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Your relationship with Dongwook has been something people have speculated on for years

From the time of your debut under Starship Entertainment (the parent company of King Kong by Starship) in 2008 (made sense to me for aging purposes) at the age of 18

It seemed the two of you were constantly around one another

Commercials

Company dinners

His more than just an occasional cameo in your music videos

KDramas

Variety shows (those are the most fun for your shippers)

After years of speculation and rumors floating around that were never given the day of light by your respective PR teams

Finally

FINALLY (if you asked your mutual fans)

You both confirmed your relationship (having been dating nearly three years)

THREE YEARS

Not nearly as long as people speculated, but still a bit

But this then had fans creating edits trying to prove the statement otherwise

Because there no way two people would interact the way they did so naturally and weren’t romantically involved with one another

Here’s a few little snapshots of some interactions and reactions between the two of you on some variety shows over the years

Strong Heart (2012-2013):

Just four years after your debut you starred in a few episodes of the show after Dongwook became a host

While the majority episodes you were in were very tame

Not many interactions between the two of you that drew too much attention from viewers

Until one episode

Kim Seha (? going based off a youtube comment saying as such) was talking about a time when she had kissed Dongwook

The fans did not miss the look of pure rage that was displayed on your face as everyone else was laughing

The side eyes you are giving the entire time she and Dongwook are talking become iconic in the TikTok Era

Tell me you’re jealous without telling me you’re jealous

Here’s the video that inspired this for reference

Roommate (2014-2015):

This is probably where majority of the dating rumors started

You and Dongwook were almost always attached at the hip on the show

Call it being nervous or living with people you admired in the entertainment industry

But you tended to stick next to him or Jackson (once he joined the show)

There are many moments that had garnered the attention of fans and the cast members alike

One of the first was Dongwook immediately taking every single piece of luggage you had brought with you to your room

The snacks he always brought you

The way he just naturally seemed to move you away from the street side of the road and other dangers

The most memorable was the one time you were climbing onto a chair trying to get some bowls that someone had placed high in the cabinet after washing them

Queue Dongwook walking into the kitchen and seeing you ON THE TIPS OF YOUR TOES ON THE CHAIR REACHING AND LOSING YOUR BALANCE

The cameras could not have filmed his actions fast enough

Managing to catch you by the waist before you you could fall and steadying you

The editors themselves had a field day with this footage

As did fans

Produce X 101 (2019):

As a mentor on the show, you are iconic

The number of times Dongwook directly reacts to something you say to one of the trainees is astronomical in the auditions alone

Let’s not forget the time the cameras panned to him when an entire boy group auditioning on the show said you were the mentor they wanted to impress the most

Remember your side eye for a few shows back

He’s the one doing it now

The interview segment where he’s being asked about it hides nothing

He was not thrilled at finding out that you were the boys’ favorite and ideal type

As the show progresses, Dongwook grows more touchy

He’s now fixing your hair when it falls awkwardly after showing a dance move or in the wind

Fixing the mic

The one time he blocked the cameras for the sake of removing an eyelash from your face

This era is a freaking riot

Wook Talk (2019-2020):

You were only present for one episode here

But one episode was enough to convince people you and Dongwook were something more than just friends

He’s got literal heart eyes every time he’s looking at you

The snickering and giggles coming from you whenever you make eye contact was a bit telling

And then there’s the smaller segments of the show

Tell me you’re dating without telling me you’re dating is basically the goal here

You two are so close to one another in every single shot

The natural physical contact

UGH

Probably started or started dating around here or towards the end of 2020

Sea of Hope (2021):

You two are dating by this point and based on the previous entries

IT SHOWS

You appeared on the show after he invited you having been urged by production

(They too are on this ship and they will be milking it)

During your little rehearsals his eyes always seem to make their way over to wherever you are

Kim Goeun is having the time of her life teasing him

Add extra points if you two do a duet where your voices blend beautifully

The entire cast is teasing the crap out of the him during the next shoot

Game Caterers: STARSHIP (2023):

This little series is the reason why you had to confirm the relationship

Dongwook was far too protective during the time he was present on the show

From the moment you walked into the open field and went over to the soloist table, having been the first to arrive

His eyes are glued to you

He’s well aware of the way you’re clearly shivering and “secretly” hand you his hand warmers (immediately picked up by production)

When you lose at the rock, paper, scissors game being played for the travel snacks, he’s the first to comfort you but also the first to laugh at the adorable reaction you had after realizing you lost

On the bus, he’s quick to secure two seats for the two of you

Despite your protests, he’s carrying your bag without second thought and putting it up in the overhead carrier

The cameras can’t help but zoom in on the two of you at every filming location because the two of you can’t seem to stop talking quietly amongst yourselves

NaPD blatantly teases the two of you, quickly joined by Kim Bum and Song Seongheon

We’re gonna pick up from where we left off with the Game Caterer’s storyline for a bit

I know Dongwook has to leave before the second day starts so that’s where we’ll end before a timeskip of sorts

So

For the rest of the night

During dinner and the snack rounds as well as the other game rounds

It’s very obvious that you are flustered by your group’s leader saying he was your ideal type

And him getting equally flustered didn’t necessarily help either

But you could only avoid him for so long before NaPD conspired against you

The cunning man

Although he had no way of knowing this is how things would turn out

He’d prearranged groups and you had been placed with Dongwook’s group

Oh the field day that was had when everyone realized the action that must’ve only been done by fate

To add fuel to the fire

The only open seat when you entered the large area was directly beside him

It was obvious he was trying to not make you uncomfortable but also didn’t exactly know how to make you more comfortable

He trying to get everyone to just be normal and stay on track despite the rising redness along his neck

The teasing switches from you to him

And the night pretty much goes like that

Everyone calms down once the competitive spirit really kicks in

But the cameras despite having their set positions and angles picked up the brief interactions and looks between the two of you

It however gives no one more clarity than the blushing and clear avoidance did

The second day

You are visibly much more relaxed

Seeing as though Dongwook had left late the night before to continue filming his drama

It wasn’t a surprise

But you also a bit more glum

The day of filming ends without much incident

Now

AFTER the shows events

You end up running into Dongwook much more frequently than usual

He isn’t necessarily trying to do this and neither are you

But you both quickly look forward to these little moments

Despite being quite shy and flustered you enjoy the little talks between the two of you

He may or may not tell you he does like you

Or at least dance around the idea through his actions

Neither of you are willing to go much further then

Let say that during a comeback promotion

All of the DIVINE members were asked about their ideal types

For the sake of making things interesting, you didn’t explicitly say Lee Dongwook was you ideal type

You described him to a “T” though

While it takes a hot minute for other people to catch onto the accurate description

Your fellow members knew good and well who were describing and kept teasing the living heck out of you

Eventually, as part of a small little variety show, you take on the role of a reporter and are sent to a promotion schedule for one of his dramas

It was very obvious that you were avoiding all eye contact with him

You had no problem talking naturally with his castmates

But the second you had a question for him or went to listen to his response you would avoid looking anywhere above (or below) his neck

He thinks you’re intimidated by him and honestly tries avoiding you for a bit

Mainly in effort to allow you get more comfortable around him

After all you’ll be on a show together with nearly every other artist under Starship and Kingkong

And then the day arrives

Starship x Game Caterers

For the most part, everything is good and dandy

Until it was time to board the bus

Dongwook being himself was quick to offer to help you put your bag in the overhead carrier when he noticed you struggling

Stuttering out a refusal you quickly said Song Seongheon would help you instead

The man suddenly brought into the conversation was confused but rose to his feet and helped with your bag sending Dongwook and you odd looks

You were silently being teased the entire bus ride by your members as they gave you smug looks and mouthed phrases to you

When you arrive at the building your staying in for the night, Dongwook once again offers his help with your bag

You were just about to decline only everyone was already almost off the bus

And you couldn’t exactly reach the carrier

So you agree reluctantly

But you don’t meet his gaze at all

Opting to look directly into the overhead bin or the floor

The empty seats

Out the window

And the camera in the bus caught it all

It also didn’t help that you practically ran off the bus immediately after whispering a thank you

Oh the teasing you get

And it only gets worse when the games start

Once you’re split into teams, you’re fortunate enough to have been placed in a group far away from Dongwook

Until your groups are forced to go head to head in a speed quiz game

Not only do you seat yourself as far away from him as possible

You avoid even looking in his direction

Something everyone notices and can’t help but laugh at

And Na PD is nothing if not a chaos instigator

“You’ve been avoiding Dongwook the entire time. Is he that scary? I told you to look happier!”

You try playing it off that you’re just a big fan and you get nervous being around someone that you admire

But your group doesn’t buy it

And when hear you rambling nonstop, they can’t help it

It’s simply too easy

Your group’s leader can’t stop herself as she says

“He’s her ideal type!”

You know the gif of the red just rising until it turns to steam coming out one’s ears while the person is sliding out of view under a table to hide?

That is you

From people finding it adorable to others finding it funny you can’t catch a break

Dongwook can’t help but feel flattered although he too turns bright red upon hearing your leader’s words

Gasping loud, he blinked a few times to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The rooftops growing taller the closer he got. Upon his last paces, he hurried up the mountain. Panting happily at the shrine. The red building with blue rooftops. From the ceiling hanging down pieces of fabric.

Lee Yeon dropped his sack, walking up to the shrine. Going up the steps, touching one of the fabrics to read what was written on it. A wish. A well wish. A prayer. He took another one, turning it to him. A soft breeze making them twirl. Around him soft bells twinkled as the wind made the aluminium bars clatter against each other.

“Nuguseyo?” – a voice came through making Lee Yeon turn startled around. Staring widely at a girl sitting at one of the edges of the shrine. One he hadn’t noticed before. Lee Yeon cleared his throat, letting go of the prayer. He rubbed his hands off down his pants, approaching you with a lowered head.

“Are you here to pray?” – you asked tilting your head slightly to the side. He chuckled nervously in return. – “Aniyo, Aniyo.” – he spoke waving his hands. You hummed curious. Lee Yeon blinked surprised with a gasp when you had disappeared from before him.

“Curse a person?” – you wondered making Lee Yeon jump away from the sudden breath of yours on his neck. He held a hand onto it, staring in shock back at you. Slightly freaked out that you had appeared behind him. It made you laugh. Then your smile faltered, coming to stand very close to him.

Your stare darkening with anger. – “No curses!” – you let out. – “If I see you as much write down a curse, I’ll personally toss you off the mountain!” – making clear to him. Lee Yeon swallowed nervously. – “No cursing…” – he responded sheepishly. Your anger quickly settled, fluttering curiously with your eyes.

“Are you here alone?” – he asked. You turned away from him, your long robe waving behind you. – “Yes…” – you responded lowering your head. Taking one of the pillars, wrapping an arm around it. The boy came closer, making you lift your head back up.

“If you are lost, I can help you find your way to your home back.” – he spoke sounding so genuine. You laughed, rather to cope with the hard-reality. – “I can’t leave.” – you told him. Lee Yeon furrowed his brows. – “You see…” – you sighed soft letting go of the pillar. Moving further into the shrine.

Coming to kneel on the cushion before the alter. Taking a thin burner. Holding the tip in one of the candles, waiting for it to burn. Once it burned, you moved your hand to another candle that had gone out. Lee Yeon approached hesitantly coming to kneel beside you. Watching as you blew at the tip to sniff out the tiny flame.

The scent of smoke scenting the shrine. Lee Yeon turned his head from you to the alter. Seeing a small statue on it. Surrounded by candles and flowers. Well wishes written down, draping down the table. With a slight shock, he turned his head back to you. You lowered your head as a response.

This was a shrine to you. For you. A god trapped to her shrine for eternity. – “Who trapped you?” – Lee Yeon asked. – “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.” – responded with a smile, using it to hide your pain. Lee Yeon suddenly grabbed your hand, making you look back at him. – “Then I’ll come visit you whenever I can.” – he told you. You laughed soft finding him silly.

Lee Yeon looked a bit annoyed back at you for not believing him. – “Where is the paper?” – he demanded. You pointed somewhere to your side. Lee Yeon got up, taking a piece of paper. Picking up a brush from one of the pots. Dipping it into the ink. Holding his own wrist, he guided his hand into drawing down his words. Smooth and silk lines. Curiously you came peeking over his shoulder.

“What are you writing?” – you wondered as he hushed you into focusing. You stumbled back when he turned around. Holding his piece of paper proudly. You blinked a few times on purpose, reading from top to bottom. – “Mwo?” – you blurted out confused. – “It’s my promise to you.” – he responded going back to your shrine. He hung the promise on the wall. Bowing his head to your statue and portrait afterwards.

You followed him back outside. Waiting just that bit further away from the steps of your shrine. Where your limit was. Lee Yeon walked on to his sack. Picking it back up and throwing it over his shoulder. – “I’ll be back.” – he spoke with a determined nod. It made you smile. – “I’ll await you then.” – you responded.

Lee Yeon bowed to you before departing. Hiking back down the mountain. As written as promised, returned Lee Yeon not long after. Bearing appreciations. Keeping you company. Make sure your candles are lit and your prayers are all intact. Overtime he guided people to your shrine to send you well wishes and pray upon the good god.

Rewarding the gentle and optimistic god with well prayers for in return they would be blessed with well wishes and good luck. Lee Yeon and you spend much time together. Even when he was appointed God of the mountain. You enjoyed his company very much. Always looking forward to his visits.

Yet when a certain winter came, the visits took him longer to come. Having to wait longer for his sight. They became lesser and lesser. Each time waiting patiently for him at the steps of your shrine. The land covered in snow. Waiting for him to appear. The days became longer. The candles no longer burned. The warmth from the shrine had gone cold. A heart filling with sorrow and loneliness when there came no more visits. The shrine nothing more than a cold stamp in the mountains.

“Where are you going?” – Lee Yeon questioned. Approaching her from behind. Ji-a sighed loud, closing her notebook and tugging it away in her back pocket. – “Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” – she responded pulling out her phone. She moved it a bit around, trying to pin-point her location.

Lee Yeon looked along over her shoulder. Eyes widening as Ji-a’s finger hovered over a red dot on the map on her phone. He plucked the phone from her hand, moving it closer to his face. – “Ya!” – Ji-a called out annoyed. Going after him. Lee Yeon kept moving around as Ji-a had to circle after him to get her phone back.

Lee Yeon zoomed in on the map. – “Are you looking for Y/n’s shrine?” – he called out. Ji-a snatched her phone back when he had stopped walking around in circles. – “I heard some rumours about… wait you know her?” – Ji-a suddenly changed mid-way as his words had come fully through.

Lee Yeon nodded with a soft hum. Ji-a let her hand slap down on his arm. – “So you can take me!” – she called out with a demanding undertone. Lee Yeon looked briefly away. – “Maybe…” – he responded scratching his neck. Ji-a pulled at his arm, making him nearly tumble forwards.

“You are going to lead me to her shrine!” – her glare making the threat clear to him. He swallowed nervously upon her harsh look. He then rolled his eyes at her, moving past her. Ji-a moved happily before coming after him. – “So… what was this rumour you had heard?” – he asked curiously.

Intrigued what the rumour about you could be. – “That she has been trapped to that shrine and her bitterness is reflected in her wishes.” – Ji-a responded. Lee Yeon stopped firmly, Ji-a bumping against his back. In shock he turned around to her. – “That’s not true!” – he called out. – “Y/n her wishes only bring good fortune!” – he made clear that she was wrong.

Ji-a pulled her hands up. – “It’s just a rumour I have heard.” – she responded giving him a weird glance for taking it so personal. Lee Yeon looked offended, crossing his arms. – “You know nothing off her! She is nothing but kind and generous. That I can tell you.” – Lee Yeon spoke to make it clear to her. Afterall he knew you best. – “Shall we then?” – Ji-a gestured further up the hill.

Lee Yeon nodded taking the lead. Sensing that he started to get more nervous the closer he got up the hill. It has been a while since he had visited you. More than a hundred years. Letting his hand rub over his chest, he felt a bit uneasy. An ache in his heart that made itself aware to him once more. For having not come for all those years.

“How much further?” – Ji-as questioned with a groan of tiredness. – “Just a bit more. You can almost see the…” – he stopped himself pointing up. Yet his hand quickly lowered when there was not what he expected. Furrowing his brows, he felt uneasy that he couldn’t see the rooftops of your shrine. Normally he should be able to see them already. A wave of something bad overtook him. Making him sprint up the mountain.

“Lee Yeon!” – Ji-a called out, coming to run after him. He huffed and puffed, running up the hill. Coming to a sudden stop at the sight. His eyes wide with horror. The once beautiful shrine torn down. Barely anything left standing. Letting out a shocked breath, he dropped to his knees. Ji-a appeared on the hill out of breath. Catching her breath for a moment, before coming to join his side. Looking with wide eyes around as well.

His eyes widened even more upon remembering you. He hurried up to his feet, running over to the shrine. – “Y/n!” – he called out, lifting some wood up. Tossing it away to clear his way. – “Y/n!” – he shouted again. Eyes falling on the fallen prayers. Torn and broken.

Lee Yeon moved more wood aside, stepping over bricks from the rooftops to reach the shrine. – “Lee Yeon!” – Ji-a called out coming after him. Joining him into the shrine. Panting loud at the destruction of it. He hurried over to the alter, kneeling at the ripped portrait of you. – “I’m sorry.” – he whispered out, letting his hand brush over the rips.

His gaze then fell on a piece of paper, flapping with the soft wind. It made him reach out for it. Gently lifting a brick up to collect it. He only needed to read the first few words, knowing it was a promise. His promise. Ashamed he lowered his head that he had not visited you more sooner. Unable to withhold his promise.

Staring at the promise, it suddenly caught fire. Making him let go of it as it vaporized into thin air. – “What you seek here is long gone.” – he heard, making him turn his head. At the foot of the torn down shrine was you. – “Y/n!” – Lee Yeon called out, hurrying up to his feet to greet you. Running over rubble to reach you.

He wanted to reach and touch you, but stopped himself upon looking at you. All the bright colours from your robe were gone. Nothing but cold colours. – “Y/n?” – he spoke staring at your face. Seeing how the once ever so bright smile was gone. A neutral expression with barely anything of warmth or care in it.

“Lee Yeon… is that her?” – Ji-a spoke coming closer, stepping carefully over the rubble. You looked past him towards her. Expression hardening with a glare. Ji-a yelped loud when all the scattered around prayers caught fire. Vaporizing them from existence. Lee Yeon watched with worry.

You turned around stepping away from the rubble. – “Y/n!” – he said touching your arm. You moved your arm back, flinching from his touch. Sinking to the ground. You heard him approach, not wanting him near. Blaming him for carving in your heart. Lifting your chest up you let out a bone-chilling scream.

Making the mountains rumble. Lee Yeon moved his arm up to protect himself from the rubble swirling around. Hitting and cutting him all around. Screaming your lungs out till your last air. Falling forwards, hands setting on the ground, catching your breath.

Lee Yeon panted loud, slowly lowering his arms. He slowly got up watching you move to the side to come sit down on some rubble. – “Lee Yeon.” – Ji-a gasped out when he wanted to approach you again. Lee Yeon gestured to her to stay put. To keep her distance from him.

Lee Yeon slowly came to the front, kneeling before you. – “What happened Y/n?” – he asked. Your expression emotionless once more. – “We’re the ashes on the ground.” – you responded with apathy. – “Burning out, burning down.” – you continued staring beyond him. Eyes settled on him, but not seeing him.

Lee Yeon lowered his head with shame. – “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise Y/n.” – he apologized, placing a hand on your knee. No reaction came from you. – “You’re sinking through the night.” – you told him in a monotone voice. – “Y/n please.” – Lee Yeon begged taking your hand firm in his. Begging you to be your old self again. 

Touching your cheek with a quick breath, he hoped to see some light in your eyes once more. – “Please…” – he repeated, hoping there was still something left inside of you. He lowered his head with a loud sob, when he couldn’t see anything in you.

Not responding. Remaining still, lost in yourself. His hand slid down, sobbing quietly at the loss of someone dear. Crying to the feeling of grief. Having lost you to loneliness and isolation. For it was his own fault not upholding a promise. A promise he had once made a long time ago.

----------------------------------------------

you wake rested. that unsettles you more than fear ever did.

the space — residence, compound, you never settle on a name — is not extravagant in obvious ways. no gold. no excess. just space arranged so nothing collides. corners rounded. floors that absorb sound. windows that don’t frame views so much as curate them — city, sky, distance. always distance.

your clothes appear without being announced. not laid out. simply present in the wardrobe, tailored to your size, your posture, your preferences. fabrics that don’t itch. colors you gravitate toward without realizing you’ve been consistent. shoes already broken in at the heel, as if worn by someone else with your gait.

you check for cameras the first week. you find none. that does not reassure you.

breakfast is optional. so is lunch. dinner happens when you are hungry, not at a scheduled hour. if you skip meals, nothing happens. no comment. no concern. the refrigerator refills itself quietly overnight, items replaced with uncanny accuracy. the mug you always reach fo r— the one with the small hairline crack near the rim — returns cleaned, warmed slightly, as if anticipating your hands.

you tell yourself these are comforts designed to pacify. you also tell yourself they are working.

when you leave, there is no ceremony. no “be careful.” no reminder to return. a car is simply there when you step outside, its presence so natural it takes you three days to realize you’ve never seen it arrive. the driver never looks at you in the mirror. he knows where you’re going before you say it, but if you change your mind mid-route, he adjusts without comment.

you test this. you say a café name wrong on purpose — one that closed years ago. the car turns anyway. halfway there, your phone buzzes.

it reopened under new ownership. same address.

you stare at the screen, then at the street ahead, and say nothing. the café exists. of course it does.

you are allowed to travel. cities, if you want them. borders, too. passports appear in a drawer one morning, aligned perfectly, multiple citizenships you don’t remember earning. the escort changes depending on the location — sometimes visible, sometimes not. you are never told who they are. you are never introduced. you are never warned. you are never alone.

money becomes abstract. accounts you didn’t open fund themselves. cards work everywhere. limits do not exist unless you invent them. you could buy something obscene if you wanted to — property, silence, influence. 

you don’t. instead, you take work. freelance. remote. something you can justify to yourself as continuity rather than reinvention. the contracts arrive vetted, fair, unintrusive. no nda’s that scream danger. no employers who ask personal questions. you deliver work. you are paid promptly. praise is polite, measured, forgettable.

you realize, eventually, that the work exists to give your days edges. without it, time would blur.

yo-han does not hover. that is perhaps the most unnerving part.

he is present without proximity. you feel him the way one feels pressure changes — doors open more easily when he’s in the building. conversations end more quickly. people choose words with greater care. when he enters a room, nothing dramatic happens. no one straightens. no one falls silent. the air simply rearranges itself around him.

sometimes you see him at night, a light on in another room, the quiet movement of a man who does not sleep so much as pause. sometimes days pass without a glimpse. he never asks where you’re going. he never asks what you’re thinking. you understand, slowly, that questions would be redundant.

weeks settle into pattern. the pattern settles into normalcy. that is when you begin to panic — not sharply, not visibly, but in the low, crawling way that feels like betrayal of something you promised yourself you would never accept.

you decide to make a wrong choice. not an escape attempt. that would be dramatic. predictable. too clean. you choose something inefficient.

you wake one morning and announce — casually, almost carelessly — that you want to drive yourself. no driver. no escort. you want a car from the street — something rented, something ordinary. you want to go somewhere pointless. a place with no relevance. a detour.

there is a pause. not from yo-han — he isn’t there — but from the world itself. a fraction of a second where nothing resists you, and nothing assists. then: permission.

keys are waiting downstairs. the car is forgettable. not armored. not special. the rental paperwork is already in the glove compartment, your name signed in ink you don’t remember applying.

you drive. traffic is worse than expected, and that feels promising. you miss a turn deliberately. you take a road that leads nowhere. you stop for gas at a station that smells like oil and burnt coffee. no one recognizes you. no one watches too closely. your chest loosens. just a little. 

inside the convenience store, you make the second wrong choice. you argue with the cashier. it’s petty. meaningless. the price of something rings up wrong, and instead of waving it off, you press. your voice tightens. the exchange draws attention. a man behind you sighs loudly. the cashier stiffens.

for a moment — one fragile, dangerous moment — you feel friction. then the manager appears. apologetic. over-accommodating. the price is corrected. you are offered a discount. a free drink. the cashier looks relieved rather than angry, as if the reprimand was diverted somewhere else entirely.

you leave with the wrongness dissolving behind you.

back in the car, your phone buzzes again.

that location has had staffing issues. they won’t be a problem anymore.

you pull over. your hands shake — not violently, not enough to be seen — but you press them flat against the steering wheel until the tremor subsides. you understand now. not fully, but enough. the system does not correct you. it corrects around you.

by the time you return, the day has smoothed itself back into silence. dinner is ready, warm but not steaming, timed to your arrival. the apartment smells faintly of something grounding — wood, tea, nothing you can name. yo-han is there this time, standing near the window.

“you drove,” he notes. not a question.

“yes.”

he nods once, as if confirming a hypothesis. “did it help?”

you consider lying. you don’t.

“no.”

he accepts this without reaction. no triumph. no rebuke. just data received, processed, stored.

that night, lying in bed, you stare at the ceiling and realize the truth you have been circling all day. there is no wrong choice here. there is only choice that has already been prepared for — and choice that will be. and the safety you are wrapped in does not feel like shelter anymore. it feels like foresight.

─────

you start to understand yo-han the way one understands a storm that never quite breaks — by watching how the air changes before the first drop ever falls.

it begins with small things. things you don’t register as decisions.

you wake later one morning, not from exhaustion but from something dull and resistant lodged behind your ribs. a reluctance. you stay in bed an extra twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, letting the quiet stretch too long. you expect — irrationally — for something to push back against that delay. a knock. a message. consequence. nothing comes.

when you finally rise, the room has shifted. not visibly. subtly. the light is dimmer than usual, the temperature slightly warmer. the coffee machine — silent — has not started on its own. you make it manually. the mug is still there, but the crack has been turned away from your mouth.

you didn’t ask for any of this. that’s what unsettles you.

you begin to notice the pattern after that. how the world seems to move half a step ahead of you, like someone finishing your sentences without interrupting. when you grow quieter, sound drains from the home. when you linger in doorways, transitions soften — doors open more slowly, elevators wait longer. when you skip dinner two nights in a row, the third night’s food is simpler. easier. something meant to be eaten without thinking.

you wonder, once, if this is kindness. you discard the thought as soon as it forms. kindness requires uncertainty. this does not.

yo-han watches you without looking. you’ll be sitting across a room from him — reading, scrolling, pretending not to be catalogued — and feel the moment he registers a shift. your breathing changes, just slightly. your shoulders tighten. you haven’t decided anything yet, but something in you has turned inward, defensive, preparing.

he does not comment. he adjusts the room instead. a light clicks off somewhere behind you. a screen dims. a conversation you didn’t realize was happening through a wall goes silent. the pressure inside your chest eases before you’ve named it.

that’s when you understand — he isn’t responding to your behavior. he’s responding to your thresholds. 

you test this. not dramatically. not recklessly. you are not trying to be punished. you are trying to be seen.

the first test is silence. you stop speaking unless necessary. not cold. not hostile. just absent. you give one-word answers. you don’t ask questions. you let conversations die naturally, like fires deprived of oxygen.

yo-han does not fill the space. instead, people stop talking to you as much. meetings shorten. interactions become efficient, streamlined. no one pushes for more than you offer. silence becomes frictionless.

you feel yourself disappearing inside it — and hate how easy that feels.

the second test is withdrawal. you stop appearing where you are expected. you skip routines. you take longer routes home. you spend hours in places where no one would think to look for you — parks at odd hours, empty galleries, cafés that smell like nothing and remember no one.

you expect to feel pursued. you are not. instead, the city rearranges itself to cradle you. benches are empty when you arrive. lines shorten inexplicably. rain seems to hold off until you’re inside. you feel watched not like prey — but like weather being tracked on a screen.

yo-han does not ask where you’ve been. that is worse than being asked.

the third test is defiance. it’s mild. almost polite.

he suggests something — an event, a dinner, a timeline — and you say no. not sharply. just calmly. you hold his gaze when you do it, waiting for tension, for correction, for the snap of control finally revealing itself.

there is a pause. not hesitation. calculation.

“alright,” he says. the word lands without weight. no disappointment. no edge. later, you realize the event has been rescheduled. the dinner delayed. the timeline altered so that your refusal changes nothing — but also costs nothing. your defiance has been… integrated.

that night, you lie awake, cataloguing your own failures like evidence. you have not been punished. you have not been corrected. you have not even been warned. every boundary you press dissolves into accommodation. every sharp edge you offer is sanded smooth.

you begin to understand that this system does not need your compliance because it does not rely on force. force creates resistance. resistance creates noise. noise creates witnesses. this system absorbs.

yo-han finally addresses it — not directly, not as a confession, but as a statement of fact spoken into the air between you. “you don’t need to brace,” he says one evening, not looking at you. “i would notice before you did.”

your throat tightens. “notice what?”

“discomfort,” he replies. “fear. the moment before decision.”

you swallow. “and then?”

he turns to you then. really looks. “then i adjust.”

the simplicity of it steals your breath. you realize, with a cold clarity that settles deep and permanent, that resistance here is not dangerous because it will be crushed. resistance is dangerous because it will be learned. because every time you pull away, the system stretches with you. every time you push, it yields — just enough to map the force.

you are not being controlled. you are being studied. and the most terrifying truth of all takes shape quietly, without drama, without panic. there is nothing you can do inside this structure that has not already been planned for.

resistance is not punished. it is absorbed.

