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sunghoon’s such a nerd. 

music pulsed through the walls, bass vibrating through the floor like a second heartbeat, and the air smelled like cheap alcohol and something overly sweet.

which was exactly why park sunghoon didn’t want to be there.

“hyung, i don’t understand why I had to come,” he muttered, standing stiffly near the kitchen counter, fingers wrapped around a cold bottle of water like it was a lifeline.

next to him, heeseung just laughed, completely unbothered. “because you’ve been locked in our dorm studying biochemistry for three days straight. you needed sunlight. or at least artificial lighting and human interaction.”

“this doesn’t count as human interaction.”

but before heeseung could respond, a familiar voice cut in.  “yo! you guys actually came!” jake appeared out of nowhere, already holding two red cups and grinning like he belonged here. 

because, of course, he did.

“i told you he’d come,” jake said, nudging heeseung before glancing at sunghoon. 

“even if he looks like he’s about to file a complaint with the university.”

“i might,” sunghoon mumbled. jake laughed, then turned slightly, like he suddenly remembered something. or rather someone. “oh- right. i wanted you guys to meet someone.”

sunghoon didn’t think much of it at first. he took a small sip of his water, gaze drifting absentmindedly across the room, but then he saw you. and everything stopped. not literally, the music was still blasting, people still talking, laughing, but for him, it all blurred into something distant and muffled. you stood next to jake, soft brown hair falling just right, blue eyes catching the light in a way that made his brain completely short-circuit.  you looked unreal; effortlessly pretty, calm in the middle of chaos. you looked at him and smiled. it was almost like sunghoon forgot how to breathe.

“sunghoon?” he didn’t respond.

“sunghoon.”

“…huh?”

jake snorted. “dude.”

you were closer now. way closer. close enough that he could notice the tiny details; the way your lips curved slightly like you knew something he didn’t, the softness in your expression, the faint scent of something clean and warm.

“hi,” you said, tilting your head just a little.

oh. oh no. his brain completely shut down.

“this is sunghoon,” jake said, way too casually. “biochem major. top of the class. socially questionable.” “jake,” sunghoon hissed under his breath, horrified.

you laughed. actually laughed. and it made something in his chest tighten in the worst, best way. “biochemistry?” you repeated, eyes lighting up. “no way, me too!” that got his attention.

“you are?” he said, a little too quickly, voice slightly higher than usual. he cleared his throat. “i mean- uh, i am too. obviously. you just said that. i just—yeah.”

great sunghoon. amazing. incredible first impression.

you stepped a little too close, your fingers brushed lightly against his arm as you leaned in just enough to read the label on his bottle. water? “wow,” you said softly, almost teasing “bold choice at a party.”

“i- uh—i don’t really drink,” he stammered, grip tightening on the bottle. “not that there’s anything wrong with it, i just prefer- hydration.”

hydration??? why the fuck did you just say hydration??

he had solved complex biochemistry problems at 2 a.m. without breaking a sweat, stayed calm during presentations, even answered questions under pressure. and now he was internally falling apart over a single conversation with a girl who had said hi to him ten seconds ago. jake, meanwhile, was pouring something suspiciously strong into your red cup. “don’t worry,” he said. “i’ll make up for him.”

“i can see that,” you replied, accepting the cup, but your attention stayed on sunghoon. which made everything worse. “sunghoon,” you said, testing his name like it was something delicate. his heart did something deeply concerning. you smiled again, slower this time. intentional. “i like that you don’t drink.”

