/n?" he asked as you finished your conversation, "yeah i couldn't find it but i'm warm enou-".

"if you even try taking it off i'm gonna start wrestling you" he joked as he tied his laces into bows, "i could take you" you laughed with no thought behind the words, he rolled his eyes playfully before gesturing to the door for you to go ahead.

"bye jake!" you waved to the boy, jungwon joined before locking the door hearing a faint "don't forget the grape ade!" you both shared eye contact, giggles falling into the air with a warmth pooling in your stomach.

you'd settled into a comfortable talk of classes as you walked side by side, pushing all the nonsense from yesterday to the backrooms of your mind by force, because this was your roommate and you wanted to be friends with him... without your brain dangling a carrot etched with perfect man over your head.

you had a suspicion of what was happening, you'd had crushes before but quickly came to the realisation that crushes were nothing but a lack of information and you had a habit of falling for the thought of a person rather than who they actually were.

however this wasn't something you had dealt with since you were younger but for right now, that's all you could come up with.

you were brought back to reality when you'd finally reached the warmly lit cafe, jungwon pushed open the door, keeping it open for you as he had been. you thanked him as you both sat opposite each other at the front of the cafe, in front of the window.

he sunk back in the chair sighing under his breath as he pulled the cap from his head, he shook his head softly letting it fall to his forehead. his eye winked at the intrusion—he blew the hair away as he usually would.

you cursed in your head as you let your attention swerve back to the list of refreshments, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.

"what are you getting?" he asked with his eyes already on you, as though he'd been watching. "black tea, you?" you replied easily.

"me too" he tilted his head with a small smile. he watched as you averted your eyes to the window, a muscle in your jaw tightening as you turned your head towards it, his eyes softened as he watched you stuck in your own head—wondering what was going through your mind.

his scarf sat snug around your neck, only he knew who it belonged to. in shadows of his mind you were the water behind a dam, cracks deepened as you leaked through.

you ordered your drinks and talked as you looked out at the life outside the windows, through the background chatter of the others in the cafe jungwon's voice cut through.

"so.. jake tells me your a match-maker?" he started with a mischievous glint to his eyes. you groaned head tipping back, hands covering your face.

"he didn't.. oh my gosh" you spoke behind your hands. "don't worry he barely told me anything, he told me he was catching up with your sister and her boyfriend and about how you matched them up" he laughed softly as his fingers hovered over the cup.

"it wasn't intentional" you started, he encouraged you to go on with a pointed look, "she wrote some love letters and as the curious silly little sister, i sent them.. and they ended up dating for real after fake dating, they've been together about 6 years now" you added watching as his eyes widened slightly at your words.

"that sounds like the plot of a bad romcom" he spoke, eyes crinkling a laugh bursting out both of you at his words, "it really does".

"but since then it seems like i keep unintentionally matching people up, so i just did it when i saw something between people, even when they couldn't see it" you trailed off a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers skimmed the rim of the cup.

"how do you even notice things like that?" he asked with genuine wonder.

"sometimes all it takes is catching a look between people, other times it's been places i spend a lot of time at, like when i was at school i noticed my teachers yearning for each other like they were in a drama, so i put a rose on her desk from him, which got them talking and now they're married" you spoke happily, eyes lighting up at the memories of their wedding.

"wow, you are a modern day cupid" he spoke incredulously as you shook your head with a laugh.

"i'd rather not be, cupid's love story is complicated to say the least" you responded finishing your tea.

"aren't all love stories?" he countered.

"touché" you responded as you both finished up your tea. you ordered a go to grape-ade for jake and walked back to your dorm, sharing more details about your sister and her boyfriend.

you walked in laughing about one of your match-making stories as jake sat on the sofa scrolling on his phone, his ears perked at the noise. you sat next to him after taking off your shoes and coat and handed him his drink, he thanked you with a smile and a how was it. as you told him how cute the cafe was you felt a dip in the sofa next to you.

jungwon watched as you sat back and tilted your head back talking about the cafe, it wasn't much but he noticed it all, in the little time you'd spent together you were becoming a little more comfortable, bit by bit.

you caught his eye as you gestured to jake, he watched as your breath halt when you saw his feline eyes already on you, you pulled yourself together with a breath, his eyes glazed over your face—landing on your neck.

your own followed his and you unwrapped the scarf from your neck before holding it between your palms, "i'll wash it and get it back to you, is that okay?" he looked between your eyes slowly.

"no, it's okay i'll do it" before you could fight back, he read your mind and placed a hand on the scarf with a grin, you felt his hand graze yours, a light tingly feeling bloomed as you felt a flutter in the pits of your stomach.

you both pulled back in silence shifting back to your original position, jake sat sipping his grape-ade looking over with a side eye.

jungwon retreated into his room to freshen up, with his scarf. he hung it up, the scent of you causing him to stop in his tracks, with a shake to his head he left it hung on the hook by his wardobe, with no intention to wash it.

.⭑ˎˊ˗

you had the same encounters, the same shared looks that neither of you addressed or could even admit to yourselves and then you had your first class, with yuri sitting next to you, occasionally making conversation about clothes or class.

that evening you got home and had a shower as usual, washing away any stress from the day and getting changed into pyjamas—then proceeding to the kitchen to make your tea, only to find jungwon sat at the table with two steaming cups beside him.

he motioned you to sit, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat beside him at the island—he slid the cup over while sipping his own.

you'd always been better at showing appreciation physically, with a thank you and a smile—a hug or a head on a shoulder.

so when you placed your cheek on his shoulder with a small thank you, you told yourself it was like how you would with jake, that it wasn't different.

he stiffened not having time to relax—you'd already pulled away, his body missed you when his mind couldn't understand why, he chased the feeling of your body on his without giving himself permission to.

"you didn't have to" was all you could muster with your voice coming out softer than you meant it to, quieter.

"i wanted to" he said back, with the same tone—that same tone that made it feel more intimate than either of you allowed it to be.

you took a testing sip, it tasted exactly as it would if you'd made it yourself—he watched over your expression.

"good?" he asked with a curious arch to his brow.

you turned to him "perfect... thank you".

his smile gleamed under the dim orange lamps scattered around the dorm, a small shy smile you only saw a handful of times but relishing in it each time.

[ PLAYING NOW > TAKE A BITE ]

he couldn't breathe feeling you against his neck, hot—heavy. your lips ghosting over his ear, he whispered incoherent words in your ear, his hands not touching you—not yet.

he was close enough that his presence maddened you, a slight pull could intertwine you but neither of you dared to cross that line.

"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."

your eyes stung—cold sweat clung to your forehead, you were shaking, you groaned as you stumbled out of bed with your chest burning—eyes darting to the clock on your bedside table, lighting up a green 3:21AM.

you splashed cold water on your face and walked heavily through your door to the kitchen in the dark, without warning the under lights of the kitchen turned on—you gasped loud causing the other figure to jump with you, a startled jungwon stood before you.

his face was flushed, eyes wide, like he'd seen something he couldn't explain.

you let out a breath of relief sinking into the chair, his shoulders also slumped in something between relief and defeat.

neither of you spoke at first just breathing in the shared space, he also melted into the chair next to you.

"you look like you've seen a ghost" you finally spoke after minutes.

"so do you" he managed back.

he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and slid back into his seat, you thanked him before guzzling down half the bottle.

you couldn't remember much from the dream, only that you were not you—you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes, you remembered they had made you look like you'd stepped out of a romcom, with the dreamy lens and the heart eyes.

you remembered the words.

and even so, you had no idea why it led to this reaction, why you were sat at your kitchen island with your roommate like you just had a life altering experience.

you weren't comforting each other for what you were going through, you were simply living through the same experience, unknowingly.

you were so focused on your thoughts you didn't notice jungwon's hand inching towards you, not until it held your arm—so light you'd think you were made of glass, only until then you didn't realise you were shaking.

you startled before dragging your eyes over to him, he tried inching closer to be able to hold you comfortably but the chair was stuck—he let go of his hold on you to grapple onto the bottom of your chair, dragging it closer so your shoulders touched.

you would've found it hot if you could think about anything other than whoever was with you in your head. his hand came back to that same spot, as if to ground you, he rubbed up and down, the sleeve of your shirt occasionally getting in the way.

without a word you turned, tilted your head and sighed falling onto his shoulder.

the last week scared you more than you could verbalise, you weren't scared of what was happening, more so of the uncertainty—the unknown.

the whys, hows, there was no real explanation to anything that had happened recently, it was all catching up to you after a week of pushing it all down and wishing it'd go away.

you felt him tense beneath you at the weight, he quickly relaxed—sighing into your touch, for a second you thought he was going to pull away, instead he pulled his hand from your arm and wrapped it around you, letting your weight fall on him.

he was telling you without words that you could lean on him, he could take it but all you could think was, who does he lean on?

after some time you tilted your head to take him in, his flushed cheeks, the curve of his nose, his eyes still sparkling despite the clear exhaustion—his eyes locked with yours.

"are you okay?" you asked as if you weren't the one shaking a couple minutes ago, not even realising you'd stopped.

he paused before laughing in fond disbelief "you're asking me that?"

you rolled your eyes, still so close to him, "you don't look too good yourself.. answer me".

"yes ma'am, i'm- well i'm fine—tired i just woke up after a dream" he spoke slow, careful.

"me too" you spoke under your breathe. he nodded finally looking away like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"good or bad dream?" he asked.

"i don't know yet".

.⭑ˎˊ˗

you spent most spare moments with those words in your head.

"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."

after that night with jungwon you'd gone to bed with those words echoing in your mind like a prayer, you went to class as usual—one of them was with your roommates.

jake and jungwon had coerced you into sitting with their friends, sunghoon, ni-ki, yuri and her friend juliana, they welcomed you easily, as if you weren't new, they included you when they didn't have to.

after spending more time with them in classes sunghoon and ni-ki decided to come over more, you often found them on your sofa with a smile encouraging you to hang out with you, which you always did.

jungwon couldn't understand why this was happening to him, he went to class as usual, lived his life as usual. only now his heart raced when he heard your voice—he heard you everywhere, he heard you in the laughs of people he didn't know, always turning without fail to see if it was you behind it.

he hated it but he relished in your presence—he'd told himself you were roommates—friends, nothing more.

which is why he didn't know what he was thinking when he'd suggested studying in the library to his friends, of course you'd be invited.

it's not like he was avoiding you, but he'd made it a point to try not be in close proximity with you outside of the dorms. it seemed to have no logic behind it and he knew that but people do illogical things when they're going through a mental war.

so when he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you realised he didn't mean to include you in the plans, he felt his heart squeeze—ache.

it did it again when you excused yourself with a poor lie about being tired—a lie no one else looked into but him.

the hurt sat low in your chest, you started wondering if you missed other signs from him indicating his lack of wanting you there. no matter how much you had tried, you couldn't stop the hurt from leaking into the cracks forming around your heart.

even when you'd told yourself it wasn't deep—that it didn't matter, you knew it wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else but you found yourself asking yourself the same question of why.

so the second you realised what he had meant, you mumbled an excuse with the most convincing smile you could muster, avoiding his eyes and you walked to that tea cafe, because one thing you couldn't do, was be somewhere you weren't wanted.

that evening he couldn't focus, he slumped in his chair—absentmindedly chewing on his pencil. the odd flicker of pages, the muffled chatters acted as a playground for his mind.

his notebooks were long forgotten by now, jake sat besides him working on some physics equation, yuri on the other side chatting away with juliana as sunghoon and ni-ki sat in front, with all the people he held dear close by, all he wanted was to see you, was to tell you it wasn't that he didn't want you there, he just didn't trust his mind—or heart not to jump for you.

he turned to his friends, "i can't focus, i'm gonna work at home" he muttered to them.

he walked as fast as he could towards the dorms, he needed you to understand—you weren't unwanted, how could you be. the wind ran past his hair with a hiss, the knocking of his shoes loud against the concrete.

he opened the door and walked in, not bothering to take off his shoes, immediately looking for any sign of your presence with his heart in his throat.

no sign of you in the kitchen, living room—anyone's rooms.

so he did the next most logical thing, he messaged you—despite the fact that neither of you had messaged outside of the dorms group chat or the friends chat.

"hey, where are you?"

[ NOW PLAYING > CARDIGAN ]

you sat with your ear-phones in—trying to will the music to take over the noise in your head as you nursed a cup of black tea with a heavy heart.

the emotions you were trying so hard to deny were breaking through without permission but now you'd been let down for the first time, he'd rejected you without words—without even knowing what he was doing.

the stubborn flesh in your head called your brain took it as a deadline, the first pull—you'd unknowingly opened yourself to him without grasping what it would mean—that you had let yourself be hurt, you allowed the hurt by opening yourself.

you hated that more than you understood why. from now you wouldn't allow more, he was your roommate and a friend.

nothing more.

the second you came to this conclusion you felt a stinging in your heart, like it was fighting you—telling you to hold onto the hope in your heart for him to fix this.

your finger twirled around the rim of the cup as you stared off into the life beyond the windows, the lovesick couples, friends—all walked by, serving as a mocking reminder of your situation.

after what felt like hours you sipped the last remnants of the lukewarm tea and snapped the backwards cap closer towards your scalp before pulling open the door.

you walked without looking, not really—your eyes scanned over the cars to the right and the river to the left, which is why you didn't see the person in front of you until their hand was on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydream.

jungwon stood in front of you, wide eyed—scanning every inch of your face like he was looking for signs of pain, hurt "y/n" he breathed out, letting go of your shoulder.

he watched as you looked at him before taking out your earphones, eyes holding a slight shock before melting into an emotion he couldn't understand, a thin lipped smile you held for a second.

"hey" you responded with a rock from the heels of your feet, dragging your eyes from your feet to the river—it glistened under the city lights.

"you didn't get my message?" he asked with a worried furrow to his eyebrows.

you pulled your phone from it's place in your bag and sighed through your nose, "it's silenced, sorry.. was it important?".

yes it was, it was so important but how could he do this without the dam breaking.

"yes y/n i'm.. i'm sorry about earlier, i didn't want to make you feel like-like i didn't want you there, i did—i do! i just.. i didn't want to make you feel like you had to be there" lie lie lie but the alternate was pouring his soul out about something he didn't understand and what would hurt more?

you stood shocked, shocked that he even addressed it—expecting this to be washed away with time as most conflicts between friends are.

"it's alright, i didn't feel like i had to be there..but it's fine. really" you watched his shoulders relax, the walls you'd put up that day slumped with them.

he turned so you were both now facing the river, his shoulder brushed against you, neither of you moved—his hand snaked onto your arm pulling you to face him.

"i don't want you to pull away.. okay?" he looked between your eyes, soft pleading.

the dam in your minds creaked heavy, the sting in your hearts vanished without further complaint.

"okay.. i won't" you spoke quiet, a dimple carved into his cheeks at your words.

you mimicked his smile unwillingly, eyes drifting back to the water.

his eyes followed your own to the mass of water in front of you, it was beautiful—with the dimmed orange lights glistening in the ripples, it was almost hypnotic—especially through your eyes.

"home?" his eyes didn't leave your face for a second, catching your immediate shyness.

"home" you smiled as he motioned for you to walk on the inside of the path, that night your mind grew weaker for him, never expecting him to take responsibility—but that small part of you that was afraid of letting him in, being hurt—wished he was ignorant, wished he didn't read you perfectly.

it would've made it easier to stay away but that was never in the cards for either of you.

[ NOW PLAYING > ROOMMATES ]

now comfy in some pyjamas after a warm shower you walked into the kitchen feeling content, comfortable compared to earlier—the discomfort in your stomach now gone.

jungwon had prepared a cup of tea for you alongside his own, always perfectly timed after you got ready for the late evening, you hummed as you slid in next to him on the sofa, sitting closer than you intended, he turned to you giving you a smile as you murmured a thank you.

he mimicked your way of accepting, leaning into your touch, shoulder pushing against you as he slumped further into the sofa—you sat flushed against each other as whatever documentary played in the background.

for the time you spent curled next to him, you thought about how the feelings you had earlier—the doubt had dissipated into nothing, you were so adamant on this changing things but how could it when he did everything you hadn't allowed yourself to think was possible.

"heyy!" jake slid in next to you with a cheeky grin, you both greeted him as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of you, "movie?" he spoke as he pulled a blanket from the side and passed it to jungwon.

you hummed in agreement placing the now empty cup in front of you "do you guys wanna carry on with the conjuring series?" you looked between them, they nodded enthusiastically.

with the lights now off and your drinks finished you started the movie with the blanket pulled up to your lap.

jungwon's attention wasn't all on the screen. he tried—he really tried to keep them fixed on the pixels but his eyes kept drifting, he didn't mean to—it's like they were magnetised to you.

the way your lips tilted every time you saw the couple have a moment, the way your eyes were lit with longing—he wondered in that moment if you'd ever been in love before, he choked on nothing realising his brain was no longer under his control—instantly coughing to try cover it up.

"you okay?" he paused feeling caught before looking over to you and nodding, mustering up a smile—even though he was malfunctioning.

you with your alluring eyes, your adoring smile, your laugh that he was hearing in places you weren't.

god he thought he was past this.

friend, roommate, friend, roommate. he repeated over and over.

you however felt clarity at the situation, because really this wasn't a situation at all, all the pulls and pushes in your head were just that—in your head, he didn't feel this.

friends. roommates.

you acted as though you would with any friend, pushing your legs on top of jake's lap and leaning your head on jungwon's shoulder. jake made a faux noise of annoyance just to pull the blanket over your legs comfortably.

and jungwon? his eyes hadn't left you, so when you had let yourself melt into his shoulder, he let his head fall against your own. he could smell your shampoo, barely but it was unmistakably you.

jungwon heard that people get sleepy when they're around people they're comfortable with, he thought that was ridiculous until he found himself drifting into dreamland, slumped against you.

you stiffened slightly as you heard his breathing slow down—his body growing heavier, he twitched every now and then with huffs at nothing in particular.

you felt his breath on your nape, his arm draped over your waist—in flashes you saw his dimple shining pretty as he kissed your cheek lovingly, he pulled your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings.

"i'm right here".

he woke up, breathing hard—a buzzing ache lingering behind his eyes. his surroundings became clearer with each blink, the hum of the tv, the warmth of your body. he looked around with wide eyes as you sat up looking over to him with concern written across your face.

"bad dream?" you asked softly. he turned and slumped lower so you were eye to eye, he took in your tired eyes, the stiff crease in your eyebrow—the way the tv light shone against your face.

"have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?" he spoke quietly, flitting between your eyes.

"yeah actually.. pretty much every dream i have" you joked, his lips tilted in amusement—until you saw his eyes cloud over in real time by a deeper thought.

without warning you stood up and grabbed a water bottle, slumping back into that same position slowly—careful not to wake jake. he watched as you opened the bottle and passed it to him, he thanked you.

he didn't realise how thirsty he was until then, or how flushed he was. he guzzled down the water—sighing out from the lack of breath.

"do you know what a soulmate dream is?" he finally spoke.