─────

you ask for the file on a day that feels deliberately unimportant. not during a breakdown. not after a nightmare. not after a wave of grief that demands meaning. the need rises quietly, like thirst — persistent, rational, impossible to ignore.

not for justice. not for restoration. not even for closure. just to know. you say his name once, evenly, “tae-joong.”

then you continue, “i want the records.”

yo-han doesn’t ask why. he nods, already standing, already moving toward one of the smaller rooms — no windows, muted light, the kind of space designed for information, not comfort. your phone loses signal as soon as you step inside. you notice. you always notice.

a tablet is placed in front of you.

“this is complete,” he says. “nothing curated. nothing hidden.”

that’s the warning. you touch the screen. it wakes instantly.

park tae-joong. former inmate number. case designation. status: released.

the word doesn’t register at first. released. not overturned. not cleared. not exonerated. just released. time served. sentence completed. case closed by attrition, not truth.

you scroll. the early pages are familiar in structure — intake data, institutional language, documentation stripped of identity. photos that reduce him to angles and lighting and compliance. medical notes. behavioral assessments.

then the graphs change direction. stabilization. weight normalization. sleep improvement. psych evaluation: adapted. the word feels wrong. but real.

you keep scrolling. post-release data appears. sparse. civilian. unremarkable. new city. new job. no criminal associations. no incidents. no flagged behavior. no online footprint beyond necessity. there’s an address. not a facility. not a halfway house. an apartment in a quiet district near nothing important.

employment logs: warehouse work, then logistics coordination. night shifts. consistent hours. no gaps. you stop when you see a photo.

not a mugshot. surveillance, distant, grainy. he looks older. thinner in the face. hair longer. standing outside a corner grocery store with a paper bag in his hands. he’s wearing a jacket you don’t recognize. he looks… ordinary. not broken. not dramatic. not waiting. just existing.

you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until your lungs burn. yo-han hasn’t moved. he isn’t watching your face. he’s listening to your breathing.

you scroll again. no interviews. no lawsuits. no public statements. no attempts to reopen the case or activism. no noise. he didn’t fight the system. he exited it. chose disappearance over resistance. quiet over vengeance. survival over narrative.

there’s a line in the psychological summary that reads: subject exhibits no fixation on past case. displays future-oriented behavior. emotional affect regulated. no observable rumination.

moved on. not healed. not vindicated. but living.

you sit back slowly. the grief that rises in you is strange — not sharp, not consuming. it’s not loss. it’s distance. the ache of realizing someone you loved no longer exists in your life not because they died — but because they continued. 

without you. without the story. without the need to be understood. you feel something else too. something smaller. quieter. relief not happiness or peace. but relief that his life is not defined by what was done to him.

yo-han speaks softly, neutrally. “he chose anonymity.”

you nod once.

“he could have tried to expose it,” you say.

“yes.”

“he didn’t.”

“no.”

there’s no judgment in yo-han’s voice. only recognition. you stare at the last entry. no further monitoring required. closed file. you understand the weight of that phrase now. not erased. not corrected. just finished.

you exhale slowly. and the realization settles into you — not violently, not dramatically, but with quiet, permanent clarity. your grief is not dangerous to Yo-han. but your hope would have been. because hope would have pulled outward. toward justice, exposure, disruption.  

but this — this is quiet. this is acceptance without resolution. this is a man choosing a small, invisible life over a loud, impossible truth. this is survival without spectacle.

you close the file. the tablet goes dark. the room feels still, contained, controlled. yo-han doesn’t speak. he doesn’t need to. you understand now.

not everything broken becomes a weapon. not every injustice becomes a revolution. some people simply leave the story. and in that quiet exit, you realize the truth that settles heaviest of all — grief is safe. relief is manageable. distance is containable.

but hope — hope would have demanded change. and this world does not survive change. it survives silence.

─────

yo-han chooses the timing carefully.

not after the file. not during the quiet shock that followed it. he waits until your breathing has normalized, until your routines have reknit themselves around the new knowledge, until grief has finished settling into something livable. he understands pacing. he understands that people hear truth only after their bodies stop arguing with it.

the room is familiar — one of the neutral spaces, designed to leave no residue. no windows. matte surfaces. a table that absorbs reflection instead of returning it. the lights are set low enough to be gentle, and high enough to be clinical.

you sit. he remains standing. he does not frame this as a conversation.

“this isn’t an explanation,” he says, calmly. “and it isn’t justification.”

you don’t respond. you’ve learned when responses are irrelevant.

“i don’t need absolution,” he continues. “and i don’t ask forgiveness. those concepts are inefficient. they assume regret.”

he meets your eyes — not searching, not probing. measuring. “i’m telling you this because you will understand it.”

that lands heavier than comfort would have. he moves to the table, rests his hands on its edge, fingers spread slightly. not a claim. not a threat. a posture of emphasis.

“most people believe containment is about force,” he says. “bars. walls. violence. those are visible. they create resistance. resistance escalates.”

you think of prisons. of cells. of systems that grind loudly enough to be heard.

“that isn’t my work,” yo-han says. “my work is frictionless.”

he lets the word sit between you.

“i contain outcomes,” he continues. “i contain narratives. i contain people who would otherwise destabilize structures that keep far more people alive than they destroy.”

you wait for the moment when he speaks about morality. it doesn’t come.

“most people i contain,” he says, “believe they are dangerous because they are loud.” he shifts, finally sitting across from you. the distance between the chairs is deliberate. close enough for clarity. far enough to avoid intimacy. “they fight. they threaten. they rage. they announce themselves.” a pause. “they are easy.”

you swallow. you know this already. you’ve seen it. people who burn themselves out screaming at walls designed to absorb sound.

“you,” he says, and the word feels surgical, “are different.”

the room feels smaller — not because it has changed, but because you have been placed at its center.

“you are not dangerous because you fight,” yo-han continues evenly. “you are dangerous because you endure.”

your chest tightens — not in fear, but recognition.

“you adapt,” he says. “you absorb loss without leaking it outward. you restructure your life instead of freezing it at the moment of damage. you do not require witnesses.”

he watches you closely now — not your face, not your hands. your breathing. the way you hold yourself upright without rigidity.

“people like you,” he says, “do not collapse systems by attacking them. they erode them. quietly. over time. simply by continuing.”

yhe words settle into you like weight.

“you don’t seek justice,” he continues. “you seek stability. you don’t seek revenge. you seek function. you don’t demand truth. you learn to live beside its absence.”

you think of tae-joong. of the file. of the quiet life he chose. of how nothing exploded, and how devastating that was.

“that is why i didn’t remove you,” yo-han says. “and why i didn’t break you.”

you look at him then. “you think breaking me would have been easier.”

“yes,” he replies without hesitation. “and ineffective.”

silence stretches. it is not awkward. it is precise.

“broken people are unpredictable,” he continues. “they generate noise. they attract attention. they destabilize more than they should.”

his gaze sharpens slightly. “enduring people are far worse.” you feel something cold slide into place inside you — not fear, not anger. understanding. “enduring people remember,” he says. “they outlast. they adapt to containment and eventually make it obsolete.”

you exhale slowly.

“so you keep me close,” you reply.

“yes.”

“so you can watch me.”

“so i can adjust,” he corrects. the distinction matters to him. you understand why.

“if you were suffering loudly,” yo-han continues, “i would have intervened. if you were destructive, i would have ended it. if you were reckless, i would have redirected you.”

he pauses. his voice lowers — not in threat, but in gravity. “but you are none of those things.”

the room feels very still.

“you are surviving,” he says. “and survival, sustained long enough, becomes leverage.”

you feel the truth of it settle through you, heavy and undeniable. you have not been fighting this structure. you have been living inside it. learning its seams. adjusting to its pressure points without ever naming them. that is what he fears. that is why he is here.

“if you ever stopped enduring,” yo-han says calmly, “i would have to end you.”

there is no edge to the sentence. no warning in it. no emotion at all. you don’t flinch. you believe him instantly. because it doesn’t feel like a threat. it feels like maintenance. the way one replaces a failing component before it compromises the whole system. the way something valuable is removed not out of anger, but necessity.

yo-han watches your breathing steady again. he notes the absence of panic. the absence of denial.

“good,” he says quietly. “you understand.”

you do. and that understanding settles into you with terrifying clarity. you are not being kept because you are fragile. you are being kept because you are durable. and durability, in a world built on control, is the most dangerous trait of all.

─────

you notice yo-han’s fractures the way you noticed everyone else’s once — by accident first, then with intent. it isn’t announced. there is no moment where the illusion drops cleanly. just a pattern that fails to repeat.

you wake at night, and the light is still on in the adjacent room. not new. it has been on before. what’s different is the hour. and then the next night. and the one after that. the light moves, sometimes — desk to window to kitchen — but it never goes out.

you start keeping time without meaning to. he doesn’t sleep the way people do. he pauses. he goes still. he closes his eyes without surrendering consciousness, the way someone does in hostile territory. when he does sleep, it’s brief and unanchored — thirty minutes, forty-five, never long enough to enter rest. you recognize the signs because you’ve lived them before.

when he wakes, there’s no disorientation. just continuation.

food follows the same logic. you realize one afternoon that you haven’t seen him eat in days  —not properly. coffee, yes. liquids. nutrition reduced to function. meals arrive untouched, cooling where they’re placed until someone quietly removes them again. no fuss. no comment.

you tell yourself it isn’t your concern. you tell yourself that noticing is not the same as responsibility. and then, without planning it, you ask, “have you eaten?”

he looks at you — not startled, not offended. curious.

“i don’t need to,” he says. the answer is factual, not defensive.

you nod. accept it. and later — casually, as if it’s incidental — you sit with food and don’t move until he joins you. you don’t invite him. you don’t insist. you simply occupy the space long enough that absence becomes inefficient.

he eats. not much. but enough.

you don’t comment. neither does he.

rhat’s how it begins. you start to see how much of yo-han’s control is not effortless, but maintained. the constant vigilance beneath the stillness. the way his attention never fully disengages, not even in silence. the way he listens even when nothing is being said.

you realize he is always working. not in bursts. not in crises. continuously. and that kind of control — sustained without interruption — comes at a cost.

you begin adjusting things without naming it. you draw curtains at night so the city doesn’t demand his attention. you lower the volume of rooms he doesn’t need to hear. you redirect conversations before they reach him when you sense the early signs of irritation — the tightening of his jaw, the fractional pause before response.

you don’t do this out of loyalty. you do it the way you once did it for tae-joong. the way you learned to do it for people who live too close to collapse without admitting it. stabilization as instinct.

yo-han notices, of course. he always notices. the first time he calls it out, it isn’t confrontational.

“you’re intervening,” he says mildly, one evening, as if naming the weather. you freeze for half a second. not in fear. in assessment.

“i didn’t mean to,” you say.

“i know.”

that’s the most unsettling part. 

he lets it continue. that takes longer to register.

days pass. then weeks. you keep softening edges, absorbing noise, creating pauses where none existed. you learn the rhythm of his fatigue — the exact moment his attention thins, the way his patience shortens not with anger, but with narrowing focus.

you fill those gaps without instruction. he sleeps longer when you’re near. eats more regularly when you sit with him. delegates more efficiently when you reframe problems aloud, not as solutions, but as sequences. he listens. adjusts. incorporates.

you realize one night, standing in the kitchen while water boils, that his system has expanded to include you. not as an accessory. as infrastructure.

the thought should terrify you. instead, it feels inevitable. you test it — once. quietly. you stop intervening for a day. you don’t lower the lights. don’t redirect conversations. don’t anchor his schedule. you stay present but inert.

by evening, the house feels sharper. sounds carry farther. decisions stack without resolution. yo-han grows quieter — not outwardly strained, but denser, like pressure building under glass. he doesn’t ask for help. je never would.

you step back in before it fractures. that night, when the world settles again, you understand the truth with a cold, steady clarity — this isn’t something you took. it’s something he allowed.

he could have stopped it. redirected you. removed the access point. he knows exactly how to do that. he didn’t. because containment is easier when someone else shares the load. because vigilance, sustained alone, degrades. because you do for him what you have always done — quietly, efficiently, without demanding acknowledgment.

you stabilize him. and the most dangerous realization of all settles into place, heavy and irreversible — you are no longer being maintained. you are maintaining him. and yo-han — who plans for every variable, who eliminates every uncontrolled element — has chosen to let that happen.

which means this is no longer containment. it’s entanglement.

─────

yo-han does not ask lightly. you know this because of where he does it.

not in the common rooms. not in the places designed for ease or observation. he brings you into a smaller space — an operations room stripped of comfort, screens set flush into the walls, light calibrated for clarity rather than warmth. the air hums faintly, alive with data moving somewhere just beyond perception.

you are not escorted. that alone is a request.

he doesn’t sit immediately. he stands beside the table, hands behind his back, posture exact. the screens wake as you enter, blooming into maps, timelines, faces reduced to still images and identifiers.

“this is ongoing,” he says. no preamble. no framing. “and time-sensitive.”

you step closer without being told to.

he doesn’t explain the operation at first. he lets you look. you see movement patterns, supply routes, intercepted communications translated into clean lines of text. names you don’t know. places you’ve never been. the kind of violence that doesn’t announce itself until it’s already finished.

“this ends in loss,” yo-han says quietly. “that is unavoidable.”

you glance at him. he isn’t watching the screens. he’s watching you.

“what kind?” you ask. he inclines his head slightly. approval, not deference.

“collateral,” he says. “acceptable by current metrics.”

the word acceptable lands wrong in your body. you feel it register somewhere behind your ribs, tight and immovable. he notices.

“that reaction,” he says, “is why you’re here.”

he walks you through it then — methodical, precise. if he intervenes directly, the primary targets are neutralized quickly, cleanly. the cost is high but contained. if he delays, the structure weakens, spreads, destabilizes. more chaos. more unpredictable loss later. either way, people die.

 he finishes and waits. not impatiently. not expectantly. just… open.

“what would you do?” he asks. the question is surgical. no demand hidden inside it. no trap. he isn’t asking you to justify his choices or carry his guilt. he isn’t asking for permission. he’s asking for perspective.

you look back at the screens. at the lives flattened into vectors and probabilities. you feel the old instinct rise — the one that looks for where the system bends, not where it breaks.

“i wouldn’t choose between these outcomes,” you say slowly. yo-han doesn’t interrupt. “i’d change the sequence,” you continue. “you’re treating this like a closed system. it isn’t.”

you point — not to the targets, but to the periphery. a supply node. a secondary contact. a delay that looks insignificant on paper but ripples outward in time.

“you intervene here,” you say. “quietly. you let this fracture internally instead of detonating it from the outside.”

he studies the spot you indicate. zooms in. runs projections in silence.

“it takes longer,” he notes.

“yes.”

“and the risk increases.”

“yes.”

his eyes flick back to you. “why do that?”

“because this the only thing that creates exits,” you reply. “for the people caught in the middle. for the ones who aren’t choosing this.”

silence stretches. not heavy. focused. you swallow. he considers this. not morally. structurally. he nods once. decisive.

“i’ll adjust the plan,” he says to the room. to someone unseen. to the system itself. the screens reconfigure. timelines shift. red markers fade to amber. some disappear entirely. you feel it then — the weight of it. not relief. responsibility.

yo-han turns to you. his gaze is unreadable — not grateful, not relieved.

“your perspective introduces inefficiency,” he says.

you brace.

“and adaptability,” he continues. “that is… valuable.”

the word lands heavier than praise ever could. he dismisses you without ceremony. the room powers down behind you as you leave, lights dimming like a held breath finally released.

later, alone, you sit with the knowledge. you don’t know their names. you’ll never see their faces again. they will move through their lives unaware of the narrow margin that targets them.

but you will know. and that knowing settles in your chest, dense and unmoving. because this wasn’t theoretical. this wasn’t a conversation. this was your first alteration.

the quiet truth presses in, unavoidable and terrifying — yo-han did not ask you what you thought. he asked you what you would change. and now that you have — there will be more.

─────

you are never asked to hurt anyone. that is how it stays clean.

yo-han does not put weapons in your hands. he does not show you blood. he does not ask you to decide who deserves to disappear. those decisions have already been made long before you enter the room.

what he asks for is quieter. language. timing. sequence.

you sit beside him — or across from him, or sometimes alone with access he pretends not to notice — and you help shape how events will be understood. not what happens, but how it lands. where the blame settles. how outrage moves through a population like weather, predictable if you know the pressure systems.

you learn to spot the inflection points. if this statement is released before dawn, anger turns inward. if it’s delayed until evening, it turns outward. if a name is withheld, curiosity replaces fury. if it’s leaked improperly, the public consumes it too fast to metabolize it into action.

you help frame narratives. not lies. that’s too crude. truths, arranged. you help predict reactions.

yo-han brings you profiles — analysts, journalists, minor officials, activists with just enough reach to matter. you study patterns — who needs moral clarity, who needs ambiguity, who collapses under attention, and who grows louder. you map their responses the way someone else might map fault lines.

“here,” you say once, pointing to a projected cascade of responses. “this person won’t escalate. they’ll withdraw. they always do when the ground shifts under them.”

yo-han adjusts the plan accordingly. someone is spared exposure. someone else absorbs it instead.

you help soften collateral damage. that’s the phrase you use when you need to sleep. 

you suggest pauses. gradual disclosures. off-ramps that allow people to disengage without humiliation. you advocate for delays that look like inefficiency but prevent panic. you recommend silence where noise would be devastating.

every time, the outcome improves. fewer arrests. less chaos. reduced backlash. cleaner resolution. it works. that’s the problem.

you tell yourself it’s harm reduction. you tell yourself that if you weren’t here, someone colder would be doing this work. someone who wouldn’t hesitate. someone who wouldn’t bother adjusting the plan to save a handful of anonymous lives. you tell yourself you’re mitigating damage, not enabling it.

and yo-han never contradicts you. he doesn’t praise you either. he simply incorporates your input as if it were always meant to be there, as if the system has been waiting for this variable all along.

you notice how rarely he intervenes directly now. how often he asks, “what happens if we let this stand?” or, “who absorbs the cost if this goes public?” or, most dangerously, “what’s the quietest way through?”

you answer. you always answer. because the alternative — the unoptimized version, the blunt-force outcome — is worse. you can see it clearly. you’ve been trained to.

one night, much later, you are alone with an old file. not one he gives you. one you request. tae-joong’s name sits at the top of the screen.

you don’t open it immediately. your chest tightens, not with grief exactly, but with a familiar, creeping dread — the sense of recognizing something too late. when you do open it, the structure is unmistakable.

the sequence. the framing. the timing of disclosures. the way public opinion was guided, not pushed. the way doubt was seeded just deeply enough to metastasize. the way truth was never denied — only delayed, diluted, reframed until it no longer mattered.

you see it with terrifying clarity now — how his name became synonymous with guilt without ever being proven so. how each step was defensible. how every decision could be justified as necessary, strategic, regrettable but unavoidable. how no one had to touch him to destroy him.

you sit back, breath shallow. this is what you’ve been doing. not to him. not again. but to others whose names you will never know. people whose lives bend quietly under the weight of narratives shaped for efficiency rather than mercy.

you understand now why Yo-han was never defensive about tae-joong. why he allowed you grief but never hope. because hope would require admitting that this machine — this elegant, bloodless machine — can be wrong.

you close the file. the room feels colder, sharper, as if the air itself has learned something it can’t unlearn. you are not innocent. you never were. but this is the moment it crystallizes, heavy and irreversible —  you now understand exactly how tae-joong was destroyed.

and worse — you understand it because you are capable of doing it too.

─────

yo-han asks the question without ceremony. no lead-up. no context. no operational urgency to hide behind.

it happens in the quiet aftermath of a completed cycle — screens dimmed, reports archived, the world outside temporarily stable because you both have bent it that way. you are standing near the window. he is behind you, far enough away to preserve distance, close enough that his presence feels structural.

“do you hate me?”

the words are precise. controlled. not emotional. that is what makes them dangerous.

you don’t turn around. not because you’re afraid to meet his eyes, but because you need the extra second the glass gives you — the faint reflection, the doubled image, the space to see yourself and him at once.

you don’t answer immediately. he doesn’t push. you realize, dimly, that this is the first time he has ever waited for something he can’t predict.

you search yourself honestly. not for the answer you should give. not for the one that would keep you safe. for the one that’s actually there. 

hatred would be cleaner. hatred would imply separation. opposition. a line you could draw and defend. but what you feel is messier. more invasive. you exhale slowly.

“i don’t know,” you admit at last. and it’s true — but not the whole truth. you turn then, finally facing him. yo-han is watching you with an intensity you’ve only ever seen when a system is on the brink of failure — not panicked, not frantic, but perfectly, terrifyingly focused.

“i used to think hating you would be inevitable,” you continue. “like gravity. like something i could rely on to orient myself.” he doesn’t move. “but hate assumes distance,” you say quietly. “and i don’t think there is any left.”

the room feels suspended. even the low hum of the building seems to recede, as if the structure itself is listening.

“you didn’t force this,” you add, because accuracy matters. “you didn’t coerce me. you didn’t threaten me into becoming this version of myself.”

his jaw tightens — not defensively. acknowledging the point.

“you let me in,” you say. “you made space. you adjusted. you asked instead of ordered.” you swallow. your chest feels tight, crowded with a realization that has been circling for days, weeks, longer.

“and now,” you continue, voice steady despite everything, “i don’t know where i end and the system begins.” 

that’s when you say it. the thing worse than hatred.

“i don’t know who i’d be without you anymore.”

the words fall into the room like something fragile breaking. yo-han goes very still. not the poised stillness you’re used to. not readiness. not vigilance.

rhis is different. his breath pauses — not stops, just misaligns. a fractional delay between inhale and exhale, as if his body has momentarily forgotten the sequence. his hands, usually so deliberate, remain half-open at his sides, fingers neither relaxed nor clenched.

you have seen him absorb threats. losses. failures. you have never seen him absorb this. because hatred could be contained. hatred would validate the structure. prove the boundaries still exist. but what you’ve given him instead is dependency — mirrored, unclean, impossible to categorize.

you watch understanding move through him in real time, slow and devastating. this wasn’t a test of your morality. it was a test of himself. to see whether he had crossed a line he never intended to approach. to see whether containment had quietly become integration.

“you’re saying,” he finally says, voice lower than before, carefully calibrated, “that removing me would destabilize you.”

“yes,” you answer. no hesitation.

“and that destabilization,” he says, eyes never leaving yours, “would make you dangerous.”

you nod once. “yes.”

silence stretches again — but this time it’s different. loaded. structural. like a load-bearing column has cracked and both of you can feel it. yo-han looks away first. it is the smallest movement. a recalibration. but you catch it.

you are no longer an external conscience. you are no longer a corrective influence. you are a variable embedded too deeply to remove without collapse. and as the room settles back into its controlled quiet, one truth hums beneath everything else, undeniable and newly terrifying — you don’t hate yo-han. and now he knows exactly how much that costs you both.

─────

you leave without spectacle. no alarms. no chase. no last look over your shoulder.

the exit is procedural — credentials that deactivate cleanly, a vehicle that does not linger, a route that dissolves behind you as if it had never existed. yo-han does not watch you go. you know this because if he were watching, you would feel it. the absence is deliberate. a courtesy. or a boundary.

the outside world meets you like noise. not sound exactly — overlap. too many inputs arriving without hierarchy. advertisements compete with sirens. people cross streets against signals that were never calibrated to them. conversations spill into each other, unresolved, uncontained. the air smells like heat and metal and impatience.

you flinch more than you expect. your body reaches for rhythms that aren’t there. predictive quiet. spaces that make room before you ask. systems that absorb error instead of punishing it.

here, inefficiency is worn like a badge of honor. you stay in places chosen for anonymity. hotels that smell like industrial detergent. cafés where no one remembers your order. streets where your face dissolves into a thousand others and no one tracks your breathing.

freedom is loud. you sleep badly. not from fear — from exposure. your nervous system keeps trying to optimize the room — catalog exits, mute extraneous sound, anticipate disruptions. there’s nothing to interface with. no structure to lean against. you wake exhausted.

on the third day, you watch an argument unfold at a bus stop. two strangers escalate over nothing — timing, space, perceived disrespect. no one intervenes until it tips too far. when it does, the intervention is clumsy. late. punitive instead of preventative.

you realize what you’re seeing isn’t chaos. it’s unmanaged human behavior. no buffers. no recalibration. just reaction stacked on reaction until damage becomes inevitable.

you used to think safety meant absence of control. now you understand it also means presence of care — even when that care is cold, even when it’s compromised.

you check the news too often. old habits. you see the subtle signs immediately — the places where yo-han’s hand could have steadied something and didn’t. the narratives that fracture instead of bend. the names that surface and burn too brightly, too fast.

by the end of the week, you stop pretending this is unfamiliar territory. you know exactly where you are. you’ve been here before — before systems, before containment, before someone noticed how you endure and decided to build around it. this version of you is functional, yes. alive. autonomous. but brittle.

you miss the silence between decisions. you miss the way rooms waited for you to finish thinking. you miss how consequences arrived softened, spaced, survivable. you miss gravity.

rhe decision forms without drama. no ultimatum. no revelation. just recognition. you return the same way you left — unannounced, unescorted. the perimeter reads you, hesitates, then yields. doors open because they still know your shape.

inside, everything feels smaller again. quieter. your breath evens out before you realize it has. yo-han isn’t waiting in the open. he never would be. he appears only after the system confirms what your body already knows. you are home.

he looks at you once. not searching. not relieved. acknowledging.

“you chose to return,” he stipulates.

“yes.”

a pause. he absorbs the data.

“why?” he asks — not to interrogate, but to calibrate.

you answer honestly. “because this place has weight.”

a faint, almost imperceptible shift passes through him. not satisfaction. something closer to gravity answering gravity. he inclines his head. acceptance, not triumph.

“you came back,” he confirms, voice soft.

“yes.”

yo-han watches the footage again. the timestamps don’t lie, but they also don’t explain. tae-joong wakes on time. eats regularly. shows up to work without deviation. his stress markers — missed calls, erratic movement, unaccounted hours — are lower than projected for someone in his socioeconomic bracket.

you are always there. not intrusively or possessively. you exist in the background of his life like a stabilizing force no one thinks to question. you remind him of appointments. you fold yourself into his habits without altering their shape. you listen when he talks, and more importantly, you don’t push when he doesn’t.

yo-han has built his career on men like tae-joong.

men who crack. people who spiral when pressure is applied slowly, deliberately, the way heat is applied to glass. those who isolate. individuals who make mistakes loud enough to echo. the ones who become believable monsters once fear has been given enough room to breathe.

tae-joong does none of this — because of you. that makes you a problem.

yo-han does not consider eliminating you. that would be crude. too visible. it would alter tae-joong’s trajectory in unpredictable ways, introduce grief where there should be confusion, rage where there should be paralysis.

instead, yo-han does what he always does. he adjusts the timeline. not to remove you — but to account for you.

he begins to learn you the way he learns crime scenes — patiently, without sentiment. he doesn’t follow you in the traditional sense. he doesn’t need to. the modern world is generous with its leftovers.

he learns what you touch.

door handles. coffee lids. the chipped ceramic mug you favor at home, the one tae-joong never uses. the sleeve of his jacket when you straighten it absentmindedly before he leaves. the shared toothbrush cup, the grocery cart handle, the elevator button you press with the side of your finger instead of the pad.

you are careful in ways you don’t realize.

he learns what you throw away.

receipts folded small, never crumpled. food packaging rinsed before disposal. notes torn cleanly along folds, never shredded. you discard evidence of yourself neatly, efficiently, as if you do not want to take up more space than necessary — even in absence.

yo-han finds this interesting.

he learns how you speak when you’re tired.

your voice lowers instead of softens. you stop filling silence. you become precise with language, conserving energy by cutting unnecessary words. you ask fewer questions. you accept answers without probing. you are not passive when exhausted. you are contained.

he notes this carefully.

and then there is forgiveness.

not the performative kind. not the loud absolution people grant to feel superior. yours is quieter. you forgive preemptively, often without announcement. you let things go not because you don’t notice them — but because you have already measured the cost of holding on.

yo-han watches an interaction where tae-joong forgets something important. an anniversary. a promise. he braces for fallout.

there is none.

you take a moment to collect yourself. inhale deeply, feeling the air fill your lungs, then exhale slowly, releasing the tension of the day. you adjust your perspective, shifting the weight of the moment without uttering a word. 

later, you reach out and touch tae-joong’s arm, a gentle gesture meant to reassure him, not to blame. your fingers linger for just a heartbeat, grounding him in the present. 

he looks at you, remorse evident in his eyes, and offers a sincere apology. you nod, accepting his words with grace, understanding the weight they carry.

yo-han rewinds the footage twice, scrutinizing the interaction, searching for nuances he might have missed. this is not a sign of weakness; it’s a necessary act of maintenance, a way to keep the emotional machinery running smoothly.

for the first time, yo-han feels a flicker of irritation — not directed at tae-joong, but at you. you remain composed, unflappable in the face of potential chaos. you don’t unravel under pressure, nor do you seek to manipulate the situation for your own gain.

and still —

he does not indulge in fantasies about you.

he does not envision your lips brushing against his, your skin warm against his, or your willing compliance. desire is a luxury he cast aside long ago, recognizing that it muddles clarity and hampers decisive action. 

instead, he meticulously catalogs your actions, noting the subtleties of your character and the strength you exhibit in moments that might break others. he builds a profile not of who you are — but of what you prevent.

you prevent panic. you prevent collapse. you prevent narrative decay. and in doing so, you threaten the integrity of the story he is about to tell the world.

yo-han closes the file on you last.

not because you matter more. but because you require more care.

and in his line of work, care is never kindness. it is possession, waiting for justification.