“i mean,” you continued, lightly tapping his water bottle with your finger, “someone has to make responsible life choices.” there was a pause. “…i also just don’t have a high alcohol tolerance,” he admitted, because apparently his mouth had no filter anymore. you let out a small laugh, softer this time. “that’s cute.”

cute. sunghoon’s brain officially stopped functioning. the forming tent in his pants also wasn’t really helping. fuck, you must’ve thought that he was a fucking creep, both hands and the water bottle now infront of his jeans, praying you wouldn’t notice. he swallowed hard, trying to say something, anything, but all that came out was a quiet, “oh.”

smooth. so smooth.

from the corner of his eye, he could see heeseung watching this entire interaction with barely concealed amusement. jake too. traitors. but he couldn’t focus on them. not when you were still looking at him like that. not when you hadn’t stepped away. not when your fingers absentmindedly brushed his arm again as you shifted your weight. it was such a small thing, barely anything. but it burned. and suddenly, the party didn’t feel loud anymore. it didn’t feel overwhelming. it just felt-  different. because you were here. because you said his name like it mattered. because you smiled at him like you wanted to.

now he was standing in the middle of a crowded party, holding a bottle of water like a prop, trying to act normal, while his thoughts were completely, embarrassingly fixated on a conversation that hadn’t even lasted a minute. he exhaled quietly through his nose.

this was fine. he was fine. everything was fine. …he was absolutely not fine.

he shouldn’t be thinking about you. that was the first thing he told himself as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. this was stupid. he had exams. lab reports. a presentation next week. he did not have time to think about- the way you said his name.

“…sunghoon.” he shut his eyes tighter.

no. absolutely not.

or the way you smiled at him. or how your fingers brushed his arm like it was nothing- like it didn’t completely ruin his ability to function for the rest of the night. or how you looked at him. like he wasn’t just some awkward guy holding a bottle of water at a party he didn’t belong at. he turned onto his side, burying his face into his pillow. “get it together,” he muttered.

you were just a girl. a very, very pretty girl who also happened to be in his major. which meant he’d probably see you again.

“…this is bad.”

because no matter how hard he tried- he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

the next time park sunghoon laid his eyes on you wasn’t at a party. it was worse.

it was in a lecture hall. bright, unforgiving lights illuminating every row, every face, every tiny reaction. there was no dim lighting to hide behind, no loud music to blur his thoughts into something manageable, no distractions he could cling to when things became too overwhelming. just rows of students, the quiet hum of conversation, and the sharp, unavoidable reality of being fully perceived.

sunghoon was already seated in his usual spot- third row, slightly to the left, carefully chosen at the beginning of the semester for maximum efficiency. close enough to hear every word of the lecture without straining, far enough to avoid unnecessary attention. his laptop sat open in front of him, a document neatly organized with headings and bullet points, while his notebook rested beside it, aligned perfectly with the edge of the desk. his pen lay straight across the page, like he had everything under control.

he didn’t. not even a little.

he had been writing, something about enzyme kinetics, he thought, but the words had already started to blur together, his focus slipping in a way that was both subtle and alarming. he told himself it was just lack of sleep, just the aftermath of being dragged to that party, just… anything that wasn’t you.

and then the door opened. it was just the quiet creak of the lecture hall door, the kind that barely registered for anyone else. but for some reason sunghoon looked up. and the moment he did, everything else seemed to fall away. it was you.

you stepped into the lecture hall with an ease that made it seem like you belonged everywhere you went, your bag slung casually over your shoulder as your eyes scanned the room for a place to sit. your hair fell softly around your face, catching the overhead light in a way that made something in his chest tighten before he could even process it. there was nothing particularly dramatic about the moment, no slow motion, no sudden silence- but to him, it felt like the entire room had shifted around your presence. his grip tightened slightly around his pen as his thoughts stumbled over themselves.

she’s here.

of course you were here. you were in the same major. the same class. this was inevitable. logical, expected. so why did it feel like this? why did his heart start beating like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to? why did his mind go completely blank?

you paused near the entrance for a moment longer, still scanning, still searching. and then your gaze landed on him. sunghoon froze. there was a split second- just a fraction of a moment, where he convinced himself you wouldn’t recognize him. that maybe the party had been too chaotic, too insignificant, that he had just been another face in the crowd, another awkward interaction lost in the noise. but then you smiled. not polite. not distant. but warm, recognizing. and you lifted your hand, giving him a small wave like it was the most natural thing in the world. at him. sunghoon’s brain completely shut down.