"yeah of course, well not from experience but i've heard of them" you looked over to him—catching the way his eyebrows were knit in thought.

he gave you a look telling you to continue, "i've heard they can be pretty much anything, depends on the people.. my aunt found my uncle through the dreams when they were about our age, her dreams were from his eyes—she told me the first time she had the dream, she thought she was having a panic attack.. and she couldn't understand why something like a dream had caused so much stress..".

you trailed off as the cogs in your mind turned, clicking missing pieces into place with a flag waving that said "you are a fucking idiot."

surely not, you thought—mind flashing back to that dream, the words, looking through his eyes—your soulmates eyes.

you could be wrong.. but you if you were right then maybe you had somehow made contact with your soulmate, maybe it was someone in passing—maybe it was slight eye-contact with someone you had never even conversed with.

[ NOW PLAYING > BACK TO FRIENDS ]

"y/n?" jungwon waved a hand in front of your face—disrupting the mental war going on in your brain.

"sorry.. i just remembered something" you exhaled, head still dazed in the idea of having a soulmate, someone promised to you by the universe, to be destined to you.

you felt as though you should have been happier at this revelation, here was the possibility of having a soulmate and yet you couldn't stop thinking, what if it wasn't the blonde boy sat next to you. you pushed it away as you had been with any thought you didn't enjoy.

jungwon caught the whirl of thoughts in your head, he saw the conflict, although he had no ideas for what it could be for—who it could be for, his hand snaked around your back, settling on your bare arm, his thumb rubbed circles.

you looked over to him as the flutters in your stomach subsided, his eyes held the stars, they bored into yours—every twinkle in his eye had you falling deeper into his soul. his spare hand reached up settling on the base of your neck—he watched as your throat bobbed up and down.

your eyes flitted over his lips, to his eyes. he paused as a thought intruded, your lips were glistening—they looked soft, how would they mould against his, how would you taste?

you watched as his eyes dilated, closing in on your lips.

his hand shifted up, his thumb rested on your jaw.

in one swift movement you pushed your head into the crevice of his shoulder, his hands gravitated to your waist immediately.

your bodies moulded together, your chests flushed against each other, you felt his breath falter, loud. you wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling your body back slowly—his hands chased yours grazing against them.

you pulled your head back, your nose grazed his jaw—he faltered, he steadied himself with a hand on your thigh. for a moment neither of you dared to move, your breath grazing against his jaw.

and then as a cruel twist of fate, jake stirred.

neither of you knew why you felt like you had been caught, so when you both pulled away sitting back into your given places—you couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why you both bolted like you'd been stung.

you didn't talk about that night again, not as you sauntered around the lingering touches—the yearning stares as the other remained oblivious, the strings of life pulled you together in ways you didn't want to allow.

he was everywhere, at home, at the cafe, at the library, in your mind. even when you'd found peace at the river alone, he was in your mind, if he wasn't there physically he was mentally.

you were in this perfect frenzy of close friends but not too close—both doing so well at maintaining this friendship, this perfectly curated back and forth.

but now the dam had a gushing—heavy leak and there was no fixing it.

[ NOW PLAYING > BLIND ]

your heart ached, your chest was pulsing with hurt—your throat burned as you were grasping for air, you didn't know what it felt like to be heartbroken—never felt the lack of hope, of knowing there's nothing left but here you were, on the floor of your bedroom.

you woke up screaming—sweating, you only knew it wasn't reality when you heard him.

"y/n, hey wake up"

you bolted up before you even knew where you were, the sound of your sobs quieting down as you gained consciousness.

jungwon stood over you with concern and sleep printed in his expression. "did..did i wake you? i'm so sorry" you breathed feeling tears run down your face, he shook his head—an amused huff left his lips as he sat himself on your bed.

he leaned in closer than you expected, a hand softly resting against your cheek and jaw—he held you for a moment before wiping away your tears. his eyes held an adoration only he could explain.

"bad dream?"

"the worst" you sighed.

you sat further up with a sniffle and a sigh as he pulled you into his arms, you squeaked in shock—his arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head.

"you're okay" he whispered.

you both breathed each other in, he held you like this would be the last time, like he'd never get the chance again—as if this was the first meeting after a lifetime of waiting.

you felt as though you were in another dream, one with no consequences—but even comfort after a bad dream felt like an excuse to touch him, so hyperaware of the meaning.

you pulled away with murmurs of needing to freshen up and more apologies, you had thought yourself into overthinking.

it was all too much, you felt too much, his presence alone dampened the hurt you'd felt, no one else could do that—so you showered it all away and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping back into your room and closing the door behind you.

you turned to see a flushed jungwon with his hand on the door handle covering his eyes. you jumped back as he whisper yelled apologies with his back turned.

"fuck i've been tryna get the door open since you left" he stuttered as you backed up to your closet, grabbing pyjamas.

"let me get changed and then i'll try help" you laughed at the sheer gravity of the situation as you pulled your clothes on and trudged over to him. he turned around and took you in, his eyes flit over you, a faint smirk on his lips.

you rolled your eyes as you tested the door yourself, it wasn't about strength—besides you'd seen jungwon's arms, that wouldn't have been a problem. the handle rattled, turning easily with no clicking, no confirmation of the cogs fitting into place, nothing.

you looked at him, he was already looking with a defeated expression. "what are the chances jake's awake?" you asked before bursting into laughter with him at his theatrical sigh.

"it's 2am, you need to sleep" he spoke as you both sat on the edge of your bed. "so do you" you countered, he hummed in agreement as you sat yourself under your covers, patting the space besides you.

this was fine, you told yourself as if you didn't run away from him for comforting you too well. you looked him over as he slid in besides you, his black tank-top clung to his figure perfectly, the shadows on his muscles perfectly lit under the fairy lights.

you slid down to get comfy, he mimicked your movements until you lay looking towards each other. how is it possible for someone to look so beautiful with no effort he thought as he scanned over your tired features.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you spoke into the comfortable silence of the room.

"like what?" he asked feeling his throat close up.

"like you've never seen me before"

he opened his mouth, closing it immediately—truthfully he looked at you like that every time he saw you.

"maybe i forget, so i take my time, make sure i can never forget again".

you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the way your heart soared at his words.

"save that for your soulmate" you joked.

the reality of your words sunk in too late—hurting your own feelings as the object of your desires lay in your bed with you.

you pulled the covers over your shoulders feeling the warmth seep through your body, his eyes never once left yours as you both talked yourself to sleep.

your eyes flickered open slowly, you yawned before blinking a few more times, adjusting to the golden rays peeking through. you tried to turn, only to be stuck—jungwon's arm was lazily splayed across your waist, his chest pressed to your back—his soft breaths against your nape.

you didn't dare move, didn't dare ruin this—for it wouldn't last.

you felt guilt for not waking him, for letting yourself live in this delusion while he slept—peaceful with no idea of where he was.

after minutes of laying there, your sleepiness wearing off—jungwon stirred, he groaned with his mouth closed as he pulled you by your waist further into his chest, you squeezed your eyes together and let yourself relax.

he twitched again a few minutes later, only now his eyes fluttered open—it was only evident he was awake when he yawned as quietly as he could as he took in his surrounding bit by bit, you half expected him to immediately let go of you and retreat into his space on your bed.

instead he let himself relax and closed his eyes with a faint smile.

you didn't know how much time it had been but by now you thought he was back to being asleep, until you heard a voice "yo y/n! i got the door open-" jake swung it open with a screw in one hand, his face morphed from glee to his jaw being dropped—and then a large toothy smile took over.

you shook your head with wide eyes motioning to the blonde boy being asleep, he hushed himself immediately not before raising his eyebrow and whispering "when did this happen?".

"nothing happened.. he was locked in here—so we slept" you shrugged your shoulders, praying your lips wouldn't betray you as your heartbeat already was.

you turned yourself slowly so you could face jake, only now jungwon huffed pulling you into his chest, his head was now in the crevice of your neck, his legs tangled over yours. jake laughed into his hand as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.

"fuck" you breathed as he doubled over in silent laughter. he whined as you pried yourself from his grasp with little apologies, his hands looked for you—a small pout forming on his pretty face.

you smiled as you pulled the covers over him before getting ready for the day. with your teeth brushed and your skincare on you skipped over to the kitchen, eyes catching on the pile of letters and cards.

a little pink card with the words "SYMPHONIA IX GALA" you'd heard about this gala from yuri, the gala where everyone goes all out with their dresses, dressing as princesses for the night—there was still a while until the night but tickets were already out and selling fast.

you had never been one to take initiative but last night with jungwon, that meant something—you were sure of it. it couldn't have been nothing, not with the way he looked at you—the way he held you.

maybe you could go together—as friends.. and see what happens.

half an hour later you walked back into your room with the pink card to see jungwon sat up rubbing his eyes, "morning" you smiled as you tucked the card under your alarm clock.

you sat yourself on the edge of the bed as he yawned with a stretch "morning y/n" he rasped leaning back on his arms.

"come on princess you should get up" you spoke pulling the covers down to his hips. he groaned as you jumped from the bed with a yelp, running from his swats.

"also your tits out!" you laughed turning the corner of your door.

[ NOW PLAYING > SYMPHONIA XI ]

that night you found the courage you needed to do it, after all you were only asking as a friend. that's what you told yourself, even if you wanted more—even if you knew you'd be hurt if nothing more was to happen.

you told yourself the next time you see him, you'll do it.

only you didn't expect to see him on your way to meeting your friends, he was sat on a bench with yuri—you walked over, telling yourself you can do this over and over.

"hey guys" you spoke watching as their heads snapped to you as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't.

"hey y/n" jungwon smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

yuri only smiled, "hey, did you hear about the gala? the tickets are out" you spoke to jungwon, feeling a chill of anxiety run through your body, it's too late to back out now.

"yeah, were you planning on going?" he nodded.

"yeah.. actually i was wondering if you wanted to go"

you watched a smile form, until he felt yuri grab his hand—his face dropped, his mouth opened as if to speak but before he could respond, yuri spoke "actually we're going together".

you looked between them, the hand she was so easily holding between her palms.

"oh that's cool, i'll ask jake" you nodded, ignoring the blooming envy in your heart, jungwon's face held conflict—like he wanted to speak but he couldn't bring himself to.

and to confirm the fact you were so badly trying to deny.

"we're dating" she added. you looked over at jungwon—he took one look at your face before avoiding it all together.

you breathed in, holding back any emotion and mustered a "congrats" yuri smiled sweetly, "i've got to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, i'll see you guys".

you walked as fast as you could but not to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, you pulled out your phone and messaged them a vague excuse and then you walked and walked.

not even a day ago he was in your bed, holding you as though he was used to the feeling. it burned, your heart—the sting turned into an aching you couldn't quite fathom, couldn't quite push down. the rain started slowly, you sat by the river feeling the drops run down your face along with your tears.

you were grateful for the rain, grateful it grew heavier, swallowing your sobs—somewhere along the way you opened your heart, despite your efforts to keep it hidden, you'd fallen for your roommate.

you hadn't been in the picture for long but you were observant, you had to be to be a match-maker. so how had you not caught this—caught a vibe, a look.. anything.

you knew it was late but your phone was dead and you couldn't bring yourself to care because along with the hurt of rejection, you hurt for the friendships you would lose—because you couldn't keep yourself from falling for him.

you mourned the memories you'd created, you knew nothing could be the same from now and anger at yourself for deluding yourself.

by the time you got back to the dorms you were soaked and freezing, it was late—so late that you got back to a furious jungwon and jake.

you closed the door behind you with the click of the key and kicked off your shoes, "where the hell were you?" jake jumped off the sofa walking to the hallway.

you turned to face him—he took in your state and gawked, "phone died" you sighed walking through to your room and shrugging off your coat, "where were you?" jungwon repeated as they followed you.

"river" you answered plainly as you shivered, they grabbed towels for you, walking to you slow—with distance, not being able to decipher your emotions. you turned to the door, jungwon stood in front of you, trying to drape the towel over you, "i'm fine" you sighed in annoyance pushing past him.

"you're out until 2am and you come back frozen but you're fine?" he gawked eyebrows— furrowed. "yes i am fine" a muscle in your jaw flexed as you looked away from him, you couldn't look at him.

it wasn't his fault he doesn't feel the same but you also couldn't pretend you could stand his touch anymore—his presence, you couldn't let him have this hold over your heart the way he did right now.

you sat down on your bed finally feeling the cold catch up to you, your breathing slowed as you sunk onto the bed.

jungwon slid over as you sunk, "stop, m-fine" you breathed pushing him with no force, jake ran over pulling the towels over your body. you felt weak, your eyes drooped until you felt yourself drifting, "no come on don't fall asleep" jungwon shook you as you groaned in annoyance.

they pulled you into the shower running hot water over you as you sat in your clothes, you managed to convince them you could change by yourself.

finally laying in bed with your covers pulled to your chin, jake sat by you as jungwon made tea, "what happened?" he slid in next to you rubbing your arms as you shivered.

"i just lost track of time.. that's all" you sighed as you wrapped yourself around him, your head in his shoulder.

"you lost track of time, sat in the rain?" he turned to you, speaking against your hair.

"yeah—it's therapeutic really" you spoke. he hummed—not believing you one bit.

by the time jungwon came back you had drifted off into sleep on jake, he looked over with a mixture of envy and relief but neither of those things could compete with the grief in his heart—the loss of your comfort around him, the annoyance in your expression at his mere presence.

jake watched over you—with an expression jungwon couldn't decipher, he sighed through his nose before speaking. "she looked happy this morning, she was even meant to meet the guys—they told me she cancelled, saying she's tired" they took in your peaceful expression with knit eyebrows.

jungwon couldn't think clearly, he wanted to believe that maybe you were thinking about him—maybe you were hurt, about him and yuri.

maybe you were just angry, that as his friend, you knew nothing, you were told on accident—with no prior knowledge or even inkling.

jake stayed through the night, telling jungwon to get some rest—which he reluctantly did after hours. he soothed you when you stirred, he rocked you when you groaned awake, he eventually drifted into sleep alongside you.

you stirred as jake slipped out and got ready for his classes, waking up a little while later to tea by your bedside, assuming it was from jake you didn't overthink it—opting to get ready, learning to live with the sting, instead of ignoring it this time.

this entire time you had pushed down your feelings, pushed them to the corners of your mind for you weren't used to feeling so much.

you told yourself you needed to feel to let go, to let go of him—to let go of the feelings you had harboured without allowing yourself to.

but that didn't mean you had to be around to witness him with his new girlfriend, which also meant distancing yourself from your friends, not because you wanted to but because they would be there and just by their presence the peace you seeked would dissipate.

you got through it alone, avoiding everyone—justifying it by telling yourself you needed time but they didn't make it easy and it didn't go without annoyance from jake, especially for staying out later than usual and avoiding the usual hang-outs.

the tea cafe had become somewhat of a sanctuary—it being open 24 hours was of great help for someone actively avoiding a roommate but you were surprised you hadn't seen him here, after all he had introduced you.

there were also a few times you weren't so lucky, in your shares classes yuri talked to you as usual, which to your surprise didn't come with talks of her new boyfriend.

as for jungwon, he didn't know what to expect—he just didn't expect silence—to be shut out like you hadn't spent the last couple months becoming closer, becoming friends, you didn't even come out for tea after your shower anymore.

you didn't walk to class with him—always walking earlier. every time he tried to talk to you but he was met with a brief cold response or bitter shut down, eventually even your silence turned into sour remarks.

he didn't push, because pushing meant the possibility of you pushing you away for good and he couldn't take that—but he could take this, he would take this over nothing.

you couldn't see it but jungwon's patience was wearing thin—each day he went without so much as a stray glance was undoing his resolve.

after another morning of solitude, you walked through the kitchen and out the door with no words to the blonde sat at the kitchen island, who unknown to you was waiting for you, he locked the door and walked a few paces behind you.

you sat in your usual seat a few minutes early to the lecture, consumed by your own thoughts—until you felt a presence besides you, sunghoon sat in his place besides you as he would. you settled into your usual conversations, until he talked about you helping him study after class,

"when did i agree to this?" you joked, "when yuri said we're all studying at your dorm later" he laughed with confusion, you opened your phone to the messages with a sigh, "i actually already have plans" you spoke, avoiding his eyes.

"what plans" he asked as you put your phone away, "i wanted to go to the cafe and juliana asked me to go out tonight".

he hummed, "i haven't seen this infamous cafe.. care for some company?".

you made a faux thinking face as he groaned "yeah sure, why not" you answered feeling eyes bore into the back of your head.

after your class you both walked to the cafe, narrowly avoiding an interaction with yuri on your way—you did however run into juliana who invited sunghoon to join you that night.

you didn't quite know why juliana had messaged you separately for your outing but you weren't complaining, if anything this was ideal. after the cafe you walked back to your dorms to get changed, with anxiety looming in your chest—knowing everyone would be there.

you clicked the door open and closed it after sunghoon scurried in, "you wanna wait here or come with?" you asked as you slid off your shoes, "i'll come with you" he replied.

you walked in to papers scattered over the coffee table and the kitchen island, jungwon and jake sat at the kitchen as yuri sat with ni-ki on the sofa.

you tried your best to walk through without seeming rude, "where have you guys been!" yuri asked with a smile as sunghoon stood behind you, "y/n showed me that tea cafe" sunghoon replied sensing your discomfort.

"aww you should take us some time" she spoke, you hummed as jake motioned you to come over, he pulled you in for a second. "you alright?" he whispered, you nodded with a ruffle to his hair—he swatted you away as you tried your best to avoid the blondes stares.

"i've got to get ready, but i'll talk to you later" you said to him as you moved to your door with sunghoon following.

"before you guys go, i wanted to just say while everyone's here that jungwon and i are dating!" juliana spoke enthusiastically not looking at anyone.

silence. dead ghostly silence.

for a split second you looked for jungwon's reaction, you couldn't help it. his eyes were already on you—you caught his discomfort, your face stayed straight—not so much as a grimace, you couldn't.

[ PLAYING NOW > MANEATER ]

the boys all looked at jungwon in disbelief, they had always sensed the vibes between you two, even when you didn't. you'd already turned around opting to head into your room with a goodbye.

"she's getting ready with sunghoon?" yuri raised a playful eyebrow and a nudge to ni-ki's shoulder, "they're friends" jungwon responded impassive, eyes still on the page.

"they'd be cute together" she hummed, jungwon looked up with a rise to his brow, before shaking his head—focusing on the click of his pen instead of the ugly green blooming deep within him.

you got changed in the bathroom, into a outfit you knew would turn heads for your first proper night out in a while.

you came out in a lowcut dress and your favourite going out shoes, sunghoon gawked shamelessly "are you trying to kill people?" you responded with a laugh and a "maybe" as you grabbed the chosen bottles of liqueur and walked through the door of your room to the kitchen.

you took two glasses pouring an equal amount of liquid in both—handing one to sunghoon, you hadn't noticed the pairs of eyes on you as you walked through.