─────

the murder itself is inelegant. 

violence rarely interests yo-han unless it can be shaped afterward, and this one arrives already ruined — too much blood, too much panic, too many fingerprints born of desperation rather than intention. the client is wealthy enough to be terrified, powerful enough to be protected, and smart enough to understand that truth is less valuable than plausibility.

they meet once. yo-han listens. a price is agreed upon that would make most men hesitate. yo-han does not. obscene money is simply confirmation that the job is necessary.

the real work begins afterward.

he reviews potential replacements the way a surgeon reviews donors. age, proximity, habits, predictability. men whose lives will not cause ripples when they are removed from them. men whose absence will be explained easily. men who look correct on paper when stripped down to data points.

park tae-joong remains at the top of the list.

not because he is perfect. because he is stable. and stability, when dismantled properly, looks like guilt.

yo-han adjusts his earlier assessments with clinical precision. tae-joong’s phone pings near the crime scene within an acceptable window. his routines can be nudged without resistance. his dna is already catalogued, cleanly obtained through casual proximity, shared spaces, discarded trash.

what complicates things — what slows the timeline — is you.

yo-han accounts for this. he does not underestimate attachment. he understands it intimately. attachment is not dangerous when it is loud — when it screams, protests, attracts attention. loud suffering brings scrutiny. quiet suffering dissolves unnoticed. and you, he knows now, will suffer quietly.

you will not break windows. you will not rally crowds. you will not embarrass the process. you will endure.

that makes you manageable.

the murder charge alone would have been sufficient. the evidence is airtight enough to satisfy a judge hungry for resolution. but yo-han has learned that sufficient leaves room for doubt, and doubt is corrosive over time.

so he adds the rape charge last. not because it is necessary. because it is final. sexual violence closes doors that murder sometimes leaves ajar. it reshapes public perception permanently. it turns sympathy into revulsion. it ensures that even appeals are framed through disgust.

yo-han fabricates it carefully — no dramatics, no spectacle. just enough forensic suggestion, just enough narrative cohesion to make denial feel insulting. when the arrest warrant is signed, he does not feel satisfaction. only completion.

the police knock on your door just after dawn. the light is wrong — too pale, too honest. yo-han watches from a live feed routed through a system that was never meant to be accessed by him, but is nonetheless obedient.

you open the door. for a moment, nothing happens. then you listen.

your face does not crumple. your mouth does not tremble. you do not cling to tae-joong or beg for explanation. your eyes move — once, twice — taking in uniforms, posture, the way the officers hold themselves when they believe the outcome is already decided.

you ask one question. it is the right one.

yo-han leans forward slightly, interested despite himself.

when they say the charges aloud, you blink — but only once. your breathing changes, shallow for exactly three seconds before you steady it again. your hand finds tae-joong’s wrist instinctively, grounding him, not yourself.

he looks at you, confused, frightened. you look past him. already calculating.

you do not cry when they cuff him. you do not collapse when the neighbors’ doors crack open, curiosity leaking through thin walls. you press tae-joong’s jacket onto his shoulders because you notice the temperature before you notice your own heart rate.

yo-han watches your spine straighten as the door closes. you stand there long after they are gone. still. silent. processing.

this is not denial. this is containment.

yo-han feels something shift — not sharp enough to be alarm, not soft enough to be affection. a recalibration. an understanding settling into place. you are not reacting the way he planned. you are adapting. and adaptation is dangerous.

he realizes then, with a clarity that surprises him, that leaving you outside the frame is no longer viable. you are not collateral. you are not a bystander. you are a fixed element — one that will either destabilize the structure later or be absorbed into it now.

yo-han closes the live feed.

the decision is already made.

you cannot be left behind. not because he pities you. not entirely because he wants you. but because anything this controlled, this resilient, this quietly enduring — is too valuable to abandon to chance.

─────

yo-han ensures you are never alone with danger. he does not announce it. he does not ask permission. protection, to him, is not a contract — it is a condition imposed quietly, the way infrastructure exists beneath a city without ceremony.

you don’t notice at first — you are too busy learning how absence feels when it arrives without warning.

the first thing that disappears is the man who used to linger across the street from your apartment. you had clocked him weeks ago — not because he was obvious, but because he wasn’t. the way he pretended to be absorbed in his phone for too long. the way his presence repeated at irregular intervals. you never mentioned him to anyone. you told yourself it was paranoia born of stress.

then one day, he simply doesn’t come back.

the second man vanishes too. and the third. you notice the lack the way one notices a headache lifting — only after the relief has already set in.

online, the noise dies next.

the messages that slipped through moderation. the anonymous accounts that circled you with practiced cruelty. accusations framed as concern, speculation disguised as morality. you had learned to scroll past them with a steady hand, to never engage, to never reveal where they landed.

one morning, you refresh your screen and there is nothing new. no apologies. no explanations. just silence.

the financial pressure eases after that, slowly enough to feel coincidental. a payment extension approved without argument. a fee waived. a sudden freelance opportunity that pays better than it should and asks fewer questions than expected.

you don’t question it out loud. you’ve learned that stability, once regained, is fragile. you treat it carefully. you step lightly around it, afraid to look too closely.

yo-han watches all of this from a distance calibrated to feel like coincidence. he never introduces himself directly. there is no dramatic entrance. no offer of help. no moment where you are asked to trust him.

instead, he lets the world bend around you. threats reroute. systems soften. consequences redirect themselves away from your path with unnatural efficiency. you begin to move through your days with a subtle sense of insulation — as if something unseen has been wrapped around you, buffering sharp edges before you can reach them.

you feel safer. and then — inevitably — you feel watched.

not in the frantic sense or the way fear announces itself. it is quieter than that. a pressure between your shoulder blades when you stand at crosswalks. the sense that certain doors open too quickly, that problems resolve themselves before you have time to solve them.

you start checking reflections. not because you expect to see someone. because you expect not to. you can’t tell which matters more — the relief or the unease.

tae-joong, meanwhile, deteriorates exactly as predicted. yo-han monitors him through official channels, unofficial ones, and a few that exist entirely in gray space. sleep deprivation sets in first. appetite follows. then the erosion of language — sentences shorter, words chosen less carefully, hope rationed like a dwindling resource.

the rape charge does its work efficiently.

other inmates know how to read paperwork. guards look away longer than necessary. time stretches inside him, warped by fear and humiliation. he begins to shrink in on himself, the way men always do when the world decides they are untouchable.

this is expected. this is designed.

what is not designed — what yo-han recalculates for nightly — is you. you do not unravel. you attend hearings with your spine straight, your face composed. you listen. you take notes. you do not plead. you do not perform devastation for an audience that would consume it eagerly.

you sleep. you eat. you function. grief passes through you in controlled waves — absorbed, redirected, never allowed to crest where others can see it. you build routines that do not include waiting. you refuse to freeze your life at the moment of his arrest.

yo-han watches this with mounting interest. you should be breaking; you should be desperate enough to make mistakes.

instead, you adapt. you learn the system’s rhythms. you anticipate obstacles. you stop asking questions that will lead nowhere and start collecting information that might. you do not rage against the machinery — you study it.

that is the flaw in the design. tae-joong was supposed to be the variable. the unpredictable element that would collapse under pressure and justify the narrative built around him.

but you — you are becoming something else entirely. not an accomplice. not a victim. and not collateral.

a constant.

yo-han recognizes it with the same certainty he recognizes a structural weakness in a building. left unattended, you will not explode — but you will endure. and endurance, sustained long enough, has a way of eroding even the most carefully constructed lies.

containment, he realizes, will not be temporary. it will need to be permanent.

and this time, it will not be passive. it will be personal.

─────

he does not summon you abruptly. that would alarm you.

yo-han understands escalation. he understands how people accept the unacceptable when it arrives in increments small enough to feel reasonable. the message comes from a number you don’t recognize, but the language is familiar — measured, professional, impossible to dismiss as spam.

i have information relevant to park tae-joong’s case. not speculation. not opinion. if you’re willing to listen, i can save you time.

there’s no name. no flourish. just enough specificity to be credible and enough restraint to feel safe. you don’t respond immediately. you sit with your phone in your hand, thumb hovering, chest tight in the way it has been for weeks now. everyone has information. everyone claims certainty. most of it is useless.

then another message arrives.

you’ve already spoken to the public defender twice today. you’re about to be disappointed a third time.

your breath catches—not sharply, but precisely. you do not like being known like this. you type back a single word.

where?

the location he sends is neutral. not a police station. not an office. not anywhere you’ve been warned against. a private conference suite attached to a building you’ve walked past a hundred times without noticing. public enough to feel legitimate. controlled enough to be contained.

the number suggests a time that coincides with an appointment that was canceled an hour earlier — an appointment you hadn’t told anyone about.

you hesitate.

then you go.

─────

the lobby is quiet. not empty — just subdued. the kind of place where voices lower instinctively, where security exists without uniforms. a woman at the desk checks your name without surprise.

“he’s expecting you.”

of course, he is.

you are escorted down a hallway that grows progressively quieter, the carpet thick enough to swallow footsteps. no cameras visible. no signage. just doors that look identical until one opens for you.

inside, the room is spare with neutral colors, no windows, a table, two chairs. there’s been water already poured into clear glasses.

your phone loses signal before you realize it has. you note that, immediately.

the door closes behind you with a sound too soft to be accidental. he is already there. seated. calm. hands folded loosely, not clasped. he stands when you enter — not to be polite, but to acknowledge a presence. he does not offer his name.

you don’t ask.

something about him registers as final. not threatening. not urgent. just inevitable, the way a decision feels once it’s already been made by someone else.

“you came,” he says, his lips twitching in the corners.

“you said you had information,” you reply slowly, uncertainly.

he gestures to the chair across from him. you sit because standing would change nothing. only after you’re seated does he speak again.

“before we begin,” he says evenly, “there are a few conditions.”

you stiffen.

“no recordings,” he continues. “no interruptions. and once i start, i won’t stop to repeat myself.”

you realize then that this meeting was never about whether you would listen. it was about whether you would arrive. he watches your expression carefully — not with curiosity, but with confirmation. this is the moment he’s been preparing for.

you don’t know it yet, but every step you took to get here — every convenience, every silence, every door that opened without resistance — was already part of the conversation.

when he sits back down, when he finally meets your eyes fully, there is no warmth there. only ownership, settling into place.

“this will be difficult to hear,” yo-han says calmly. and then — he begins.

he opens without preamble. he explains the evidence first. how it was gathered. how it was placed. what was real, what was altered, what was manufactured entirely. he speaks in specifics — dates, methods, margins of error — because vagueness invites hope, and hope is inefficient.

he explains the system next.

how police departments respond to anonymous tips when they arrive in the correct sequence. how labs prioritize samples when pushed by the right funding channels. how juries behave when narratives are introduced fully formed, without gaps large enough for empathy to settle into.

he does not frame it as corruption; he frames it as inevitability. then he tells you about tae-joong’s sentence. not the number of years — you already know that — but the practical reality of it. where he will be held. how his charges will follow him inside. what protections will be absent. what deterioration looks like when it stretches indefinitely.

yo-han’s voice never changes.

it does not soften when he speaks your boyfriend’s name. it does not sharpen when he acknowledges your reaction. it remains even, measured, professionally disinterested — as if he were explaining a contract you should have read more carefully before signing.

you realize, distantly, that he has timed this conversation deliberately. there is no longer anything you can do with this information.

when he finishes, there is a silence long enough for your pulse to become intrusive. yo-han allows it. he watches you the way he watches systems under stress — not to intervene, but to observe response.

then he speaks again. “i will keep you safe.” he does not lean forward. he does not wait for acknowledgment. “that is not conditional.” a pause — brief, exact. “what happens to him is.”

the words land with no drama at all. something cold moves through you — not fear, not shock, but understanding. it settles low in your body, heavy and undeniable, like realizing too late that the ground beneath you has been reinforced to prevent escape rather than collapse.

you see it then, with nauseating clarity — this is not a negotiation.

yo-han did not bring you here to ask what you want. he did not tell you the truth because he believes in it. he told you because lies are only necessary when outcomes are uncertain.

he does not want your consent. consent implies choice. he wants your compliance.

the room feels smaller — not because it has changed, but because you have. because you now understand the boundaries you are inside, and how carefully they have been constructed.

yo-han watches your realization register. he does not smile. satisfaction would suggest desire. this is simply resolution.

“you can take time,” he says, already standing. “it won’t change anything.”

and for the first time since this began, you believe him. not because you trust him. but because you finally understand him.

─────

you try to save tae-joong. yo-han lets you try.

at first, it almost feels like freedom.

he never forbids you from making the calls. never stops you from scheduling meetings, sending emails, knocking on doors that smell like old paper and false hope. he watches you move through the system with grim efficiency, the way someone does when they believe effort itself can still bend outcomes.

you file appeals. they are reviewed promptly —  dismissed quietly.

you speak to journalists who listen with narrowed eyes and sympathetic mouths. one promises to call you back. another asks careful questions that go nowhere. articles are drafted, then never published. editors go silent. sources “reconsider.”

you push legal pressure where you can. motions are delayed. hearings are postponed. evidence is deemed inadmissible for reasons so technical they feel personal.

nothing explodes. nothing resists you openly. each avenue simply… closes. not slammed shut. just sealed — airtight.

yo-han never intervenes in front of you. he never needs to. by the time you reach a door, it has already been reinforced from the other side. you notice it eventually — not all at once, but in fragments. the repetition of polite disappointment. the sameness of excuses. the way that every path leads back to the same immovable center.

him.

when you confront yo-han, it isn’t dramatic. there is no shouting. no collapse. just exhaustion heavy enough to press words out of you. “you said i could try.”

“i let you,” he replies calmly. that’s when he stops pretending the outcome is undecided. he doesn’t dress it up. doesn’t soften the language or give you room to misinterpret it. he tells you the truth the way one explains gravity. “he will die in prison.”

the words land without ceremony.

“or,” yo-han continues, unhurried, “you will live comfortably with me.”

he lets that settle before finishing, his voice steady, uninflected. “those are the only outcomes that preserve you.”

you understand then that preservation has never included tae-joong. he is sentenced shortly after. life. possibility of parole after 80 years. the courtroom is full, but it feels empty. tae-joong doesn’t look at you when the words are read. you don’t blame him. you don’t know which of you is more unreachable now.

outside, cameras flash. questions are asked. someone cries loudly enough to be heard. you don’t.

the world moves on the way it always does — efficiently, without apology. another case closed. another headline replaced. another man folded into the quiet machinery of forever.

and you — you are escorted away from the wreckage without resistance, without chains, without visible force. preserved. exactly as yo-han promised.

─────

you don’t become yo-han’s partner. you don’t become his lover necessarily.

you become his kept constant.

there is no moment where this is declared. no vow, no claim spoken aloud. it simply settles — the way night settles over a city that has already decided to sleep. you wake one morning in a place that is not unfamiliar and realize, slowly, that you are not expected to leave.

he does not isolate you violently.

there are no locked doors you can see. no guards posted where they would feel insulting. instead, he integrates you into his life with such thoroughness that escape begins to feel theoretical.

a residence too secure to flee — not because it bars you in, but because the outside world feels suddenly thin, poorly constructed by comparison. resources too abundant to reject — comfort layered so generously it dulls the instinct to refuse. a presence too constant to forget — yo-han always just near enough to be felt, never close enough to crowd.

he never lies to you again. he doesn’t need to. truth, delivered selectively, is more binding than deception. you know where he is. you know what he does. you know what the boundaries are — even when they aren’t spoken.

when you wake at night, he’s already awake. not hovering. not watching. simply there — a light on in another room, a quiet movement, the soft acknowledgment of your breath changing before you’re aware of it yourself. sometimes he looks at you as if confirming a calculation. sometimes he doesn’t look at all.

when you flinch, he notices. he doesn’t ask why. he adjusts the room instead — the light lowered, the sound removed, the temperature shifted half a degree. you feel it happen and hate how your body responds before your mind can object.

when you think of tae-joong, yo-han says nothing. no comfort. no dismissal. no jealousy. jealousy would imply competition. there is none.

tae-joong exists only as a closed file — complete, archived, inaccessible. a life reduced to documentation and routine decay, no longer relevant to the present tense.

you exist differently.

not as a choice. not as a mistake. as an investment that yo-han refuses to lose.

you are maintained with quiet precision. your preferences remembered. your absences noted. your silences respected in the way one respects valuable equipment — never neglected, never mishandled.

sometimes, in rare moments when the air feels too still, you wonder what would happen if you tried to leave. yo-han never answers that question for you. he doesn’t have to.

and the coldest truth of all settles into you slowly, irresistibly — you are alive. you are safe. you are owned.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Kyungsoo places a hand on your lower back to let you know. You smile at him, holding the cue upright, and reply with a short and sweet “okay”. 

Your eyes linger on his body a little longer, watching it disappear behind the door. 

“It’s so cool that you’re okay with all this, Y/N.” Jiho catches your attention. He’s looking at you with a smile. The same friendly smile he used to give you on his shifts at the shop. You missed it. 

You wished things had been different. Maybe if you hadn’t been such a geek back in the day. Not that you are any cooler now. He was always nicer with you within the confines of his dad’s shop. In the hallways of high school, he was a lot different. At the time, you never really understood why.  

It got a lot worse one day. His attitude shifted completely. Even at his dad’s shop. He began to treat you like everybody else: like you were nothing. You couldn’t understand what you had done wrong. All you knew was that you didn’t feel comfortable shopping at his dad’s store anymore. 

“With all what?” You reply as you wait for Hyoseob to shoot. 

Hyoseob seems too distracted to do so. He straightens and gives Jiho a warning look. 

“Stop. What’re you doing?” He nudges his friend with a worried expression. He ignores him. 

“With the bet?” Jiho’s head tilts innocently.  

You laugh uncomfortably. “The bet?” The words don’t settle well in your stomach. You stare back at the bathroom door, hoping Kyungsoo would show up and ease the tension. 

“Jiho, he’s gonna kill you. Please shut up.” Hyoseob makes it worse, begging Jiho to stop whatever he was about to confess. 

“You know he only asked you out because we dared him to sleep with you by the end of the semester, right?” 

The polite smile on your face falters as you feel your heart sink from your chest. You think back to the time he approached you. You were skeptical. You were careful. You did the steps to protect yourself from him. And you believed him anyways. 

Of course it was all a lie. A guy like Kyungsoo would have never gone for a girl like you. 

Your breaths become shorter, desperately gasping for air. Your hand rests on your chest, trying to settle the heaviness. 

Hyoseob tries checking on you but you push his arm off you. You can feel your heartbeat through your ears as you try and find your way through the door without passing out.  

Once you find the door to fresh air, you walk. 

You walk as fast as you can for as long as your legs take you. 

You didn’t want Kyungsoo going after you to explain himself. You believed his lie once. Who’s to say you wouldn’t fall for it a second time? 

Every single moment repeats itself like a joke in your head. Your first kiss. Your first time driving a manual. Your first date. 

Fuck. 

The comic book. You halt in your steps and just stand in the middle of the sidewalk. You grab the issue from your tote and stare at it. A tear falls onto the vintage copy. You immediately panic, blotting the wet mark with the end of your top.  

You wanted to throw it away, ruin it. Ruin the memory of that fake date.  

You can’t find it in you to. 

You scoff, “A fucking bet.” 

This couldn’t be your life. It can’t be.  

Your phone rings in your pocket and you laugh at how predictable this all is. You think of what to say. You want to think of some snappy comeback. Anything to hurt his feelings the way he’s hurt yours. But you can’t come up with any. It doesn’t feel natural to be mean to Kyungsoo. 

He made you fall for him, hard, and you didn’t know how to be mean to the person who has shown you nothing but kindness this past month. How could it have been fake? 

Reluctantly, you pick up the phone. 

“Y/N? Where are you?” He sounds panicked. It hurts to hear your name come from his mouth like this. Was he worried you left or that he lost his chance at winning the bet? 

The anger returns at the thought that he wasn’t calling from a place of genuine concern. It makes you lose control over your words. You almost regret it. 

“Don’t call. Don’t text. When you see me in class, don’t even look at me. Fuck you, Do Kyungsoo.” 

You hang up before he can say anything. You wipe your tears under your glasses before gathering yourself to call your brother. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible.   

He answers after a couple rings. 

“Hey.” Chanyeol greets you casually with the grave voice he uses when he’s out with friends. 

“Hi. Are you busy?” You ask, using all your energy to stop your voice from wavering. 

“Kinda. I’m at Myeon’s. What’s up?” You hear him stand up and walk to a quieter area. “You okay?” 

“I- Can you pick me up?” You don’t tell him how you are, knowing that if you do, you would break down in tears again.  

Chanyeol’s big brother senses were tingling though. He knew something was wrong. You can tell he does by how quickly he agrees. 

"I’m Baekhyun’s ride. Is it okay if he’s in the car?” He asks while your patience runs thin. 

“I really don’t care. Just come get me.” Your words spew out in frustration. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You good? You don’t sound good.” Chanyeol’s concern speaks through the phone. 

“No, I’m not.” 

Chanyeol hears you loud and clear, grabbing Baekhyun who whines with a red cup in his hand. 

“K, we’re coming.” 

-------- 

“Y/N! You look so pretty today. Went on a date with that gu-- Ouchie.” Chanyeol hits Baekhyun when he gets to the end of his sentence. If it isn’t clear to Baekhyun yet, it definitely is now that you’ve started sobbing in the back of Chanyeol’s car.  

“Oh no.” Baekhyun gasps. 

Chanyeol gives him a pleading look and Baekhyun is hurriedly by your side in the backseat, wrapping an arm around you so you could cry on his chest.  

“Did he break up with you? Who was it again? Do you want us to take care of it?” Baekhyun threatens in the softest voice imaginable. If you didn’t listen to the words, you’d think he was simply comforting you. 

“It’s not even worth it.” You say in hiccups. You straighten yourself out and move away from his chest. Although it feels nice to be held like this, they’re not the arms you want to be wrapped in. 

“Give us his name, Y/N.” Chanyeol chimes in. “We’ll just talk to him.” 

You wince – finding it a lot more threatening coming from your brother’s mouth. You all knew what ‘taking care’ and a ‘talk’ meant to guys like Chanyeol and Baekhyun. The first time you ever told them you were being bullied was when you were 7 and they were 8. You were only venting. You didn’t expect them to do anything about it. Chanyeol and Baekhyun have never hurt anyone prior. They can’t even kill spiders without screaming. 

They had your classmate in a chokehold, turning purple in front of you, the very next day. You vowed to keep quiet from then on, realizing how insane your brother and pseudo-brother were.  

It didn’t stop them from finding out about Jiho though. 

You didn’t approve of it. You never told them about Jiho’s sudden cold behaviour towards you. They found it weird that you were ordering your parts online instead of in person and went to ‘talk’ to Jiho. 

Jiho didn’t come to school for a week after that. 

“No. Really, I’ll be fine. It was just a bad date.” You downplay your hurt, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you again for picking me up.” 

-------- 

Chanyeol is extra careful with you these days. He doesn’t pry as much ever since that night. 

So it’s weird when he lingers at your door.  

He checks on you while you’re studying, entering your room nonchalantly with a protein shake. He shakes it obnoxiously, to your annoyance, and checks himself out in your mirror. You don’t understand why he does this. He has his own mirror. 

“I’m trying to study.” You tell him with a flat tone. “Go be annoying elsewhere.” 

He doesn’t say anything, choosing to plop on your bed instead. He shakes his shake one more time. You sigh. 

“What? Run out of snappy comebacks?”  

He has your attention now. He wants something and he wasn’t going to leave until he got it. 

“Nah, it’s not fun when you’re moody.” He says with a sarcastic smile. “So... I learned something new the other day.” 

“What did you learn?” You indulge in what he has to say, fully turning your chair in his direction. You spin your pen, bored.  

“Kyungsoo... Remember him? Used to date the cheerleaders? Hangs out with that Jiho kid?” 

Your pen falls to the ground. 

Chanyeol watches it fall from your hold and raises an eyebrow.  

“He asked to hang out. Thought it was a bit weird considering we haven’t hung out in the past year. But then he mentioned you.” Chanyeol continues, tone becoming serious and almost scary. And he knows you understand where he’s getting at.  

Your blood runs cold. Kyungsoo’s an idiot. 

“Don’t.” You warn him, heart racing.  

“I’m meeting him in,” He checks his watch. “15 minutes. At the park.” 

“Chanyeol, please. It’s really not worth it.” You plead. You get flashbacks to that kid turning pale and shudder. 

“We’re just going to talk. We’re friends remember? I’m just gonna find out what he wants.” He shrugs and chugs his drink like he’s not threatening to snap his neck. “And then I’ll judge if it’s worth it.” 

He gets up from your bed and pats your head patronizingly.  

“Don’t worry. I know how much you like him. I’ll be nice.”  

You swallow the lump in your throat. Fuck.  

You’re stuck in your chair, unable to move from shock. Did you have to warn Kyungsoo? You groan, you really didn’t want to talk to him. Why did he have to be so stupid? He knows what Chanyeol’s capable of. 

Really, this was his own fault. What did he think would come out of this? You weren’t going to text him. He dug his own grave.  

You pick up your pen and return to your studies. You won’t get involved. 

You read the sentence over and over, even taking your glasses off to focus. Your poor pen was being chewed up to bits with how stressed you were being over this. Damn you Kyungsoo. 

You quickly get up from your seat and run off to the park.  

By the time you got there, Chanyeol was already long gone and you almost sigh in relief thinking that he didn’t go through with it. You’re about to leave when you see a familiar back slumped over the water fountain. Your heart softens at the sight of Kyungsoo scooping water and washing his face. 

You suck on your bottom lip, gathering the courage to walk away. He isn’t as bad as you thought he would be. You should walk away.  

Seeing him wince at the cool water makes you weak and before you knew it, you were at his side.  

You don’t look at him right away, focusing on wetting your sleeve with the running cold water. Your eyes drift to a scratch on his knuckles. You can feel his stare on you - strong and heavy. Your eyes sting knowing that he’s watching you.  

Once soaked, you finally look up and your heart breaks at the sight of his face. He was looking at you with a warm expression and a solemn smile on his lips. You felt your lips shiver as you apply your wet sleeve on the scrape at the side of his face. Kyungsoo leans into your touch and shakily places a hand on yours.  

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” Kyungsoo’s voice was low and apologetic. You can’t bring yourself to believe him. “It was a stupid bet that I forgot about. I fucked up. None of it was fake to me.”  

Your watery eyes flicker to his. You watch them soften under your touch. Your heart can’t stand icing him out. 

“Why’d you call Chanyeol? Are you an idiot?” 

Kyungsoo smiles sadly, “You blocked my number. I needed to talk to you.” 

You frown, taking your hand away from his face.  

“You knew I’d come here?” You ask, feeling betrayed yet again. Kyungsoo reaches to hold your hand again, but you pull it back instantly. “I should have never come here. All you know how to do is manipulate me.” 

“No- That’s not what I-” 

Kyungsoo is about to defend himself, but you cut him off. 

“I was doing fine without you. Do you know how stupid I feel because of you? I thought you lik- I thought you were my friend. And- and- now you call my brother and pull this act? To what? To get me to pity you? What you did was fucked up, Kyungsoo. I was fine without you!” Your tears fall somewhat endlessly across your cheeks. Your hands are shaking in anger, sadness, frustration when Kyungsoo wraps his arms around you.  

You hate this. You hate that your body melts in his hug. You hate that he was the one to break your heart and the only one to be able to mend it. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair, holding you so close and clinging onto you for as long as you’ll let him as you sob in his chest. 

“Tell me how to fix this. I’ll fix it. Please, Y/N. I’ll fix it.” He pleads, holding the side of your face gently. You shake your head, unable to talk for yourself. “I’ll fix it, Y/N.” He pleads, repeating that sentence like a broken record. 

“I don’t trust you, Kyungsoo. You really hurt me. I can’t trust you.” You struggle to say, throat aching from crying. 

“Then let me build that trust again. Let me prove it to you, please.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ll fix it.” 

You let him hold you a little longer as you shake your head in his grasp. How could you trust that any of this was real? How could you trust him again? 

-------- 

Despite rejecting him at the park, Kyungsoo is still making it extremely difficult to avoid him. You caught him sitting in your spot before class one day, away from his friends. He had two cups of coffee, leg shaking anxiously. You found a seat in the back, near the exit. You thought it would be enough to hide from him.  

The minute the professor started the course. Kyungsoo looked back towards the door and found you staring down at him. It took everything in you to look away and focus on the professor and your laptop. You took your notes as well as possible, but it was hard when you felt the weight of Kyungsoo’s stare on you.  

As soon as the class was done, you bolted out of the lecture hall.  

You meant it when you said you didn’t want to see him anymore. You knew it was unrealistic, taking the same course and all, but if you could just get through this semester, you would be okay. You convinced yourself you would be. 