he stared for a second too long before awkwardly raising his own hand in response, the motion stiff, delayed, like his body was struggling to keep up with what was happening. his fingers felt weirdly heavy, his movements not quite his own.

be normal, he told himself, the thought sharp and urgent.

just be normal. but that became significantly harder when you started walking toward him. because why were you walking toward him? there were empty seats. plenty of them. entire rows, even. you could’ve sat anywhere. but no, you were moving straight toward his table, each step deliberate, effortless, like this decision had already been made before he even had time to process it. like sitting next to him was the obvious choice.

sunghoon straightened in his seat without realizing it, his posture snapping into something far too rigid as he quickly glanced down at his notebook, suddenly very interested in whatever he had written earlier. the words didn’t make sense anymore, the ink blurring together as his focus fractured completely. he wasn’t reading. he couldn’t read. not when you were getting closer. not when he could already feel the shift in the air, the subtle awareness settling in his chest.

you stopped beside him. “hey,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the noise of the room in a way that felt entirely unfair. that was it. that was all it took. everything in his head went quiet. “hi,” he managed after a beat, his voice coming out quieter than he intended, like it had gotten caught somewhere between his thoughts and his mouth.

you adjusted your bag slightly on your shoulder, your gaze flickering briefly to the empty seat next to him before returning to his face. “is it okay if i sit here?” the question was simple. casual. normal. but the way you asked it- like it mattered. like he mattered. and it threw him off completely. sunghoon felt the heat rise to his face almost instantly, the warmth creeping up his neck, settling in his ears as his grip tightened around his pen. for a second, he just looked at you, like his brain needed extra time to process what you had said.

“yeah,” he replied quickly-too quickly-before clearing his throat, trying to steady himself. “yeah, of course. i mean- yeah.”

god.

he nodded once, like that would somehow fix it, like it would make him seem more put together, more coherent. it didn’t. not even slightly.

but you just smiled- soft, easy, like none of it was weird, like he wasn’t completely falling apart right in front of you, and slipped into the seat beside him without hesitation. and just like that, everything shifted again.

sunghoon stared down at his notebook, trying, failing, to refocus as a new kind of awareness settled over him, heavier this time, harder to ignore. he became painfully conscious of every small detail, every tiny movement that suddenly felt amplified beyond reason.

the slight brush of your shoulder as you settled in.

the quiet thud of your bag hitting the floor.

the faint, familiar scent of your perfume- clean, warm, distracting in a way that made it impossible to think clearly.

he swallowed, his fingers tightening slightly around his pen as his thoughts began to spiral again, slower this time, heavier.

this was fine.

just a lecture. just another day. nothing weird. nothing different.

except,

it didn’t feel normal.

not when you were sitting right next to him. not when he could still remember the way you said his name. not when, somehow, without doing anything at all-  you had already completely ruined his ability to focus.

the lecture started like any other.

the professor’s voice carried steadily through the hall, calm and practiced, explaining reaction rates and mechanisms like it was the most natural thing in the world. slides changed in a slow rhythm, equations appearing one after another, filling the screen with information sunghoon would normally absorb without effort.

normally.

but right now?

park sunghoon couldn’t focus at all. not when you were sitting right next to him.

not when every small movement you made registered ten times stronger than anything the professor was saying. the soft rustle of your sleeve as you wrote something down. the quiet tap of your pen against the page when you paused to think. the way your knee occasionally bumped into his under the desk, light, accidental, barely there.

and yet, it felt like too much.

every single time it happened, sunghoon’s entire body tensed for a split second before he forced himself to stay still, eyes locked stubbornly on his notebook like if he just looked focused enough, his brain would follow. it didn’t. because instead of enzyme kinetics, his thoughts kept circling back to you.

you’re right here. you chose to sit here. why did you choose to sit here?

he swallowed, trying to ground himself, pen hovering over his notebook as he attempted to write something, anything, but the words came out uneven, his usually neat handwriting slightly messier than usual.

next to him, you seemed completely fine. like this was just another lecture, just another day.