"y/n you look hot as fuck" yuri spoke first, everyone hummed in agreement—except jungwon, who could only stare, the first genuine smile in a good second bloomed as you thanked them, you handed sunghoon the drink watching as he took a big mouthful.

you took a sip, testing the waters—when it was deemed safe you took a long swig, with only a sample of the drink left in the cup.

"steadyy" jake took the cup from you, drinking the remnants up.

"where we going n/n" he grinned all toothy, "we aren't going anywhere jakey" you smiled, he fake pouted—you turned your head with a groan laughing.

"we should probably get going" you made another drink, drinking half and leaving the rest for sunghoon who gladly chugged the rest. jungwon walked over pouring himself his own drink next to you, his eyes flit over you carefully, like he was absorbing you into his soul—or like he wanted to test you.

you decided to pay him no mind, instead securing your handbag and walking out the door.

you waltzed in to the sound of 2000's music blasting in your ears and thankfully you found juliana within the first couple minutes of being there. "hii guys" she squealed pulling you into a brief hug before pulling back and taking in your outfit.

"you look soo fucking hot!" she exclaimed—you complimented her own outfit with a giggle and a buzz running through your body. the three of you took shots as you all sat at the bar laughing and singing along to the music, until you felt arms around your waist and a head on your shoulder.

you were fully prepared to head-butt whoever was touching you, until you heard jake's laugh, "guess who!" he spoke over the music. you turned in happy shock "jake! what are you doing here?" you laughed.

"yuri forced us to come, something about juliana" he spoke hushed before ordering shots but unfortunately, where ever yuri was—so was he. you turned to see jungwon stood with his hands in his pockets, already looking at you—you rolled your eyes in annoyance before pushing yourself up and taking the shots.

"i'm gonna dance" you said to no one in particular already walking towards the dance floor—juliana opted to join you but not without daggers in her back.

throughout the week you felt your upset—sadness—hurt dissipate into anger, you knew it wasn't going to last, but for now angers always easier to navigate than hurt, especially when you're drinking.every time you caught him staring it fuelled the anger you so desperately craved to feel.

you swayed your hips with rhythm, each sway on beat. juliana stood in front of you mirroring your movements with a large smile, you noticed her also sneaking peeks at where the group would be, for why you didn't know—you didn't think much about it either.

especially when there was a cute guy eyeing you from the bar, "go talk to him!" she shouted over the music, you shook your head with a scrunch to your nose "i don't chase" she laughed at that, you watched as her mouth drop into a smirk.

you followed her gaze, said cute guy was now besides you with a drink in his hand "i couldn't help but notice you, you look beautiful" the mystery man said with a grin, "thank you! i'm y/n, this is my friend juliana" you smiled as he handed you the drink.

"i'm jay, nice to meet you both" he spoke over the music, you gravitated back to the bar with him after juliana whispered for you to go. you couldn't help but feel pricks on the back on your neck, feeling piercing jabs like someone was watching you, your conversation with jay was going well, he was beyond cute—well mannered.

everything you'd look for in a man.. if you were looking for a man.

the second the passing thought of him being a potential partner whizzed through you felt as though you were being hissed at by your heart and to make matters worse, you heard a familiar sweet voice.

"hey jay, been a while" jungwon spoke with a strained jaw, jay looked up with a genuine smile at his presence.

"yoo jungwon!" he exclaimed as he went in for a dap up, you however was stumped they knew each other.

"how do you-" you gestured between them speaking only to jay, "he's in most my classes" jungwon chimed in before the other man could speak, you hummed to jay as if he had replied.

"you wanna dance?" you asked jay, feeling a need to get out of this interaction but before he could respond jungwon edged closer to you, almost forcing you to look at him from the proximity, "actually jake asked for you" he spoke sweetly.

jake had not asked for you, he actually asked where you were. you apologised to jay and excused yourself as the blonde trailed dangerously close to you.

"hey jake" you smiled sitting by him at the bar, "y/n! where have you been!" he whined with a clear red tinge to his cheeks. "just was on the other side of the bar" you responded.

"you guys looked good together" yuri smiled, you reciprocated not seeing jungwon's daggers at his girlfriend.

"i'm getting so tired" jake whispered to you before dropping his head on your shoulder, you nodded already taking out your phone.

[ NOW PLAYING > PARTY 4 U ]

"i'm gonna take jake home" you spoke to whoever was listening, already pulling jake up with you not without a wobble.

"i'll come" jungwon spoke quicker than you'd have expected, quick enough to show he was engaged before you even spoke. "stay here, we're good" you responded not looking at him.

"i'm coming" he finalised despite the protests from yuri in forms of whispering near his ear. the car ride was quiet, not awkward—just silent, the only noise being the hum of the engine.

you all sobered up as you wound down for the night—ending up laying on jake's bed as he rambled about physics—feeling more awake after a cold shower.

"about earlier.. jungwon and yuri, did you know?" he started—slowly, words laced with caution.

"well..yeah i did, i found out like a week ago" you replied looking up from your phone, he looked like he was ready for a bomb to go off.

"like.. the day you came home late?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. you raised your own eyebrow—challenging "you'll have to be specific, i've come home late a few nights" you feigned ignorance.

the night you felt your heart hurt in ways you hadn't thought was allowed.

"the night you came home almost hypothermic" he spoke as he sat by you on his bed, his eyes scanned over the mass of your face, peering for any reaction—any indication he was correct.

"yeah, found out earlier that day" you said unbothered, as if that wasn't the reason you were spiralling deep into a burn no one could soothe.

"it's unrelated" you spoke before he could, as if he asked.

"is it?"

you watched his own expression, the worry etched in his forehead, in his eyes—he just wanted you to learn to lean even if it wasn't something you were used to, leaning on someone with the rawest edges of your thoughts, handing over emotions that took weeks to be allowed to exist.

jake of all people knew this wasn't your strong suit, which is why he didn't push—he only encouraged, he let you lie because he knew how badly you needed the lie to be real.

"i don't know" you sighed, you tipped your head back onto his pillow—blowing air through your nose in the process.

he let you speak, only moving to sit closer to you.

"ever since we met, it's like my brain is pushing me towards him, like it wants—needs me to be close to him..i know how insane that sounds and i tried—i really tried to ignore it but after a while i just let it happen, maybe because i hoped it would be reciprocated, i don't know what i thought, i told myself i wouldn't care if it wasn't but as we got closer, so did whatever was pulling me towards him and that night we got stuck in my room.. i thought- just maybe there was—there could be something more but i was still so, scared? so i asked him if he wanted to go to the dance but yuri said they were going together.. and i said i'll ask you instead and then she told me they were dating and my brain just went into overdrive".

as you rambled you watched him go through a plethora of emotions—from earnest listening to shock he was trying to be subtle about and then something bordering on appalled confusion.

"so you think a cosmic force is pulling you together-" he started, you nodded with a swift scrunch to your nose at his wording.

"and you asked him to the gala as a friend even though you wanted more but you didn't wanna admit it" he added.

you nodded "i'm so glad i was too stubborn to ask properly, imagine i did that and she told me they were together, i think i would've blown up" he laughed at that with his usual gummy smile.

"i don't know, i don't think you're insane or looking into things too deeply, anyone can see he's insane about you" he spoke casually as if you weren't being presented with new information.

you gawked for a second "what is wrong with you—don't say shit like that" you spoke as you swatted at his chest.

"nah i'm serious, he looks at you like you personally give him life every day and since you started avoiding him he's been looking around like a lost kitten always looking in places you'd usually be".

"jake he has a girlfriend" you sighed pushing your head deeper into the pillow.

"that's true, but he didn't stop looking for you whether or not he has a girl" he retorted.

"well he can keep doing that, i'm not waiting up on anyone just because there's a possibility he could like me especially whilst he has a girlfriend, besides i still just need time away from him, when he's close i can't hear myself think—it's like all rational thinking goes out the window" you groaned as a hand wiped down your face.

it was all becoming a bit too infuriating, even when you did your best to put yourself in positions where you couldn't be interacted with, he found a way, when you'd walk to class—he'd be right next to you. when all you wanted was to drink tea and read, he'd be in the room— hovering.

when you were playing a game with jake, he made it a point to sit next to you—closer than you wanted, at least a knee brushing yours.

which didn't help when your emotions towards him were currently in a hurricane you didn't care to address.

you even decided you'd spend all night at your tea cafe to study, not wanting to be distracted by jungwon's constant hovering. only he showed up not even an hour in and sat in front of you like it was his given place.

you looked up from your work without moving your head and blew air through your nose in annoyance, he looked at you with his signature curious feline gaze, which if anything annoyed you further—because why was he looking at you like he wasn't the one who sat down without permission.

"hey" he spoke after seconds of silence, with the sound of the rustles of paper and the chatters of the workers hanging as its own white noise.

"hello?" you breathed eyes still stuck on your work sheets—only your mind wasn't focused on the pages, not anymore.

"are you staying here—all night?" he asked eyeing the empty cup of tea besides you.

"probably" you spoke stifling a comedically timed yawn.

"you want to walk back with me?" he said before he could over-think the words coming out his mouth.

"i'm fine right here" you finally look up—expecting him to back off, to take the hints you'd been so easily throwing at him.

instead he stayed in his seat—sinking further into it with a nod at your words. your eyes stayed on him—challenging, he held your gaze as if he waiting for you to do something.

"are you not leaving?"

"thought i'd keep you company" he smiled as he ordered his own black tea.

you narrowed your eyes in disbelief and took a breath to compose yourself, he couldn't be serious..

"i don't need company" you responded with a sweet venom-laced smile, he smiled with a tilt to his head.

"you have mine anyway" he said easily—as if those words wasn't something you would've dreamed of weeks ago.

[ NOW PLAYING > FALLEN STAR ]

he was trying to be your friend again but you knew your friendship was never just that—it strived on touches neither of you wanted to pull from—contact you so deeply craved after convincing yourself you wouldn't.

but you didn't feel guilty for wanting those things, because he was just jungwon—but now, he was her jungwon.

which is also why you couldn't fathom how he could be here—in this position, you knew your feelings were painfully obvious—your reaction to their relationship only made that clearer.

"how can you do this to her?" you said before you could stop yourself.

if he felt any forms of guilt—anger or defence he hid it well.

"what am i doing?" he responded slowly, it felt almost mocking—as if he had no clue at all.

"i'm not going to spell it out for you" you spoke with a clenched jaw as you shoved your things into your bag and swiftly left the cafe.

the clacks of both your shoes were the only noise in the other-wise clear air.

"speak to me y/n" his voice soft and warm, the kind that had the power to soften your roughened edges.

he trailed behind you as you walked with a mission, this was where he would finally leave, was what you thought as you reached the river—you took a definitive turn to walk towards your designated spot.

only he was still here, "what are you doing?" you finally turned with frustration bubbling through you.

"speak to me.. please" he repeated again, in that same voice.

"what do you want me to say? that i don't understand why you're still talking to me—as if we can be friends—we can't" you let out finally.

"why can't we be?" he asked.

"you have a fucking girlfriend jungwon" you spat.

"so?" he walked closer to you.

"what the fuck.." you scoffed turning away from him, he grabbed your arm pulling you closer to him—turning you to face him again.

"that doesn't mean we can't be friends" he said, peering into your eyes, before you could shake yourself out of his grasp.

"does she know?" you responded quickly, not letting any silence settle.

"yes, she does".

"does she know everything?" you emphasized.

any girlfriend surely wouldn't let her boyfriend be friends with someone they almost kissed.

"she knows everything" he reiterated—only now did you notice his hand still hanging onto your arm.

you nodded, beyond confused—still with that same raw ache that only presented itself to you in his presence, his arm on you still felt far too intimate.

"i'll prove it to you" he added after seeing your inner conflict.

even if she allowed this friendship—you couldn't, not when you knew you craved more than his friendship could ever offer.

but even with the cold exterior you had on for him, you didn't tell him you couldn't allow it.

"fine, we'll see"

because space is easier when only you're aware of it.

he gave you real unfiltered smile, of relief—the kind that was currently making you feel guilty. you once again expected his words to be forgotten—erased with time, what you didn't expect was yuri herself talking to you about this.

she showed up at your dorm with a polite knock to your door and a stomach churning.

"hey can we talk?"

you sat on your bed patting the space besides you as she closed the door behind her, "look i'm gonna cut the bullshit and get to the point, i'm really cool with you being friends with jungwon—i know you had feelings for him and i know you almost kissed"

you couldn't decipher the exact course your emotions took—one of them was a stinging, stuck in your throat—that he had told someone something either of you had failed to address with even each other.

"why would you let us be friends? i don't know if you're aware but all of that was still very fresh before you dated" you spoke not bothering to hide your perplex.

"i know, it's simply because i trust you both—you were both my friends before any of this" you stared at her almost waiting for something to break, a crack—but it never came.

"right.." you responded not quite knowing to say at this point.

"you guys can do whatever you did before i was in the picture i'm not just going to ask you to cut off your roommate" she scoffed.

but you were never truly friends, every action had an underplating of your longing for things to change—if he had a girlfriend on the first meeting those course of events wouldn't have even occurred.

"if we almost kissed as friends—roommates.. do you really want us to do whatever we did before?" you raised an eyebrow now your confusion only deepening with each sentence. her expression didn't change, not once.

"truly i'm not strict y/n just don't kiss obviously" she laughed as though this was all some funny inconvenience. you just gawked in pure disbelief as she switched the topic to some off-topic party she was inviting you to with no mention of the prior conversation again.

you realised as she talked about clothes and drinks that you had never once seen them so much as hold hands—not that you wanted to see that or that it mattered, you were by no means judging their relationship—but you couldn't help but make the observation.

not long after that you got changed for the party, only opting to go because jake had begged with his big eyes and pout—you sat in the centre of the sofa nursing a half full glass of an alcohol you couldn't name.

sunghoon and ni-ki were stood leant against the sofa debating some game you weren't engaged in enough to name—yuri and juliana were whispering intensely about something in the kitchen.

[ NOW PLAYING > HOUSE OF CARDS ]

and you were teasing jake about his inability to handle his liquor—already noticing the light tinge of red on the tips of his cheeks, as he groaned in annoyance you felt a dip in the sofa besides you and a leg flush against yours—you turned to see the culprit, jungwon with his head tilted looking over you with his pretty glistening eyes.

you averted your head after sending a corporate smile—immediately focusing on the drink in front of you, he looked with you before softly wrapping his hand around the glass—pulling it gently from your grasp and bringing it up to his plush lips—taking a sip.

"mmm" he hummed as his tongue darted out—licking the remnants from his lips—eyes still trained on yours.

something in your stomach flipped—harsh, you managed a tight lipped smile as you placed your hand over his on the cup, taking it back into your hold.

yeah.. this was not going to work.

you gave it a subtle couple minutes before excusing yourself from his overwhelming touch to top up your drink, you felt his eyes follow you with a slightly darkened gaze.

the party was a typical house party at the home of someone you couldn't name—with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls and the lights dimmed enough but not too much.

you grabbed a random cup of a drink to further the harsh buzz you already felt, this night was a night of letting go—a night to live without a plan or a designated time to get home.

you conversed with random women complimenting them on their outfits, danced with your friends—but never without that familiar prickle on your nape, the one that only presented itself when you felt as though you were being watched. you settled yourself onto the end of an empty sofa with a drink someone had brought to keep your high going.

"hi beautiful" you heard a voice settle besides you along with the momentary sink of the plush sofa.

"hey jay!" you responded with a tilt to your head and a look you only reserved for shameless flirting on nights you couldn't recall.

"i missed you" he smirked inching closer, whispering close to your ear.

"oh really?" you smiled leaning closer.

"how could i not?" his breath tickled your ear as he snaked an arm around the back of the sofa.

you looked around the room—looking over nothing at particular with hazed over lens as he whispered words you could only giggle at, until your eyes fell on jungwon, his jaw was tight—his eyes were dark, his cup was slightly indented as if he was fighting every urge not to crush it right there.

you held his eye contact as jay's hand drifted from the back of the sofa to your shoulder—your arm before settling on your waist, you averted your gaze looking back up to the man before you.

his eyes were shamelessly trained on your lips, waiting for you to give the greenlight—the second you looked at his own slightly pink lips he leant forward—with a hand on your jaw.

and then you felt it, the chorus of complaint your heart was pushing onto you—you ignored it as you had been. whether or not this man was your soulmate didn't concern you, for you were lost in anything but who he was in this moment.

you smelt the alcohol on his lips as you were sure he could too, his lips pushed against yours for barely a second when you felt a hand pull you up, ripping you from his hold.

you barely registered anything as you looked at the hand connecting you to whoever was furiously pulling you to the nearest room. he slammed the door, pushing you against it.

"what the fuck jungwon!?" you spat tilting your head up, he was close enough you could smell his cologne, his nose inches from yours.

"you're kissing random guys now?" he scoffed not moving from his current position, caging you in against the cold wood of the door.

"random? what do you care" you laughed attempting to push him back, he didn't move.

he almost growled at your words, his breathe now fanning your ear as he composed himself, breathing low.

he pulled back, enough to see his eyes hold onto your lips, contemplating—his tongue ran over the span of his bottom lip—angry. you pushed yourself forward, just enough his chest grazed yours—just enough that he could feel every word.

"what do you care" you repeated low, venomous.

his throat bobbed as he breathed heavy against your lips, his hand splayed against your waist—possessive.

"fucking pussy" you shook your head with a mocking scoff—just as you straightened to move out of his grasp—his hand held the back of your head and he pushed your head back by your chin—tilted against the door.

you both breathed heavy against each others lips—parted barely grazing, his hand was imprinting into your jaw.

"say that again" you felt him speak against your lips.

"fucking p-" he closed the space between your lips, hard—you whimpered against his mouth as he kissed you, open mouthed—messy, he groaned low as he tasted you—his tongue whirled against yours as his hand released your jaw, it ran along the curve of your back settling on your lower back, he pushed against your body into the imprint straining against his pants.

he whimpered loud and unrestrained into your mouth as a gasp left your lips without permission, you pulled back just enough to get a glimpse of him in this state—his tongue lolled out as he caught his breath.

your heart was still—not screaming or thrashing against it's restraints, instead beating hard—with a thrill it only craved further.

months of back and forths, of stolen touches led to this, to a single vulnerable moment neither of you could pull away from—you could blame it on the alcohol, just a drunken mistake but you knew better.

he watched as you looked up at him with a gleam of pure fevour—he felt himself slip in that moment, his mind reducing into a puddle.

"driving me fucking crazy" he groaned as he pulled you up against the door, you made a noise in-between that of a gasp and a whimper as you wrapped your legs around him—your dress hiking up giving him access to the plush of your ass against his hands, his lips attacked you, his tongue battled yours hungrily, the only sounds in the room being your sinful noises mixed with the sound of his tongue sucking yours—pulling away with a slick pop and a string of saliva connecting you both.

his hips ground up into you as his lips kissed your jaw—chin and then licking against your ear before gasping and grunting sweetly.