It was even hard to study in the library now. You were afraid that he’d come find you at any given moment, even though you had found yourself a spot in a hidden corner. He has proven to be persistent. It was only a matter of time til he tried to find you here. 

You throw your head back and sigh, closing your book. You’ll just head home and hope your family wasn’t home to make any distracting noise. It was getting late anyways. 

Unfortunately, the one time you desperately needed the house to be empty, you found that your parents had just gotten home from their business trip and Chanyeol was doing god knows what in his room by the loud screaming he was making. Your mom squeals in excitement at the sight of you. She hugs you tightly. 

“I missed you my lil batgirl.” She squeezes your cheeks like you’re still a little girl. You rarely saw your parents but when you did, you swear you didn’t grow in their eyes. You’re still their youngest daughter who isn’t studying to be an astrophysicist, but the little girl who wanted to grow up to be Barbara Gordon. “Speaking of batgirl, a gentleman dropped these off for you.” 

Your mom lets you go, excited to show you what was delivered. You wince when you see the same yellow bouquet he got you on your first date. You had dumped the first one onto the compost pile, letting it rot for the plants.  

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone, Y/N! He must really like you if he’s getting you Batman themed bouquets. This is so exciting. Tell me everything. Did you go on a date yet?” She means well. It’s not her fault that she and dad had to work all the time. It’s not like they’ll be home any longer than a couple weeks before they have to go off again. Kyungsoo will probably move on to the next too. You didn’t want them to worry. 

So you lie to her.  

Kind of. 

“Yeah, he’s a guy from my astronomy class.” You tell her, giving her a small smile to make it believable. Your mom gasps at the sound of you finally having a man in your life. 

“Oh, I’m so glad! Where did he bring you? What did you guys do?” She grabs a vase and fills it with water, anticipating your response.  

“Um, he brought me to brunch.” You realize instantly how hard it is to fake it. Your mom notices the falter in your voice almost immediately - her face scowling at the sound. “And then he, um,” You take a deep breath when you feel your eyes sting. She lets you finish. “brought me to a thrift store and,” tears start falling from your eyes again. She comes to your side and sits you down at the dining table.  

“Did something happen?” She transforms into a parent in an instant. “Was it a bad date?” 

“No, it was perfect!” You cry out, covering your face in your hands. “He got me a vintage comic book even though he found it first and he got me flowers! Just like those! Even opened and closed the doors. He was the perfect gentleman.”  

“Then what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” She moves your hands down so she could look at you, her daughter who has never ever cried to her mom this much.  

“He did all of it because of a bet.” Your lips turn upside down into a pout. Your mother’s face mirrors yours and pulls you in for a hug. She doesn’t say anything. Her warmth is enough for you. “Gosh, I feel like I’ve been crying so much lately.” 

“It just felt so real. I thought he was actually interested.” You scoff, laughing at yourself yet again at how ridiculous you were to believe him. “I feel so stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid. Don’t talk about yourself like that. He seemed very apologetic at the door.” Your mom finally speaks. “Have you talked to him?” 

“A bit. Chanyeol punched him and I went to see him.” You fold your lips into your mouth after revealing your brother’s antics.  

“Chanyeol what? We’ll get back to that.” She shakes her head. “And then what happened?” 

“He kept saying he’ll fix it. But this doesn’t seem fixable to me, mommy. He lied to me.” You explain, pouting at her. Your mom places a warm hand on your cheek.  

“Why not? He says he wants to fix it.” She tucks your hair behind your ears and looks at you with compassionate eyes. Your mother was always the optimistic parent. She believed everything and anything was easily fixable. You were a lot like your dad who was the opposite. He believes some things should just be left alone. He says only someone like your mother would be able to fix anything with her passion. 

“How could I trust someone like that?” You ask, voice small. 

“You said it yourself. It didn’t feel fake. To be honest, he stayed a bit to ask about you. He seemed very genuine.” Of course, your mother wouldn’t understand that your pain was far too great to give him a second chance. “Life isn’t as black and white as you think, Y/N. There’s not always a right and wrong. Sometimes there is gray. And I believe this is the gray area. I know you don’t believe me but think about it. Bruce Wayne himself is a morally gray hero too, you know. You mean to tell me what he’s doing is ethical? He arrests these villains who commit heinous crimes, only for them to escape and do it over again. Doesn’t sound safe for Gotham, in my opinion.” 

She gets up and smiles. “Just think about it.” She moves towards the stairs, presumably to knock some sense into Chanyeol for your little slip. “Oh, and I think you’re right. He is a perfect gentleman.”  

-------- 

There were two more courses of ASTRO101 before the final. You could handle being late to classes for 2 more weeks. You try to open the heavy door as quietly as possible. You wince when the door shuts loudly, catching the attention of some students. Your eyes search for Kyungsoo’s but they’re not a part of the looming stares. 

You find the same empty spot in the back and squeeze through your peers. You mutter apologies before settling down in the awkward seats of the hall. 

“Y/N?” A guy in front of you turns and whispers your name.  

“Yeah?” You answer, heart racing again. Last time someone approached you, they were doing it for a bet. 

“This is for you. From Kyungsoo.” He grabs a cup of coffee and hands it to you.  

You frown. “Oh, you can keep that. I don’t drink coffee.”  

He freezes awkwardly, stuck in between accepting the offer and fulfilling his promise.  

“I think it’s hot chocolate.” He tries to persuade you to take the beverage from his hands.  

You feel bad that he would be stuck with a drink he didn’t want. And you do like hot chocolate. Albeit, you don’t know how hot it actually is, considering you’d deliberately shown up late. He never did anything wrong to you, neither did the hot chocolate. You shouldn’t punish them for Kyungsoo’s wrongdoing. 

“Ok.” You grab it with a polite smile. He nods thankfully, happy to get more space on the tiny arm desk. You take a sip and watch a light pink post it fall from the cup. 

unblock me please :) - dks 

You scoff quietly and stick it in your notebook. Not that you wanted to keep it. You were just going to throw it in the recycling bin, like a good samaritan. Though, you do have to turn the page to cover it when you catch yourself staring at it a few too many times. 

The professor prepares to end the lesson. You begin to pack your things and mentally prepare yourself to squeeze by the same people you bothered at the beginning. You mutter quick apologies, holding your bag close to you as not to hit anyone. 

Like some cliché, you open the door to reveal Kyungsoo waiting for you on the other side, leaning against a wall with a plastic bag and phone in his hand. He doesn’t realize you’ve come out the door. Not with the way he keeps his eyes on his phone.  

You frown and move as swiftly as you can.  

The rush of wind catches Kyungsoo’s attention. And it’s too late for you to speed before he’s already by your side.  

“Can you slow down a bit? Please?” He has the audacity to ask.  

“No.” You try to walk faster but you fail. Kyungsoo was the jock after all. 

“I got you ice cream.” He waves the plastic bag your way.  

You finally stop walking and look at him, his expression hopeful. You grab the notebook from your backpack and take the sticky note out. 

“I don’t want it, Kyungsoo.” You push the plastic bag into his chest along with the tiny pink paper. “The flowers, the hot chocolate, the note, the ice cream. I don’t want any of it. Don’t you understand? You didn’t just hurt my feelings. You deliberately lied to me to win a bet and crushed me. This- Material crap won’t make any of my insecurities go away. I’m not going to immediately start trusting you again after I taste something sweet.” 

Kyungsoo reaches out to you, but you flinch and take a step back. You put a hand out to stop him from getting any closer. 

“I hate that I let you into my life. I hate that you made me like you. I hate that I can’t even fully hate you for doing this.” 

It’s embarrassing yelling at him like this in front of so many people. It’s even more humiliating realizing that you’ve been shedding tears. 

“So please, if even an ounce of it was real to you, like you said it was, please understand that this isn’t something you can easily fix with gifts or an apology. I need you to leave me alone.”  

“Y/N, I-” He tries again, his eyes becoming watery too. His hand twitches as if he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out to you. You can’t even tell if he’s still playing the game. It all feels so real. But you’re not sure anymore. 

“Kyungsoo, please.” You shake your head, lips quivering and cheeks wet. Kyungsoo stands there awkwardly as you plead in front of an audience of judging students’ eyes.  

That’s when he takes an assertive step towards you. 

You let him take your hand as he puts the bag in your hold. It’s warm and makes your heart calm down just a bit. It’s nice, even for just a second, to have him hold you like this.  

“Take this, at least, and I promise I’ll leave you alone after this.” His voice is shaky.  

You stare at his hand in yours for a second too long. He’s smiling at you despite his eyes telling – no, screaming at you that he was not okay with leaving you alone. Not at all.  

Your heart breaks a bit more than it already has. You lower your hand with the ice cream and Kyungsoo finally lets you go. You swallow nervously and walk away from him. 

You wanted to believe that there was gray - that what he did could be forgiven. But your heart was far too weak and would simply not allow it. All you wanted to do was close yourself off, return to who you were before Kyungsoo. 

And you couldn’t do that if he was there every single day, reminding you why you fell for him in the first place. 

-------- 

“Um,” Chanyeol interrupts your sulking on the bed. Your face first in your black sheets so when you look up at him, it’s hard to see where you cried. “Me and Baek are going out. Did you want to join us?” 

“Not really.” You plop your face back into the pillow.  

You had originally been studying for your finals, but evidently, could not focus. 

“Come on. Let’s do something. We’ll go wherever you want.” Baekhyun’s voice is loud and bright. Most importantly, convincing. Hanging out with Baekhyun does sound fun. You peek from your pillow to find Baekhyun’s beaming smile. He gives you that knowing look that gets you smiling within seconds.   

“Can I drive?” You ask, voice muffled from the pillow. 

“No way!” 

“Absolutely!” 

Baekhyun smiles as he hits Chanyeol. “This is the perfect time to teach her stick!” He exclaims as both you and Chanyeol wince for different reasons. Chanyeol is nervous about his car while you get reminded of your driving lessons with Kyungsoo. 

“I’ve been learning.” You mutter, glancing at Chanyeol for a reaction. He doesn’t look impressed, rolling his eyes, but nudging his head towards the door. His cool way of telling you “yeah okay”.  

Baekhyun, on the other hand, is ecstatic for you. He doesn’t have a manual but he knows Chanyeol and he knows what a big deal this is for you. Baekhyun himself has only driven it a handful of times. He excitingly waves for you to come quickly, despite not being dressed.  

“We’re not going anywhere crazy.” Chanyeol says, wanting to leave the house right away. 

As promised, your brothers let you take them to wherever you want to go. Wherever you want turns out to be a board game pub in the city you’ve always wanted to visit but could never find anyone to go with. 

“You’re so annoying.” You complain when Chanyeol builds yet another road to block yours, giving him the longest road award.  

“And you’re a sore loser.” Chanyeol sticks his tongue out as he steals the road card with your 2 points. You roll your eyes and turn to Baekhyun. 

“Please tell me you have 2 secret points in your cards.” Your eyes are pleading. If anyone could humble Chanyeol, it’s Baekhyun. His best friend only smiles and shrugs, not giving away anything.  

You roll the dice and laugh pitifully when you roll a 7. Normally, you’d steal from Chanyeol but he just used all his resources to build that massive wall of a road.  

“Sorry.” You apologize to Baekhyun who can only smile.  

“It’s just a game.” He says as you pull a sheep from him.  

“I guess I’ll pull a development card.” You exchange the cards for a special one. You groan when you see another knight card.  

“Are you done?” Chanyeol smiles teasingly. 

“Yes, I’m done, Chanyeol.” You say, bored. 

“Okay, I’m going to build 2 roads with my development card. Build a settlement. And I win.” Baekhyun talks you through his winning hand. He steals the road card and reveals the 2 secret victory points. You immediately start laughing at Chanyeol’s face of disbelief. Only Baekhyun is capable of defeating Chanyeol. And oh, did that make you happy. 

“I love this game.” You exclaim as you start cleaning up the board game. “Did you guys want to play a different game?” 

“Whatever you like, Y/N. We really just wanted to hang out with you.” Baekhyun says for the both of them. It warms your heart that you had brothers like them to come cheer you up like this. You and Chanyeol butt heads most times, but when it counts. He’s there.  

“Want another drink?” Chanyeol asks, already over being the loser. You nod, about to get up to join him and maybe look for a different game to play. Baekhyun gently grabs onto your wrist. You turn back, confused. 

“I was just gonna find a game.” You tell him, pointing in the direction of the shelf. 

“I know. Sit for a sec. I wanna talk to you.” His smile is always so bright and comforting. You forget he holds a black belt in hapkido and has beaten people’s asses before. You return to your seat. 

You’re not really sure where Baekhyun is going with this. Your relationship was more of an extended brother, one that would make you crouch so he could practice his jumps. There were never deep-talks at night. Chanyeol and Baekhyun kind of left you alone when you were feeling down. They would ask to hang out to get you smiling again. They would give consequences to those who put you down. 

Talking. Talking is new. 

“I wanted to ask how you were doing. Chanyeol told me what he did, but other than that. I don’t really know how you’re doing. Clearly, not great.” Baekhyun jokes as the image of you plopped face down on your bed flashes into his mind.  

“I’m ok. I told him to leave me alone yesterday.” You purse your lips, doing your best not to pout. Baekhyun leans back, taking a sip of his drink. “And I don’t know. It’s sad. I’m sad. He says he likes me but what if he’s still trying to win the bet. I don’t know. I feel like I should feel lucky that Kyungsoo even ‘wants’ to date someone like me, just accept his apology and ignore this all happened. But I can’t. It’s weird. I feel so weird.” 

“’S not weird. It was a really shitty thing to do.” He replies, scoffing to himself at how insane this situation is. “You still like him?” 

“Unfortunately.” You sigh, not needing another reminder. It was so easy to fall for him. 

“Then wait til after the semester’s over. See if he’s still interested after.” Baekhyun leans closer to the table and places the glass on the coaster. “I promise a guy who actually likes you would not leave you alone that easily.” 

“I guess.” You shrug, leaning back against your chair.  

You don’t think you have it in you to actually wait 2 weeks for Kyungsoo. You’ll try to move on in the meantime, but there was no harm in seeing if Baekhyun was right. 

-------- 

You don’t know what you were expecting. 

Kyungsoo actually leaving you alone did not surprise you, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t a tiny bit disappointed. You did tell him to leave you alone after all. Who were you to be upset that he respected your wishes?  

Finals pass in a blur and so did your feelings for Kyungsoo. 

It helped that you didn’t see Kyungsoo or his friends this past month, not once. You couldn’t find them in the lecture hall. You scanned every seat for them, and not a single one had Kyungsoo in it. He didn’t surprise you after class with ice cream. 

Kyungsoo listened. And you finally felt at peace knowing that you could truly move on. 

Now you knew, Kyungsoo was never really serious about his feelings for you. Now you knew, he was just a liar that would have done anything to win a bet.  

To congratulate yourself for getting this far, you take yourself out for a self-love date. It doesn’t take long for you to stumble across the thrift store where Kyungsoo found the Spider-Man comic.  

You haven’t been since Kyungsoo. You’ve been aching to go since finals ended, but you didn’t have the courage to go til now.  

You beeline to the mountains of comics and take a deep breath, eyes shining at the marvel in front of you. You started at one corner, crouching down and flipping through the frail books.  

Before you knew it, a pile was growing at your side. Every single time you’d find something interesting, you’d put it aside. You didn’t even care to check for the value on some of them. Today was for you. You didn’t want to think about anything else, just superheroes. 

The bell to the front door barely breaks your focus. Not many people have been coming in here today. You don’t pay them any attention. 

“I’ll be right with you. I’ll just grab them in the back.” The store clerk says in a giddy tone.  

Flip ‘Burn Nightwing Burn!’ You add it to the pile. 

Flip ‘Gotham City Sirens’ Hmm, it’s a pretty cover, you think. You add it to the pile. 

“Thank you so much for your help.”  

You freeze at the unmistakably familiar voice. You crouch even more than you were, attempting to hide. There was no way he knew you were here right now. You shake your head. He hasn’t reached out in a month. He doesn’t like you. You’re over that. You try to remind yourself of the efforts you’ve made and how far you’ve come. You return to what you came here for.  

Flip ‘War of the Worlds’ Maybe you’ll pass on these for today. 

Flip - 

“It’s no worries. You can always go through me if you need to grade anymore. My friend works there so you don’t need to drown in all those fees. Alright?” The clerk says. Grade? What could Kyungsoo be possibly be grading? 

Your body straightens as your curiosity rises. Your neck stretches as you try and take a peek at what Kyungsoo bought. You purse your lips when all you see is a box in his arms. Without thinking, your legs follow him out the store, leaving the poor pile of comics on the dusty carpet. 

You don’t even know what the plan was. Were you just going to follow him until he turns around and shows you what he got? You didn’t plan on confronting him at all. You never even planned on meeting him at all! 

It was supposed to be: get through ASTRO101 and never see him again.  

Not get through ASTRO101 and follow him out of the thrift store. 

You don’t realize how insane you are until he’s getting into his car, and you stealthily hide in an alleyway, away from his mirrors. You know you’ve completely lost it when you haul a cab soon after and ask him to follow Kyungsoo’s car.  

You’ve gone crazy. That must be it. You’ve truly lost your mind. Because there was no way you were making a taxi follow Kyungsoo out of curiosity. It had to be because you were becoming clinically insane.  

This must be how Harley Quinn felt following The Joker. Maybe Kyungsoo was your villain origin story. 

You shake your head, no, you don’t like him anymore. 

You reach for your wallet and pay the driver when he parks the car to the side and waits for you to quit daydreaming. 

“Sorry.” You apologize timidly, embarrassed by all of this. Kyungsoo was already out of the car and walking up the stairs to an apartment you assume is his. “You can keep the change.”  

You stumble out of the backseat and watch him from below. Your heart races seeing him again. He’s wearing a baseball cap, a white shirt and some cargo pants. It’s so effortless, and yet so cool. You hesitate to go up. You’ve come this far. How could you stop now? 

Kyungsoo struggles to open the door with the box in his arm. He turns around and sets it on the floor, catching your curious stare. Busted. You gulp when you think you catch a glimpse of his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. 

Your mood sinks when his eyes shift elsewhere. He turns around and unlocks his door instead of acknowledging you. He quickly grabs the box and shuts the door, leaving you agape at the bottom of the stairs. 

It was unbelievable. He saw you. He definitely did. 

You know you begged him to leave you alone, but a quick wave would have been polite, at the very least. 

Your legs irrationally bring you up the stairs. You don’t even know what you’ll say to him. All you know is that you’re upset he’d ignore you like that. 

You knock on the door. 

He opens it, surprised. Not sure why he’s so surprised, he literally saw you. 

“Y/N... Hi.” He says awkwardly. 

“Yeah hi. I get that I said to leave me alone. But why would you ignore me like that? You clearly saw me!” You frown. You don’t think you’re yelling, but the way he looks behind him at the other door makes you think you’re being a tad bit loud.  

“Come inside. My neighbours will hear you.” He gently places a hand on your arm to get you to come in. You eye the box, still in his hand. You shut the door as he takes off his shoes. You follow, biting your lip nervously. You’ve never been to Kyungsoo’s place before.  

You’re right behind him as you climb up more stairs to his place. It’s small, perfect for one person. There’s a living room as soon as you reach the top and the bedroom is right next to it. Your eyes scan to the right to find an office space and some recording equipment. His place is minimal. Not heavily decorated.  

It makes the sole box on the floor seem out of place.  

“So, you came all this way to yell at me for following orders?” He places the box over the other and crosses his arms, lips dying to curve as he teases you. 

“T-They weren’t orders.” You stutter, finding his stance a bit too belittling. “I just think it’s rude that you didn’t even give me a smile back there. You saw me.” 

He tilts his head to the side with a sly lift of his lips.  

“You wanted to see me smile?” He was enjoying this and you just wanted to go back to the thrift store to bury yourself under the mountains of comics.  

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant. I just- You were really rude!” You try to explain. You came marching to him with confidence, and here he was, deteriorating all your efforts with a single smile.  

He approaches you, backing you into the stairs with nowhere else to go, except down.  

“What’re you even doing here? This is far from your place.” He raises an eyebrow curiously.  

“I... was at the thrift store.” You say, feeling caught. 

“I was just there.” Kyungsoo says surprisingly. “It’s a coincidence that you’d walk right by my place as soon as I got home. Did you get anything cool?”  

He glances at your empty hands. He smirks and takes it upon himself to peek in your tote bag, using a single finger to open the bag a little wider for him. He turns to look at you knowingly. There was not a single comic book in there, just a water bottle and your Batman wallet. “Couldn’t find anything?” 

“N-No.” You gulp, his face inches away from yours. His plush lips were right there. It was taking everything in you not to glance at them. 

“Did you follow me, Y/N?” He asks, towering over you. You were well under his hat - heels centimeters away from falling off his stairs. He was so close to you. There was no way out. 

But you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want out. Not with the way he was looking at you. 

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss him, tote bag falling off your shoulder and down the top step. Without hesitation, Kyungsoo places a hand on your lower back and pulls you in closer. His hat bumps into your glasses. Kyungsoo quickly removes it, throwing it on the sofa, before hurriedly returning to your lips.  

“It was killing me. Not seeing you anymore.” He admits through breaths. “I really missed you. Did you?” 

His eyes search yours for a sign that you did miss him too. 

Despite convincing yourself that you moved on, you really haven’t, did you?  

“A bit.” 

Kyungsoo’s face beams upon hearing your words. He grabs your face and kisses you enthusiastically.  

“I’m really sorry again for everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you. None of it was fake-”  

You frown and cut him off with a kiss, walking him into the couch. He trips and falls onto the cushion, taken aback.  

“I was apologizing.” Kyungsoo blinks in disbelief. He doesn’t seem to mind that much by the way he’s rubbing your denim covered thighs.  

“I know. You didn’t change your speech.” You try and suppress the smile growing on your face. 

“It’s not a speech! I really feel that way. Yes, I approached you for the wrong reasons, but the bet went out the window the moment I got to know you and spend time with you. Teaching you to drive, getting ice cream, ‘studying’ with you. I didn’t care what we did. I just wanted to spend all of my time with you. How can I make you see that?” Kyungsoo doesn’t stop massaging your side. His eyes are begging you to hear him.  

You sigh, tired of all this.  

Your heart was exhausted, listening to Kyungsoo, falling for Kyungsoo, beating for Kyungsoo. He made you feel so seen and wanted. Your heart was tired of the never-ending loop of should you or shouldn’t you, wanting to find a way to convince that stubborn mind of yours. 

“I think I’m tired of pretending I’m not able to forgive you.” You say lowly. Kyungsoo darts his eyes to your pair expectingly. 

“You forgive me?” He’s looking up at you, unable to hide the stupid grin on his face.  

“That’s not what I said.” You scoff, returning a small smile. You push your glasses that have fallen a bit lower from the bridge of your nose because of how long you’ve been looking down at Kyungsoo. 

His grip suddenly tightens around your thigh, not too tight that it hurts, but enough for you to know you did something to trigger him. You gulp when he tugs you a bit closer so you were standing in between his legs. 

“Then what did you mean?” He questions you, stupid grin still visible. It looks like you didn’t upset him. His hands were rubbing your lower back, mindlessly massaging you for an answer. Your mind can’t think when he’s biting his bottom lip and staring up at you so cunningly. “What can I do to make you forgive me? Hm?” 

“Can you stop that?” You force his smile down in annoyance with two fingers, making his lips frown like some reverse Joker. “It’s making me nervous.” 

You can’t lie though. Being like this with Kyungsoo felt like a dream. You, yourself, could not stop the grin growing on your face.  

“It’s hard to forgive you.” You sound like a broken record. You think this conversation isn’t going anywhere, just like the last two talks you had with him. 

“Then why did you come here? What do you want from me?” You don’t stop him from rubbing your thighs comfortingly. He doesn’t ask with malice or hurt in his voice. He asks with a complaisant tone. 

So you say the one thing your heart’s been begging you to confess. 

“I really just want you right now.” It comes out breathier than you intend, not realizing how long you’ve been holding your breath for. Kyungsoo’s smile grows under you. 

“Then have me.” 

You feel a knot growing in your stomach as you watch his warm gaze scan you. He has your whole body heating up on his lap. 

Like a moth to a flame, you lean down to press your lips softly against his. His hands shoot up to encompass your body, running up and down your back. 

This didn’t feel real.  

Kyungsoo smiles between kisses. His tongue dances with yours, making that knot grow especially heavier. It makes you suddenly aware of how experienced Kyungsoo is and how inept you are. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You admit between breaths, resting a hand on his chest. His heart’s racing in the palm of your hand. The privilege of feeling the warm beat of his heart is taken away when he takes a hold of your fingers and brings it to his lips, kissing your palm sweetly.  

“I’ll show you.” He says lowly near your ear as he shifts under you. You feel your chest get heavier and you take a deep breath to ease the nerves. Kyungsoo sees this and pauses. 

“We can stop. I’m happy just being here with you.” 

“No, I want to.” You fold your lips into your mouth, trying to hide how shy you are feeling right now. You play with your hair cluelessly, tucking them behind your ear.  

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” You confess, avoiding his gaze, still shy.  

“Me too.” Kyungsoo chases after your eyes with a smile. He’s looking at you the same way he did before he became the man who played you for a bet. And for now, that’s all you want to remember him by.  

“Take these off.” He unbuttons your jeans for you and plays with the waistline until you shimmy it off, leaving you in your underwear. Kyungsoo is unable to hide his smirk when he sees the little yellow bat logo. He rubs your side, looking up at you and making that knot grow inside of you.  

“You’re so pretty, Y/N.” He says before placing a kiss on your inner thigh. You feel your heat pulse when he runs two fingers across your folds. “So warm.” 

“Put your leg up for me?” He asks but he’s already moving you the way he wants you to, lifting your inner thigh so that your knee was near his head. You don’t know what to expect, letting him take control of everything. You gasp and grab a hold of his shoulder when he pulls your underwear to the side and laps his tongue on your slit.  

“Kyungsoo.” You moan when he brings his face closer to your opening, letting his mouth devour you – sucking and licking you with intensity. Your grip on him tightens, feeling bad that you might be hurting him. You do your best not to hold him too strongly, eyes shutting tightly to compensate. When you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore, he slides a finger inside, slowly fucking you. 

“Look at me.” He finally comes up for air. “’s it feel good?”  

You nod, using the back of your hand to stifle your moan when he adds a second finger. 

“D’you like it?” He tries angling his fingers different ways until he finds the reaction he’s looking for. And when he gets it, the back of your hand isn’t enough to cover that moan.  

“Kyungsoo!” You call out his name, unconsciously pushing him away from the overstimulation. He’s stronger than you are though, keeping himself steady as you lose it above him. He continues to hit that spot in you as he devours your cunt with his tongue.  

“You’re not looking. I want to remember the first time I make you cum.” His other hand grabs onto yours and places it on his other shoulder – still fucking you with his fingers by the way. 

“Just squeeze here. You won’t hurt me.” He tells you before returning his mouth on your body. His eyes are looking up at you, compelling you to hold the eye contact. You can feel him smile as he continues eat you like it’s the last meal he’ll ever get.  

Your glasses slide down your nose once again and you almost push them up until Kyungsoo goes faster, sucking and slurping your juices. Your grip tightens on his shoulder and you feel your glasses fall even further.  

“Don’t.” Kyungsoo warns when you try to push them back. “The glasses don’t move.” 

You immediately come undone, body shaking as Kyungsoo’s fingers fuck you through your orgasm. Your heavy breathing as Kyungsoo takes his fingers out and shows you how wet you got, spreading his fingers to create a web of your juices.  

“Well, how was that?” 

You can’t help but laugh. You straddle him on the couch and tackle his lips. 

“So good.” You smile and finally, push your glasses up.  

“Good enough to forgive me?” He tucks a hair behind your ear, eyes shining as he scans your face, glowing in sweat. 

“Mhmmm.” You feign thinking. 

“Oh, that’s not a good response. Let me try again.”  

“Kyungsoo!” You squeal when he flips you on your back and situates his head at your entrance again. 

“Gonna make you cum til you forgive me.” 

-------- 

You stay over at Kyungsoo’s, unable to move too much with the throbbing pain between your legs. Kyungsoo hands you a mug with hot chocolate and joins you on the couch, spreading a blanket across you two.  

“Is this really your favourite Batman?” Kyungsoo turns to you with a questioning look.  

“I know it’s not the coolest, but it reminds me of my childhood. We had the VHS and we would always watch it.” You take a sip of the hot drink before setting it down and resting your head on his shoulder. Snuggling Kyungsoo was a lot warmer. He kisses the top of your head and pulls you in closer. 

“Kyungsoo,” You say, tone serious. “Were you really gonna leave me alone?” 

He looks down to find you already staring up at him.  

“You asked me to.” 

“I know... But-” 

“It’s what you wanted. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I did.” He continues, cutting you off. “I like you, Y/N. A lot. I don’t want you out of my life, ever, but if letting you go meant you’ll see how much I respect and care for you, then it would have been worth it. I hope I can spend every second together proving that my intentions are true.” 

You place a hand on his jaw and reach for his lips, kissing him. 

“I really thought you’d keep bugging me. I’m glad you didn’t.” You laugh, turning back to watch the movie. 

“And I’m glad you followed me from the comic book store.”  

You freeze and slowly turn to him instead. 