you were writing quickly, confidently, following along with the example the professor had just started working through on the board.

sunghoon’s eyes flickered to your page. just for a second. and that’s when he noticed it. a small mistake. nothing major- just a tiny miscalculation in one of the steps. something easy to fix. something he would normally ignore because it wasn’t his place to say anything.

he should’ve ignored it. he was going to ignore it. he really, really was- “you made a mistake.”

oh.

the words left his mouth before he could stop them. sunghoon froze. his brain immediately caught up a second too late, and the realization hit him all at once.

why would you say that. why would you just blurt that out. what is wrong with you.

he stared straight ahead for a second, like maybe, just maybe, you hadn’t heard him.

but of fucking course you had.

“…what?” you said, turning your head toward him, a small, surprised smile already forming on your lips. and the worst part? you didn’t look offended. you looked amused. that somehow made it ten times worse.

sunghoon swallowed, finally turning toward you, his movements a little stiff, a little hesitant. “I just, uh- this part,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward your notebook, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to undo the damage.

you shifted your notebook slightly toward him without hesitation, tilting it so he could see better. “show me,” you said, like it was nothing. like he hadn’t just embarrassed himself. like you actually wanted him to. that threw him off again. but he leaned in anyway. he had to.

his shoulder brushed against yours as he moved closer, the contact warm, steady, grounding in a way that made his thoughts stutter for a second before completely rearranging themselves. he pointed at the line in your notes, his finger hovering just above the paper as he tried to focus, really focus, on what he was saying.

“it’s just- this value should be adjusted here,” he explained, voice lower now, more stable, slipping into something more familiar. “you carried the number from the previous step, but the condition changes, so you have to, uh, recalculate it like this.”

as he spoke, something shifted. this- this part, he knew. this was safe.this was where he didn’t have to overthink every word, didn’t have to second-guess himself. his explanation flowed more naturally now, quieter but more confident, his finger tracing the logic step by step without hesitation.

“this value here,” he began, his voice lower now, more grounded, “you treated it like it was constant, but it’s not, because the enzyme’s already partially inhibited at this stage.”

you nodded immediately. like you understood. you did not understand. at all.

“but if you look at the conditions from the previous step,” he continued, reaching for his pen after a small pause, “the substrate concentration changes, so the rate isn’t linear anymore. you have to adjust it, otherwise the rest of the calculation doesn’t reflect the actual kinetics.”

oh. okay. you followed the movement of his pen as he rewrote the step, neat, precise, confident.still not getting it.

“but- if the concentration changes,” you said slowly, trying to keep up, “wouldn’t that just… affect the final value? not, like… everything after?”

the second the words left your mouth, you felt it. that slight uncertainty. sunghoon paused. not in a bad way. not judgmental. just… thinking.

“i mean- maybe I’m wrong!,” you added quickly, a quiet laugh slipping out as you looked down at your notes again. “i feel like i’m missing something really obvious.”

“no, you’re not,” he said, quickly. you looked up. but he was already looking at you. closer than you expected.

“you’re not missing something obvious,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, more careful. “it’s just, this part is kind of annoying. they don’t explain it well.” your chest tightened slightly at that. not because of what he said. but how he said it. there was something careful in his tone; something steady, grounding, like he wasn’t just correcting you, wasn’t just pointing out a mistake and moving on. he meant it. you could hear it in the way his voice softened just enough, in the way he didn’t hesitate to reassure you.

like he wasn’t silently judging you the way you half-expected people to when you didn’t understand something right away. and for a moment, that mattered more than the actual explanation. because it made you feel… safe. next to him.

he shifted your notebook slightly again, pulling it just a bit closer between the two of you, his movements subtle but deliberate. as he leaned in, his shoulder pressed more firmly against yours this time, warm, steady, impossible to ignore. the contact lingered, neither of you pulling away, like it had quietly become something natural.

“look,” he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, as if the space between you had shrunk into something private. “if you think about it in terms of how the enzyme behaves instead of just the numbers- it makes more sense.”

his finger hovered just above the page, tracing the logic slowly this time, more carefully than before.