"baby i can feel how wet you are" he whispered low, you whined in response pulling his head back by his hair and suckling on his bottom lip making him mewl against you.

you could feel how big he was even against the layers—your panties were beyond flooded with your arousal, you felt your stomach tightening as his movements grew erratic, he huffed against your lips as your own hips rolled down—desperate.

one hand left your ass—moving to where your bodies met, he drew fast rhythmic circles over your panties where your clit sat—aching to be touched. "f-fuck—i'm so close" you breathed. broken sounds fell from your lips against his as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap

"yeah? fuck- c-cum with me baby" he breathed before a final roll of your hips undid you both, the coil snapped hard—his hips stuttered with a shuddering groan and your name on repeat as though it was all he knew.

he held you as you slumped in his hold—head falling to his shoulder as you both caught your breath.

you finally lifted your head after however long of breathing against each other—in his arms. he set you down and smoothed over your dress as you sighed against the back of the door, his hand came up and cupped your jaw—he held it—gentle almost loving.

his eyes held a softness and spark you'd only seen in the moments you believed there could be more, his lips curved up before he pressed a sweet kiss against your lips—you kissed back.

[ NOW PLAYING > NOPE YOUR TOO LATE I ALREADY DIED ]

for a time you had forgotten where you were, who you were—who he was, only in that kiss did it hit you, he wasn't yours—not really.

you were kissing a man who belonged to someone else. you felt your stomach lurch as you pushed him away, your head spun—partly because of the alcohol but mainly because you felt disgust creep into your body—chills.

"y/n?" jungwon watched as your eyes darted with furrowed eyebrows—your breathing was shaky. you shook your head attempting to push open the door, only for him to stop you.

"just speak to me-" you looked at him incredulously, the hatred spinning through your body was mainly directed at yourself—but as you looked at him you couldn't help but feel disgust at him—hatred at him for so easily cheating on his girlfriend, the same one who had trusted you both to keep to yourselves.

"i'm more than this—i'm more than a side bitch, and yuri- she deserves so much better.. from both of us" your eyes pricked with tears, he shook his head.

"that's not—just please hear me out, you're not a side anything i only want you-" you scoffed as your tears fell—not wanting to hear another word you ripped the door open and pushed yourself through a group of people—hidden from him.

you found a bathroom and let yourself calm down, the only thought in your mind right now was finding yuri, the guilt ate at your heart as the tears fell, your chest hammered with a pain no one could comfort.

you had never felt so lost, your tears were for the loss of your respect for yourself—the pain you were going to cause—the people you'd lose and for losing yourself, you wanted to believe this was far from who you were—but right now you weren't so sure.

because in that moment you hadn't thought of yuri once, your mind never once flipped to the person you were hurting most.

so you wiped your tears and cleaned yourself up and then you opened the door and went to find jake.

"where's yuri?" you spoke over the music, suddenly feeling the harsh sting of a head-ache behind your eyes, the noise of people, the light all becoming entirely too overwhelming. jake turned his head to you—taking in your glazed over reddened eyes—and something between pain—defeat and disassociation.

"she went back to ours—with juliana, said it was the closest place and she felt sick" he spoke. you nodded and turned towards the door, his hand grabbed yours before you could start walking.

"are you okay?" you paused, just long enough to send doubt to his head and then sent him a tight lipped smile and stiff nod before setting off, only he trailed behind with worry in his brows. you finally reached your apartment after much overthinking and a lot of anxiety, the alcohol was just a buzz in the form of that same head-ache.

you opened the door to loud music blasting in your ears and walked through the hall, looking around for any signs of life—except you found it faster than you thought.

yuri sat on the sofa with her lips on juliana's. you stood still with your jaw dropped to the ground, jake walked up next to you—catching your expression before seeing the reason for it, his eyes followed yours before matching your dropped jaw.

jake composed himself first and coughed—loud, their heads snapped up, you had no idea what to think at this point your prior guilt and self-loathing filtered into a state of utter confusion.

neither of them spoke, just gawking—looking between each other with fear written all over them.

"so.. i came here to tell you that jungwon and i..uhm well—we" you scrunched your nose in discomfort, becoming too aware of the amount of people in the vicinity.

"i know" yuri spoke first, she looked at juliana who only nodded.

"look i wanted to tell you earlier but i was so scared—i really didn't know how to do this and i know i fucked up—but jungwon and i aren't dating, it was fake..i love juliana, i asked him if we could fake it, only because our maid caught us and my mom would approve of me dating him...but she would never approve of me and juliana—i made sure he didn't tell anyone and i know how badly he wanted to... i'm so sorry" she spoke fast, with tears in her eyes—and a shake to her voice.

you let out a breath—you felt their eyes on you waiting for you to speak but you couldn't find the words, so you opted to nodding and locking yourself in your room—overwhelmed with emotions, stuck in a frenzy of all the events that occurred in the last couple hours.

you showered away the grime from that day and got changed into your favourite jumper and pyjama pants, deciding to get some fresh air.

you wrapped yourself in a coat and slipped out—ignoring the people scattered around the room because you were afraid of that confrontation—afraid of all the conclusions you had failed to come to.

as you walked you tried thinking it all over, yes he wanted to tell you—yes you understood why he couldn't, it wasn't his place.

but he could've left you alone—he could have let you push away instead of trying to pull you back with the knowledge of how complicated it all was, knowing he couldn't tell you but still playing with your feelings.

you also knew that you wouldn't have wanted him to let you push away.

your mind ached with confusion as you walked along the river, leaning forward against the railing. the water swayed back and forth—imperfect ripples dancing throughout. you looked into it for answers—to tell you how to navigate this without losing your mind completely.

you huffed into the air as you sat with an odd sense of calm, you felt a drop land on your head—and of course you had nothing to protect you from it.

[ NOW PLAYING > MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ]

with no attempt to move you felt a couple more drops and then a shadow, you looked up to see a clear umbrella hovering over your head.

jungwon stood beside you with a hat on and an unreadable expression—something along the lines of adoration, a slight worry and pure unadulterated pining.

for a moment you just looked at each other, trying to figure out how this would go—you noticed the furrow in his brow, not angry, not confused, a furrow that made him look at you as if he was scared you'd disappear if he stopped looking.

his eyes looked slightly glossed over, sparkly as though he was from a dream.

"thanks" you spoke under your breath—the patters of ran fell against the plastic as you felt a light tension that only presented itself in his presence, not the bad kind—just a clear shift.

"i saw you leave, guessed you'd come here" he spoke.

"why'd you come?" you looked over the railing again, not catching him wince.

"i know you must be confused right now, i wanted to be here—and i wanted to apologise.. for lying to you, for making this so much more complicated than it had to be—y/n i am so sorry" he turned to face you completely, eyes boring into yours with guilt.

you nodded, unable to think of a response "so much has happened..i'm mainly angry" you started.

"i'm angry at myself for letting anything happen with you.. while yuri-"—"we weren't together" he interrupted, you turned to him and shook your head—blowing air through your nose.

"that doesn't matter! i thought you were and i still let it happen.. and i don't know how i could do that, i believed you were together and i didn't think about yuri once" you sighed—frustrated.

"y/n i know why that happened" he said fast, as though he didn't know if he should say it.

"what are you talking about?" you asked. he looked at you with a mixture of fear and anticipation, he stepped closer—under the umbrella.

"i can't breathe when i'm around you—i was scared of losing you, which is why i didn't come here after that night" he breathed in, as if to compose himself.

"i couldn't bring myself to..-" he shook his head, tightening his lips together before breathing out—he stepped forward, close enough you could see the sheen over his eyes—close enough you could count his eyelashes.

"i love you.. if you could take all the words in the language—it still wouldn't describe how much i love you, if you could put all those words together, it still wouldn't describe what i feel for you.. what i feel for you, is everything, i love you more than everything".

"everything?" you felt a tear you hadn't anticipated running down your cheek.

he smiled, sweet and soft—with a curve to his dimples and cupped your face with his free hand, running his thumb over your tears.

"everything" he nodded, you let out a laugh full of relief—he returned the laugh with his own, you inched forwards—he tilted his head, eyes now focused on your lips. he leaned forward—pressing his lips to yours delicate—loving, he pressed harder against your lips, his hand sliding to your nape—pressing just enough so you could feel how long he'd been waiting for this.

you cupped his face pressing a final peck to his lips before pulling away with a shy smile, his face was still inches from yours, now sporting a pink flush.

"i love you jungwon" you whispered between you both, as a promise as much as a confession.

his smile widened, he looked off to the side as if to compose himself and then he giggled dropping his head to your shoulder.

[ NOW PLAYING > LOVERS ]

"i think we're soulmates" he whispered—clearly without thinking.

your breathing stopped as you remembered your previous revelation, the beginning of your soulmate dreams. he lifted his head up from your shoulder—slowly, looking over everything inch of your face as he heard your breath falter.

"we couldn't stay away from each other, because we're soulmates" he held your gaze.

"yeah, you didn't think about yuri, not because you're a bad or selfish person—but because that was the first time your heart beat with me—..the first time our hearts beat together" he placed his hand over your heart.

"you know, she even said she doesn't expect us to stay away from each other" he joked—but your mind was somewhere far from here.

"what if we're not" you blurted out. he only smiled, looking as though you'd said the most endearingly—stupid thing possible.

"baby, soulmate or not you're stuck with me, i choose you—every time" you stifled a giggle at his words, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

"that night we found each other, in the kitchen—that wasn't coincidence, i refuse to believe any of this was" he spoke slowly.

"let's go home" he pulled you close—whispering into your hair.

as those words left his mouth, lips against your hair—you felt content, you felt the ache you'd be harbouring in your heart lift, at first the comfort scared you—because nothing was made to last.

but there was beauty in the fear, for every irrational thought, you felt him—like an orb of light—strung between you, wrapping you together—not noticeable, not claustrophobic—just a presence. you both felt it in the pats of the water—in the freshly rained air, it was devastatingly beautiful.

that night you walked home, hand in hand under the little clear umbrella—occasionally bumping shoulders and bickering after trying to force him under the plastic.

once you got home and heard that familiar click, you got ready for the night, before being pulled into jungwon's room with gentle hands. of course you'd been in here before—but only with jake. his perfectly clean room with grey sheets and a little plant on the desk next to the stack of books, you couldn't help but notice that red scarf hanging on a hook by his wardrobe.

"sleep here tonight?" he looked to you with pleading eyes, no one could say no to that face.

you had barely nodded before he was pulling you down to the bed, paired with a mischievous giggle your heart could only swell at. he pulled you so you were almost on top of him, the moonlight spilled through the window—carving a shadow over his face.

one hand on your cheek, the other splayed around your waist—he held you as though he wouldn't get the chance again, his lips pressed to each inch of your face, spilling sweets into your ears. you fell asleep in his arms, to the sound of his honey voice whispering words he'd only dreamt of speaking to you.

his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin on your shoulder—he felt you hum against him as he pressed a sweet kiss against your jaw, only now he saw you clearly—through his eyes.

you found me.

your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of a hand brushing over your cheek—as they adjusted to the light a sleepy jungwon came into view.

"sorry, your hair was in the way" he whispered with an apologetic pout.

you only smiled lazily, stretching as you nuzzled into his neck eliciting a comfortable hum from him. "how long have you been awake?" you spoke muffled.

"maybe 10 minutes, you're a pretty sleeper" he said with rasp, pressing a kiss to your temple. you nudged your nose against his neck in protest before remembering your dream, seconds before you woke up.

you believed jungwon when he told you he'd choose you, that didn't mean you weren't allowed to worry bringing up your dream.

"baby?" you whispered, tilting your head just enough so he could hear you clearly.

he tilted his head away with a hand over his face, cheeks clearly turning red even as he hid his face. "that's new" he choked as you laughed, he attempted to composed himself with a cough.

"yes y/n?" he turned to look down at you "did you happen to have a dream last night?" you spoke quietly between you, watching over his every expression, his face morphed from light confusion to recognition.

he turned to you completely and cupped your face between his hands.

"you found me"

he pulled you closer to him, as you breathed out in relief, all you could do was take in each and every detail of his face with a profound joy no one could describe, a feeling you didn't think you'd get the clarity to enjoy.

"there's no one i'd rather be destined to" he whispered as he stroked your jaw. in a way you thought you'd felt all this before—all in your dreams but in your dreams you'd wake up alone, wondering when you'd feel it all, really feel it—in the world and not in your head.

you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his slowly, he hummed pulling your body impossibly closer.

"thank you soulmate" you spoke between kisses, he giggled—sweet.

[ NOW PLAYING > LES ]

after a lot of cuddling and kisses you begrudgingly got up—out of jungwon's death grip, you tiptoed out of his room into your own and decided to do some cleaning—as you folded the last of your washing, you laid some clothes out on your bed, grabbing your towel for a shower.

you pulled your curtains back, letting the morning glow wash over your room—soft rays fanning over the room in a pattern against each surface. as you stood out watching the life outside your windows, you felt hands creep around your waist—yelping out at the foreign feeling.

"jungwon! you scared me" you gasped—"mm i'm sorry baby" he spoke before pulling you into a kiss, you hummed into it as he deepened it slowly—walking back, you made an unintentional gasp-whine as the back of your legs pressed into the bed.

he swallowed your noises, hands wandering up your waist—your own pulled onto the back of his head, raking through his hair. he whined into your mouth loud—unfiltered.

"you're addicting" he breathed in-between kisses, your tongues traced each others, both spurring each other on with each noise.

"baby i was gonna shower" you giggled after pulling away to breathe, he shook his head for a split second a light bulb practically appearing above his head, he took your hand and pulled you to the bathroom—with a clear problem in his pants..

"let's shower then" he tilted his head, pulling you back into a deep—messy kiss, pushing his hands into your hips, you laughed at his boldness as your hands reached behind you to lock the door.

you parted just for a second to start the shower before capturing his lips again, hands toying at the hem of his shirt—he pulled it over his head as you pulled your sleep shorts off, kicking them somewhere in the bathroom. you took in his toned—golden chest, letting out a breath. he smirked at your reaction, you leaned in pressing kisses to his cheeks "so pretty".

he pulled your top over your head—his lips parted as he pulled you closer towards him, pressing small kisses to your collarbones—shoulders.

"my beautiful girl" he spoke looking over the details on your face—the crease in your cheeks as you smiled at his words, the love swirled with desire in your eyes. you felt your stomach twist as you scanned over the large imprint over his joggers, he kicked them off as you stepped over the ledge into the shower.

you gasped at the chill of the water, as you turned to change it jungwon turned you back towards him.

"don't bother" he grinned, pushing his darkened blonde hair back—your back pressed against the cool wall as he pressed his length against you, you caught sight of his painfully hard dick, mouth watering.

"not yet" he whispered before shoving his tongue into your mouth—pressing his fingers over your slit, you gasped against his mouth. he hummed, teasing—rubbing over your leaking cunt.

"don't fucking tease" you whined, teeth grit. he only chuckled—dark and taunting. "or what?" he licked against your ear.

your words got caught in your throat as he shoved two fingers deep into you with no remorse, you moaned loud as the cold water soothed the heat surging through you.

"shh baby, wouldn't want jake to hear your pretty noises now would we?" he mocked as he curled his fingers perfectly—repeatedly against your gummy walls.

your lips formed a pout as you bit your bottom lip—shaking your head with a whine mouth closed. your hand shook as you held the wall with enough pressure to drain the colour from it, the other on his shoulder—holding on for dear life.

he bent his knees, tilting down with his fingers thrusting in and out—his lips captured the peak of your tit with a low groan tearing into the mixed echoes of the room. his groans and your whines mingled with the sound of water hitting the two of you—it was truly filthy.

his tongue twirled over your tits as he alternated, finally letting them rest as his thumb joined the torment, transfixing on your clit. he straightened his legs—pressing your cheeks together to lick into your mouth, kissing you open mouthed. a low mewl tore from your throat into his mouth. you felt your stomach threaten to snap, cunt tightening around his relentless fingers.

"don't you dare" he whispered against your lips, eyes black with desire. he pumped his fingers harder, faster.

"i-mmph' i can't" you gasped, he dropped down to his knees as your legs shook hard, replacing his thumb with his lips—he sucked and licked against your clit. his eyes locked onto yours as his lips worked on you alongside his fingers, sinful noises shook through the room as he undid whatever he said about being quiet, with his mouth.

"cum-on-my-tongue" he breathed in-between sucks, with one final simultaneous curl to his finger and flick of his tongue you came.

you came hard with a drawn out scream, jungwon ate up your arousal through your high with enthusiastic moans of his own, your legs buckled as the heat rose through your body. he finally came up as you started twitching—overstimulated.

he pressed his lips against yours with a groan as you tasted yourself—you traced your fingers over his stomach working down to his cock, he twitched violently as you wrapped your palm around it—applying pressure.

he hissed at the contact and then hiked your leg up, around his waist. he grabbed your hand placing it back on his shoulder before wrapping his own hand around himself—teasing his reddened tip against your entrance.

he pushed in an inch, slowly—watching your every expression with parted lips and groans. your breath stuttered as he inched further and further in, until he bottomed out with a sweet whine against your ear.

you gasped as you adjusted, head against the wall—he kissed your ear, jaw—finally nipping on your bottom lip.

"mmph' move please" you whined as his cock twitched inside you, he held eye contact as he experimentally thrust into you, you gasped loud—immediately silencing yourself with closed eyed.

"open your eyes" he spoke as he thrusted again—his free hand started pinching at your nipples as he bounced you rhythmically.

your noises loudened as he pumped faster—harder into you, with his darkened eyes trained on yours, his own resolve breaking as whines spilled out, his fingers left your nipples—working on your puffy clit.

you cried out just as you felt your stomach tightening, for your second orgasm.

"y/n! are you good i heard you scream?!"

your head snapped to the door in fear hearing jake through the door, you looked at jungwon's face—only to see his eyes darken further with each moment, his once parted lips now upturned into a sly grin. he immediately tightened his grip on you, fucking up into you at an animal pace—your jaw dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth.

"can feel your pussy sucking me in, you fucking like this?" he chuckled low into your ear, you clenched harder at his words, his hips stuttered as he sighed through his nose—as if to compose himself.

"go on, answer-him" he spoke with grit teeth—you slowly released the hand over your mouth, teeth now sunk into your lip.

"m-i'm—fine, slipped!" you choked out as jungwon's cock slammed into you, your vision slipping as tears rolled out unknown to you.