“I didn’t follow you!” You deny, deny, deny until you feel the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Yes you did! I saw you get out of that cab!” He laughs at you, squeezing your cheek teasingly. 

“I just- What did you have graded?? I didn’t even know they did that there.” You pout. 

“Wow, you really did stalk me.” He scoffs, shaking his head disapprovingly.  

“I did not!” You shout. “What’s in the box?”  

Kyungsoo gulps. You look at him suspiciously, then to the box on the floor. 

You quickly get up from the couch, the aching now forgotten from your adrenaline rush, and run to grab the box. You open it and find multiple graded comic books. Not just any. All Batman themed. Some of them weren’t even valuable but he got them graded anyways. 

Were these for you? 

“Ok, you caught me.” He says, towering over you. “I wanted to build this massive collection for you after our first date to try and win you back but then you told me off and that plan went out the window.” 

“You’re welcome to have them if you’re still interested. I was going to sell them if you threw them in my face or something.” Kyungsoo laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“This must have cost a lot...” You scan through the comics in awe. You tear up thinking about him scanning through the dusty piles of comic books, picking ones he thought you’d like then paying to have them graded. If you didn’t forgive him before, you certainly did now.  

You drop the box and wrap your arms around him tightly.  

“You like me.” You mutter in his chest to yourself, finally feeling convinced. 

“I do. I really, really do.” Kyungsoo smiles, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. 

“Fuck.” Jiho swears when he sees his graded exam with a bright red 47 on it.  

He passes you and glances back curiously. He rolls his eyes when he sees the green 93 on yours. 

“Fucking nerd.” He mutters lowly to himself. He sighs when he reunites with his friends at their seats. “What’d you guys get?” 

Hyoseob shows his 74 and Kyungsoo his 72.  

“You guys did so well. The fuck?” Jiho swears, stealing their papers to compare answers.  

“Not well enough. I can’t let my GPA sink any further than it already has.” Kyungsoo leans back, bored. He studied his ass off for this exam. A 72 wasn’t going to cut it. 

“You see her?” Jiho nudges his head in your direction. Kyungsoo follows his line of vision and sees you. You have your hair up in a messy bun, tortoise framed glasses and a Batman shirt that looked a bit too big for you.  

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo doesn’t steer away from looking at you. You were chewing on the end of your pen. A dinosaur pen.  

“She got a 93.” Jiho says with pure malice.  

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen in surprise, but not really. You looked smart. Kyungsoo studies you a bit longer, watching you frown profusely at your paper. Surely you weren’t anxious about your grade. You were staring down your paper like it had personally offended you. He chuckles to himself. It’s somewhat admirable to see you stress over a 93. 

“I swear, people like her have it so easy. So painfully awkward and weird they don’t have a social life to distract them.” Jiho spews out unsolicited insults. Kyungsoo’s used to it at this point. His friend has never been the one to shut up, even when he has something awful to say. 

“She’s kinda cute.” His head tilts when you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose with the chewed up dino pen. There was a weird charm to you that prevented Kyungsoo from looking away. You type something on your laptop and reveal your Jurassic Park wallpaper. Kyungsoo chuckles to himself.  

“You think every girl is cute. But I promise you. There is no getting through to this one. I bet she won’t even notice you’re flirting with her if you tried.” Jiho says as if he was challenging his friend.  

“I don’t think you’re giving Kyungsoo enough credit.” Hyoseob chimes in. “If he can bag that shy library girl, I’m willing to bet a hundred he can hook up with miss dino over there.” 

Kyungsoo can’t help but chuckle at his friend. Hyoseob hadn’t returned a book in time and instead of paying the fee, he sent Kyungsoo to return the book for him, knowing how charming his friend could be. Kyungsoo didn’t mind. Mina was pretty and he liked pretty girls. 

“Alright, a hundred if he manages to do it before the semester ends. What do you say Kyungsoo?” Jiho’s criminally obnoxious smirk appears on his face.  

“What am I getting exactly?”  

“Our two hundred bucks if you can pull it off.” 

“Alright.” Kyungsoo shrugs.  

Easy money. 

-------- 

Class ends and Kyungsoo quickly gets up from his seat to catch up with you, papers and pen still in hand. He watches as you hide your highlighters and pens into your Jurassic World pencil case. A smile creeps up on his face unknowingly. Cute. 

He finally reaches you, backpack slung over his shoulder. You don’t notice him right away, grabbing your own backpack filled with superhero enamel pins. Both Marvel and DC. You didn’t discriminate. Kyungsoo has to clear his throat to get your attention. 

Your face lifts at the sound. Your eyes widen in surprise and confusion. Apprehensive, you check around you to make sure he was looking at you. 

“Hi!” Kyungsoo greets you first. “I loved Battinson.” 

He points at your shirt and you follow his finger, darting your eyes down at your chest. It makes you pull your backpack closer to you nervously. You’re cute and squirmy. Like a baby deer. You had the eyes for it too. 

“Ok?” You say back in a confused tone. You’re so wary, so cautious. Kyungsoo catches your eyes shift to the papers in his hand. And it’s as if something clicks in you that you’ve found the confidence to assert yourself. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t tutor.” You apologize as soon as you see his grade and continue to pack your bag once you’ve come to the conclusion that he was here to ask you for academic help. 

“What? No. I’m Kyungsoo.” He introduces himself with his most genuine smile. It’s as if there is no bet in place and he is purely interested in being your friend. 

It’s not as convincing as Kyungsoo thought. 

“Yeah, I know.” You get up and try to move around him.  

Kyungsoo’s taken aback. 

“Sorry?” He steps aside to stop you. Why were you being so difficult?  

He can’t hear them but he knows Jiho and Hyoseob are giggling behind him. 

“Nevermind. I can’t help you with whatever you need.” You say, avoiding eye contact with him – the false confidence evidently gone. He can see you a lot closer now. Your bun was being held by a batman hair tie, flyaways all around your head. Your skin was close to perfect. Your lips were a bit chapped, and he could tell you pick at them. You were rough around the edges but overall pretty. Kyungsoo likes pretty. 

“Wait, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I just thought you were pretty. And I was hoping we could be friends.” He apologizes, lowering his face to get you to look at him. He watches you hesitate, sucking in a cheek. He does his best to put on a nervous looking smile to get you to pity him. 

You release a big exhale, accepting defeat. 

“I’m Y/N.” You introduce yourself, eyes still darting behind him towards the exit. 

“Hi Y/N. It’s a pleasure meeting you.” He extends an arm out for you. 

You suck in your bottom lip nervously. You push your glasses up and rearrange the book in your arm to shake his hand.  

You take the deepest breath.  

“Likewise.”  

Kyungsoo’s smile widens. 

-------- 

If Kyungsoo knows anything about nerds, they love being ahead of everyone. 

Kyungsoo arrives for ASTRO101 half an hour early for class. As predicted, he smirks when he sees you there, already waiting on the floor to be let in, laptop sitting cozily on your thighs. He slides beside you effortlessly.  

“Hi, Y/N.” Kyungsoo laughs when you jump in surprise. 

“Kyungsoo, you scared me.” You have your hand on your chest to ease your racing heart. He doesn’t mean to but he glances down anyways to find you’re wearing a very fitting superman graphic tee with a loose white dress shirt on top.  

You can’t be real.  

“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention. Love what you’re wearing by the way. Very Clark Kent of you.” Kyungsoo says, pointing up and down your body. This makes you blush and has you stuttering like a mess. So you do know when you’re being flirted with. 

“What do you need Kyungsoo?” You manage to ask, your focus not budging from your work, though Kyungsoo can tell you’re still nervous. He’ll take it you’re a bit interested. 

“You know when you said you already knew who I was. What’d you mean?” He asks and you didn’t think he would bring that up by the surprise look on your face. 

“You’ve been to my house before.” You inform him as if that’s supposed to help Kyungsoo figure it out. If anything, he’s a lot more confused now. You sigh, seeing his puzzled expression. 

“My brother is Park Chanyeol.” 

Oh. 

Kyungsoo’s $200 flashes before his eyes.  

Though, he’ll never hear the end of it from Hyoseob and Jiho. 

“Chanyeol. Giant, party thrower, team captain of the basketball team Chanyeol and does jiu-jitsu as a hobby?” Kyungsoo asks, a little dumbfounded, his jaw slack.  

You scoff. “That’s the one.”  

“Huh.” Kyungsoo checks you one last time and it suddenly clicks how similar you two look. Although you’re not carbon copies, you definitely have similar features. It doesn’t explain how he doesn’t remember you though. 

“So we’ve... met... through him?” Kyungsoo asks carefully as not to offend you. 

It’s too late. You’re already grunting in frustration. Annoyed with him, you shut your laptop and pack it in your bag so you could get away from him. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Kyungsoo’s a lot quicker than you are though, anticipating your moves before you even know it. He reaches for your wrist and feels how soft your skin is. He lets go like it burns him. “I keep offending you. I’m really sorry. High school was a long time ago.” 

“We met last year.” The frown on your face is so cute like a kid pretending to be mad at him, but he gets the idea that you’ll crack with a simple smile. 

“Yeah, that’s a long time ago, sweetheart.” He does just that, smiling charmingly into your good graces. You do break as he predicted. It’s cute to see your lips purse in annoyance. Your face was betraying you, wanting to smile too. 

“You... asked me where the washroom was.” You mumble shyly because although he can’t hear your thoughts, without a doubt, now that you’re saying it out loud, it sounds ridiculous that he’d remember that. Kyungso doesn’t laugh at you. Instead, he holds a hand to his chest.  

“Please forgive me for ever forgetting such a beautiful encounter and of course, such a beautiful woman. I promise I won’t ever make that mistake again.” 

Kyungsoo crosses his heart comically, grinning ear to ear when he sees you purse your lips to an eventual smile. 

“I guess it is silly...” 

“Do you think we can start over and be friends?” He looks at you expectantly.  

He knows he has you exactly where he wants you when you nod shyly. 

-------- 

It takes a bit of convincing - what doesn’t when it comes to you, but Kyungsoo gets you to study with him. But I’m not tutoring you. You write your own notes. You had told him with a not-so threatening pointed finger.  

Your guard was very much up. You weren’t making it easy to get to know but at least you let him study with you. 

Kyungsoo sneaks glances at you when he pretends to study. He doesn’t understand the material. Studying you was far more entertaining. He was going to get ai to summarize it for him anyways. 

“So, we went to the same high school.” Kyungsoo breaks the silence to which you hum in response. “Crazy we never met... Other than that one time.” 

“Did you finish reading the chapter?” You don’t lift your face to look at him. 

“No.” 

“Why’d you ask me to study if you’re just going to talk?” You frown at him, spinning your pen around your fingers.  

“Because I want to be your friend.” Kyungsoo says simply, not breaking contact with you when you try to avoid his stare. 

“Why?” You ask for the nth time. Was it that hard to believe he would approach you? Yes, he was doing this for a bet, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find you pretty and interesting. 

“You seem fun. You dress up as superheroes and like dinosaurs. What’s not to be curious there?” It’s easy for Kyungsoo to find a reason because he’s not lying. You had that weird charm to you. 

“I was like this in high school too.” 

“And I was like this too. You didn’t approach me then either.” Kyungsoo argues. “I wanna get to know you now. Let me.” 

“It’s just hard to believe that you want to get to know me. You’re just so... popular.” You cringe at the word popular and Kyungsoo does too. He never liked being called that. It sounded so forced and awkward. 

“I just like making friends. Your brother is the same, you know.” Kyungsoo lightly pokes your side with a pencil.  

“Yeah, I know.” You say, a bit annoyed. Not really. There’s a small hint of a smile at the corner of your lips that you try to hide with a big sigh.  

“What’d I say this time?” He teases you. “Is it your brother? Do we not like your brother?” 

You laugh a bit too loudly for the library, earning a few stares from the other students trying to study. “No, I like Chanyeol. He’s a nice brother.” 

“Then why the long face?”  Kyungsoo taps your chin with the same pencil to your annoyance. He likes to see you get annoyed with me. It’s a nice change of pace from Jiho who ragebaits him for a living. 

“Nothin’, still in disbelief that you want to be my friend too.” You shrug and return to your textbook. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, choosing to stay quiet. He lets you study a bit longer before bothering you half an hour later to get pizza. 

Because that’s what friends do. 

-------- 

Sometime between classes, studying with you and walking you home, Kyungsoo finds out you’ve never driven stick. 

“You want a Miata? You have to learn how to drive manual.” Kyungsoo throws you the keys to his car. You almost fumble them. He laughs at you. 

“But I don’t get it. Yeol has a TSX. He didn’t want to teach you?” Kyungsoo lets you get comfortable in the front seat while he waits for you with the door open. His smile grows when you grin and rub your hands across the wheel of his SI.  

“No, he says I drive recklessly.” You look up at him with a small, devious smile.  

Kyungsoo’s breath stops. 

Maybe it’s the way you bite your lip anticipating his lesson or maybe it’s the way you’ve fully let your guard down that makes his stomach flip.  

Seeing you smile cutely like this. In his direction…  

Nevermind that. He has to shake the image out of his mind.  

He bends down and points at the pedals. “This is the clutch. Make sure to release it slowly when you’re shifting. Act like the pedals are eggs, okay? Don’t hurry it.” 

He makes the mistake of looking up to see if you’re listening. He’s met with your face filled of curiosity - brows brought together in complete concentration. He’s suddenly made aware of how close he is to you. How you’re wearing a well-fitted Spider-man tee and denim capris. How you smell like vanilla. How you surprisingly have a fresh pedicure.  

He clears his throat and stands up.  

“I’ll, uh, show you the gears.” 

He shuts the door and runs his hand through his hair. He exhales and hopes you aren’t looking at him as he walks to the other side.  

“Nervous Do Kyungsoo?” You push your glasses up with the cheekiest smile on. 

Kyungsoo scoffs at how cocky you pretend to be in the driver’s seat of his car. But he learns that you’re actually nervous by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears. 

“Relax, we’re just driving around the lot.” He chuckles as he sits down. He explains how to shift the gears and you nod along. Kyungsoo has to force himself to focus when you purse your lips and keep pushing those damn glasses up. Can’t you get them adjusted? 

“K, think I got it.” That’s the last warning you give before you start driving. 

Kyungsoo barely has his seatbelt on, panicking over nothing when he realizes you’re… not stalling? 

“The fuck?” Kyungsoo laughs at how ridiculously easily you catch on. It seems you’re as gifted driving as you are academically. You shift so seamlessly. “Let’s go on the main road.” 

“What?!” You try to look at him but he quickly pushes your cheek to focus on the parking lot. 

“Yeah, yeah! Let’s get some ice cream. You can do it.” He leans over and takes the wheel to gently turn the wheel in the direction of the main road.  

“You’re crazy.” You laugh nervously but Kyungsoo has full confidence in you. 

“I trust you. Come on, let’s go.” Kyungsoo says with the widest smile. 

“Stay in this lane.” Kyungsoo sees how tightly you’re gripping the stick, knuckles slowly turning paler. His first instinct is to place his hand on yours. He feels you soften under his touch. 

“Relax.” He reassures you, helping you shift the gears. “You’re doing really good. Are you sure you didn’t secretly take Yeol’s car for a joy ride?” 

He tries to make you laugh to break the tension in your body. You chuckle a bit solemnly to yourself.  

“No, but I did play a lot of racing games at the arcade.” You say, never once leaving your focus off the road. Only shifting your eyes to check your blind spots. 

“Oh, like on dates?”  

“Uh… Not exactly. I used to play there a lot on my own. When our parents would be gone on business trips and Chanyeol threw parties, I would go often.” You reveal a bit too casually.  

“With friends?” Kyungsoo regrets his question the second he sees you wince. 

“By myself.” 

He knew you weren’t from the coolest of crowds. He didn’t realize you didn’t have friends either. His gaze softens looking at you. 

He imagines you in the same Spider-man shirt but it’s a lot looser, your hair was probably in the same ponytail and you probably sported a lot nerdier glasses. He imagines a lonely you leaving your own home to find solace at the arcade. It pains his heart to imagine how lonely you must have been. 

“Please don’t look at me like that.” You must have caught a glimpse of the solemn look on his face.  

He can’t shake the image of a sweet and geeky you playing racing games on your own.  

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m some stray cat. I’m okay. And it’s not Chanyeol’s fault either. He’s just a lot different than I am. He tried to keep me home where he could watch me, but sometimes I just couldn’t… Not with those… people.” 

He squeezes your hand comfortingly. His heart warms up when he sees a smile seep onto your face. 

“I’m sorry you went through that. I wish I had known you then.” Kyungsoo’s face saddens once again. This time, out of guilt. It never occurred to him other people were going through a much different high school experience than he did. 

“Me too.” You say, creating a pregnant silence. 

“Turn here.” Kyungsoo points at the rundown ice cream shop, disturbing the moment. 

You park with ease. In reverse too.  

You’re just full of surprises for Kyungsoo.  

“It’s really okay, Kyungsoo. I know it’s sad I didn’t have any friends growing up but I did have Chanyeol when it did count. He took care of me the best way he could. I promise my life isn’t as sad as it sounds.” It’s your turn to reassure him because clearly, he was taking it a lot harder than you were.  

“You’re paying and driving back by the way.” Your tone is lighthearted again. Then you flash him a little smile. 

“Of course.” He follows right behind you, unable to hide the silly grin appearing on his face. 

-------- 

Kyungsoo finds himself texting you nonstop, arguing with you on whether or not Iron Man really was the only one who could’ve done the snap. He completely forgets that Jiho is next to him on the couch waiting for him to finish texting so they could proceed to play the next round. 

Jiho’s jaw tightens in annoyance when Kyungsoo has the audacity to chuckle to himself. He wants to wipe off that shit-eating grin off his face. 

“She cannot be that funny.” Jiho has a bored look on his face. 

Kyungsoo barely looks up from his phone, typing the rest of his text and pressing send. 

“Sorry.” He apologizes, picking up the controller as if Jiho didn’t just wait 15 minutes for him to be ready.  

Jiho doesn’t take the apology lightly.  

“This is like the third time she’s texting. What’s with her? It’s been a month. Why are you guys still hanging out? Are you having trouble sleeping with her?” 

“So many questions.” Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at his friend who looks annoyed. Jiho was never one to be patient. Kyungsoo knows this. He grew up with Jiho. Yet, he has no clue why he’s being so rude right now. “She’s actually really sweet and funny. I want you guys to meet her.” 

Jiho stares at him, analyzing his friend who is so smitten by a seemingly ordinary girl with a weird obsession with dinosaurs. 

“What is this? Are you falling for her?” He narrows his eyes at him. “She’s a bet.” 

“She’s not a bet. I don’t care about the bet anymore. It was stupid.” Kyungsoo sighs and rolls his eyes. It stopped being a bet the second you let him in your life and became his actual friend. It was no longer a game when he found himself genuinely having fun hanging out with you. He looked forward to watching random youtube videos in a parking lot with you while you munched on fries. Sure, he’d have to convince you to drive his car, but he always paid for the snacks.  

He didn’t know when it happened. The tiny crush he had on you. He figures it was around the same time he started looking forward to the astronomy study sessions with you. Kyungsoo hates astronomy. 

Somehow and someway you had claimed a spot in his heart. 

“She doesn’t find it weird that you randomly came up to her one day?” Jiho asks, putting the controller down, finding this new turn of events interesting. He never pegged Kyungsoo the type to get with a geek. He was always around cheerleaders, prom queens, conventionally women. “What are you gonna do when she finds out?” 

“She’s not going to find out.” Kyungsoo frowns. “Why do you care so much?” 

“I care about my friend making the mistake of dating a geek like her. She’s a lost cause. Won’t even know you’re into her.” Jiho’s tone is a lot more vicious and spiteful than anything Kyungsoo has ever heard before.  

It does not sit well with Kyungsoo.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s a human being with actual feelings and interests. This isn’t high school anymore. Stop being so weird about this. The bet was stupid and juvenile and she’s never going to find out about it.”  

Sometime between the fit of rage, Kyungsoo had gotten up and is now looking down at Jiho with a pure look of disgust. Jiho stares up in disbelief that his friend would defend a girl like you this hard. It’s rare to get him speechless like this because Kyungsoo has never yelled at him. Never in their decade long friendship. 

Kyungsoo sighs, he could stay mad at him all day but he’s been friends with Jiho for as long as he can remember. He hates it when they fight. On the rare occasion that they do, Kyungsoo always forgives Jiho. 

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been distracted but she really is a nice girl. I’ll bring her to the pub next Saturday night and you guys could meet her. Okay?” His voice softens for his longtime friend who’s doing his best to stand his ground.  

But Jiho breaks too, finding it hard to stay mad at Kyungsoo. He agrees to meet you reluctantly. 

Jiho was curious now. He wanted to see what magic you were pulling to get his best friend so smitten and protective over you. 

-------- 

The next day Kyungsoo finds himself studying for the midterm with you in your family’s dining room. Your parents weren’t home for yet another business trip and Chanyeol’s whereabouts were unknown to him. He was alone in a house with you. And for the first time, he was feeling nervous to be alone with a woman. 

“Do you need some water?” You ask, concerned. He must not be acting as calm as he thought he was. Or maybe you were just being a considerate host. 

“Yes, please.” Kyungsoo smiles when you get up to get him a glass. 

“Thank you.” He says as you place it down for him. It’s new to him. The racing of his heart. He’s here to study, yet he can’t even think to read his textbook, distracted by you and your crooked glasses on your head. 

“You’re very welcome.” You beam, taking a seat right next to him to continue studying. He watches you plug in your right earphone, letting the other hang loose on the table. You still use wired earphones cause you swear it sounds better when you do. Kyungsoo rests the side of his head on his knuckles, elbow on the table, and just, looks at you.  

Who was he joking? He was never going to get any work done with you. Not when you left an ear open for him in case he has any questions.  

Studying you was distracting. He swears he can study your little quirks all day. 

Like how you use your glasses as a headband when you really want to force yourself to read the material. Or the fact that you’re literally swimming in a broken and oversized Miles Morales shirt, revealing the frustrating fact that your bra strap keeps falling off your shoulder. 

“Kyungsoo, did you get this part?” You point at a page in the textbook. It’s really sweet of you to think that he would understand a concept far better than you do but he tries anyway. He pulls the book closer to him and reads the excerpt for the first time. He reads it over and over again, actually. His frown deepens and he wonders if you think he’s an idiot by how long it’s taking him to understand. 

It’s all gibberish to him. Why would you ask him if he understood -   

It takes a second to register what just happened. His head is still resting on his hand. Your eyes are wide and hands are covering your mouth in complete shock with yourself. 

“Sorry!! I- You just- Your lips were-” You stutter after giving him the world’s record quickest peck on the lips.  

“Did you want to try that again?” Kyungsoo asks, watching your throat swallow nervously. Then you nod. You lean closer with a little more confidence this time, flickering your eyes to his for confirmation. He nods, giving you the go-ahead.  

Your lips softly press onto his and he lets you move your mouth the way you’re comfortable with. He doesn’t rush it, wanting to feel your lips massage his for as long as he can. You surprisingly swipe your tongue against his bottom lip, making Kyungsoo moan slightly and finally drop his arm on the table. He uses the other to cup the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss.  

His body leans closer into yours, feeling your body against his. He can smell the vanilla on your skin, making him groan against your lips. It was driving him insane. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” You ask breathily, lips tickling his as he chases after them. They were already tingling at the loss of you. 

Kyungsoo almost instantly caves when he looks at your now swollen lips and crooked glasses on your head. He’s never seen you in like this before: wanting him. And God, did he want you too. 

But he wants to do this right. You deserve to have this done right. 

“I want to.” Kyungsoo says a bit reluctantly. 

“But?” You sense his hesitation. It’s absolutely killing him the way you look disappointed and hurt.  

“But I want to take you out on a date first. A proper one.” He explains, hoping this makes that look disappear. 

“A date?” You frown like you’ve never heard that word before. 

“Yeah, a date.” Kyungsoo affirms. 

“I’ve never been on a date before.” You say, more to yourself, like you’re trying to convince yourself that this was happening. “With me?” 

“Yes, with you. Will you go on a date with me?” Kyungsoo laughs at your pure innocence. God, you’re so good, so nice, so everything to him. 

“Okay.” 

The stars don’t shine; they burn. Yet here you were, with your smile shining brightly at him. 

-------- 

The date starts off strong with Kyungsoo coming up to your door with a bouquet of yellow flowers wrapped in black paper.  

He’s about to knock on your door when you open it almost instantly. You look shocked like you weren’t expecting him. 

Kyungsoo’s jaw drops at the sight of you. 

You had a leather jacket on with a tank top and a midi skirt. Your hair was down with your hair pushed back by a headband. You had curled your ends. Your glasses were a metal frame instead of the tortoise ones he was used to.  

You were painfully and beautifully you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I don’t think I got a text?” You check your phone, expression a bit worried. Kyungsoo has to place a hand on your shoulder to calm you down. 

“Relax. I was going to come to your door like a gentleman. These are for you.” He extends an arm out for you. That’s when you finally notice the bouquet and blank.  

You stare at him then back at the flowers.  

“I- You didn’t have to.” You say timidly, smiling at the flowers so preciously. Kyungsoo would give you another bouquet for a chance to see that smile on your face again.  

“I wanted to.” 

“Yellow and black for Batman?” You bite your lip and give him a kiss on the cheek, making Kyungsoo blush. “I love them. Thank you.” 

You quickly place the flowers inside your home. 

“Okay, I’m ready.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. Kyungsoo chuckles at your excitement before taking your hand to escort you to his car.  

He only lets go to open the door to your surprise. You look uncomfortable as if no one has ever done this for you before.  

“You really don’t have to.” 

“It’s your first date. I want it to be memorable.” 

You blush, quickly sitting down to hide your face behind the door but Kyungsoo catches it nonetheless. 

The first spot he brings you to is a trendy brunch spot in the city where he learns that you are a bottomless pit and you can eat three pancakes on your own within 15 minutes. He then surprises you with a trip to a thrift store with an extensive comic book section where you browsed the endless piles, going through the comics one by one.  

He had checked on reddit for recommendations and found this store. He’s happy to see that he made the right call and brought you here instead of an actual comic book store. He almost laughs aloud at how concentrated you look. He loves seeing your brows furrowed. He rarely gets to see your hair down so watching strands fall down your face sent Kyungsoo’s heart fluttering. You just looked so effortlessly pretty. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t really read comics but he browses all the same, showing you every cool cover he sees.  

“This one’s cool. Doc Ock Wins?” Kyungsoo pulls out the comic to show you and is taken aback when your eyes widen in surprise. You rush to his side immediately. Your vanilla perfume hits his nose and he melts. His hand unconsciously settles on your hip while you grab the comic from his hold.  

Kyungsoo’s head tilts as you examine the colourful paper. He chuckles when a cheeky grin appears like you’re an evil mastermind about to unveil your super evil plans. 

“What? Is it valuable?” He laughs, hand rubbing up and down your side. 

You push your glasses up in the nerdy way Kyungsoo loves so much.  

“This is a 1967 issue in near mint condition. You can get this appraised and it could go for hundreds. And you just picked it out of the hundreds of comics here.” You explain, handing it back to him. “It’s a really good find.” 

“Oh shit.” Kyungsoo looks down at the comic in his hands. It didn’t seem fair to find such a gem as someone who didn’t appreciate them the way you did. “I’ll get it for you.” 

“What? No, you keep it. You found it. It’ll be a good investment. I can show you reputable grading companies if you’d like.” You shake your head, pushing it back to his chest.  

“We came here for you. This is yours.” He tries to sway you, pulling you in closer by the waist. “Take it.” 

You purse your lips, trying to stop yourself from showing how happy he just made you.  

“Are you sure?”  

“Seeing you smile like this, why wouldn’t I be sure?” His hand reaches your cheek, rubbing your thumb mindlessly.  

You beam, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down for a quick kiss.  

“Thank you, Kyungsoo.” You look up at him with glossy eyes. “For always being so nice to me.” 

Kyungsoo’s melts at the sound of your small voice. It makes him sad to think not everyone has been kind to you the way you deserved. You were often overlooked, even by him. He was seeing you now. He won’t make that same mistake again. 

-------- 

“It’ll just be a sec! I want my friends to meet you!” Kyungsoo says excitedly as if he was trying to convince you to be excited with him. But you couldn’t share that sentiment with him. You knew the kind of people he hung out with. And Kyungsoo knew that too.  

Just how he did with you, he wanted you to give them a second chance to get to know them. 

And just like the sweetheart you are, you comply, holding his hand tightly and holding your breath as you walk into the pub. 

You come to a halt when you see the familiar faces from high school.  

“They’re not as scary as they look. And if they do say anything weird, I’ll be there, okay?” Kyungsoo rubs his thumb on your hand. He hopes it’s enough to reassure you. He really wants to show his friends that you were sweet and funny. You weren’t just that weird girl in class who was weirdly obsessed with dinosaurs and superheroes. That you were the girl he was slowly falling for. 

“Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends Hyoseob and Jiho.” Kyungsoo’s hand is rubbing your lower back reassuringly. You introduce yourself perfectly in his eyes. Hyoseob shook your hand as the normal one of the two. Jiho, on the other hand, has some odd vendetta towards you and doesn’t reach to shake your hand, only nodding in your direction to acknowledge you.  

At least that was something. It was a start.  

“Did you guys order already?” You ask as you slide into the booth. You were trying to make conversation to Kyungsoo’s delight. He knew how nervous you were yet here you were, being considerate and polite for his sake.  

“We got some nachos for the table.” Hyoseob, fortunately, responds to you, reciprocating your politeness. “You’re welcome to share with us.” 

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you, Hyoseob.” You smile, closing the menu and setting it on the table.  

“So how was the date? Kyungsoo wouldn’t stop talking about it all week.” Hyoseob continues. 

Kyungsoo smiles when you reply with excitement and a blush, excitingly showing them the new comic Kyungsoo got you. He knew he could count on Hyoseob to be friendly. The two of you continued to bounce off each other, quickly getting comfortable enough to joke around with each other.  

Jiho was on the quieter side. Nothing Kyungsoo wasn’t used to. It took his multi-layered friend time to get to know. 

It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. 

“Did you ever finish that build?” Jiho randomly asks when there was a pause between you and Hyoseob’s conversation. Kyungsoo has no idea what he’s referring to. 

“Build?” Kyungsoo turns to you for explanation. You don’t seem fazed by it. 

“I did! I didn’t think you’d remember me.” You reveal a bit more, leaving Kyungsoo a lot more confused. Jiho always held some weird resentment towards you. He thought that stemmed from some deep insecurity of his to hate on people smarter than him. Maybe he was wrong. “I used to go to Jiho’s dad’s shop a lot to get the parts for my computer. They always had good discounts.” 

Well, that’s news to Kyungsoo. Having you surprise him was nothing special. Having you know Jiho even back in high school, that was news.  

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys knew each other back then too.” 

That’s when Kyungsoo feels you freeze beside him.  

“Uh, yeah. Jiho used to be really nice to me.” You share apprehensively as if you knew you were about to shift the mood. 

Jiho scoffs and takes a sip of his beer. The waiter brings the nachos to the table, interrupting the moment. Kyungsoo would probably have to ask you about this later to fill in the blanks.  

Whatever it is, you continue to be the pleasant person you’ve been since you got here. You tuck in your hair behind your ears. Kyungsoo sucks on his bottom lip, reaches for your hand, and squeezes it reassuringly. He hopes it’s enough to get through this night. He didn’t think you would have some weird history with Jiho. 

Something happened between you two in high school. Kyungsoo thinks you might have dated but that wouldn’t make sense. He knows of every girl Jiho has been with. Unless he was embarrassed to be with you. Maybe that’s what created the riff.  

Kyungsoo shakes his head. It didn’t add up. You seemed genuinely surprised to find out he remembered you. People who date don’t forget one another. 

“My dad really wanted to help you build an inexpensive pc.” Jiho suddenly mutters like he’s too embarrassed to admit it.  

“How is he? I hope he’s doing well. I really appreciate everything he did for me.” A small smile appears on your face, remembering Jiho’s father’s kindness. Then you turn to Kyungsoo with a glint in your eyes, excited to share a little glimpse of your teenage life. “He used to order parts he wouldn’t stock just so I can buy it from him.” 

He remembers how you were alone for a large part of your teenage life. They must have been the few who showed you grace and kindness. He wonders what went wrong that Jiho would feel comfortable badmouthing you. 

“He’s okay. He’s been threatening to retire soon.” Jiho, for the first time tonight, actually laughs and you giggle with him like this was some inside joke.  

“He’s always saying that.” You give Kyungsoo context, being the considerate person that you are.  

You don’t seem nervous anymore. He can tell by the way you lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He’s learning that every time you feel comfortable, you initiate contact. Kyungsoo smiles down at the image of how cozy you look under him. He can finally feel himself relax knowing you’re okay with his friends. 

The night goes on. Hyoseob and Jiho order another pint for the table, eventually getting to the point of sloppy, tipsy drunk. They try to get you to play darts with them, but they soon realize you’re a bit too coordinated and gifted in games. You win against them easily. Sometime in the night, they end up at the pool table for a 2v2 where you’re shooting all the solids for Kyungsoo. Jiho whines while Hyoseob cheers you on.  

Kyungsoo is at bliss knowing that you fit right in. 

“I’m gonna to the bathroom real quick.” Kyungsoo places a hand on your lower back to let you know. You smile at him, holding the cue upright, and reply with a short and sweet “okay”. 

The moment Kyungsoo enters the restrooms, he’s hit with an overwhelming feeling in his chest. He knew his friends would fall for her as hard as he did. He can’t remember the last time he introduced a girl to his friends and it going this smoothly.  

And Kyungsoo has introduced his friends to many women.  

He can’t contain the smile on his face. You’ve made him so happy this past month.  

He wants to bring you on so many other dates, bring you to all the places you never got the chance to visit as a teen. He wants to recreate memories with you and replace every single lonely one.  

Although you both come from very different childhoods, Kyungsoo finally feels that he’s met his match. Someone that will bring out the best in him even if he feels that he might not deserve you. He hopes he can do the same for you so you can show off that shiny bright personality of yours to the world. It deserves to get to know you too. 

Kyungsoo washes up quickly so he can be by your side as soon as possible. He walks out the doors with a stupid grin on his face. 

It slowly disappears when he notices how uncomfortable Hyoseob looks.  

“What’s wrong? Y/N beat you guys again?” Kyungsoo laughs lightheartedly.  

Hyoseob doesn’t answer, instead his eyes shift to Jiho. Kyungsoo frowns when Jiho avoids his stare. He follows Jiho’s line of vision to the door.  

He looks around. There’s a sudden drop in his stomach. 

“Where’s Y/N?”  

Jiho’s eyes flick to Kyungsoo’s by accident. He sees the guilt in his eyes. 

“What did you do?” Kyungsoo’s tone darkens, a lot graver and threatening.  

He grows angrier when Jiho stays silent.  

“I was gone for a minute. What did you do?” He asks one more time. 

“She was going to find out eventually.” Jiho mutters, barely reaching Kyungsoo’s ears to hear. But when it does, it’s loud. The volume of the chatter in the bar is becoming deafening.  

His breath hitches and that pit in his stomach grows tenfold. He can’t think about anything else but you. He grabs his keys and storms off. He can hear Hyoseob calling his name behind him. He doesn’t care. He can’t care when you’re out there thinking he lied to you. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He chants to himself, hoping you’d pick up the phone, be the understanding person that you are, and hear him out. It’s to his surprise that you do. 

“Y/N? Where are you?” Kyungsoo tries not to sound too frantic. 

He hears you take a deep breath. 

“Don’t call. Don’t text. When you see me in class, don’t even look at me. Fuck you, Do Kyungsoo.” 

You hang up abruptly, not even giving a chance for Kyungsoo to speak. 

He tries calling again, phone shaking in his hold. 

The number you have dialed is unavailable. 

chananyeol bong: if anyone has a copy of that oilblotter drabble :') pls send it my way. i think it about it a lot 🤕❤️‍🩹💔 this will have a second part (and maybe third - i can only hate myself for this lol) this was started when i was being moody from my period and it was hard to finish cause i was in my usual sunshine and rainbows mood after lol UPDATE I FOUND IT!!!! i've linked it above for anyone interested :)

on this segment of memes that made me think of this story:

“Don’t piss me off.” You overhear Kyungsoo say to one of the other line cooks, making you gulp nervously. “Who the fuck prepped these tomatoes?! They’re all crushed!” He continues cursing to his kitchen. 

You’re shitting bricks right now. You have to ask Kyungsoo a substitution question and you were guaranteed to be yelled at. You can feel your pits grow moist at the thought of confronting him. 

“Um, sorry. Kyungsoo?” You try to speak up but the dishes and sounds of pots and pans are deafening. You clear your throat. “Chef?” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Your lips fold into your mouth as you finally catch his attention. The very sight of you is enough to piss him off already. You can’t breathe. “What is it, princess? I better not hear the word substitution come from that mouth of yours.” 

Your lips press into a straight line before you take a deep breath in. 

“Um,” You hesitate. “Table 2 was wondering if they could change the eggs in the eggs bene to ham.” 

Fuck. 

Kyungsoo slowly looks up at you and fucking glares at you. You can feel the tears well up as he prepares to yell at you. You see his jaw tighten, trying to hold back the last bit of sanity he had before he goes off on you. 

“Are you a fucking idiot?” His brows are knit together. The whole kitchen has stopped or at least moved slower to hear the absolute chaos that’s about to ensue. “What the fuck is wrong with you that you would have the fucking balls to come here and ask me to sub the eggs in a fucking eggs bene. The answer is fuck off. Get out of my kitchen.” 

Your eyes are blurred by your tears. You run out of the kitchen, completely embarrassed. You run past your manager who seems genuinely concerned and speed straight for the bathroom. You hide in one of the stalls to fully let yourself cry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You swear out of frustration, covering your face with your hands. 

You loved this job but ever since they hired this new head chef; your life has been miserable. You weren’t able to think straight. You were making rookie mistakes all over again: forgetting to print tickets, forgetting to bring people their ketchup, and most importantly, forgetting that you shouldn’t take what the mean line cooks say to heart. 

You couldn’t afford to quit this job. Literally everything else at this job was fun. You love talking to customers. You love your manager. You love the people you worked with. It was just him. 

You hate to be dramatic but this man made your life a living hell. 

You pull yourself together and take a deep breath in. “You can do this.” You encourage yourself. “Only 2 hours left.” 

You head to Table 2 to apologize on behalf of the kitchen for not being able to accommodate their egg allergy. “I would like to apologize but our chef is unable to substitute the eggs for- Is that ham?” You point at the customer’s plate, completely confused by the sight of the piggy meat sitting on top of the english muffin.  

“Yes, thank you so much for making this happen!” The customer beams at you, happily shoving a piece of his ham into his mouth. 

“Oh, of course.” You fake a smile before refilling his cup with water. 

You look back at the kitchen door, unable to piece what just happened together. 

The rest of your shift goes smoothly as you avoid going back to the kitchen for anything, asking your coworkers to grab any extra condiments for you instead. You’re helping close the front, mopping the last bit of the dirty floor when you hear the door swivel open. You watch Kyungsoo leave the kitchen with the same unfriendly face he always has. He almost passes you before you stop him in his step, lightly grazing his arm.  

“Thank you for making the sub.” You say, doing your best not to make your voice waiver.  

“Next time, lead with the allergy.” He replies, watching your hand on his arm. You drop it like his jacket is on fire. “Have a good rest of your day.” 

What a jerk. 

————

The brunch rush was extremely hectic this Monday. It was a long weekend which meant that there were a lot more people going out to eat than usual. You did not waste a single minute, making sure to refill everyone’s drinks, get everyone’s orders, and check on your tables regularly. You were finally getting your groove back.  

Until you make eye contact with the six-top at Table 5. 

Your eyes widen. Your chest drops to your ass. Oh, fuck me. You rush to the computer and type in their order as fast as you can. They’ve been waiting for 15 minutes and — 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You wince when you hear Kyungsoo yell through the walls. You need to hide. Quickly, if you still liked working here. You find yourself shuffling around, unsure of where to go next. You just refilled everyone’s cups. You struggle to find an excuse to hide amongst the customers. 

“Y/N!”  

Shit. 

You walk in the kitchen like a guilty puppy with her tail tucked between her legs. Your hands are clasped together behind your back, sweating profusely. Kyungsoo looks up and locks eyes with you, sad little puppy you. 

“Well, what the fuck? Is this your first time working during a rush? When a group of six comes in, you warn us. Is that so fucking hard for your pea-sized brain to understand? Fuck, you’re hopeless.” Kyungsoo’s voice grows louder, stronger, angrier. He’s fuming, his eyebrows raising every time he finds a new way to insult you. His eyeballs look like they want to pop the fuck out of his face. If this were a cartoon, there would be smoke coming from his ears. 

You can feel the tears well up again. Before you can even let them escape, you run into the walk-in fridge. There were way too many customers for you to hide in your usual spot. As soon as the door closed behind you, you burst into tears, falling to the ground and covering your face once again. 

“I’m such an idiot.” You whisper to yourself. The cold air feels refreshing after a good tearful cry. You take a deep breath, ready to go back out when the door opens. 

“Are you really hiding here when I just said there’s a rush?”  

You pout at the man who made you cry. He followed you in here too? He really will be the death of you. 

“I just needed a minute.” You swallow the bubble stuck in your throat. You wipe the remaining tears with your sleeves as you stand up. Your head lowers immediately when your eyes meet his intimidating pair. 

He stares at you a little longer and nods slowly. His arms are crossed, judging you from above. You can see why he got this far in life to work in a fancy brunch spot in the heart of the city. His stance was demanding, powerful.  

“I’m sorry. I forgot. I should have told you as soon as they walked in.” You can’t do anything now but apologize.  

He studies you for a second. You prepare for the next insult, for the next reminder that you are incompetent. Instead, he exhales through his nose. 

"Don’t be too hard on yourself.” You look up at him, surprised. Are these words of comfort? “It happens. Just try not to piss me off again.” Ah, there it is. 

He exits the cold room, leaving you alone. It’s weird. You don’t feel like a complete idiot anymore but you don’t feel completely comforted either. What you do feel is that Kyungsoo might not be a complete asshole. 

————

Life is so much easier with the new line cook (not Kyungsoo). The balance had been restored. When Sehun first called you princess and offered you free fries, you almost fell in love. Finally, a line cook who is acting the way he should be.  

You can tell it kills Kyungsoo every time Sehun defends you and says, “she’s just a girl”. To which Kyungsoo responds with “a girl without a brain”. It’s become somewhat fun and playful working with the kitchen. You haven’t cried since Sehun joined the kitchen staff and you are planning on keeping it that way. It’s great. 

You were opening the front today and hoping to get free breakfast from Sehun at this early hour. You skip to the kitchen with a gleeful smile, excited to see your new work husband. You immediately frown when he’s nowhere to be seen.  

“Oh, it’s you.” You’re met with a very serious looking Kyungsoo prepping the fruits, brows furrowed in complete concentration. The angry gremlin seems to have a sense of humour as he scoffs at your little comment. Not once tearing his gaze away from his stupid fruit. 

“No breakfast for you.” He practically sings mockingly, playful smirk appearing at the corner of his lips. You hope he doesn’t see you mock him, mouthing ‘no breakfast for you’ in the most condescending way. Sehun would’ve found it funny. 

"Devil’s spawn.” You mutter under your breath as you walk back to the front of the restaurant. 

You miss the way Kyungsoo chuckles as he continues to prep the ingredients. 

“Good morning my princess!” Sehun comes in through the front door right on time. Your eyes gleam, waving at him excitingly.  

“Morning Sehun!” You greet him happily. You look at him expectantly and flutter your lashes exaggeratingly. He laughs as he heads to the kitchen. You pout dramatically as he passes you. 

“Give me 5 minutes. I’ll make your burrito once I settle in.” Sehun peeks his head out the door. Your pout quickly turns into a bright smile.  

It grows a bit bigger when the small gap before the door closes reveals Kyungsoo glaring at Sehun. No breakfast for me, huh? You scoff to yourself before you start your day. You start by removing the chairs from the table. Then move on to cleaning and setting the tables.  

There has never been a better opener, you smile to yourself and admire your work. You head to the coffee station and start brewing the coffee. Sehun comes out just in time with two burritos in hand.  

“Oh thank you,” You practically moan. You’ve been craving this ever since he made it for you the first time you opened together. You take a bite. “Marry me?” 

“I already set the date, baby.” He beams, happy that you enjoy his cooking. He cheers his burrito with yours and takes a bite of his own. And you two eat peacefully together, standing behind the counter in fear of making a mess anywhere else.  

The peaceful bubble is burst when the angry gremlin walks in.  

He doesn’t say anything, just eyeing you two before he moves past you to get to the coffee machine. He sighs when he sees it’s not ready yet. “What do you even do here?” He shoots you a glare for not having the coffee brewed in time for his morning routine.  

“You can wait 10 minutes.” Sehun defends you. Kyungsoo eyes you both, shifting from one to the other. Until they set on you.  

He leans in closer and lowly whispers in your ear, “Don’t involve yourself with my kitchen staff.” 

You try to bite back a rebuttal when your breath suddenly catches, realizing how close he actually is. This is the closest you’ve ever been. You step back to expand the space between you. You would never even think to date a line cook. As a waitress, you’ve seen that burn way too many times. What you and Sehun had was just harmless flirting.  

You can feel yourself grow hot in anger. Kyungsoo had no business to forbid you from seeing anyone. You hate him so much. And you loathe the way he’s just lingering near you while you eat your burrito.  

The coffee machine is hissing while Kyungsoo waits like he didn’t just whisper the most infuriating threat in your ear. You’re frowning at him, in complete disbelief that he would even say something like that to you. Who did he think he was? The machine calms down, indicating that it was ready. You watch as Kyungsoo pulls his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. He reaches for a mug near the machine. His fingers grip the mug and flip it upright with ease. He pours the coffee into his cup, you notice the sharp line on his forearm for the first time, so toned and defined.  

Your breathing is becoming heavier as you observe all his movements. You can feel yourself getting hotter each second passes that he calmly sips on his coffee. Your eyes can’t help but follow the movement of his throat when he swallows. He looks up from his cup and eyes you instead. That one look is enough to have you forgetting how to breathe but most importantly, you’ve forgotten all about the burrito in your hand. 

When Kyungsoo returns to the kitchen, you catch Sehun take a bite of his burrito, unable to suppress the grin forming on his face. He knows. He just watched you thirst all over his boss. Over a cup of coffee. You couldn’t believe it either. 

“What the fuck?” You mouth quietly to him, brows raised, surprised by your own actions. 

"Babe, we’re going to have to cancel the wedding.” 

You throw a piece of tomato at him. 

————

There’s another rush and this time Kyungsoo does not hold back. Unfortunately for you, Sehun took the day off so Kyungsoo was being relentlessly mean to you and only you. Everything you did was wrong, wrong, wrong. He was nitpicking, nagging, all of the above. He took it all out on you. And you just had to take it.  

“Sure, take the whole fucking day to grab your food. All this counter space is all for you, princess.”  

Again, he was being such an asshole.  

“You wanna ease up a bit, huh?” You channel your inner Sehun and get the confidence to talk back to him. His jaw tightens, clearly bothered that you would stand up to him. He doesn’t say anything. You quickly grab the food for your table before he decides to go off on you again. “Ass.” You mutter under your breath, low but loud enough for him to hear. 

To your surprise, he actually does ease up. Well, he doesn’t talk to you at all after that. It’s enough to get you through the day. You haven’t made a single mistake. And you managed to get Kyungsoo to shut up on your own, all without Sehun’s help. You might treat yourself to some ice cream on the way home.  

“Y/N” Kyungsoo’s low voice catches your attention before leaving for the day. He’s standing near the door to the kitchen. His expression is dark and unreadable to you. You swallow nervously. You wave at your coworker who was closing for the day before you walk to meet Kyungsoo in the kitchen. 

You walk inside his workspace and stand in front of him. He’s leaning against a counter, arms crossed. He’s looking at you like he’s trying really hard to form his next thought. You’re holding your breath for what he’s about to say, prepared for whatever he has to throw at you. 

“I’m sorry for my behaviour today. It was unfair to release my frustrations onto you. I have no excuse.”  

He’s apologizing? You stare at him, surprised. You were fully bracing yourself for a screaming match, ready to defend yourself against him.  

“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know I’m sorry.” He continues. His eyes never leaving yours. He doesn’t look nervous at all. If anything, it looks like he actually means it.  

He gives you a small smile before he pats you on your shoulder and moves to exit the kitchen.  

Your body moves faster than your mind, your hand shooting out to grab Kyungsoo’s forearm. Seeing him smile and pat your shoulder stirs something inside of you. Something that was encouraging you to act irrationally.  

His gaze drops to your fingers wrapped around his arm before lifting back to you. “What are you-” 

Kyungsoo doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before you crash into his lips, kissing him hungrily. You have no idea what’s come over you. But you are so fucking happy when his hand finds its way around your hips while the other naturally finds its place at the back of your head. You thank the heavens that Kyungsoo takes over the kiss, immediately deepening it. 

Before you know it, you were hoisted up onto the counter that he had just cleaned. His hands are gripping your hips firmly, massaging your sides. You can feel yourself getting wetter with his every touch. His lips move against yours with ease and without pause, barely giving you any room to breathe. He’s kissing you like he’s been holding himself back. And maybe you were too. 

Your fingers play with the neckline of his white t-shirt, wanting to take it off him entirely like it’s personally offending you for being in the way of you and his bare chest.  

“Don’t,” His mouth hovers yours, tickling your lips. Your mind goes crazy, anticipating what he’ll say next. “stretch it.” He kisses you again. 

You roll your eyes. Of course he would criticize you even with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Take it off then.” You snake your hands under his shirt, attempting to help him take it off. He shakes his head, grabbing your wrists and pinning them back to your sides.  

“Jongdae’s outside.” He says lowly, peppering your jaw with kisses. You tilt your head, giving him more access of you. 

Like that’s supposed to stop either of you. 

“So?”  

You hear him groan frustratedly in your ear before he grabs your ass and carries you in the direction of the fridge. “Wait.” You say, panicking. You don’t want to freeze your tits off. “It’s cold in there.” 

He grabs the handle with one hand. “You’ll live.” He says before yanking the door open and carrying you inside the cold room. He sets you down on a cold, empty shelf, before he continues to tackle your lips. A soft whimper escapes your lips when you feel the coldness of the metal seep through your jeans. He starts massaging your inner thigh as if to warm you up. 

“These jeans fit you so nicely.” He doesn’t even glance down to look at your jeans, sucking on your neck instead. The realization hits you all at once. He's been checking you out all day. And suddenly his anger and frustration start to make sense. Why he got so mad at you for ‘flirting’ with Sehun, the random ‘pep-talk’ he gave you in this very room the impossible substitution exception he made for you. All these moments begin to merge into one big blob of realization that oh my god Chef Do Kyungsoo has the hots for you. 

Your hunger for him deepens. You don’t even know where to start. Without thinking, you grab his chin and force him to look at you. His eyes are hooded, overtaken by lust and fixated on you like you are the only one he wants.  

“I want you, Kyungsoo.”  

Kyungsoo hears you loud and clearly, moving quickly to slide your jeans off. You gasp when you feel his cold fingers against your bare skin. “It’s so cold.” You whine again. He gets on his knees and looks up at you. “I’ll warm you up in a sec.” 

Your jeans were cast off somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your underwear. You catch him smiling at the sight of you, legs wide open for him, shivering, waiting for him. His cock twitches just thinking about it.  

He blows a warm breath between your legs, sending shivers down your spine. Then, sliding your underwear to the side, gives you a long lick. You gasp at the sudden heat of his tongue. “You taste so good.” He says before returning to your folds and lapping his tongue up and down the split. You can hear how wet you’ve gotten. Kyungsoo is drinking you in like he’s been thirsty all day and you are the first taste of water. 

Your thighs clamp instinctively when he decides to add his fingers, fucking you as he continues to swirl his tongue around you. He has to use his free hand to move your thighs apart, massaging you instead. Your eyes shut as you feel your climax approaching. Kyungsoo immediately catches on, applying a lot more pressure onto your clit, sucking, licking, doing whatever fucking magic he was doing to get you there. He hooks his fingers so he’s now hitting your sweet spot. You moan his name breathily to let him know. You can feel him smile at the sound of your pretty voice and increases the speed of his fingers.  

“Kyungsooooo fuuuuuuuckkk” You groan, gushing all over his face. Your hands grip his hair, pulling him closer to you as you ride out your climax. He doesn’t stop sucking, wanting to drink all the juices spewing out of you. Your clit throbs, overstimulated, now sensitive to every flick of his tongue.  

Kyungsoo finally pulls back and presses a hungry kiss to your lips. “I’m not done with you yet.” He wipes the small tear from the corner of your eye with a gentle swipe of his thumb 

“I’m not either.” You’re staring up at him with the same amount of desperation. As promised, you reach for his belt buckle and undo it hurriedly. Kyungsoo pets your head, running his fingers through your hair as if to tell you what a good job you’re doing. You bite your lip when you pull down his pants to reveal the tent growing in his boxers. You look up at him before you descend to your knees. Kyungsoo stops you mid-way before grabbing something from the shelves. He drops it to the ground. “Towels?” You tilt your head, unsure what they were for. It can’t be a makeshift bed, you chuckle to yourself. 

“I don’t want you to hurt those pretty knees of yours, princess.” Kyungsoo smiles, flicking your chin ever so slightly. This was the most romantic shit that’s ever happened to you. The usually condescending pet name for you has softened, blossoming into something almost tender. The realization that Kyungsoo was on his knees not too long ago and he didn’t grab those towels for himself is making your heart race. 

You immediately get on your knees and rush to work, eager to return the favour. You feel like it's Christmas morning the way you are unwrapping him like he’s your present. You pull down his boxers to reveal his girthy length. In awe, you tilt your head up to meet his gaze, in disbelief that this belonged to Kyungsoo. He raises an eyebrow at you, amused; you’ve definitely stroked his ego with that reaction.  

You snap yourself out of it and lick the precum off his tip, earning you a sharp hiss from Kyungsoo. His hand grips your hair ever so slightly; you feel yourself grow surprisingly wetter. You drag your tongue across your palm and spit on his dick before wrapping your hand around him, slowly stroking him up and down. You tilt your head sideways and run your tongue along one of his balls.  

“Oh fuck” Kyungsoo swears at the sudden touch.  

You tease him for a bit longer with your tongue before you taking one side in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue while your hand keeps pumping him up and down. You feel his cock twitch in your grasp.  

“You’re driving me crazy, fuck.” You glance up at him. Kyungsoo is looking down at you with pure adoration. You smile with your eyes as you continue to slobber over his ballsack, switching from one to the other. Saliva spewls out of your mouth as you take your time with him.  

“Fuck, slow down, princess.” 

You don’t slow down. 

Kyungsoo desperately needs you to suck his cock now. You were only at his balls and he already feels close to losing it. He grips your hair and forcefully removes you. You meet his gaze, out of breath, yet still smiling up at him like a brat.  

“You don’t listen.” He tsks, wiping the drool from your chin. He leans down to kiss you gently, his apology for yanking your hair. You didn’t mind it. It turns you on a lot more than you expected.  

“Now suck me off.” He murmurs lowly against your lips before straightening again and guiding your head back to him. Your eyes don’t leave his as you open wide and slide his length into your mouth slowly. Kyungsoo groans the moment you take all inches of him.  

“You’re so good to me. My princess.” His hand begins to move again, stroking your hair in slow, approving strokes. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft, stroking him slightly as you bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue and sucking him in unison. The hum of the fridge fills the room, mixing with Kyungsoo’s moans and your slurping sounds. You were seriously hoping this fridge was as soundproof as Kyungsoo made it seem. You pick up your pace to Kyungsoo’s content. He’s close, his cock is twitching in your mouth. You’re a slobbering mess, drool spilling out of your mouth and leaking from your hand.  

Kyungsoo’s a moaning mess. “Fuck, princess. I’m so close.” You take your other hand and massage his balls. He groans, pushing your head closer to him as he empties himself in your mouth. You swallow every single drop. He releases his grip around your hair. Immediately, you show off your tongue to him, letting him know that you didn’t spill a single drop of him.  

“Ugh, you’re perfect, princess.” Both his hands fly to the sides of your face as he crashes his lips onto yours. He brings you back up to your feet and turns you around. He presses onto your back, lowering you so that you’re now bending over for him on the not-so-cold-anymore shelf. You look back at him, finding him stroke himself hard again as he stares at the view of your ass. 

“I can’t believe I get to fuck this pretty little pussy of yours.” He mutters, catching your gaze. He swipes his cock against your folds. “Shit, you’re still so wet.” You stare as he shows you wet you’ve become. You bite your lip when he shoves his fingers into his mouth to taste you. 

Without warning, he thrusts into you. You gasp at the sudden fullness, bending over so you were no longer facing him. 

His size was so thick. This was the first time you’ve felt like you were actually being stretched out. “You’re doing such a good job, taking me.” Kyungsoo praises you, hands massaging your ass and moving your hips back and forth as he fucks you. “Why can't you ever do a good job like this at work? Hm?” 

“Tell me you’ll do a good job next time.” Kyungsoo thrusts harder into you. You whimper, clenching around him out of surprise. “Answer me.” 

“I’ll do a good job next time.” You repeat after him. He pushes into you again, this time deeper. He halts, pressing his lips gently onto your shoulder.  

“Good girl.” He starts pounding into you desperately, recklessly. You squeal at the pure ecstasy. Kyungsoo has to wrap his hands around your mouth to shut you up. Maybe it wasn’t so soundproof.  

Kyungsoo is snapping his hips so quickly. Your eyes begin to well up in tears from how good he feels inside of you. He reaches down to your clit and applies pressure, rubbing you in circles in the same rhythm as he’s fucking you.  

You’re clenching around him, unable to take the overstimulation. “Cum for me, princess.” He practically growls in your ear, encouraging you to reach your end. You come undone to the sound of his voice like it was the password to your climax, walls clenching around him.  

“Kyungsoo” You moan, tiredly but Kyungsoo doesn’t stop fucking you. He continues, chasing his own. Not too long after, you feel him pull out of you and spill all over your ass. “Fuck.” He takes your chin in his grasp and kisses you so tenderly and so deeply. You forget where you are. You stay like that for a minute. 

“Is anybody still here?” Jongdae shouts out to no one in particular. “I’m closing the front!” 