"okay.. be careful!" he shouted and then you heard the door to your room close.

as if on cue the coil snapped, hard—you saw white as you came for the second time, jungwon's head fell to your shoulder as he rode out his own high with a violent stutter to his hips and a drawn out groan as he filled your cunt with his milky cum.

you both gasped for air, he pulled out with a grunt as you hissed at the sensitivity, the gasps slowly dying down into deep breaths as the cool water washed away the sin and heat.

you felt his lips press kisses from your collarbone to your lips, pecking a few times with a dazed lazy smile. you both stood under the showerhead—whispering i love you's between kisses.

you washed each other, taking your sweet time—that was until you felt wave of sleep attack your eyelids, which prompted jungwon to swiftly pull you out and wrap you in a towel—making you do your skincare as he pulled out pyjamas for you. you got changed as jungwon sprinted to his own room, he came back within minutes to join you, he sunk into the bed besides you with a drawn out sigh as he pulled you into him.

your relationship with jungwon didn't fill any void, it didn't make you feel more accomplished—it added to the joy you already felt, you didn't need him to better your life—he added betterment without it being a necessity.

as a soulmate jungwon fit into place with ease, the changes that came with your relationship wasn't overwhelming—he was attentive without being overbearing, your wish was his command even without wishing—always thoughtful, with your shared teas becoming more frequent, often waking to them waiting for you on the kitchen island.

he did however have a hard time keeping his hands off you, during movie night or in public, of course jake had noticed the shift—unbeknownst to you he saw it in the way jungwon no longer looked at you how he did, he used to look at you as though he'd have to savour it—looking away almost as quickly as his eyes landed on you.

now his eyes lingered—they watched over your figure, sometimes with a deep fulfilment, other times as a predatory up and down.

what jake didn't know, was the soulmate news. he had no idea you were destined for each other. which you weren't trying to keep a secret but you hadn't quite known the best time to bring it up.

and you certainly hadn't expected it to come out when you assumed jake wasn't home.

you stood with your back to the room, making a drink as the tv played some animal documentary into the otherwise silent room. you huffed in faux annoyance as jungwon slid in behind you—resting his head on the blade of your shoulder as an amused noise left his mouth.

his hands slid around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek—you turned your head enough to meet his lips, humming into an all too sweet kiss.

"morning soulmate" he spoke as you turned yourself around, hands leaning on the counter behind you—his hands traced your waist as you turned pulling you into another kiss, as you pulled back from his lips your words got lost on your tongue—a shell-shocked jake stood at the island.

his jaw dropped with a shopping bag in hand, jungwon followed your shocked expression to jake's—his own face falling.

"soulmates?!" he gawked looking between you both, you walked over to him setting the bag on the island and propping yourself up on it.

"yeah, um we've only known for a couple days.." you started as he continued looking between you both.

"alright i knew you were together or-or something! but soulmates?" he stammered, jungwon had walked over at this point standing besides you as you talked.

"wait, pause—did we make it that obvious?" you responded.

"well yeah? he looks at you like he's allowed to now, also you did kinda hint something happened when we caught yuri and juliana.." he raised an eyebrow as jungwon choked looking around the room.

"we have a lot of catching up to do" you sighed as he punched jungwon's shoulder making him groan out who only nodded with his lips tightened into a line.

"i deserved that.."

.⭑ˎˊ˗

time moved as your relationship progressed, each day melting together in a comfortable rhythm—jungwon found a new way to show his devotion towards you each day. sometimes he'd show up after your classes with a paper cup of your favourite tea—other times he had pulled you to your river, talking about finding the stray cat he had ran into.

you fell into a unspoken routine, having sleepovers every so often—sometimes you'd fall asleep early and wake up to a sleepy jungwon nestled into your back. he insisted on walking you to your classes each morning—even if he didn't have any.

your friends hadn't questioned the change at all, they welcomed it with open arms—all of them had pretty much seen it coming, they even went so far as to give those couple months you'd spent pining a name, the yearning trials..

yuri had also apologised many times in her own way, often sending flowers before you stopped her, telling her you understood—it was a cycle of pain for everyone.

nothing changed with jake—if anything he took your relationship as an opportunity to tease jungwon when he'd inevitably be caught lacking, leaving jungwon a flushed mess trying to convince you both he wasn't embarrassed. however burying his head into your shoulder denied that.

he also often walked into interesting scenes at the dorms.

one time he walked in to you baking, with jungwon on washing up duty, quickly coming to the conclusion baking wasn't for him—he beat each substance into the dish with zero patience of his own, you had to take the bowl from him in the same manner you would taking a toy from a child.

the last couple days you had felt slight unease, everything flowed the same—your life was beyond magical, except there was a little tingle in your spine that suggested otherwise.

you noticed it in the way jungwon looked slightly worried anytime you went near his desk, also not letting you grab his glasses for him—mumbling a vague excuse about being comfy on you, except he had complained about having to get them.

after some particularly tiring classes you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket as you trudged into your room, walking in to a little pink paper sat on your pillow.

come to the roof

slightly ominous.. but you easily knew who it was from the writing. a smile graced your lips as you slipped on your shoes and ran up the stairs. you pushed open the door immediately being hit with a slight chill—and jungwon sat on a blanket, barely being able to contain his smile as you sauntered over.

"what's this?" you laughed as you slid in next to him, he pulled you close by your shoulder—pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"so you remember when you asked me to the gala" he wiggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes.

"unfortunately" you said with a dropped voice.

"would you like to go with me y/n?" he spoke between you, low and shy.

"baby tickets would be long gone by now" you smiled as you kissed his nose.

he pulled out two pink tickets between his fingers as if he was holding a card—mischief riddled in his wide eyes.

"how did you-" you gasped.

"i got them the day before you asked me.. because i wanted to ask you" he whispered between you, his eyes crossed over your face before landing on your own—staring so deeply, with his head slightly tilted.

"of course i'll go with you, thank you baby" you tilted your head forward—just enough so your nose was nudging his.

"everything?"

"everything."

had to reference the anime that broke my heart for the first time.

“I guess so…” you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck. Your eyes flicked to the glass wall, where machines beeped rhythmically like they were mocking you. Honestly—how the hell was this supposed to be romantic enough to fuck in?

The rule was bizarre, but in the year 3000’s, everyone got slapped with a fertility expiration date. And with humans dwindling while robots ran most of the world, the government made sure no one wasted their fertility. You had to breed before your “deadline,” and until then, live like a married couple. A shiny little “family unit.” Apparently that was how humanity would cling to survival amidst the hum of robots sweeping streets and making lattes.

And you, being the shy—or let’s be honest, lazy-ass you were, never bothered to step outside. Why would you, when your robo-assistant Zozo was perfectly capable of fetching groceries, yelling at delivery drones, or dealing with annoying neighbors? So when the government officer came knocking while you were sprawled on the couch debating which show to binge next, Zozo had opened the door and accepted the letter with zero hesitation. You tried to ignore it, even as your stomach dropped reading the fine print.

But ignoring the government is basically an Olympic-level mistake. A few hours later, you were dragged into this lab, now forced to play house with a stranger who was—surprise—the father of your potential baby. Like, how did you go from lazy naps and snack runs to this? From half-asleep binge-watching to congratulations, you’re in a breeding contract.

You sighed, side-eyeing Heeseung who was awkwardly fidgeting with the corner of the sterile blanket. He didn’t look much happier. At least that made two of you.

And, okay, sure—you’d seen robo-dogs on the streets going at it like they were programmed for porn, so it’s not like you were completely clueless about the act. But this wasn’t just sex. It was a performance. Roleplay. Pretending to be a couple. A married couple. And if you two didn’t produce results? The fine would be so massive your descendants would still be paying it off centuries later.

Talk about pressure.

⪩⪨

“Umm… so?” he speaks up as he steps into the shower, clearly waiting for you to follow. Well, this is awkward—an attempt at getting used to intimacy when neither of you have the faintest idea how to start.

“So?” you echo, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. But your eyes betray you, following the trail of water as it slides down his bare chest, glistening under the harsh bathroom light, then disappearing somewhere past his v-line and below. This is the first time you’ve ever been this close to a guy—like, this close—and you’re willing to bet it’s the same for him.

“You’re… showering in that?” he asks, voice hesitant, like he can’t tell if the question is rude or just dumb. The poor guy is clearly just as inexperienced as you.

You glance down at yourself and realize, oh right, you’re still fully clothed. Top and jeans. Jeans in the shower—how chic. “Umm… I forgot,” you mutter, laughing awkwardly before tugging your shirt over your head. Your plain black sports bra clings damp against your skin. His gaze lingers a little too long on your chest—long enough for you to wonder if he’s captivated, silently judging the size, or just zoning out like an idiot.

“Can you not look?” you mutter sharply.

“Uh—yeah, sure.” His voice cracks, embarrassed, and he whips around so fast to face the wall that water splashes up. You quickly peel off your jeans, now left standing in your bra and underwear, the steam curling around you both.

For a while, neither of you do anything but stand there, the water falling between your bodies while you try not to combust from sheer awkwardness. Yet you can’t help stealing glances at his back. It’s more toned than you expected, the kind of back you want to trace your fingers along without thinking. And then there’s the way the water darkens his hair, dripping down his shoulders.

You curse yourself for remembering that one accidental peek you’d taken when you first stepped in—the way his boxers clung to whatever he was hiding beneath. It’s… a lot. Too hot. Hot enough to almost make you forget this is government-mandated breeding prep and not… something else.

“Are you done?” he asks finally, still facing the wall like his life depends on it.

“Yeah, you can turn around now.” Your voice comes out a little weaker than intended. He turns, his expression neutral, and quietly reaches for the soap.

He scrubs himself with slow, methodical movements, completely ignoring your eyes burning holes into him—until he finally speaks. “If you keep staring like that,” he says, raising a brow without looking directly at you, “I can’t promise I’ll keep being so respectful. Wouldn’t really be fair, would it?”

You snap your gaze away so fast you nearly slip. “I just zoned out.”

“Mhm.” He hums, low and unconvinced, before continuing to lather up. He doesn’t hand you the soap, though—just keeps working it over himself like he hasn’t caught the hint at all.

“What do you do, Heeseung? For a living?” you ask quietly, already knowing how offensive that question can sound in today’s world, where robots basically rule everything.

“I… train robo dogs,” he mutters, almost shyly, as his hand works the soap over his stomach. When his fingers slip lower, your eyes flick down for a second before darting away in a rush of heat.

“Oh, that’s nice.” You reply too quickly, trying to sound casual when your face is burning. “I work at home… finding mistakes made by robos on popular websites.”

“So, basically unemployed?” he teases, finally loosening up enough to smirk at you. The smell of soap and the steam between you almost make the moment feel… normal. Domestic. Like you’re not two virgins being forced to learn how to fuck for the sake of humanity.

“Hey! Don’t say that!” you swat at his arm, laughing along even though you hate admitting he’s right. Like 96% of the population, you’re jobless. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked the question at all.

But then you feel it—his arm circling your waist and yanking you back until you’re flush against his chest. The way his breath ghosts over your neck sends a shiver down your spine, and the thick, unmistakable press of his cock through his wet boxers makes your pussy clench instinctively.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, “you don’t have to feel bad. It’s not your fault the robots are taking everything.”

You nod, but your body betrays you. Your head tips back against his shoulder, lips parting as a small gasp slips out. His soapy hand slides from your stomach to the underside of your bra, fingertips clumsy as they push under the wet fabric and rub over your breasts. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, his touches too curious, too experimental—like he’s trying to figure out what your nipples even are—but it has your cunt throbbing all the same.

“Heeseung…” you moan, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

“Just… cleaning you up,” he whispers, but the way his cock is rock hard and digging against your ass tells you otherwise.

“Please just—ahh—” your voice breaks into another moan as he shoves your bra up, not even bothering to remove it, letting your tits spill out for him to knead. The cold water pouring over you makes the contrast of his hands even more intense.

His palms squeeze your breasts like stress balls, thumbs brushing soap slick over your hardened nipples, and you swear you’ll melt right there. “H-Heeseung…” you whimper, a shaky moan tearing from your throat when his other hand slips lower, tugging your panties to the side. You’re embarrassingly wet already, your pussy aching for something, anything, even if it’s not the official “breeding time.”

He leans down, his lips brushing yours, and before you can think, he kisses you—soft, sloppy, uncertain, but desperate. His hand still tugs and pinches at your nipple, and you moan into his mouth, the sound muffled as your tongue brushes his.

“Do you want to… keep on practicing?” he asks against your lips, his voice low, unsteady, but hungry. The way you look up at him, breathless and wide-eyed, says everything your words can’t.

You moan instead, sliding your hand between your wet bodies until your palm cups the thick length straining against his boxers. The groan that rips out of him makes your pussy gush. If sex is really going to feel this good—if his cock filling you will make you feel half as powerful as this moment does—you curse yourself for wasting so many years hiding from it.

Now all you have is Heeseung. And the way his lips part, eyes shut tight as your hand rubs him, his grip on your waist faltering—fuck, you smirk against his mouth. Because you love knowing you have that kind of effect on him.

“Can I… touch you more?” you whisper, voice uncertain but desperate, like you’re asking for something forbidden even though that’s literally the point of this whole set-up. For a second you almost forget this is all arranged—just a breeding contract. A week-long roleplay to make sure humanity doesn’t go extinct.

He doesn’t trust his voice, so he just nods, too breathless to say a word.

Your hand slips inside his soaked boxers, finally wrapping around his cock skin-to-skin. The moment you touch him properly, he groans—deep and guttural—his chest heaving as water streams down his face. He has never felt anything like it, and neither have you, but instinct is doing all the work. Your palm knows where to squeeze, how to move, even if no manual has ever explained how to handle cock.

It throbs heavy and hot in your grip, veins pulsing against your hand. Precum slicks your fingers even through the shower spray. His shaky hand reaches down and shoves his boxers off his hips, and your movements falter, because suddenly it isn’t just something hidden under fabric—it’s there, right in front of you.

You let your hand fall away just to look. His cock springs free, flushed pink at the tip, glistening with beads of precum that mix with the shower water. Thick, hard, longer than you expect, curved just slightly upward—it’s fucking beautiful. You glance up at him, but his eyes are squeezed shut, lost in sensation.

You don’t know what comes over you. Maybe curiosity. Maybe hunger. Maybe both. Your thumb brushes over the leaking slit, smearing precum over the swollen head. He shudders hard, muscles twitching under your touch. Then, with an impulsive grin, you bring your thumb to your lips and lick it clean.

“It’s salty…” you murmur, licking your lips slowly. The taste is raw, musky, addictive. You want more. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you sink to your knees under the spray, face tilted up to him as your tongue flicks experimentally at his tip.

His eyes snap open wide, panic and arousal clashing. He grabs his cock like he’s about to shield it from you. “N-No, no, don’t do that—” he stammers, his voice breaking.

“Why not?” you ask innocently, breath ghosting over his shaft as your lips hover close.

“Isn’t it… dirty?” he whispers, chewing his lip, like he can’t decide if he wants to pull you back or push you further.

You smirk up at him, hair plastered wet against your cheeks from the shower. “No. I like it. Can I have it back?”

His cock twitches visibly at your words. He groans low, like he’s fighting with himself, but gives in—grabbing your hand and wrapping it back around his length before letting go again, as if surrendering.

You lick your lips and kiss the swollen tip reverently. “This is so pretty, I swear,” you whisper, eyes wide as you stare at his flushed dick like it’s art.

“It’s not,” he mutters immediately, embarrassed, his teeth grit as his chest rises and falls like he’s just run a marathon.

Before he can defend his poor cock, you graze your teeth lightly over the head. His reaction is immediate: a strangled yelp that echoes against the tile. “NO TEETH, PLEASE! IT’S NOT FOOD—”

You giggle, lips brushing against the head of his cock. “You’re right… it’s not food. But it’s a snack.”

He groans so loud it shakes you, his knees buckling slightly. Your mouth wraps around him at last, hot and wet and clumsy, tongue swirling against the sensitive underside. The taste of his precum mixes with water, salty but not bad, almost intoxicating.

He sucks in a sharp breath, a moan spilling out of him as his hand instinctively buries in your wet hair. When you look up, his eyes are half-lidded, lips parted in awe. His cock twitches in your mouth as your tongue flicks over the treat again.

When his fingers tighten in your hair, you nearly whine at the sensation—because the look on his face is pure, overwhelmed pleasure. The sound of his low, desperate groan as he guides your head just slightly has your pussy clenching so hard you think your cunt will start dripping down your thighs.

It’s messy, hot, completely new for both of you. But with his cock heavy on your tongue, his voice breaking as he moans your name, and his eyes locked on you—fuck, it’s perfect.

You dive down to take him deeper, swallowing his length until it presses against your throat. The stretch makes your eyes water, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth as you bob your head faster, sucking greedily. The gag hits you, sharp and messy, but you don’t stop—if anything, the slight burn only drives you harder, your throat tightening around him. Heeseung’s breath stutters, his hips twitching helplessly as his cock pulses inside your mouth.

You don’t know what the sudden swell against your tongue means, only that it makes him groan brokenly, almost too loud under the hiss of the shower. You pull back with a wet pop, gasping, lips swollen and slick, confusion flickering across your face.

“What’s happenin—”

The question never finishes. Hot, sticky spurts shoot across your face, catching you off guard as you shut your eyes. Thick, white ropes cover your cheeks, your lips, dripping down your neck and chest before the shower water thins it, streams of cum and water sliding down your skin in a messy contrast.

You freeze, stunned, before blinking up at him through the droplets. Heeseung’s chest is heaving, his hand still tangled in your hair as if he lost control of himself completely. Relief is written all over him, his face flushed, but there’s shame too, creeping into his gaze as he realizes what he’s just done.

Your eyes drop to his cock again—still flushed, twitching, glistening under the spray, streaks of the same milky liquid clinging to it before the water washes it away. Your lips part in disbelief as you whisper, voice shaking, “That… that came from your cock?”

Heeseung swallows hard, too breathless to defend himself, and just gives a shaky nod.

Neither of you understand it—this raw, messy reaction, this proof of something more—but the hunger twisting in your chest is undeniable. And as the salty taste lingers on your tongue and your skin, you know one thing for certain.

You’re addicted.

⪩⪨

And the second day with him feels even stranger—stranger, but addicting. Both of you are already drowning in this whole thing about the fertility expiration date, the so-called breeding contract. You’re pretty sure the government officials would’ve happily stamped a certificate, binding you both together officially. It should feel wrong, clinical, but with how real everything’s gotten… it doesn’t.

“What are you making, wifey?” Heeseung’s voice breaks the silence as he walks out of the nightly shower, towel slung low on his hips, droplets sliding down his chest. The sight alone pulls you back to last night—the cock you’d touched, sucked, swallowed. The salty, musky taste of him still feels fresh on your tongue. Water cascading down his abs, the way his body shuddered under your mouth—“I asked what you were making, wifey.” He’s right beside you now, waving a hand in front of your dazed face.

“Fried rice… that’s all I can make.” You joke, but it’s the truth, your voice shaky as you snap back from your thoughts. Except he doesn’t look all that present either, his eyes heavy, his expression unreadable.

Then he’s behind you, close—too close. Heat radiates off his damp skin as you stir the rice, and you nearly drop the spatula when his hand cups your ass, firm and greedy. A gasp rips from you when his fingers slide between your thighs, brushing your slick folds, spreading the wetness you’d never dared touch yourself.