“Yeah! In the fridge.” Kyungsoo shouts back. “I’ll take care of the back.” 

Using up what’s left of your energy, you turn back to look at him, surprised at how clear his voice was because you don’t think you can even croak out a sound. He laughs at you, kissing you sweetly on the lips. 

“Okay! Have a good rest of the day Chef!” Jongdae says his goodbye, interrupting the moment 

“You too!” Kyungsoo responds as he peppers kisses onto your back. 

“Fuck. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?” He pulls you up and helps you put your jeans back on. Your body was now sweaty, and it was a lot harder to put it on than to take it off. 

“Let me guess. Since the day you started here.” You scoff at him, having pieced together everything minutes ago. 

“Yes, fuck. And it didn’t help that you kept fucking up.” He presses his lips onto you again, never wanting to let a minute pass that he wasn’t kissing you. 

“Does this mean you’ll go easy on me now?” You ask sweetly, batting your lashes, hopeful. 

“Why?” He smirks, zipping his pants and fixing his belt. “You don’t like it when I make you cry?” 

“Oh, I love when you make me cry.” You say. “Just not when we’re working.”  

Kyungsoo chuckles. 

“Suck me off like that again and we’ll see.”  

The school cafeteria was always a noisy mess, with the sound of metal trays clattering against plastic tables, students shouting over the last pieces of cake, and the echo of conversations blending into a constant buzz that gave anyone a headache.

But she didn’t mind the noise. She was sitting at her usual table, trying to focus on her lunch. In front of her was Sooho, her best friend, devouring his second tray of food as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Sooho’s mouth was full of rice and meat, but that didn’t stop him from talking nonstop.

She stirred her soup with her chopsticks, distracted, her gaze drifting toward the cafeteria entrance every few seconds, searching for a particular figure.

A slightly shorter boy, with dark brown hair, slouched shoulders, and an expression that was always neutral. Yeon Sieun.

Sooho, who seemed focused only on his food, actually had the eyes of a hawk. He swallowed his bite, took a huge gulp of water, and slammed his cup down with a mocking grin.

“Your eyes are going to fall out if you keep staring at the door,” Sooho said, resting his chin on his hand. “Who are you waiting for so desperately? Santa Claus?”

She jumped in her seat, startled, her cheeks heating up. She quickly lowered her gaze to her soup.

“I wasn’t looking at the door,” she lied, trying to sound casual, though her voice came out higher than usual. “I was just thinking about… the history exam. Yeah. The history exam.”

Sooho burst out laughing, loud enough that a couple of students nearby turned to look.

“Please. You’re terrible at lying,” Sooho said, pointing his chopsticks at her face. “You’re waiting for Sieun. Again. Like every single day.”

“Shut up, Sooho!” she hissed, wide-eyed, panicking that someone might have overheard. “Don’t say it so loud.”

“Why not?” Sooho shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Everyone knows you’ve got that weird crush on him. It’s so obvious even the teachers notice. You turn red every time he breathes near you.”

“That’s not true. We’re friends. I see him as a friend,” she tried to defend herself, crossing her arms, though she knew it was a useless lie.

Sooho rolled his eyes, popped a sausage into his mouth, and kept going. Teasing her was his favorite pastime after eating and sleeping.

“Seriously, I don’t get it,” Sooho said, leaning forward with exaggerated confusion. “What exactly do you see in that guy?”

She frowned. “What do you mean, what do I see?”

“I mean it,” Sooho lowered his voice but kept his mocking tone. “It’s Yeon Sieun. He doesn’t talk unless he has to. He never smiles. He spends all day buried in physics or math books. He looks pale enough to have anemia, he’s short, and if the wind blows too hard, he might fall over… though yeah, we all know he hits like a maniac, but that’s not the point.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” she snapped, indignation flaring in her chest.

“It’s the truth!” Sooho laughed at her protective reaction. “He has no sense of humor. If you tell him a joke, he looks at you like you’re a lab rat that escaped its cage. He doesn’t get hints. He doesn’t care about girls, video games, or junk food. He only cares about grades and sleep. Do you really like someone that boring?”

That was the limit.

She could handle Sooho mocking her feelings. She could handle him saying she was obvious. But she wasn’t going to let him insult Yeon Sieun.

She dropped her chopsticks onto her tray with a sharp clatter, pressed her palms flat against the table, and leaned forward, her eyes blazing. Sooho blinked, surprised.

Then she started talking. Or rather, she launched into a completely unhinged monologue.

“You don’t know anything, Ahn Sooho,” she said, her voice rising without her realizing, forgetting they were in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. “Yeon Sieun isn’t weird. And he’s not boring! He’s the most incredible, fascinating, perfect person in this stupid school.”

Sooho’s mouth fell open, unsure whether to laugh or be scared.

“What do I see in him? I see everything!” she went on, waving her hands, months of bottled-up feelings spilling out. “First of all, his face. Have you even looked at his face properly? He’s gorgeous! Those big dark eyes, always so focused, and when he looks at you, it feels like he can read your soul. His lashes are so long. He’s adorable! He looks like an angry kitten all the time, and that makes him a million times more attractive!”

Sooho raised his eyebrows, sipping his juice, enjoying the show.

“And it’s not just his face!” she kept going, breathless. “I love how he is. I love that he’s quiet, because when he talks, you know it matters. I love that he’s so smart. It’s sexy. Do you know how sexy it is to watch someone solve a three-line math equation without blinking? It’s too much for me!”

She clutched her chest dramatically, her cheeks blazing red.

“You say he doesn’t smile, but that’s not true. I’ve seen him smile. It’s tiny, almost invisible, just for a second, but when you catch it, it feels like winning the lottery. And he’s so protective. He has a huge, loyal heart hidden behind that serious face.”

Sooho set his cup down, his mocking grin fading. He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

But she didn’t notice. She was at the peak of her frenzy, adrenaline pushing her confession out loud.

“I like him,” she admitted, fists clenched. “I like him so much I feel like I’m going crazy. He’s so damn cute I want to wrap him in a blanket and hide him in my room so no one else can see him. I don’t want any other girl near him. Sometimes I wish I could drop to my knees in the hallway, pull out a candy ring from a vending machine, propose to him right there, and make him mine forever! I want to marry him, Sooho! I want him to be my husband!”

She exhaled in a huge sigh, finally empty. Relief washed over her.

She leaned back in her chair, breathing hard. “Wow… I needed to say that out loud.”

She looked at Sooho, expecting him to laugh hysterically, call her crazy, or send her to therapy.

But Sooho wasn’t laughing. He was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open, chopsticks dropped.

And he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on the space behind her shoulder.

Confused, she waved a hand in front of his face. “Sooho? What’s wrong? Did I say something too weird? Okay, yeah, the kidnapping and marriage part sounded intense, but you know me, I exaggerate…”

Sooho swallowed hard, then pointed behind her. “You… you should turn around.”

Her heart stopped. Slowly, like in a horror movie, she turned her head.

And there he was.

Less than half a meter away, standing right behind her chair, holding a tray of food. Yeon Sieun.

His posture was the same as always, shoulders slightly hunched, uniform neat. But his face…

He was staring at her, eyes wider than usual, lips pressed tight. His knuckles were white around the tray.

And worst of all, the tips of his ears were bright red.

He had heard everything.

Every single word.

The silence stretched for what felt like centuries.

Her soul left her body. Her brain short-circuited. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

She had to say something. Anything.

“H-hi, Sieun,” she squeaked, her voice like a terrified mouse.

Sieun blinked, glanced at his tray, then at Sooho—who was covering his mouth to keep from laughing—and finally back at her.

“Hi,” Sieun said, calm as always, though his ears betrayed him.

Act natural! her brain screamed.

She grabbed her chopsticks with trembling hands, picked up a big piece of kimbap, and shoved it into her mouth, planning to smile and pretend she’d been talking about an actor.

But panic betrayed her. The rice went down the wrong way.

She choked. Violently.

Coughing, clutching her throat, face turning purple.

Sooho jumped up. “Hey! Are you okay?!”

She couldn’t speak, tears streaming, pounding her chest.

Sooho slapped her back hard, nearly knocking her into her soup, but it worked. She gasped for air, wheezing, eyes watery.

“Drink water, idiot!” Sooho shoved a cup at her.

She gulped it down, coughing, alive but mortified.

“Just let me die,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Please, Sooho, hit me with a tray and let me die here.”

Sooho, relieved she wasn’t choking anymore, burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over.

She stayed hidden in her hands while Sooho laughed like a maniac in the middle of the cafeteria.

Then she heard the sound of a tray being set down on the table, right in the empty seat beside her.

Sieun hadn’t left.

He sat down calmly in the chair next to hers, arranging his chopsticks and spoon.

She peeked through her fingers. Sieun was right there, sitting beside her. His expression had returned to its usual neutrality, but the faint red tint on his ears and cheeks hadn’t faded.

He pulled a napkin from the dispenser, slid it across the table toward her elbows without looking her in the eye.

“Wipe… your eyes,” Sieun said softly, his voice low and almost gentle.

She lowered her hands slowly. Her eyes were red and watery from coughing. She looked at the napkin, then at him.

Sieun kept his gaze on his food, stirring rice with his spoon. He looked uncomfortable, but not disgusted or horrified by her outburst.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered, taking the napkin and drying her face, feeling like the clumsiest person alive.

Sooho finally calmed down, wiping away a tear of laughter, and leaned on his hands with a mischievous grin.

“Well… now that we’ve avoided a tragedy, and all the cards are on the table… Sieun.”

Sieun stopped stirring. “What?”

“I was wondering… since you’re going to be my best friend’s future husband, when’s the wedding? Should I rent a suit?” Sooho teased mercilessly.

She kicked Sooho under the table, hard enough to make him grunt. “Shut up!” she hissed, her face burning again.

She glanced at Sieun, expecting him to get up and leave with his tray.

But Sieun didn’t leave.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, took a bite of food, chewed slowly, swallowed, then looked at Sooho.

“There’s no date yet,” Sieun said, completely serious.

Sooho’s eyes widened, then he burst out laughing again, clapping his hands.

She froze, her heart racing wildly.

Sieun turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. His gaze was intense, making her breath catch.

“Though…” he added quietly, almost just for her, “I guess you’d have to get the candy ring from the vending machine first, right?”

And there it was.

That tiny, almost invisible smile she had described in her monologue. It flickered across his lips for a second before disappearing, but she saw it clearly.

Ahn Suho was never interested in his studies.

Studying, for him, is simply suffering in disguise of learning a lot of things that you will simply forget when you are older. So why bother? Why study when you can work and earn money and probably build a business with advice from businessmen helping young people to be an entrepreneur on YouTube?

He was not ambitious in a way people around him wanted him to be. He has talent in some areas that can be useful, but not applicable in anything. I mean, if the customer purposely sabotages their order and blames you on your 'incompetence' and 'inexperience', you cannot punch the shit out of them, right?

So, he sleeps. A lot in class. He works at night and sleeps at day like an owl of the night. The only class he is awake to is during PE class, which by the way, he is an expert at even their gym teacher told him he had a future with being a PE teacher or an athlete.

But according to him, he doesn't want to be an athlete or a teacher. Seeing his current classmates made him lose hope of teaching anyone. Some are bullies, some are just hopeless, and some are incredibly quiet. He's not gonna get along with his imaginary students at best, they're just gonna pissed him off.

Honestly, he's only attending school (for perfect attendance apparently) because of his grandma. His lovable and caring grandmother who sometimes hit him with her wooden spoon or slippers whenever she scolded him for doing something bad or when he talked back. The only person he cherished the most, his family, and his all in all. Everything he does is for her.

He doesn't have many friends. He is indeed friendly, connecting and bonds with boys and girls his age is quite easy, but no one sticks closer than a boy with the name of Yeon Sieun.

The smarty pants in his class. Always in the first place, always on the top, and always studying. Nose buried in an advanced book, jotting down notes and to-do lists like the  noise of their loud classmates were blurred down and are of little importance for him to care.

The very opposite of Suho. But maybe, the opposite does attract each other. He cannot help but notice the boy. In PE class, Yeongbin and his goons made fun of the sweating and panting boy like a circus clown. When he accidentally knocked on the wrong apartment and building, Suho recognized the boy again. He even had the audacity to ask for a glass of water, complaining about his dry throat and the possible dehydration which Sieun reluctantly did for him to leave his home immediately.

Never has it crossed his mind that he is gonna be friends with him. Not even once. Because after bringing an end to a fight during the mock examination, he found himself sitting in the school cafeteria across Sieun with a disappointed look on his face the day after.

Sieun offered him lunch. His relaxed shoulder seeking for a nice, long nap that was interrupted

“I honestly was not expecting much,” Suho started, watching Sieun eat his own lunch mindlessly. He's trying not to roll his eyes. “But I can pay for my own lunch money.”

Sieun didn't look up from his food. “Don’t eat it then.”

He's not someone who denies free food. If you think about it, free food is rarely available and offered to anyone. You won't use your money, you will save up a little, and your stomach is full and well fed, it's a win-win situation actually.

Still sulking, Suho pulled the plate closer to him. He picked up his spoon and started devouring his own lunch like he didn't eat for a whole day (he didn't have breakfast that day). "Thank you for the food,” he exclaimed, putting a spoonful of rice in his mouth.

It was Sieun’s turn to watch him eat, glancing at the other boy while recalling the words you'd spoken to him last night in a video call.

(“Small talk is the first step of any friendship there is in the world. You wouldn't be my boyfriend if I didn't talk to you,” you explained to him like he was your student. You have eye masks under your eyes and a cottony bunny ears headband pulling your hair away from your face.

He was laying on his bed, ready to sleep but he has to call you first because meeting up sometimes seems impossible if you're both tired. So, the two of you settled for video calls every night as a nightly routine and for him to hear your voice as you talk for hours until you are lulled to sleep.

And Sieun told you about the fight earlier. You didn't let him finish as you lectured him about not getting into a fight since he got a temper and you only stopped when he told you it was Yeongbin who started it all. You were quiet for a minute before you said you wouldn't blame him if he broke someone's nose and you called him ‘my formidable boyfriend’ in your baby voice he always raised an eyebrow at.

“You asked for my help, That's different,” he replied back, a small twitch on his lips as you gasped dramatically and your eyes narrowed in feigned annoyance.

“They’re almost the same thing. Almost... but yeah, you're right. They're different.”

You shifted your position, laying on your stomach with your phone steadily leaning on the headboard, propping your chin on your palm as you hummed a quick song. “But try to get to know him. His name is Suho, right? You can start small, something you noticed about him. I’m sure there is something you are curious about him. I mean, it seems like he is a good guy.”

There was a small beat of silence.

Sieun was thinking heavily his head might throb in pain.

“What if he doesn't want to talk?” he asked quietly, his face doing the sullen thing again you don't like. It means he's scared and anxious, and you'll be there to retain his stability and attention.

You smiled with softness and love because you know he's trying. He loves that smile of yours in a way his stomach flutters and his shoulders sagged down. “You’ll be fine. Buy him that lunch you promised. I’m sure you can pull it off.”)

Sieun cleared his throat, then asked, “By the way...” he lowered his eyes back to his plate, playing with his food a little. “Why do you sleep at school?”

First question. Performed and done.

You would be so proud of him.

“Ah.” Suho gulped the food in his mouth. “I come straight here after work. Just in case I sleep in at home...”

Suho is just as talkative as you. Feasting on food as easily as breathing. Almost the same as you, it terrified him a little.

“My grandma insisted I graduate with perfect attendance even if I don't go to college.”

And Sieun listened. The same way he listened to your rant about the weather, the teacher who gives bad grades, your foot aching, the cafes you visited, and many other things he remembered for you. Surely, listening is easier than talking for him, because what matters is the people he involves himself in (that's only you and barely Suho right now).

“Do you like listening to music?” Suho suddenly asked, causing Sieun to lift his head up. “You always have your earbuds on,” he continued, munching on his own meal and slurping his soup loudly. “It’s a little rude.”

Sieun inhaled a little air for courage in his answer, he wanted to be honest and not to turn off Suho if he didn't think of his answer cautiously. “I don't want to be bothered.”

Suho blinked, leaning his head closer so he could hear him. “What?”

“I can't be bothered to talk to anyone,” he said a little louder, avoiding Suho’s invading gaze. “It’s exhausting.”

But most of the time and something he will not admit, he's actively listening to the long voicemails you sent him before and after school. They were comforting him as if you were really there beside him, narrating to him your day that he will never get tired of since it puts a small smile on his face when no one was seeing it.

Suho stared at him. “You know you're really weird, right?” he commented as a joke, he couldn't fully understand what was wrong with talking to people. But also Suho knows, he can judge the boy since he's not living Sieun’s life.

“You’re one to talk,” Sieun retorted, a snappy comeback and a little sassy expression, but it meant no harm.

Suho couldn't believe the quiet boy who he had fought yesterday has this hidden personality that he seems to enjoy. He just laughed the comment off before they both dug their own lunches again, the conversation grew longer even after their plates were empty and clean.

—•••—

Suho knows how to respect someone's boundaries. He only reacts (or fights back) when the person is being unreasonable and immature and has to be taught a lesson through violence. Privacy is important to live a simple, content life without the raging storm of media or people you encountered in the past constantly blaring in your life like thunder.

Still, curiosity is part of human nature. And he was utterly curious about the person with a pink heart and bunny head emoji as a name texting Sieun.

When he began hanging out with Sieun and Beomseok, his attention was somewhere else roaming a few meters away. He had grasped a glimpse of Sieun’s face subtly brightening when the notification sound on his phone rings, Suho almost thought he was dead and his soul was wandering around. He slapped his face twice, making sure he was alive and letting out a sigh of relief and earning strange looks from the two. He smiled it off and said, “Just want to be sure I’m really alive.”

Sieun put his phone back in his pocket (he read your message about going to sleep early), “Whatever you say.”

Suho pointed at him then exclaimed loudly, “Hey! We have different ways of releasing stress.”

Sieun just walked straight ahead, Beomseok trailing a few steps behind with a snicker, and Suho following them, loosening a lighthearted scoff. He walked until he was in the middle of the two, putting his arms on their shoulder as they talked and laughed.

Not to mention, it might give him a heart attack if Sieun did have a girlfriend. He might believe God does answer his prayers for future wealth.

Because Sieun appears like studying is his only long-term relationship. A few days ago, he saw Sieun inside a bus on his way to deliver food. As usual, Sieun was alone. In the classroom, he is alone. Almost everywhere he goes, he is always by himself.

Seriously, who is the bunny head and pink heart emoji?

(“Hey,” Suho called him while they ate Samgyeopsal.

Sieun stared at him. “What?”

“Do you have any siblings?”

Beomseok raised his head while cooking the meat he cut in the grill stove, he too seemed curious about Sieun’s life.

“I don’t have any siblings,” Sieun answered, silently wondering why Suho asked that question.

Suho shrugged, opening his mouth wide open to gobble on the lettuce wrapped meat.

Sieun stared at him.)

Inside an almost crowded hospital room, Suho was on his bed, his left arm slightly fractured from the tough battle earlier but he was assured that he could be discharged the next day.

The events a few hours ago were still clear in his head, he brushed it off with humor yet they came back like ghosts haunting his mind and memories. He was strong, he's like a hero without a cape on, but he doesn't want to be a hero, he just wants to help the people he cares about and make sure harm would not be inflicted on them.

“Are you two dating?”

Suho examines as Yeongi has her arms wrapped around Sieun’s left arm, plopping her head on Sieun’s shoulder before blinking mildly with an associative smile. Sieun, on the other hand, did not appreciate the sentiment and went stiff as a board and had his head withdrawn a little to the other side.

“Of course not,” Sieun replied flatly, like it was obvious he's not into Yeongi, he sees her as a friend only. He pulled his arms away from Yeongi, who took his arms and held onto him again while saying, “Of course yes. We even share each other's location.”

Sieun released a worn-out and exhausted exhale of breath, eyes fighting the urge to roll with slight annoyance visible to the naked eye.

Suho made a face close to ‘Oohh, I think they are dating but also not’. He pondered if Yeongi is the pink heart and bunny head emoji. It could be, you know, but he is uncertain Sieun would like her romantically.

“That’s the core function of the app,” Sieun countered, pulling away again for the second time. Yeongi gave him a bit of a glare.

Suho waved his injured hand at the two of them, minding to keep it low to not further the fracture, lips curved into a smirk. “You two look great together. Just go out with each other,” he enunciated, teasingly.

“No—”

Yeongi leeched on Sieun’s arm again, straining him from getting his arm out of her grasp, the boy grunting to remove her arms around his. Placing a little force to free his arm, Yeongi did let go, not before she playfully bumped her knuckles on his forehead. Taking the boy by surprise. “I hate you,” she hissed with a smile.

Suho and Yeongi began to laugh while Sieun was still caught off guard, looking at them as if they were wild animals that escaped the zoo.

“Yeon Sieun!”

All of the sudden, a girl around their age bolted inside the room, gasping for air like she ran a marathon on the way to the hospital room. Some patients and nurses looked at her and she instantly bowed to them for making such an unnecessary scene, murmuring apologies to everyone while walking towards Suho’s bed.

Sieun stood up from the unoccupied bed, he was already reaching for her as she gently placed her hands on his cheeks.

“What happened to your face?” you ask, distressed that your hands trembled a bit. Checking his face for wounds other than the apparent plaster on his cheek. “Is it a cut? A bruise? Why did you get hurt again?”

Suho and Yeongi’s eyes widened, their mouths hung open in shock and amazement. They gaped at you, assuming their eyes must be deceiving them.

Sieun covered your hands with his, eyes softening, his body relaxing like you are his personal restorative balm soothing the pain and the wounds he had on him. He was beyond glad that you're here.

“I got a call from the hospital. I didn't know what to do but ran straight here because I missed the bus. I’m so worried, Sieun. I didn't want something bad to happen again—”

Sieun shushes you softly, “Don’t worry. I’m fine. It’s only a small cut, nothing more.”

“But you still got hurt,” you said. You are already in pain just by looking at him. What more if you could feel it in your veins?

“I was hurt,” he admitted. Staring at you firmly. “But I’m okay now because you're here.”

He pressed his forehead on yours, holding you close he smelled the sweat and your favorite sandalwood cologne, and suddenly,

“If you’ll be all lovey-dovey publicly, can you just not do it in front of me?” Suho cut off the intimate moment with a deadpan look. Behind that face was an utterly confused and dumbfounded Suho who wanted to ask many questions.

“Stop reminding me I'm single,” he added.

That results in a giggle out of you, wiping the small tears in your eyes, presenting your best smile with a wave. “Hi! You are Suho, right?” then you told them your name. “I’m Sieun’s girlfriend.”

So you are the pink heart and bunny head emoji.

“Wow, he hit the jackpot,” Yeongi muttered to herself, staring at you in astonishment and respect.

“Woah! Woah!” Suho rubbed his uninjured arm on his eyes. “Like really? You are his girlfriend?”

You nodded eagerly. “I am.”

“I’m sorry, no offense but...” His eyes narrowed at Sieun. “You never told anyone you have a girlfriend.”

“You didn't ask,” Sieun simply responded.

“But what if I ask you? Would you tell me?”

“He would probably not tell you,” you answered for your boyfriend because he was thinking about it deeply. “We kinda wanted it to be private.”

He nodded at you before looking back at Sieun. “You don't look like the ‘in a relationship’ type.”

“What are you implying?” Sieun asks.

Suho raised his hands in surrender. “Nothing, nothing. I’m just saying because, you know...” He made flipping of page gestures.

“We understand. Sieun studies a lot more than I do,” you squeezed your boyfriend's hand affectionately that he reciprocated in a heartbeat.

You stayed a little longer to chat with them. Answering their questions you started to feel like in a job interview.

“How long have you been together?” Suho asked as if he was interrogating you.

“Six months and two days.” You answered with determination and sturdiness.

“Do you go to each other's house?”

“Yes, if we aren't busy and no one's home.”

“Does your parents know?”

“They don't care.”

“Oh.”

It was like that for almost half an hour before Sieun left for a while to buy food for the three of you and came back with oxtail soup for Suho, fried chicken for Yeongi, and kimchi-jiggae for you that you will share with him.

“You’re so warm-hearted,” Suho said, as if he's examining Sieun’s face and telling him his findings. He just realized that what Sieun showed to everyone isn't exactly who he is. Think about it, he has a girlfriend, which by the way is over-qualified to his standards and he brought them food because Suho craved oxtail soup, you are genuinely hungry, and a treat for Yeongi. This part of Sieun took him by surprise when he started saying things like he's under morphine. “Your eyes, how you behave, how you speak...” Suho listed everything he noticed. “and your face. It feels awfully strange.”

Sieun didn't react at first, just looking at Suho before his lips  slowly moving upward into a smile, eyes crinkled in the corners, and a breath which is the closest thing he could do for a laugh. He sat next to you while you were talking with Yeongi and sharing her table with you.

He smiled.

Yeon freaking Sieun freaking smiled.

Suho scoffed, likely he wants to scratch his eyeballs if the smile is also real. His eyes were deceiving him again for the second time and he felt his heart going on miles for the third time. This night has many things unraveled in one single sitting.

The late dinner was filled with laughter, sharing of meals while trying to tone it down since the other patients were sleeping. A reward after bringing a bad man down.

And Suho will absolutely admit with all his whole heart that it was comforting and nice.

As the hours grew quieter and close to midnight, you and Sieun bid your goodbyes and rest well, leaving Suho and Yeongi alone, still in disbelief. They made eye contact with each other, you may believe they are communicating with their eyes wide open.

‘Can you believe it?’ This is probably Suho.

‘I don't. I still don't.’ This could be Yeongi.

‘It's like a plot twist you didn't see coming!’

‘Literally. I didn't know Sieun is into anyone and he has an incredible type.’

“She's actually really pretty,” Yeongi complimented to break the silence and eye-talking. She was noting your face, the way you smiled and interacted with them. You are beautiful, sweet, and polite and a nice person to talk to. If she compared you to Sieun, the difference between you is clearly evident. Yet you fell in love with Sieun and he was drawn completely to you.

“Do you see the way he looks at her?” Suho asks.

Yeongi snorted, relaxing on the patient's bed beside Suho’s. “Well, yeah. He didn't hide it at all,” she gave him a smirk. “He’s madly in love with her.”

Suho chuckled, shaking his head as he thought about you and Sieun. “Sure, he does.”

Sieun looked at you like you were a precious jewel, shining bright in the land and the treasure he was proud to hold upon.

Suho knows that look. That look he gave to his grandma, the look when he saw free food and would probably kiss the person next to him in the blessed elation of a boy who discovered his true love.

The look of love.

To say that he least expected that look on Sieun’s face is truly an understatement. He was in disbelief till the room grew quieter and he was put to sleep as a reward for his fearless commitment and unwavering loyalty.

Nevertheless, he is happy for his friend. He is happy, like he could die any moment, with the oxtail soup you bought that he craved the whole night. And yes, he had another set of free food.

end.

Yeon Sieun lives with structure.

With a routine he knows too well and an everyday precision he is used to.

He wakes up early, brushes his teeth then takes a bath a little colder than a normal person would. Get dressed in his uniform and put on his grey hoodie that he's been robing himself in since high school started, then eat a piece of toast bread and a boiled egg so his stomach wouldn't be empty. And he is off to school, the sky is still dark, people half-awake for a new day in the bus, but not him, he's already focused on listening to a lesson explaining the history of the 1979 Islamic Revolution.

And when he arrives in his classroom, the ritual of opening the lights and allowing the rising sunrise to enter the classroom is normal. It brought him the tiniest peace of mind, making him calm when the sunlight hits his face that reminds him he can still feel something outwardly.

A reminder that he is still breathing.

A reminder that he is still a human.

That he exists.

However, the structure is ever present. It's written in his notes, in his notebook and books, along with his cellphone he only uses for studying and listening to podcasts and sometimes for music. It will not leave him, it's a part of him that keeps him from crumbling and losing all the efforts he built for himself, and silently for his parents he wished to love him the way it should be— for him, not what his brain could produce.

He's intelligent, that he knows. It's on his awards from competitions, medals hung on his neck before it was displayed on his bedroom walls and was never touched again.

He doesn't talk much, but they know he is smart. And maybe, it's the only thing people will associate him with. Nothing but his brain.

Because Yeon Sieun is a quiet, boring boy whose entire world revolves around studying.

That is his way of holding himself together.

Maybe, it always will be.

—•••—

Supposedly for him, it should have been a normal evening.

Sieun walks out of the cram school and is greeted by the hard pouring rain that soaks his shoes and socks quickly.

He was not surprised it happened. The wind was way too cold when he got out of school and the weather forecast notification he got had said plenty of warnings.

“Excuse me...” a voice called him from behind. Hesitant and shy.

Sieun turned to face you, even if he doesn't want to talk doesn't mean he has to be rude to someone who called him gently.

“What is it?” he asks, a little loud so you could hear him in the rain.

You beamed when he acknowledged you, sighing in relief as you clutch your cardigan closer to yourself for warmth.

“I’m sorry for bothering you but can you share your umbrella with me to the bus station?” you ask politely.

There was an expecting/pleading look in your eyes while rain droplets started to stick on your hair to your forehead and getting colder because of the rain accompanied by the cold wind.

And you were asking him. A complete stranger. Someone who goes to the same cram school as you and doesn't know his name at all. All because you forgot your umbrella and the rain was unforeseen.