“Hee—” His name spills from your lips, cut into a moan when his finger glides up your slit, pressing right where it makes your knees weak. “Ahh…” Your head drops helplessly against his shoulder, his breath warm as he leans in, tongue flicking against the shell of your ear.

“Don’t you think…” his words vibrate low, sinful, “…we should at least enjoy ourselves a bit before ‘The Day’? Hm?”

Your body betrays you, pressing back against him, desperate. The spatula trembles in your hand, rice forgotten, brain fried worse than the pan. But then, just as you’re about to melt, he pulls away. His lips brush your ear, whispering smugly, “Focus on the fried rice. Can’t compromise on dinner, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t know when he got this bold—maybe last night broke something open in both of you. All you know is that you like it. Too much.

“Heeseung…” Your voice cracks on his name, shame mixing with hunger. “Can you… touch me again? It felt so good… we-we can enjoy all we want.” The words tumble out, raw and desperate, and you cringe at how needy you sound—yet you can’t stop yourself.

His smirk is audible in the way he breathes against your neck. “Of course. I owe you after yesterday, don’t I?” His lips press against your skin, just below your ear, and your moan betrays you instantly. His hands wander lower again, teasing, claiming, but every time you falter at stirring the rice, he pulls back, leaving you whining at the loss.

It’s a cruel game. A dangerous one. And you’re hooked.

“shh… if you want it, just keep working on our dinner, mm?” His voice dips low, his breath ghosting against your ear as one of his hands slides directly beneath your panties, cupping the soaked heat between your thighs. The other hand pushes your top upward until it bunches around your chest, and with a deft flick, your bra unclasps. You gasp, heart racing, realizing he learned the trick from last night’s shower.

“i-i understand.” you mumble, your words shaky, tears of embarrassment stinging your lashes as your body betrays you, moaning when his palm squeezes your bare breast. You clutch the spatula tighter, trying to keep stirring the rice, but your arms tremble as he plays with your body, shamelessly drawing out every sound you try to hide. The scent of garlic and spices mixes with the heady, unmistakable scent of your arousal, thick in the air. Heeseung inhales deeply behind you, lips curling into a grin.

“smells good… eating it after we enjoy would be even better, no?” His tone is casual, almost mocking, as if fingering you while you cook is the most normal thing in the world. Just as you suck in a breath to respond, his finger presses against your slick entrance, circling teasingly before slipping inside with a slow push. You choke on a gasp, hips twitching as the thick digit sinks into your tight heat, nudging against tender, gummy walls that hug him greedily.

A low sound leaves him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he feels your warmth around him. “Fuck… you’re so tight. Just my finger and you’re squeezing like this…” His words stir the heat pooling in your stomach. He moves it inside you, testing, curling upward slightly, brushing something that makes your knees buckle.

“Heeseung—” your breathy moan escapes without restraint.

“Shh, it’s okay…” His lips press at your temple, soft, almost tender, while his hand leaves your breast only to flick the stove off with a practiced motion. The rice sizzles one last time before silence falls, leaving only the sound of your shallow breaths and his finger plunging wetly into you.

Then suddenly, he pulls out. You whine at the emptiness, thighs quivering, but he doesn’t let you fall apart there. He turns you around, guiding you gently until your back is pressed against the counter. Your sweatpants are tugged down to your knees, messy and damp from the arousal staining them. Your breasts spill forward, nipples flushed and needy.

“Heeseung…” You say his name like a plea, chest heaving, shame and desire battling in your eyes.

Heeseung looks down at you, his boldness from moments ago flickering into something almost shy, almost boyish. His gaze lingers on your trembling thighs, the wetness dripping from your slit, before he raises his eyes back to yours. His voice is soft, hesitant, but laced with hunger.

“Let me… return yesterday’s favor.”

And without a word he sinks down to his knees, as if duty-bound to fulfill what being your breeding mate meant. The air leaves your lungs in a sharp gasp the moment his mouth latches onto your soaked folds, his tongue already tasting you, suckling at your core like he’s been starving for you.

“Oh—fuck,” you whimper, your head falling back as his mouth works between your legs, his tongue slipping and flicking against every sensitive part it can find. The wet, obscene slurping sounds echo in the kitchen, louder than the soft hum of the cooling stove. The way his tongue dives deeper and deeper, teasing you, even circling before trapping your swollen little bud between his lips.

“Ahhh—Hee—fuck—” your moan cracks as your knees threaten to buckle, and you grab the counter for balance, your free hand gripping his hair like a lifeline.

“Like it?” he murmurs against your cunt, lips brushing your clit, voice vibrating against your folds—sending shockwaves through your whole body.

“So much, so fucking much,” you pant out, tugging at his hair harder, grounding yourself against the overwhelming sensation of his tongue exploring places you never even thought were reachable.

“Mmhh—” he hums, sucking harder, his hands holding your thighs apart as if to cage you there, rubbing your lower stomach like he knows something’s building inside you. The pressure makes you dizzy, your muscles clenching, your core tightening uncontrollably.

“Wait—stop, I feel like I’m… gonna—piss,” you whimper, tugging at his hair to make him stop, but he only groans and pins you harder against the counter, tongue delving in even deeper.

The cry that rips out of you is helpless, raw, trembling, “HEESEUN—GHAHHHH!” as your body jerks violently, liquid spilling from your cunt, dribbling down your thighs, coating his tongue, his lips, his chin.

He doesn’t stop—he fucking drinks it in, swallowing, slurping like it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

When he finally pulls back, his lips and chin glisten with wetness, strands of your slick shining over his mouth. Your face burns with embarrassment, heart pounding.

“Heeseung…” your voice trembles, mortified.

“You did this,” he murmurs, smirking faintly, wiping nothing away—almost proud to wear you like this. “Why’re you getting so shy now?” His voice is low, teasing, but his own cheeks are flushed as if he’s losing control too.

He rises to his feet, closing the distance until his hands cradle your face, and before you can answer, his mouth claims yours.

The kiss is messy, deep, his tongue sliding against yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, the musky, salty-sweet flavor mingling with the heat of his mouth. Dirty. Intoxicating. The thought that you’re tongue-kissing the same mouth that was just devouring your pussy should disgust you—but instead it makes you moan, arching closer, needing more.

Your fingers grip his shoulders desperately, ready to climb him, ready for more, when he suddenly pulls back, panting. His forehead presses against yours, his eyes dark, burning, but flickering with restraint.

“I—We should eat dinner,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as though he’s choking back desire. “If we don’t stop now, I don’t think either of us will…”

His voice trails, his jaw tightening, and the way he looks at you—hungry, guilty, desperate—you know he’s right. Still, you can’t stop the way your body aches for more, already addicted.

You just nod, breathless, even as your lips tingle from his kiss, even as your thighs tremble from what he just made you feel.

⪩⪨

The days ahead pass in a haze of exhaustion. The tablets the helper-robos keep giving—supposedly to boost stamina and fertility before the expiration date—do nothing but drag you both down into constant drowsiness. You feel sluggish, heavy-limbed, and so does he.

“Hee…” you call out softly, voice almost drowned by the silence of the room as you lay curled on your side. The bed is warm, too warm, and the setup is so real, so home-like, that sometimes you forget you’re in nothing but a lab—a carefully constructed stage meant to look like a house, a controlled mating ground for humans.

“Mm?” he hums back, voice thick with sleep. His arm is already reaching around your waist, palm lazily tracing circles against your stomach. His touch is slow, unhurried, and even in your drained state, it makes you melt closer to him. The blanket shifts as he tugs it tighter around the two of you, cocooning you together.

“Don’t you feel tired…? I swear the tablets have something to do with this…” you murmur, eyes heavy as you press your forehead into his chest. He hums again, the sound low, reassuring, and kisses the top of your head. The simple gesture stirs something deep in your chest, not sexual—just a strange, foreign warmth you can’t name.

“I feel like that too… but maybe it’s not bad,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your skin. “We get to rest before the big day.” His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing against your hair, and the closeness makes your heart race even more.

“True…” you whisper back, though the thought only makes your stomach twist. The idea of him finally ending up bonded to you forever—sealed, unchangeable—sends your pulse spiraling.

“Do you regret it?” you ask quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his t-shirt, gripping like you’re bracing for a blow. “Like… do you wish it was someone else?”

His chest rises beneath your cheek, and then he answers, soft but steady. “No. Definitely not.”

You exhale shakily, relief washing over you like warmth after a chill. He shifts, rocking you slightly in his hold, and the gentle sway lulls you further. Your eyes flutter shut despite yourself, exhaustion tugging hard.

“Good,” you mumble, your words slurring into a yawn. His chest rumbles with a stifled laugh—careful, quiet, as if he’s afraid to wake you. Soon his movements slow, stilling completely, and with you curled tightly against him, both of you sink into sleep almost instantly.

⪩⪨

The robo beeps as the government officers run the analysis of their relationship on a monitor. At least they’re decent enough not to watch them go at it—oral or otherwise. Honestly, the robots seem to have more humanity than the humans in charge.

“But their relationship doesn’t seem genuine according to this article on human connections in the 2720s,” the robot pipes up, printing out the dusty old document almost immediately. The words flash across the paper, outdated theories that make no sense when matched with the sounds the two of them have been making almost every other night since they were placed together. Noises that had gotten loud enough for the officials to drug them just to slow things down.

“We can’t rely on old articles. Not right now,” the officer mutters, shutting down the live camera feed that showed the humans inside the mock-home setup. His tone is clipped, tired, like he doesn’t want to deal with it.

The helper robo tilts his head, a mechanical sigh almost leaving him before he shakes it off. “Why bother helping when those bastards don’t even need it,” he grumbles, following the officer out of the room.

After all, tomorrow is the final day before their fertility expiration date. And the others have already prepared everything they’ll need.

⪩⪨

You yawn as you wake, stretching your arms above your head—only to find you can’t move. It takes you a moment to realize why. Heeseung’s arm is still looped around your waist. By the time he finally stirs and pulls back, sitting up, the air feels noticeably colder. Without thinking, he dives straight back under the covers, wrapping himself around you beneath the heavy blanket.

“Too cold, too cold,” he mutters through gritted teeth. His body trembles against yours, and instinctively, you shove your feet back under the blanket too after testing the icy air outside for just a second.

“Did the temperature suddenly drop?” you shiver, pressing closer to him for warmth. That’s when you feel it—his bulge, hard against your thigh.

Your breath hitches. “Why are you hard?” The words slip out before you can stop them, awkward and quiet, as you try to shift just enough distance between you in case it sets him off.

“What do you mean, why?” Heeseung mumbles with a shrug, completely unbothered. “I get this every time I wake up.” Then, seeing the way you go silent, lost in thought, he adds quickly, “But don’t think too much. We don’t have to do anything if you’d rather wait until night.”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip before whispering, “N-no… I mean… a little practice before the actual process wouldn’t hurt, right?”

His eyes widen, shock flickering before his lips curl into a slow smile. The officials’ forced temperature drop is long forgotten as you push your panties down, sliding them off. Heeseung doesn’t waste a second—his boxers end up on the floor beside your panties, leaving nothing between you anymore.

Your upper bodies stayed hidden under the blanket, but your lower halves were already speaking a language of their own. You hooked one leg over his hip, opening yourself for him, and Heeseung’s hand immediately wrapped around his cock. The blanket muffled the sight, but you felt every second of it—the head nudging against your folds, still dry until he pressed harder. Wetness bloomed instantly, coating you in slick warmth as he rubbed himself against your slit.

A broken moan escaped you, and he swallowed it in a kiss. You barely noticed when he shifted lower, sliding the tip between your folds, teasing that sensitive bundle of nerves—the very same spot he’d played with that night while you’d been making fried rice. And then he pushed. Hard. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, but his mouth captured yours, muffling the sound, calming you down even as your body jolted.

He groaned against your lips. “God, so tight.” Your walls clung to him, greedy, swallowing inch after inch of his cock like they’d never let go. You trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the texture of his thick length, every ridge and vein dragging against you.

Your eyes rolled back as your body adjusted, the stretch almost unbearable. He stilled, hovering, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, voice low and careful, “Should I give more?” His lips brushed yours in a tender kiss, at odds with the way he filled you.

You squirmed helplessly beneath him, body caught between resistance and desperate want. It hurt—yes—but it felt so good you almost hated yourself for liking it this much.

“Ahhh—” you bury your face into his chest, shivering as he rubs your back, one hand sliding lower to part your ass cheeks. His coarse pubic hairs brush against yours, and you know you’re in heaven just from the friction, the closeness.

“Oh god…” you moan, a tear slipping down your cheek as he starts to move, nudging against your walls. “It’s too good… too good.”

“I know… shh…” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His fingers graze your hard bud, flicking and rubbing your clit between your legs, and you shiver with every brush. He hits a spot inside you you didn’t even know existed, sending tremors up your spine.

Before you even notice, sleep drags you under again, pressed against his chest. The tablets are hitting harder than before, and he—already drained from the night—is dozing too, quietly, yet his hand remains wrapped around you, fingers caressing your hair. His cock pulses lazily inside you, still hard, a slow reminder of what you’ve shared.

Neither of you gets to cum. Not yet. The robots arrive, silently entering to re-decorate the room for the night, ignoring the way the two of you are tangled together like an actual married couple, lost in warmth, wetness, and the closeness only you two can share.

⪩⪨

When you wake up, it’s night. Heeseung is sprawled across the bed, completely naked, the blanket long gone from over your bodies. The dim lights and the faint scent of roses fill the room, creating a staged intimacy that screams final breeding night. Your stomach twists with heat and self-consciousness as your eyes take him in—every line of his muscles defined in the soft glow, the way his chest rises and falls slowly, the way his cock rests low and exposed, just waiting.

“Hee… wake up,” you whisper, rolling onto his side and nudging him gently. He doesn’t stir. Your hand slides lower, brushing against the softened length of his cock—and to your shock, it stiffens instantly in your palm. Your fingers wrap around him, rubbing along the slick shaft, feeling the heat, the pulse, the way he’s so alive beneath your touch.

Heeseung stirs, eyes half-open, still lost in the fog of sleep. Boldness courses through you, and you start stroking him thoroughly, biting your lip as your own audacity surprises you.

“S-stop…” he murmurs sleepily, voice rough, half-lidded eyes fixing on you. His hand pushes your palm away, but instead of letting go, he pins you gently to the bed. His cock presses against your stomach, tip glistening with precum, and you shiver from the warmth and pressure.

“How did we even fall asleep?” you murmur, shivering as he leans down and plants a teasing kiss on your neck. His mouth starts suckling, teeth grazing lightly over your skin, and a moan escapes you before you even register it.

“W-why does it feel soo good?” you breathe, voice trembling. His lips and tongue are consuming you, sending shivers down your spine, teasing you so exquisitely that your own body reacts without thought.

“Don’t ask questions. Just feel… we need to finish why we’re here, right? So we can go out and raise our baby,” he whispers against your neck, and your face melts into his hair, overwhelmed. You’re so lost in him that you don’t even notice when his tip presses and slides against your folds, gliding perfectly over your wet, slick skin.

You wrap your legs around his waist almost instinctively, every nerve in your body on fire. You don’t know where you learned this, but it feels right. This fertility expiration, this ridiculous breeding contract—it’s finally ending, and Heeseung is the only one who could make it feel like this.

“You really wanna raise the baby togeth—aghh!” A moan rips from your chest as he slips inside you effortlessly. Your body trembles at the stretch, chest heaving, eyes wide as you feel him fully—every inch of his thick, veiny cock filling you. God, it’s too good. How could something feel this right? You had no regrets about coming here, even if it had been forced.

When he moves, it’s like you’re falling straight into heaven. “Oh my… oh my god… ahhhh…” you gasp, gripping his shoulders, trying to ground yourself as every thrust presses him deeper, pushing all your limits of pleasure.

“Shh… gently… I’ll go gentle.” And he does. Heeseung starts slow, bottoming out fully, checking in with soft murmurs. But soon, the tempo builds, and he’s plunging deeper, too deep for your brain to catch up. Your body reacts before your mind, muscles clenching, and you can’t stop the first squirting eruption that floods against his pulsing cock.

Your eyes lock with his—burning with embarrassment—but he’s unfazed, so present, so attentive. God, what a man. And then he hits that same spot again, and your second gush coats him, your palm flying to your face, cheeks flaming. Minutes pass in a blur of trembling, slick, overwhelming pleasure. Your eyes roll back as you come hard, walls squeezing him like they never could before, every shudder wringing a guttural curse from his lips.

“Fuck… too tight…” he groans, cock pulsing violently inside you. Before either of you can process it, he erupts—hot, thick, sticky—filling you completely.

“I—” you start, but he pins you gently, eyes fluttering as his release surges. “J-just take all of my seeds…” His chest heaves on yours, some of it dribbling down your slit, proof of how much he’s given. It’s like he poured out weeks of stored need into you.

“Enough to make another human in the community?” he gasps, breathless, thumb brushing away a stray tear of pleasure from your cheek. His head rests against your chest, listening to your rapid heartbeat.

“Those tablets by robos better work,” you whisper, arm wrapping around his waist as you gently shift atop him. His cock still pulses inside you, leaking little drops, making you laugh and moan all at once. Every inch of you is slick, spent, alive—and you can’t imagine ever feeling this way with anyone else.

⪩⪨

“This one’s complete. Who’s the next pair for the human breeding contract?” the government officer asked, his voice flat but his eyes lingering on the glowing monitor. The feed showed the two of you tangled together in the aftermath—naked, bodies spent, still joined at the hips as though refusing separation even in sleep. For a moment, the officer simply stared, a flicker of discomfort crossing his otherwise stoic face before he looked back at the machine beside him.

The robot’s optical sensors whirred as it adjusted the angle, zooming in without hesitation on the mess between your thighs, where Heeseung’s cock remained buried inside you, a faint spill of his cum already leaking past your swollen folds. It held there for a beat, scanning, before its voice rang metallic and certain. “Based on the administered fertility tablets, probability of conception is at one hundred percent. The female has been successfully bred.”

The officer exhaled slowly, almost relieved, then leaned back in his chair. “Good. Another pair. Humanity lives another day.”

The robot didn’t stop processing. Its gaze shifted across its databanks, and a new name filtered onto the screen. “The next subject approaching fertility expiration: Park Sunghoon. Male. Age twenty-three. Behavioral report: reclusive. Rarely leaves residence.”

The officer raised a brow, a dry smirk tugging at his lips. “So, one of those ‘touch grass’ types?”

The robot made a noise that could almost be mistaken for amusement. The officer chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his notes. “Guess he won’t have much of a choice soon. Get him paired. Humanity’s down to scraps—we can’t afford a single wasted seed.”

And with that, the two of them turned back to the monitors, logging another successful breeding while already preparing for the next. After all, humans were a rare species now—too fragile, too precious—and extinction was not an option.

© shortonwon—twenty twenty five. do not repost, translate or copy my work on any other platforms (including tumblr). THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING <3

his touch makes you melt. makes your brain short-circuit. makes you forget about any worries you have about ruining what you already have with him. he drags his tongue over the bite marks he's just made, soothing the spot.

he litters soft kisses all over your chest, and just like that, you forget why you ever held off fucking him like this in the first place. "okay," you whisper. "shit—okay."

he looks up quick, like he's not sure if he even heard you right. but there's this grin on his face. it's wide, toothy, and entirely too smug. like he knew you'd end up agreeing. if he wants to rub it in, he doesn't, which you're a little grateful for.

"fuck, baby, thank you. gonna fuck you so well, i swear you won't regret it."

yeah, just like he swore he wouldn't go past the tip. the retort dies on your tongue, because then he's pushing into you, the bed frame creaking in protest with every thrust. he's just so big, and he barely gives you a moment to adjust.

"mm, wait, hee—"

"sorrysorrysorry," he groans, the words falling from his mouth in a single string. "just spent so long dreaming of fucking this pretty pussy."

PARK JONGSEONG ── "y'know, you're not doing a great job at pretending you don't want this."

your face flushes, and you try to duck your head, but jongseong's hovering over your body. with the hand that's not on your bare hip, he pulls your chin back towards him, forcing eye contact.

"seongie," you whine, a tinge of embarrassment in your voice. "you promised we wouldn't go all the way."

"and you're making a mess all over my cock, baby. just give in. you know you want to." he doesn't say it like he's pleading or trying to convince you. he says it like it's a fact, which might be worse.

actually, it is worse.

because he can read your body. he can read the tremble in your voice as you try to hold your ground. the hitch of your breath when his tongue flicks against your nipple.

even now, when he's barely more than an inch into you, he doesn't miss the way you're squeezing him, practically trying to suck him in. and with how wet you are, it'd be so easy to just slip right in.

"i—i don't know," you stammer out, or try to, as he rubs slow circles onto your clit, smearing your messy arousal all over your thighs. you part your lips, like you're about to protest, but all that comes out is a moan.

"but we're friends—" you bite out, your arms around his neck, instinctively pulling him closer.

"so what? we'll be friends that fuck. or more, if that's what you want. that's what i want. we can work out the details later, can't we?"

the word more rings in your ears, and jongseong can hear the gears shifting in your cock-drunk mind.

"hey, hey. don't worry your pretty little head about that right now. just let me take care of you. it'll be the best you'll have."

you nod once, barely interceptable, but he shakes his head. "words, sweetheart. use your words for me, hm?"

you feel heat creep up your neck, but you nod again anyway. "yes, seongie. i... i want you to fuck me."

god, you really don't have to tell him twice.

it's when he finally bottoms out, that he has to stop and go though a roster of formula 1 teams, in order not to cum.

after all, might not have kept his initial promise, but he would be the best fuck of your life.

SIM JAEYUN ── "please, angel. fuckin' hell... you need this as bad as i do, don't lie."

jake's eyes are so innocent, though the intent behind them is anything but. his gaze, set firmly on you, makes heat pool in your stomach, adding to the wet mess on the sheets beneath you.

sure, you and jake had fooled around before. it wasn't rare. if anything, it was a daily occurrence. you'd humped him mindlessly on the couch before, sucked him off in his studio, and let him finger you for hours at a time. but this?

this wasn't the same. actually fucking him felt like crossing a line. like stepping over an already blurry boundary.

but he's adamant. so adamant. he's got his heart dead-set on this, pouting at you with those pretty pink lips, slightly swollen from kissing. as mentioned, however, it's anything but innocent.

he's spent the better part of an hour marking you up, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your body. your neck, your chest, your thighs. shades of pink and red have bloomed all over your skin, and he's never looked prouder.

"jakey, 's not that i don't wanna," you say, soft and shaky. because of course you want to. it's all you've ever wanted. to feel his cock inside your cunt, for him to fuck like a dog in heat. "it's that i don't wanna mess this up."

"mess what up? us? angel, you could never. no matter what, okay? you seriously can't get rid of me that easy," he assures you, both efficiently and kindly. and in case his words aren't enough to soothe your doubt, he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, quick but lingering.

"really?"

"really. will you let me feel all of you now? hm? let me fuck you the way you deserve?"

"please," you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. that's all it takes for him to ease into you slowly, like he's trying to memorize this moment and keep it with himself forever. the groan that jake lets out at hearing your soft whimpers—it's straight up pornographic.

"this pussy is so much fuckin' better than my fist."

PARK SUNGHOON ── "you're leaking all over my dick, and still... you're going to say you don't want me?"

one thing park sunghoon always found joy in was teasing you. it didn't matter what for.

whether it was pointing out every time you'd stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, or still bringing up that one time from a year ago when you'd accidentally put the cereal in the fridge and the milk in the pantry—he was relentless when he wanted to be.

like now. especially now. just... instead of sidewalks and cereal boxes, it was the way you were a teary, needy mess, and still insisting that you didn't want any more than the tip of his thick cock.

you shake your head, trying to fight back a moan when he pinches your clit. "d—don't be mean, hoonie."

"i'm not being mean, sweets," sunghoon chides, but he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose nonetheless. "if anything, you're the one being mean. you're such a pretty little thing, thighs spread, all dripping for me... and you expect me not to want to fuck you all the way?"

he clicks his tongue, pushing a little further into you. he watches your eyes hit the back of your head, the cutest, breathiest sound leaving your mouth.

"please," you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"please, what? i can't even tell what you're begging for, baby. 'please, hoonie, fuck me?' is that what you're begging for?"

"fuck—yeah," you blurt, before you can even process the words that are leaving your mouth. it seems to surprise him just as much, because his eyes go a little wide, and for someone who's spent the last thirty minutes with sharp, quick responses, he seems a little speechless.

"well, damn, baby. thought we'd be going back and forth a little while longer," he chuckles, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "not really complaining, though."

when sunghoon fucks into you, it's so him. harsh and cruel, but with loving intention. the pace he sets is rough, and he really doesn't show you any mercy.

turns out, being a little mean can get you a long way.

KIM SUNOO ── "so insistent on playing this game, huh?"

"sun, it's not... It's not like that," you protest weakly, but the way sunoo's looking at you—like a man who's got the world at his fingertips and knows it—has the rest of your sentence dying on your tongue.

"what is it like, then? you just feel like being a brat?" sunoo's words are sharp, they always are, but never sharper than the feeling of his teeth nipping at your collarbone. he doesn't seem annoyed by the waiting game. a little impatient? well, yes.

not annoyed, though. not frustrated. just... bored. it isn't disinterested-bored. more like give-in-already-so-we-can-cut-to-the-chase-bored. it's different. it's cocky. because he knows you'll end up submitting to him.

the feeling of his tip pressing against the entrance of your wet heat makes you flinch, and it takes everything in you not to beg him to fuck you right then.

"i—i feel," you stutter, "like not losing us over some sex."

sunoo's head snaps up. "some sex?" he asks, almost sounding offended. no, scratch that, he does sound offended. "you're seriously underestimating how good of a fuck i am."

"that's not the point!" if he didn't have your hands pinned together above you, you'd hit him, because he's being so... sunoo. misinterpreting your words on purpose, teasing you, seeing how far he can push you until you snap. and both of you know you're already reaching your breaking point.

he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest. his lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and biting, committing your soft whimpers to memory.

"nothing'll happen to us just 'cause we had some earth-shattering sex. i mean it. if anything, you'll just become more obsessed with me," he snickers, dropping a hand between your legs to slip his fingers between your folds.

"fuck you."

"i'm clearly willing."

you're silent for a beat, but the sheer need for him, for wanting to get fucked dumb on his cock, is overwhelmingly loud. "fine," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. he laughs, condescending, but it just makes you clench.

he pushes into you, and his dick fills you up, makes you feel so good, so full. sunoo's hips snap against yours, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. every thrust makes you cry out, and he drinks up the sweet sound.

"i'll show you some sex," he scoffs.

YANG JUNGWON ── "i know, pretty girl. i know. but you won't regret it."

his words are entirely too convincing. they fall from jungwon's mouth, easy and honey-sweet. there's a soft sheen of sweat on his skin, and the curve of his lashes has you melting into his touch.

"wonnie..." you whisper, soft and uncertain. like there's more you want to say, but can't find the words for.

jungwon just kisses you, his lips slotting against yours. and because he's him, your best friend for ages, you kiss him back. he tastes like strawberries and your coffee that he stole sips from.

he's already more than an inch in anyway, waiting for you to let him in all the way. "you're thinking s'loud," he murmurs, pulling away, a thin line of saliva connecting his mouth to yours. "i can hear you from here. don't overthink it. haven't even fucked you yet, and you're already squeezing around my cock."

his voice dips to a lower register, and he leans down by your ear, his breath hot. "just let yourself have it." the tone jungwon uses makes your face flush, and your heart skips a beat in your chest.

he always looks so gentle about everything, but there's a mocking lilt in his tone right now that makes you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

the movement makes him slip deeper into your cunt, and he groans, "fuck—fuck, princess. give a guy a warning, yeah? gonna make me cum just from that." jungwon's hips stutter as he readjusts, and he shifts his angle, needing more of you.

"sorry," you breathe, looking up at him. his hair is tousled, slightly unkempt from you running your hands through it. "i just... um, i like you. this. us. whatever 'us' is."

"yeah? same here, baby. i care about you too much to ever do anything to jeopardize us." he pauses, tucking hair behind your ear. "do you trust me?"

you don't hesitate. "yeah, wonnie. i do."

"good," he says, his lips meeting your temple. he looks at you, silently acknowledging what he's about to do. when you nod, he bottoms out, pushing himself all the way in. his cock drags against your walls, stretching you out on himself.

"mm—won—" you moan, grasping his arms to steady you.

"shit, you're such a good girl. feels nice, right? didn't i say it would?"

NISHIMURA RIKI ── "screw that promise, baby. to hell with it. this pussy's so perfect, s'begging to get fucked by me."

so far, riki's been true to his word. he's only an inch deep, but you know it's better than anything you've ever had before. he knows that, too—it's what makes him so confident.

"'ki, but you said—"

"angel, i say a whole lotta things. i definitely don't mean them all," he snorts, reaching down to rub your clit with his thumb. it makes your frown melt into an expression of bliss, the kind you only get from pleasure.

it doesn't help that riki's so pretty, and surely it doesn't make any of this easier. because he's the smug kind of pretty. the kind where he's fully aware and doesn't hesitate to use it to his own advantage.

it’s the way he looks at you like he already knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s just waiting for you to trip over your words first. it’s not even that he’s trying too hard; it’s just there, in that little tilt of his head or the way he lets a silence stretch out just a second too long.

he knows it gets under your skin. he knows it makes it impossible to actually stay mad at him, which is the worst part. you want to call him out on it, but then he smiles that specific way, and suddenly you’re the one who’s on the defensive.

trembling, you shake your head, though your resolve is wearing away. "friends don't fuck," you say, your tone hush.

"friends don't do whatever this is, either. if you're worrying about crossing some sort of line, i think we're a little far past that point."

you groan, burying your face in your hands. riki always has to go and make everything harder, doesn't he? in response, he just kisses your tit, and then your jaw, before finally pulling your hands into his.

"that doesn't make me feel better," you mumble.

"it wasn't really supposed to. i'm being honest, sweets. we're gonna be fine. we're gonna be okay."

finally, you sigh, "well, okay. i guess—"

you're cut off by his cock abruptly slamming straight into you, without so much as a warning. you cry out, back arching up as you sink your nails into the biceps of his arms.

mid-moan, you gasp, "what the fuck, riki!"

"sorry, fuck, sorry," he grunts, but by the way he isn't slowing down, you don't know if he means it. "ripped the bandaid off, angel."

riki leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy, wet kiss, swallowing the noises you make. with every ram of his hips against yours, you can feel his dick kisses your cervix, the way he throbs inside you, how his pelvis grinds against your clit.

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“You understand?! You don’t fucking understand shit! Otherwise you wouldn’t be bothering me while I'm trying to get the job of my drwams!” His voice got louder, you can see a vein on his neck.

“Oh my god, look at you getting all worked up! Big corporate job but small emotions? Oh, poor Jaeyun! How could he tolerate such a bad girlfriend like me, god forbid I don’t let a man shout at me for no reason”

Jake stands up and moves closer to you, you don’t move of an inch. His index finger is pointing at your chest.

“You know what? Maybe I should go out and find someone else. An actual woman that would support me and not complain,complain and complain” He doesn’t even give you time to register what he just told you, Jake walks outside.

You've never seen him coming back, yet his things disappear from the apartment. And just like that, Jake walked out of your life.

It has been a whole year. It would be a lie if you said you’ve never replayed the moment in your head over and over again. Maybe you should have fought for it, you are aware that the stress led words never meant to be said to escape your lips. Was that destiny playing a silly game on you two?

Jake is doing so much worst than you. He cried, shouted, complained, cursed himself out. He left you. You. The only woman he ever wanted by his side, he just stormed off the apartment he still calls home.

Of course, Jake never actually tried to go for another women. The only thing he has been tried to do is not cry out your name in front of a glass of wine. The man doesn’t go one day without longing for what used to be his and that his heart refused to let go.

All of that for his career. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? Now he even hates the work place he was dreaming of a year ago.

Or so he was. Jaeyun made it to be a manager in the big corporation he has been dreaming of. He had to organize a meeting and send out e-mails to each one of the people who had to attend.

Jake reads the list, his eyes stop at a name. He reads it one, twice. Jake reads it for so long he doesn’t even know anymore if it was an hallucination.

It’s your name. You will have to attend the same meeting he will host.

Despite the amount of e-mails Jake had to send through his career, he takes a while to write the one for you. Should he be professional? This is Jake-your-manager sending you an e-mail, not Please-I’m-so-sorry-take-me-back Jake, right? But what if you curse him out once you see his professional looking e-mail? Actually, he knows you will curse him out either way.

So he types out. The e-mail he writes you is the same as the others, except for one little thing. He tells you to come one hour prior to everyone else.

Jake practices more his take-me-back speech than what he actually has to talk about during the meeting.

The next day, you walk in the room. Your tailored suit fits you perfectly, you find Jake looking at some papers, his palms on the table and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up his elbows.

“Good morning” Your voice is empty, you try to be as professional as possible and not let shine though your voice how much his presence impacts you.

Jake, on his side, freaks out. Shit, you are here. His posture gets straight up, his shoulders are tense. “Can you lock the door?” He hopes his nervousness didn’t run through his voice.

Somehow, you actually do. Jake swallows, his Adam's apple bob up and down. Soon, he has closed the distance between you to, just like he did that night.

“Hi” His voice is now slow, soft, a softness you haven’t experienced in a while. “Thank you for being here”

“Jake” You close your eyes, his name alone is enough for him to hold his breath “I know why you called me earlier than the others.”

Jake is not sure if he should be happy about it, it feels like he’s being stabbed in the back.

“I’m sorry.” He takes a step closer, then one back “I’m really sorry. Please, give me a chance to explain. I know I don’t deserve one, but please, Love-” You look at him biting his lips, you can see his eyes getting watery.

“I never did anything that I told you that night. Take me back, baby, can you take me back? I don’t this job if I can’t have you, hell! I don’t want anything but you” Jake takes a step closer again, this time he stays there. “I know what I did was wrong, I know my stress is not a justification for how I acted. All I can tell you is that I’ve changed, nothing like that will ever happened again. Ever. If you were to give me another chance… I- My heart is still yours, it’ll forever be. Do I… do I still-” His voice was trembling, his eyes got red, Jake was wearing his emotions on his face for you to see.

“Do you promise?” You decide to interrupt him, you really cannot see the man you love like this.

Jake nods, he shakes his head so fast like he’s scared that what your final answer will be based on. You are the one that takes a step closer this time, just to let your lips touch his.

The homey feeling of his taste didn’t disappear with time and boy, did you miss it.

Jaeyun wraps his arms around you, gently at first but then, just like the kiss, his touch gets hot, he’s making out with you, Jake is holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear any moment.

You move your hands on his shoulders, Jake moves his a bit lower and just like that, your back is pressed on the desk.

“I just want you to know” Jake starts, he speaks between kisses and quick breathes “This is not why I called you, I just wanted to say that I love you and I’m sorry”

“Jake. I know, now show me how much you love me”

That’s all it took. Jake hands move on your body with the same old sensuality, he quickly gets rid of your shirt, one large hand gets lost underneath your bra while the other plays with the zip of your trousers.

“You see Love” His lips are on your neck “I begged enough for today, we should switch roles, don’t you think?”

His fingers are playing with the zip, from time to time his thumb goes inside your trousers, teasing your hot skin. “We have… around thirty minutes before the others join us. I can make you cum, just say the little word I want to hear baby”

“Please” You’d bet Jake is smiling “Please, I need to feel your fingers inside me”

Really slowly, Jake pulls down your zipper. He wants more and you know it.

“Jake please! Please, I need you, don’t make me wa-ah!”

A little moan escapes your lips when Jake slides on finger inside you, moving your panties to the side with the back of his hand.

“Jesus, you are so hot. Look at my finger inside you”

Soon enough, you have to fingers pumping inside of you, his thumb brushes over your clit, just to make you feel it but enough for you to cum. Yet.

“Jake” You call his name again and again, you really need to finish. “Yes?”

You hate him.

“I need to cum, please, make me cum”

Jake kisses you, in an attempt to silence your orgasm. His fingers curl inside you just right, his thumb presses over your clit. Once his fingers are full of you, he brings them up to his mouth.

After that, everything goes back to normal. You put your clothes back on, Jake does his meeting with your taste on his lips.

The only things that changes is how you walk back home: Jake is walking next to you on the sidewalk, keeping you away from the road. On the way back, you two decided to start over with your relationship, despite being in love just as much as before.

Also, Jake reveals to to you that to keep his emotions in check, he bought a journal.

But even then, with his hand intertwined with hers, he couldn't help but search for your gaze in the crowd, let his fingers rest on your for a moment too long when you'd hand him yet another glass of wine, and linger near you whenever you popped in to make conversation with your beloved soon to be sister in law. She fumbles through sentences whenever you're near her, arms jittery and voice way too high pitched and shrill, she looks to you for approval, not aware that she's been playing a losing game from the first time you met.

You can't even fault her too much, Jungwon is handsome, charming and rich, but she simply looks completely out of place with that huge diamond ring on her finger, but sporting a posture that screams 'please stop looking at me.' She looks out of place next to him.

That, and you've always been a little bit of a feminist batman, if you will.

Because while Jungwon is free to choose his partner for the rest of his life, you are trapped in an arranged marriage for the well being of the family, soon to be married off to a man nearly twice your age, and not in the sexy way.

Not in a million years are you allowing that to happen.

So you wrap your arm around Jungwon's elbow by the end of the night, helping him stay upright—ever the sweet and preoccupied sister—after the less than decorous amount of alcohol in his system, and walk him out of the obnoxiously decorated apartment, giving his fiance a tight lipped smile and an 'i will take it from here' which comes out way more condescending than what you usually allow yourself. She stands there looking at you like a fool, and you roll your eyes once you turn your back to her, because, really? How you loathe spineless people.