No one had asked him for help before.

Sieun gulped, nervously. He doesn't show it but he is, because he didn't know what to do except to help you because you looked like a wet puppy asking affection from its owner.

Try to be kind. Just be kind, he kept telling himself in his mind before he nodded his head in agreement to help you from your unpleasant condition.

He opened his umbrella that's big enough for two people, blocking the notorious rain from getting the both of you wetter and waited for you to walk with him.

“Oh! Thank you so much,” you say in joy, your smile is bigger now. Comforted by the fact you were not going home looking like a drowned rat. Mostly.

You walked towards him as you settled your position under his umbrella, leaning close but not too close for your sleeves to brush on each other. There's a distance that is not overstepping his line because he was kind enough to share his umbrella and it is more than you could ask for.

Silence envelopes between the two of you. There was no awkward atmosphere going on, just a silence that seemed natural as the two of you walked as fast as you could to the bus station. You were so focused on getting in there you didn't notice your hands were gripping on his arm unconsciously.

Sieun went rigid because of that, a body contact where he would pull away as usual. Like the time his father touched his face and he did not like it. It was an exposure of his fragility, and the touch was evidence that he could be hurt easily.

But why are you so soft?

He can't fully feel your hand on his arm because of his jacket but the softness of your touch produces his normally spiraling mind into a blank state.

She's touching me. I have to ask her to remove her hand on me.

He didn't say anything.

Sieun was staring ahead, wishing that his eyes could catch the sight of the bus station so you would let go of him and this almost robotic-like movement of him could be gone. After that, he would forget about it, because you'll forget him and he'll bury this moment in his brain, never bringing it up.

“Thank God, we're here.”

That took Sieun back from thinking too much.

And both of you sheltered your heads in the bus station, standing side by side, with some of the students who were also in the cram school waiting there.

A bus arrived, one that wouldn't drop him home but seems like it'll reach your residence when he hears your tiny 'yes' and a quick prayer of gratitude.

Then, you looked at him before your lips curled into a smile. “Thank you for your help, by the way. I'll probably drown in the rain if it wasn't for you.”

You placed your bag in front of you, opened it up and searched through your bag haphazardly that might have triggered off his need for tidiness and organization of his stuff.

“Here,” you pulled out a small bag of gummies. The colorful worm ones with chemical sugar around them. “Take it, please.”

He wants to refuse again.

There's no way he would accept a bag of candy as some kind of reward for helping someone. It's unhealthy and tastes off in his tongue. The sourness that will make him wince and his stomach would certainly grumble until he flushes it all out in the toilet.

His traitorous hand extended to grab the gummies, almost connecting with yours if he didn't pull his hand away in a flash.

You didn't seem to mind. You're just happy the quiet boy who helped you accept your small offering.

“I’ll see you then, I guess,” you chuckled and gave him another smile. Then, off you ran to the bus as Sieun watched it drive away while he waited for the next one.

Sieun stared at the bag of gummies on his hand. Trolli sour glow worms. He had never tried it before.

And when he gets home at the empty apartment because his father is still gone from a competition, he will study and listen to the math lessons his mom posted online while he snacked on the gummy until he finished the whole pack.

—•••—

“You’re the guy from cram school!”

You exclaimed with enthusiasm and a high-pitched voice that could make people turn their heads over the sound within a half second.

To say Sieun was not expecting to see you in a department while he searched for a pair of socks and a sweater was an understatement. He stiffly avoided every salesperson he came across to look for the things he needed alone. He would like their help but he doesn't have the courage to ask for help, rather seeking it all by himself.

He wanted to be done with it as much as possible until you spotted him and practically ran towards him to view his face closer so you wouldn't mistake him for someone else.

Quickly, you covered your mouth and mumbled a small 'sorry', clearing your throat and offering a small and polite smile that didn't hide your excitement.

“I’m glad to see you!” you said, still energetic but controlled. “I mean, we see each other in the cram school but of course we can't talk to each other because we're very much listening to what the teacher's saying and I very well want to enter a nice college. And I'm still thinking if I should go to SNU or Yonsei, but my mom said I could easily enter Ewha if I study harder, but that school is so expensi—”

Just as fast as you talk, the sudden your silence takes over.

Sieun was looking at you as if he heard you read a whole nook with the speed of a rabbit. He couldn't keep up with what you were saying, he was noticing the sparks escaping out of you as you rambled on before you finally realized your habit.

“Oops.”

You looked at Sieun who was staring at you with his unreadable face but there was something else, his eyes were wider than the night you asked for his help. Maybe overwhelmed by your yap, you did talk too much whenever you got excited.

You scratched the corner of your hairline, averting your eyes on every surface of the store except him.

Deeply embarrassed, your cheeks flushed a little. “Sorry about that, it's just I was really happy to see you.”

He blinked and waited for a bit to hide his confusion. “Why would you be happy to see me?”

You shrugged, eyes gleaming brightly. “I don't really know. I just am.”

You're so weird.

Those are the words Sieun wanted to say, but he couldn't. It would be rude so he just nodded his head and thought of how he could get away from you right now. He has things to buy.

“May I know your name?”

You added more to erase any sign of awkwardness, “Because you helped me and it was a lot for me. Oh and we also went to the same cram school so it would be inconsiderate of me if I didn't know the name of my saviour that night.”

Is the rain really a big thing to you?

His gaze shifted back to you as if he heard you wrong. Like you were telling a joke that he would not understand and would not laugh at.

And you, standing there like asking for a boy's name who helped you once requires all the strength you have in your body that shame disappeared for a minute.

“Sieun.”

He's so done for. He thought you'll forget about him and now he uttered his name after you asked prettily.

Prettily?!

No, no, no.

You asked nicely.

Nicely.

There's no such thing as prettily asking someone's name.

Then, you beamed like the lights inside the store are in rival with your smile.

And yours won.

“Yeon Sieun.”

“Yeon Sieun,” you muttered his name like you're tasting a new meal. Repeating the name until it grows on you. “That’s a pretty name, Sieun.”

Now, you are calling him pretty.

You told him your name.

He repeated it in his head.

And your name is hard to brush aside like he can dust it off and walk over it. Instead, he engraved it in his mind so he wouldn't forget, like the name itself is a sacred thing for a feeling he couldn't name.

“I’m really glad I could catch up on you, even just for a few seconds,” you declared with utmost carefulness and gratification. You said it like you meant it and it was real.

Still, he couldn't help but be tense at first, and almost thought it wasn't real and you are just playing with him but he examined your face for any inauthentic reaction... there was none.

You started walking backwards slowly, your left hand gripping on your bag while your right one saluted at him.

“I’ll see you around, Sieun!”

He did a small and discreet wave once you turned around and didn't see it, copying your wave shyly. You went back to the makeup station where you were when you spotted him.

And then while checking the sweater he wants to buy, he wondered if he'll ever see you again, or if the second time is pure coincidence.

—•••—

He sees you again for the third time.

And it's not in cram school like the second time.

It's more different.

This time, you didn't greet him with a smile.

You were crying. Crouched on the ground beside a convenience store, hands hiding your tears driven face from everyone who is glancing at you in a weird way.

You don't feel shy about it, instead you are releasing all the cries you had been locking in your heart for too long.

And something aches in Sieun’s heart at the sight of you.

Yes, he knows you on a surface level. You took notes diligently during cram hours, gave gummies and other sweets so you wouldn't feel the intense studying, laughs on your own when the given lessons felt impossible to solve. And recently, he found out you like shopping for the things you don't need but still buy them because they are pretty. Like the long, decorated in white flower beads earrings you never wore again.

His feet betrayed him before his mind does. Already striding towards you

Knowing those things doesn't guarantee that he is a friend. He's more of a peer. A cute peer in a grey hoodie and sometimes sweaters that always cover his arms.

He swallowed the anxiousness he was feeling and said, “You’ll ruin your back if you continue to sit on the ground like that.”

You looked up and saw him. It made you chuckle and shake your head in amusement. “It’s you.”

You.

You said, like you were expecting to see him.

“I’m starting to believe you were following me,” you joked even in your current state of destruction. Words trembling with a shaky laugh. “If not, then fate seems to like playing with us.”

You blew your nose on the tissue, crumpled the snot tissue and threw it in the trash can.

“I...” you sniffed, pinching your flushed pink nose then turning your head to see his face examining yours with care.

You chuckled before looking down again on the concrete walk side of the road.

He's so cute.

“I’m sorry you had to see me this way,” you apologized though he didn't mind helping you on your lowest. It's at least what he could do for the slightest pain on your chest to go away.

“It’s just that everything is too much and I need to let it all out.”

Hearing your words, an idea comes to his head.

He stood up from his seat and you looked at him, confused.

“Follow me,” he said eventually. Short and intentional. So whatever his idea is, it might be the best decision you'll ever make.

Just like that rainy evening, you walk with him side by side, and silence comes between you naturally like talking doesn't have to be on every second.

You tried to be discreet as you glanced at him to study his face.

Sieun’s a few inches taller than you, his hair looks fluffy and neat, he has a round face, and the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen in a person. He always wears long clothes and sometimes you catch a glimpse of his white ear pods.

And when you are watching him leave the cram school, he is always alone.

Is he just the same in his school?

The thought caused your shoulder to sink and your eyes to water again.

And just like earlier, Sieun noticed.

Bewildered, he looks at you closely as tears slowly fall on your cheeks. To make matters worse, he doesn't know how to react or what he should do.

“Why...” he gulped nervously, his brain screaming at him on many things at once he stayed stiff. “Why are you crying?”

You were wiping the tears still flooding out of your eyes.

You tried to answer him with hiccups and incoherent sounds were your answers which he couldn't understand but he remained quiet and listened attentively.

At the end of your crying and his silent comforts, you two are now sitting beside each other on a bench in a quiet park.

Sieun lent you his handkerchief to clean your nose and dry your tears. Of course you wouldn't give it back to him unless it's clean, so you thanked him and promised that you'll return the handkerchief back in no time.

A sigh escaped your lips before a smile appeared. “This is really nice. I don't come here often but maybe I should now. It's quiet here.”

He hummed in response, also enjoying the silence with you.

He had never done this with anyone. Sitting on a bench, staring at nothing, and nothing to talk about like the time decelerated, allowing you to breathe and relax your burdened spirits with some respite.

“I fought with my mom today.”

He tilted his head, thoroughly listening.

“She got angry with me because according to her, I wasn't studying enough for my future.” You finger quoted. “And I’m just really stressed because instead of letting me finish my homework, she lectured me with the time I could use for studying.”

You raked your hands through your hair in frustration. “God! Does it look like I'm not trying?!”

Sieun watched you stand up suddenly and shouted to the sky. He didn't stop you, he can see the contained anger slipping out of you, and he wishes he could do the same.

He wished he could shout this loud.

He wished he could release these feelings he's concealing within him until the heaviness of his body disappears.

“God, does it look like I'm not trying?! I have not slept enough in the past three weeks preparing for this exam! I couldn't even hang out with my friends because we're all pressured here! All of us! And what for?! For a minimum wage job that will ask us how long a corn dog is in inches?!”

He was starting to feel like he should stop you but he remained sitting on the bench.

“I love studying. I love it so much but you're making me hate it! Freaking hate it— Ow!”

You accidentally bend your ankle sideways a little too hard after you kicked a stone and walked without your mind on it.

That made Sieun paced to help you up before you attempt another clumsy kick that could injure you further.

“God...” you sobbed, getting up on your feet with Sieun’s help. “When is this gonna stop?”

Before you could acknowledge it, you were leaning on Sieun with your head resting on his shoulder. You were shaking, it turns to a cry again, clutching on his clothes as if it is the only thing that would keep you grounded.

Sieun, who never received a proper hug before, wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and squeezing your arm like he was expressing that you are safe with him.

And you are.

You have friends you could confide in on this matter, and you experienced safety with a boy— one who is quiet and it did speak more than any promises of your mother.

You and Sieun stayed like that for a few minutes.

He's giving you comfort while you are giving him warmth.

Looks like you need one another for different reasons that creates a band-aid on your broken souls.

Maybe having a friend isn't so bad. Maybe the isolation he forced himself in should end here, or maybe he'll make a special accommodation for you. Not because you are the person on his mind these days— no, simply because the trust has been formed before the friendship could be verbalized officially.

He will dream about this. When he welcomes the sleep and closes his eyes then suddenly, you are in his dreams like you belong there as a gentle presence relieving him of his whirlpool emotions he had been containing. This night where all the worries shifted into a companion you can rely on.

—•••—

How you got his number is a mystery since all you could remember was you weeping on his shoulder until you calmed down.

But ever since you've got his number, you texted him once per day for you cannot disturb him whenever you wanted to. The friendship might be over before you could hang out because of a line that you shouldn't cross.

Still you couldn't help but text him sometimes, studying and facing another new day became bearable at the idea of him seeing your message and replying to them. He's not actually cold as he sometimes acts to be. Just a normal boy who is now your friend. A boy at the top of that, and a very cute one too.

'Good morning, Sieun! Have a nice breakfast and don't burn yourself out, okay? I'll see you later at hagwon! FIGHTING!!'

Your messages to him can be daunting.

Sieun spent his time re-reading your text messages like it's the exam itself. That he had to be careful with his answer so whatever the outcome is, it has to be positive. One that could put a smile on your face as possible would be wonderful.

There's no way he can just text:

'Thanks, you too.'

Or,

Yeon Sieun reacted 👍 to your message.

It can't be. You deserve more than meager messages that you'll tolerate unless you'll think he doesn't want to be your friend and you're just simply annoying him.

He will not tell it to you in person or chat but he likes the conversation he has with you where you'll do the talking, and he'll do the listening.

Ah yes, a girl's dream.

Whereas Sieun remained motionless reading your message for the eighth time as if the words would dance and change positions for a new sentence to come but it's the same kind message you sent thirty minutes ago.

He let out a sigh, a nervous one tingling on his throat, and typed a message to you with trembling fingers.

‘See you too.’

Sent.

Sieun banged his head on the study desk, wincing in pain as a red mark formed on his forehead from the impact. His eyes were closed from the disappointment creeping on his chest and something else called regret made him want to slam his head again on the hard wood.

What he doesn't know is it caused a smile on your face and a giddy feeling in your chest.

You wrote a new message.

‘You wanna hangout? My treat.’

—•••—

Sieun’s routine had a new variable.

You.

You have been hanging out with Sieun for three months, and those months that passed were nothing but magnificent and exciting in a calm manner.

He was greeted with an excited wave, jogging towards him before you walked together on the sidewalk while you thought of what activity the two of you should do.

On most days, you guys ended up in a cafe. New cafes. Familiar cafes. Cafes that are just for aesthetics while the foods are terrible.

You critiqued all the cafes you've been with, writing them down on his notebook neatly with smooth decorations and doodles— a small drawing of smiskis (he had no idea what they are), coffee and tea cups, most are pastries or pastas, and his personal favorite was your doodle of a cat. He just likes them, they're cute and just like you, even if you drew them as a representation of him (you wouldn't tell him that).

He found himself staring at those doodles every time he opened his notebook. At school, he flips the pages almost automatically and looks at them for a minute before scribbling his notes on a blank sheet of paper with those drawings and you in his mind.

It doesn't help him concentrate but rouse him to study better like there's no one else he likes to please but you.

That struck something within him. Something he thought he was incapable of. Something that no one offers him.

He had fallen for you.

“Sieun?”

The math teacher called, confused at the sudden pause in action of her student she had not seen before.

Sieun didn't hear them, deep in his thoughts. He gripped the chalk tightly, the equation on the board was missing an answer.

His answer. Practical answer for a practical problem.

He wrote his answer before walking back to his desk with his head down.

831.

Eight letters. Three syllables. One meaning.

“Good job, Sieun,” the math teacher said. “Moving on, you see the dependent variable—”

Sieun blocked the voice, his hands were shaking, his mind was spiraling. Because him? Him? Having a crush now? On you?

Not like him.

But it sits right within him, there's no denial that smacked him in the back because he realized it and he cannot turn back now.

Shit.

—•••—

“This for me?” You gasped in joy, receiving the chocolate box with such delight he only saw in little children with their presents they wished for.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” he answered, cool and short. Just like him and his amazing personality.

“You’re keeping my blood sugar high and my stomach happy, Sieun,” you said, opening the box. “I’ll probably get diabetes here but that's fine. You only live once.”

“...”

You snacked on the chocolate covered almonds. It tasted heavenly.

The chocolate was definitely a bad idea.

Because you guys visited another cafe.

This one surprisingly didn't suck. You enjoyed their cheesecake that you also shared with Sieun, feeding him with your own fork, asking him if it was good and he nodded his head. You were too happy from the iced coffee and cheesecake you didn't recognize the blush on his cheeks, and even if you did, you'll think it was from the AC.

After leaving the cafe, the next thing you do was to stroll, a casual, leisure walk with small talks and silence. Well, you do the talking all the time. Even if your throat dried up and an embarrassing crack of your voice followed, he paid them no mind.

“I’ll give the cafe 8.9/10. Amazing service, delicious food, but the restroom toilet isn't working. They need to get that fixed,” you rambled on like the words left flawlessly.

Sieun listened. He'll write your ratings on that cafe in his notebook.

Beneath the indifferent look on his face, he was fretting and memorizing the sentences he wanted to say out loud without his nervousness holding him back but it does.

His hands were clammy, sweat emerging on them and the corner of his forehead.

You have been his friend for three months now. Three months is long enough to know you. Three months is enough to perceive his affection towards you.

Sieun is not a brave boy. He was a silent one.

And now, he will put it all aside to test new waters in the idea of liking you.

He called your name, simply yet careful.

You were a few steps ahead of him, glancing at every food stall there is on the side of the road. Thinking of what you should buy— tteokbokki, fishcakes, dry noodles, ice cream, hotteok. Food.

You spun around to face him, your skirt fluttering for a second and Sieun thought you were a fairy there. A cute fairy with an obsession for sweet stuff.

You looked at him, expectantly. “Hmm? What is it?”

Blank. The lines he practiced vanished when you looked at him like that. Full attention on him.

His anxiety increased.

Sieun’s mouth tightened, the sweat came back on his forehead as he swallowed the anxiousness curling in his stomach.

“I think I like you.”

He confessed.

He waited.

And you halted.

You replayed what he said in your head like a song you're beginning to like and play on repeat. Heart racing in beats is not normal, but maybe if your crush confessed to you, it'll be possible and a miracle that you're still alive.

“Yeah?” you asked, a grin evident in your voice.

He didn't notice as his gaze lowered, consumed by his own agitation. “Yeah.”

Suddenly, you rushed towards him, drawing near to him. You had to look up a little to watch his flushed and still unreadable face with amusement. You couldn't hide your joyous grin, you were very into his words like they were the nicest compliment you heard from him.

Sieun felt his heart somersaulting once, and twice, many times his brain almost forgot to circulate properly. He tried to calm himself down, stepping a foot backward, but you pressed forward eagerly and he knew he couldn't escape the confession that came out of him, he has to face it and accept your rejection or reciprocate his advances.

“Really?” you questioned again, there's a glimmer in your eyes that says more than what you asked.

Pretty.

Sieun nodded.

You are pretty.

You hummed, staring at him as if you're looking right through his soul. Your hands held together behind your back, raising your toes up to discard any space between you as you placed a precious kiss on his plump cheek.

Though it's a chaste kiss, quick and intentional, Sieun went still like a rock. His body forgetting how to function, the words he had been practicing after studying gone in his head by a kiss, an answer to a question he didn't ask but both of you knew he would.

You like him too.

—•••—

He's unable to sleep.

1:28 am.

He was still awake.

Sieun groaned onto his pillow, clutching the comforts firmly as he counted sheeps in his mind, a silly little effort to cease the confession earlier and the small kisses that resulted after.

He walked you home. You thanked him, then kissed his lips, and you went inside the apartment complex with his racing heart on your hands and the kiss implanted in his entire being.

Now he can't put himself to rest. Turning and trying comfortable positions but to no avail, those didn't work too.

He huffed, closing his eyes with you permanent and vivid in his mind.

The next day, his eyebags were bigger and darker. Miserably in need of sleep.

—•••—

You were waiting for your boyfriend.

Yes, it's official.

Sieun is dating you, you are dating Sieun.

Every time you recall Sieun is your boyfriend induces a giggle on your lips and a heavy blush on your cheeks as if it was unreal that you are dating this boy who possessed all the traits you want in a man.

A dream come true for you really.

You glanced at your phone for the tenth time, searching the road from left to right in hope of seeing Sieun’s approaching figure. He's running late and he hasn't texted you.

You were starting to get upset with him, the past few days were so busy with school requirements and homework you couldn't spend time together. Now it's the weekend, you really want to be with him for hours until Monday comes and messages are the only motivation from each other.

Putting your headphones on, you were oblivious to the fact that there are two guys watching you like lecherous hawks. Whispering a secret conversation ending with quiet laughs and a fist bump like sealing a deal involving you.

Then they move slowly in your direction, unnoticed and discreet, knowing you aren't gonna notice them.

And you didn't.

It all happened so fast as a handkerchief was placed in your mouth to prevent you from screaming and they dragged you away to the dark, praying silently for help with his name in your thoughts.

Sieun.

—•••—

Sieun was extremely worried.

You had been missing his calls.

And no matter how long he texted you (he overthink his messages), you always answer them in a heartbeat.

He was caught up with his mom after a private tutor lesson when he was supposed to meet you on time. At dinner where his mother pretended she was still present in his life. But in Sieun, she had already disappeared, and the woman he had been meeting was the person who gave birth to him. She was never a mother and it was really stupid of him seeing her once a month just for her to tell him that he's becoming independent and doesn't need anyone. He wants to cover his ears that were bleeding internally on hearing them repeatedly when she's across him.

All he needs— especially right now, is you.

Your gentle smile, your sweet laugh, your affectionate hugs... He needs them like he needs air. And he couldn't wait to dive in your arms again, eat store bought ramen with you and probably stroll with him in the park which you absolutely adore.

So when he doesn't see you in your meeting spot, it sends him into panic mode. Calling your number, looking for you around the area, even shouting your name in antsy. Yet you never responded in one of the three.

He was already on edge during the dinner with his mom, and you were added to the equation because he cannot find you and his guts kept telling him you are in a bad position.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Stressed and concerned, he will not give up till he tracks you down. He would not let his aching limbs slow himself down because there is an important matter, and that is named you.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket, remembering that you downloaded a tracker app on his phone so you'll know his whereabouts if something bad happened, and he'll know yours for the same reason. For protection. For safety. Because the adults in your life failed you both, and you have to rely on each other.

Sieun watched as a dot flickered on his phone. It's your location. It worked. The app worked.

And then, he followed the red dot.

There's a bad feeling sitting on his chest when he reaches the street.

Dark, the streetlights barely working. No other people were in sight, just stray animals who hid in the dark quickly since his presence arrived.

He had to stay calm and focused, but also quick in detecting your location, because the coldness of his guts tells him darker, illicit thoughts about you that he wouldn't be able to stomach if it did happen.

Mumbles. Two voices. He heard them near your location, it felt as if cold water was dumped over him because his prediction was indeed true.

This time, he did not like being right.

“This bitch fought like a monkey.”

“Shit! What are we gonna do?”

The first guy scoffed. “What else? Let's sell her then. The old hag needs more girls in her club. She's gonna worth a thousand, got that fair skin and flat stomach. Pretty too, probably a vi—”

He stepped on the small alley where he heard the voices.

And there you are.

Laid down to the ground, blasted lips, messy hair, and your clothes, they were crinkled as if they wanted to remove it on you, get you naked for their lustful desires in some rundown and sketchy alley where someone hearing your screams would be unlikely. You tried to fight them, to release yourself and run as fast as you can, but they were stronger and got more pissed with you.

Instead of relief that he finally found you, Sieun’s gaze darkened. As cold as the winter time, as sharp as the eyes of the snake targeting its victim.

They hurt you.

These boastful and idiotic men are a waste of oxygen.

Sieun felt like the people he sees are colored in red.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

He moved before he could think. Overwhelmed by the instinct to avenge and inflict the pain they've done to you back to them. Sounds acceptable.

Because right now, all the lessons, all the lists he has in his mind are replaced with the will to protect you.

He struck the guy wearing a blue hat first with his heavy bag, the very one you tried carrying for him because you insisted on being a caring girlfriend but after five steps in and you huffed in exhaustion and handed the bag to him.

The guy let out a yelp and his hands were on his pained face. He dropped to his knees from the impact.

“Fuck!”

Then Sieun pulled out his pen in the pocket of his jacket. Launching on the other guy who threw a punch he barely dodged and stabbed the guy’s shoulder. He digs the pen deeper and it forces a lot of blood to ooze out of the skin, fighting the strength of the guy trying to remove the weapon out of him. It was an intense push and pull until Sieun harshly kicked his foot.

“You son of a bitch!”

The first guy recovered from the bag punch, fuming in rage as he attacked Sieun with his fist.

Sieun barely saw it coming and the punch collided on his face and he fell on the ground. Everything is blurry and his head throbbing, he hardly hears your voice pleadingly calling his name to stand up.

Before he could do so, two feet abruptly stomped over him, pushing him on the ground and sloppily hitting his body. They were cussing and spatting at him while Sieun covered his face with his arms, trying to find a solution to escape his predicament.

You don't have the time to be frozen on the dirty ground while your boyfriend was being beaten closer to death, staying there hoping for a miracle will do absolutely nothing to help him.

Head snapping on every area of the alley, looking for a weapon— wood, broken vase, rusted knife, just anything to fight back. Then you saw a crowbar, a bit far from you and would probably provoke your broken ankle but for your Sieun, you'll do all things that can be seen as impossible.

You grabbed the crowbar, adjusting the heavy object on your palm as grimes and filth covered your hands, attacking the guys on their faces, forcing them to step back on Sieun. And your man lifted himself up, shaking from the kicks he received from those guys, eyes glaring darkly on them after doing an inexcusable act on humanity.

Sieun gently seizes the crowbar from your hands, kissing your forehead and caressing your cheek. Even in your unpleasant situation, he's so pretty and kind, all the warmth he could give was reflecting on his eyes back to you, because you are the only recipient of the love you taught him to accept and understand.

You fell down on your knees, quaking from the pain on your ankle as you watched Sieun hit the bad guys with the crowbar again and again. Faint pleas for him to stop left their split lips where he kicked and punched them as a reply until they went still and knocked down in the dark alley.

He stood before their limp bodies, one of his legs pressing one of the guys down, the crowbar hanging on his hand like he was a grim reaper in physical nature. He was breathing heavily, eyes closed after winning a battle to avenge you.

His hands were shaking and he let go of the bloodied weapon. The crashing sound of the crowbar filled the entire space along his quivering heavy breathing and his body on the verge of collapsing after losing his rationality resulting in two beaten up men, scaring himself and almost losing you.

You should be scared of the horrifying scene in front of you like how Sieun is terrified of himself.

The unconscious boys who tried to assault you and hurt you badly. Wounds on their face and other parts of their limp bodies you couldn't see.

When you watched Sieun fight them, you were certain you heard bone cracking and muscles torn that would heal slowly for a long time as if it was a punishment awaiting them after messing with the wrong couple.

But instead of being terrified of Sieun, of what he could do to anyone who crossed him— you chuckled, staring at him lovingly.

Like what he had done was the best gift he could ever present to you.

Why would you be terrified of the boy who saved you when you are about to lose hope of getting help?

He loves you so much he maimed someone to free you from danger.

If authorities find out what he has done for you, they'll imprison him for years, but your Sieun didn't care. As long as you are safe, he can risk anything just to see your radiant smile and feel your warm body on his cold one.

Blood trickling down your nose, combining with the snot you continued to sniffle while you're staring at the limp bodies of those boys.

You feel no pity for them. They deserve it.

“Sieun-ah,” you called him softly like he is your saviour. Your salvation. Your beloved.

Sieun waited for you, for the command you had to tell him so he would know what you needed and he would provide it to you with no questions asked.

You extended your arms to reach for him. Softly pleading. “Hold me, please.”

He didn't hesitate to hold you in his arms, letting your body lean on him when your legs tremble from the pain you're feeling in your bones. You felt him quivering too, seeking you as much as you needed him.

He hugged you tightly with a silent oath in his blood.

No one will hurt you again. He will never allow it.

As long as he breathes and loves you, no one could harm you like today again.

—•••—

His father wasn't home yet and you don't want to be alone in your home as well, so you decided to stay in Sieun’s for the night because at least when you are with him, you are safe and secured.

You aren't interested in what's playing in the television, the brightness on the screen almost swelled your eyes again but for a different reason, so Sieun picked up the remote and turned off the TV.

Oh, how he could know you without you speaking.

Silence engulfs the living room and you rested your head on his shoulder, staring at the window as if nothing happened on some alley where you realized someone loved you more than you could imagine.

The tea on your mug (he prepared it) was cold now, halfway done but you don't have the strength to finish the whole cup, so you let the wind erase the hotness of your drink.

“I think I love you.”

Sieun said with conviction against your hair, like if he didn't say it now, tomorrow may not come. The words didn't come out as unsure, but with honesty he's been trying to learn as he navigates his emotions and feelings to you.

You smiled fondly, the words tickled on your skin and you lost your breath for a half second before you mumbled the words back, sure and aware.

“I love you too.”

You leaned to him and he met you halfway to share a kiss.