The chauffeur asks no questions when he helps Jungwon slide in the backseats of the car, you right beside him, and instantly starts driving you both back to your place.

Jungwon's groans and nonsensical giggles start getting on your nerves around halfway of the drive, so you whip your head to face him, scowl deep both in your eyebrows and lips. "What's so fucking funny?" He sighs, content, and lets his head dangle on the neck rest, bumping with every harsh movement of the car. "You hate her."

You click your tongue, a single bitter laugh coming out of you before you can stop it.

It's true, you do. You hate everything she represents, you hate her loving family and how supportive of her relationship with Jungwon they are, you hate the stupid little crochet scarf her mom made you as a gift and you hate that for some reason it's still in the depths of your walk in closet instead of rotting in a trash pile on a hill somewhere you don't care to know. You hate that she gets to live a fairytale while you bend over backwards for a shred of recognition from your family, and all you get is your freedom stripped right out of your hands.

Jungwon looks at you like what you're experiencing is jealousy, but the reality is that you're so bitter, it's starting to corrode you from within, like every second of her presence near him is chlorine you're sipping on. And if bitterness is what you feel towards her, what your heart holds for Yang Jungwon is something far angrier and sinister. Because he gets to sit there, smug and cocky, the heir of an empire he never deserved, his shoulders light like no responsibility weighs on them. He has his cake and gets to eat it too, while you're sold to someone else for a few contracts and heavy checks, when your only fault is not being your step father's son but merely a daughter.

You burn. It eats you alive. And still he sits there with a smirk on his lips like he has you completely figured out. It's then when you decide that if you can't have the life you want, you will ruin his too.

You see them already, the scandalous headlines, the two offsprings of an empire having a baby of their own. Caught in a mediatic storm if you need to go that far, simply banished from the family name if you know your father well enough. Maybe a negotiation to keep your mouth shut, after a discreet abortion, but not before you have all the proof you need to be a threat. Your freedom in exhange of silence, it's a fair trade off.

That's why when you push an off balance Jungwon into your skyline penthouse, you go straight for your bedroom instead of letting him wander into the kitchen for a snack like he usually would. He complains at first, that childish chirp of someone who has never been told no in his entire life loud when bouncing off the walls of the spacious living room, but it dies down when you push him onto your bed, straddling his hips without breaking a sweat, lowering his back to the mattress with your palm.

He looks at you, mouth agape and forehead slightly glistening from the heat the alcohol in his system is simulating, despite the cold february air, and his eyes sparkle of something greedy, so greedy it makes you falter.

Because if there's one thing you know about him—and you know plenty—it's that he's obsessed with having what he cannot have. Every girl, every boy he's ever wanted has knelt before him at the snap of his fingers, so naturally, he gets bored of them in the long run. It's how things have always been, it's why you almost dropped to the ground in shock when he proudly announced his engagement to the table at a family dinner. You, however, he could never have. He gave you signs, gave you opportunities which you never took despite the heat in your stomach, he left openings where they should have not been. And you never gave into it, simply to not hand him the satisfaction of having you too.

If you were the only thing he could not access, then you intended on it staying that way, simply for the sake of denying something to Yang Jungwon.

"Knew it," he whispers through clenched teeth from beneath you, the most obnoxious smirk you've ever seen on his face greeting you. It sickens you to give him exactly what he's been waiting for.

You take a good look at him, imprint his expression in your memory to never forget it, to remind you what you're doing is justified. You wonder, would he allow this to happen if he were sober? You imagine he would, so what difference does it make if he's not? You think, would he take advantage of your state had you been in his place? You don't know, but you're as subject to confirmation bias as every other human being on Earth, and as far as you're bothered to recall, Take Advantage is Yang Jungwon's middle name.

In the grand scheme of things, you conclude that it's worth it.

You lurch forward, lips crashing on his, a moan bubbling in his throat as you grind your hips over his in eager motions. His teeth clash with yours, both of you too taken by the heat of the moment to care about pleasantries. His hands are immediately all over you, from your waist down to your ass, pushing you even harder against his hardening cock, groans and heavy breaths spilling from his mouth when you part for a second, just to dive right back in just as heatedly.

Jungwon sucks on your tongue, bites your lip and then your jaw, all the while your hips never stop moving. "Knew you'd—you'd give in eventually," he slurs lazily through the sentence, voice raspy with a wheezy edge to it. "Wanted you so, so fucking bad I couldn't think straight with you near me—all the dinners I sat through with my cock hard just from watching your lips around a spoon."

He's pathetic, and out of his mind drunk, you know this, but with every word spoken against your neck, your hips quicken until the already dangerously short dress your waring is bunched up around your waist, and your panties freely drag over the smooth fabric of his dress pants. They're dark gray, so they don't do much to hide Jungwon's shape, nor the little darker spot forming right where his tip rests.

He fumbles with his belt, and you reach down to help him undo it when he takes too long, thumb working the button and zipper open too. He kicks his pants off somewhere on the floor while you unbutton his shirt until he can take it off easily, his lips chasing after yours. Once he's covered by light gray briefs only, you take a moment to gawk at his plump chest, perky nipples and and chiseled abs, running your perfectly manicured nails down his skin in the lightest scratch, just enough to raise goosebumps all over his body and to have his length twitch in his underwear.

"I didn't think you deserved it," you say matter of factly, palm on his middle to push him back to rest against the bed. You raise the dress above your head, throwing it blindly to the corner of the room. Your tits bounce free, but Jungwon's hands find them right away.

"Whatever I've done to make you change your mind, thank fuck." His hair is messy on the bedsheets, framing his red face perfectly, a sheen to it that has you tightening your thighs around his.

It's merely to reach a goal, you tell yourself, just like seeing Jungwon with her has nothing to do with petty feelings, but even when you refuse to linger on those thoughts too long, you can't deny the effects he has on your body. It's simply chemical, you reason, the lighting strikes in your tummy when his hands are on you.

It's a primal thing, resident within you, the way your limbs move on instinct, carried by something you cannot quite fully control. Your hand reaches his neck, fingers adjusting on the sides of it, and you think he looks right just like this with your hands on him.

The mere presence of your it has Jungwon's breath stuck in his throat, and when you push a little, testing the waters, his mouth falls open in a quiet gasp, and his eyes roll back to his skull. You don't miss how his hips lurch forward, raising to push into yours, the feeling heightened now that the fabric separating you dwindled.

His cock rests heavy between your bodies, a toy for you to grind on. Your hand is still wrapped around his neck when you bend down, tits flush with his chest, to press your lips to his. He kisses you back with thrice the eagerness, gasping and groaning into your mouth with every change in pressure your fingers apply, his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass to help you move your clothed cunt over his leaking cock. His underwear is slick, dark with need, your own is not in much better condition, and with every sweet drag, angled just right, you make it worse.

You feel every inch of him, there his tip starts and where it thickens, the little ridge at the base of it catching on your clit in the best ways.

"Pussy feels so good, baby," Jungwon mumbles, red lips bitten raw from all the making out. The name slips out easily, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. As if you being on top of your step-brother is an everyday occurrence. "Feels so good already—mhh, baby, just like that. Feels too good."

It tumbles out of your lips before you can stop it. "Does she feel this good?"

Jungwon shakes his head immediately, like having you believe otherwise even for a single second would be a sin akin to heresy. "N-never, not even—when I fuck her." You're pleased to hear that, that much he notices too, because he doubles down right away. "Fuck my fist to the thought of you—all the fucking time. I feel guilty, thinking about her when I'm in the shower and it won't even get up. But then—fuck. But then you're in my head and it's like I'm a little virgin all over again." He moans, loud and unabashed, when you glide right over his tip. Both of your underwears are completely soaked through, so you reach down to lower his first, and then push yours to the side, replacing the hand that was on Jungwon's neck with wet licks and kisses.

The cold air hits your core deliciously, and the first drag across his exposed cock has you shuddering, Jungwon shaking like a leaf under you. His eyes are closed, mouthing little 'oh my god's while his hands are digging into your thighs so hard, his knuckles turn paper white. You don't want to admit it but you're wet, so wet you can't think of another time you've been this turned on by a little kissing and grinding, and while this is supposed to be simply part of a plan, the evidence is loud and clear.

Emphasis on loud, because the squelching going on underneath you is downright pornographic, something you never thought possible without the aid of lube. Jungwon's cock is wet, you're wetter, leaking by the second, and if that isn't enough on its own, you keep collecting all of the precum he's gifting you, smearing it on both of your skins until you're sleek and shiny from the mess of it all.

Jungwon looks and sounds like he's mere seconds away from coming, and while that does sound appealing, it's not what you're here for.

"So close already?" You tease, sitting up again and arching your back to give him the view of a lifetime. Your hand blindly finds his balls behind you, slow and careful massaging ripping the most pathetic whine you have ever heard out of his mouth.

The heir to an empire, on track to be one of the most influential men of the country, whining like a little bitch underneath you, unaware of the real power you hold over his head like a dangling poisoned treat.

His hips thrust upwards, looking for that friction he's missing once you stop doing the heavy work. He looks up at you, eyes watering and dark lashes clumped together, seconds away from bursting out in tears just like the spoiled brat he is. You raise yourself just enough to angle his cock, now sopping wet, with your entrance, and the immediate glide of it inside you knocks the air out of your lungs.

Jungwon lets out a low groan, rumbling deep within his chest, one of his hands flying to grab your hip so he can keep you there. Not that you have the strength to move right away, the feeling of him so deep inside you, filling you up completely, like no one has ever done before, overwhelming your senses. So you sit there, right on him with his cock splitting you open, wetness pooling between your thighs and dripping onto his, eyes closed but mouth slightly ajar, allowing yourself for a moment to think of a reality where this is right and good. Where this is not sinful indulgence but instead normalcy you can always access.

You rake your nails across his thighs until goosebumps litter his skin and until his lower back arches off the bed to push into you, slow and steady rolls of his hips having his tip hit just the right spot inside of you, the one that leaves you shaking.

Jungwon's sounds are soft, and so are his movements, but there's an unintentional messiness to them that only makes everything hotter, steamier, like you can feel the condensation of his warm breaths and sweat cling to your body in a way a shower won't be able to get rid of. His hands work your body on his, the slide in and out of you so wet and easy his cock slips out a few times, but you're there to guide it back exactly where it should be.

"You feel so fucking good," he moans through bitten lips, hair sweaty and curled at his forehead. He looks delirious, shaking his head from side to side every once in a while, legs folding to fuck into you whenever he gets a moment of clarity, a bout of strength, and you get the idea that he wouldn't be this docile if not for the alcohol still buzzing through his body. He looks dazed, eyes unfocused and rolled to the back of his skull most of the time, hands firm on your hips but the grip is weak, and you could easily pin them somewhere else if you wanted, but the warm presence of them on you comforts you somehow. The more he touches you, the easier you can convince yourself that he fully wants this.

Your hips roll in clockwise motions, hands behind your back firmly gripping his legs. There's an an ache in your shoulder blades you ignore, a stretch in your arms all the way to your fingers, but your hold on him never falters. Instead, your circles speed up, and suddenly the quiet gasps turn into louder moans as you work Jungwon to what surely is his orgasm, without thinking much of yours.

It's a sort of punishment, in a way. You reach your goal, you get out. It seems obvious enough to your brain. But watching Jungwon come undone so quickly, his grip on you turning into claws digging on your sides, empty begs to slow down or he'll cum too soon, does something to your mind you're not sure you'll ever forget. Something to haunt you when you're alone in your room at night, with no one else beside you in your bed to help you ride out the rush of need. Then, you'll have this, but now, you won't allow yourself to indulge it.

Jungwon comes in thick spurts of cum inside you, his feet and legs shaky and jittery, his torso heaving up and down like he just gave the performance of his life, and you get to soak it all in, not blinded by your own height. You watch sweat droplets dribble down his neck and into the crevice of his collarbone, you get to watch the twitch of his muscles and the way they completely melt after the rush of pleasure spreading through him reaches them. You watch the quiet, unspoken peace settle within him, while he lays unaware of the seed he's planted inside you, unaware of the fact that you'll do nothing to get rid of it.

Because if you have to give up your freedom for the good of the family, you'll simply destroy the family from within.

You can already see it, taste it on your tongue, how they'll strip both of you of your names, and all your belongings, how you'll be free. And if Jungwon has to take the fall too, then so be it. Blood of your blood, you'll free fall together.

Jungwon comes quickly, it's true. Part of it is because he's too drunk to hold himself together, part of it is because he's wanted you for so long, it feels like he has been edged by life for years at this point. But he cums a lot. It's dense, filling you up until there's no room for it to go anywhere if not spilling out of you and coating Jungwon's length with every shallow thrust he gives you, pooling at the base of it in a creamy white ring you have an itch to scoop up and taste.

What gets you are the squelching sounds, loud and obnoxious enough to cover up the ragged sounds our your heavy breathing, bouncing off the walls with every sticky string that snaps and forms.

Jungwon takes one last full breath, lungs expanding as far as they can before emptying out completely, and suddenly you're off of his cock, whining without even meaning to, unaccustomed to the feeling of emptiness. A lazy smirk decorates his features, and while you've never denied how objectively handsome your step-brother is, this is the first time the word beautiful comes to mind. His eyes glint of a little something mischievous, and there's a pit in your throat you can't seem to swallow down.

His dainty fingers spread your pussy lips open, some of his cum gushing out of you, and he runs his thumb right on your hole, without ever intruding. He looks at the mess, enamored with the sight, a thin coat of spit shining on his lips each time he runs his tongue across the pinkish flesh. "Not my best performance," he giggles, boyish and seemingly innocent. You wait for the 'this can never happen again', you wait for the disgust to settle on his face, but it never comes.

Instead, he looks at you with raw lust and passion, and for a moment you feel bad for what you're doing to him. You anchor yourself on the belief that he would do the same with the roles reversed. You hold onto that thought with sharp nails and deep bite, clinging to it with your teeth so clenched it hurts.

Jungwon is unaware of your inner turmoil, blissful in his ignorance, set on enjoying the moment he's been waiting for all his life even when he slowly regains better control over his body and thoughts. He thinks of the drinks he's had, the drugs he's taken, and how none of it compares to the scent of sex coming off of your steaming bodies. He inhales the fumes, and it all goes straight to his head, clouding his decisions and the image of his fiance, probably waiting for him at home, with his side of the bed empty and frigid. He gets a split second of her hugging the teddy bear he won for her on their third date, and how he'd delete it all without giving it much thought if it meant spending one more hour with you next to him like this.

Your naked body hovers over his torso, and he intertwines his fingers with yours as he guides you to straddle his waist, needy clit pulsing against the dip of his vline.

"Go ahead," he says softly, the sound padded by something deep in his throat. "Your turn. Use me."

It absolves you of your sins.

You grind your hips against his abs, the dips and ridges catching your clit with every movement so deliciously your head spins a little. His hand keeps yours in place, and you put some of your weight on it to help you ride him with more ease. He bites down on his bottom lip, hard enough for it to look painful, his eyebrows knitted as he watches you get yourself off on him.

"Just like that," Jungwon praises when you do it harder, when you do it faster. His other hand grabs the plush of your ass to grind you down on him ever more, reveling in all the sweet sounds you gift him. "She never let me do this." He laughs, and it comes straight from his chest, making you jump a little. "How boring. Good thing I have you."

His cum keeps seeping out of you, right along with your sleek, coating his abs in the most mouth watering milky white sheen, and you want to so badly lick it off of him until your tongue and his skin turn raw, consuming all there is to consume.

The hunger rumbling in your lower abdomen is not something you can explain to just about anyone, not even to your closest of friends, not when it's your step-brother on the receiving end. But when you look at Jungwon through drooping eyelids, you see how he too gets it. You see it in his pupils and what lies behind them, and you feel lighter by the second. He looks at you like something he can hunt down, a prey in his cage, even when you know the truth.

You ride his torso desperately, hand still in his, squelching sounds and the heat building inside of you making your ears ring. He flexes his abs for you, giving you a harsher board to make use of, he gives it his all to have you coming right on him.

"C'mon, baby. You're close, aren't you?" Jungwon pouts, mocking, when you nod and whine, the hand holding your hip making its way between your legs to lazily thumb at your clit.

The touch makes your grinding halt, switching to circles in the same direction of the ones his thumb is drawing. Your inner thighs burn because of the strain, and your lower belly hurts from contracting it so hard, but you cannot bring yourself to care when you're this close to reaching your peak.

"My beautiful, gorgeous girl. So perfect for me. Let go, yeah? I got you. If no one else does, I got you."

Your orgasm hits you square in the stomach, blissful white-hot rush of adrenaline flowing to all your body parts in slow, steady waves. You come right on Jungwon's abs in messy spurts of liquid, and you're too taken with the overwhelming mixture of sensations spreading through your body to notice, heartbeat roaring in your throat, but Jungwon is so affected by the intensity of your high, he looks like he could very well coat his own thighs in more of his cum by simply watching you.

Your toes are still flexed on Jungwon's side, cunt puffy and spent, still contracting rhythmically without your permission, when Jungwon turns you on your back, his shoulders caging you against the warm bedsheets where he also laid. He spreads your legs just enough to make space for himself between them, pushing the fat tip of his cock in your stretched hole and giving it a few shallow thrusts before he's coming inside of you all over again, warm cum flooding into you and heightening all the extreme feelings you already held.

Your hands claw at his back, surely drawing blood in their wake, legs wrapping around his middle to keep his hips flush with yours while he keeps riding his orgasm with more thrusts, until he's given you all he could, completely emptied out.

Both of your breathings are ragged and uncontrolled, sweat and more substances dripping everywhere on the bedsheets, but you glow of a light you've never given off, and you feel it inside of you too.

Jungwon kisses your temple, still hard inside of you despite it all, grabbing your thighs and pushing them against your torso, while he gets on his knees and slowly teases his cock in circles, drawing a quiet moan out of you.

"Look at what you did, I just came and I'm ready to go again."

You smile at him, pursing your lips when he gives you a harsh thrust you don't expect. "Then do something about it."

Jungwon hums, scooping some of the mess between your bodies and feeding it to you, your lips wrapping around his lazily, savoring the salty taste with eyes closed.

"You're on the pill, yeah? Want to keep filling this pretty pussy up."

Little late to ask that, not that he was in his right mind to do it beforehand. You nod, wordlessly, because you fear words might fail you. It's a lie, but Jungwon doesn't question it, diving right back in to give you a messy kiss, your tastes still lingering on the tip of your tongue.

And if when crashing down, once the lust has settled and the truth of your actions is revealed, you'll get to hold him half has tight as he holds you now in the private comfort of your bed, you think that will be good enough. Jungwon dives back into you, unknowing that by doing so, he's also forgoing everything that has always been promised, simply for being born a man.

Every sin comes with punishment, it's the way of the world. You will get yours, just as you will make sure someone as untouchable as him, in due time, will also have to respond for his.