“the inhibition changes how efficiently it works,” he continued, pausing briefly as if choosing the simplest way to explain it, “so every step after that has to reflect it. oherwise you’re just… carrying over values that don’t really apply anymore.”

you watched him as he spoke. not just the words. but everything else.

the way his hand moved with quiet precision, his writing neat and controlled as he adjusted the steps again. the slight furrow in his brows when he concentrated. the way his voice lost that earlier hesitation, settling into something more confident, more certain- like this was the one place he didn’t second-guess himself.

you tried to follow. really tried.

your eyes moved between his writing and the previous steps, your mind working a little slower, piecing things together bit by bit. it didn’t come all at once. it wasn’t instant. but if you really thought about it, which you did- it made sense. not perfectly. not completely. but enough.

“oh,” you breathed out softly, the realization settling in as your gaze flickered across the corrected calculation again, slower this time. “wait… okay.” your lips curved slightly, something lighter easing into your expression. “that actually—yeah, that makes more sense.” relief settled in your chest, quiet but immediate. like something that had been sitting just out of reach had finally clicked into place.

you looked at him again, turning your head just slightly, and your smile softened without you even realizing it. it wasn’t teasing this time, not playful or light, it was genuine, a little brighter, a little more open. “thank you,” you said quietly. and then, without really thinking- “you’re actually really good at this, hoon.” you blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. your voice softer now, gentler, more sincere than anything you’d said to him before.

and that, that completely ruined sunghoon. for a second, he just… froze. not in a subtle way, not in a way he could play off or recover from smoothly, no, it was immediate, total, like his entire system had short-circuited all at once. his hand, which had just been resting near your notebook, stilled completely, fingers tightening slightly like he had forgotten what they were supposed to do next.

hoon.

the nickname echoed in his head, louder than the lecture, louder than his own thoughts, louder than anything else in that moment. you said it so easily. so naturally. like it belonged to you. and worse-  the way you said it. his throat felt dry all of a sudden, his pulse jumping into something uneven, something he couldn’t quite control. heat crept up his neck again, slower this time but deeper, settling into his ears, his face, making it impossible to ignore the way his body reacted before his brain could catch up.

he wasn’t used to this. he wasn’t used to being looked at like that. praised like that. especially not by girls.

“…it’s nothing,” he said quickly, but his voice didn’t come out the way he wanted it to- slightly lower, a little rougher, like it had caught somewhere on the way out. he cleared his throat immediately, trying to fix it, trying to ground himself. “it’s just, basic stuff.”

his thoughts started tripping over each other, messy and loud in a way that made it impossible to focus on anything else. the lecture had completely faded into the background now, reduced to nothing more than distant noise as his attention stayed locked on you, on the way you were watching him, on the softness in your expression, on the fact that you had noticed him. that you thought he was good at something. that you said his name like that.

he shifted slightly in his seat, subtle but tense, like he was trying to physically shake off the feeling settling under his skin, this restless, overwhelming awareness that made it hard to sit still, hard to think straight, hard to do anything except exist in the moment a little too intensely.

get it together. but he couldn’t.

he looked back at the front of the lecture hall quickly, almost abruptly, like the movement itself might help him reset, help him regain some sense of control. his pen moved again across his notebook, writing something, anything, just to have something to do, even though he wasn’t processing a single word the professor was saying. but his mind was still stuck. on you. on the way you said his name. on the way you smiled at him right after. and no matter how hard he tried to push it down, to ignore it, to act like none of it affected him- it did.

way more than it should have.

you noticed him before you really knew him. not in a dramatic way. not like love-at-first-sight or anything cliché like that. just… quietly. the kind of noticing that happens when someone keeps catching your attention without trying to. park sunghoon was, objectively, not the type of person you expected to stand out at first glance. he blended in too well- always sitting in the same spot, always focused, always just a little too composed compared to everyone else around him.

a nerd very obviously. and yet, he was really pretty. like, distractingly so.

it didn’t make sense at first. the way someone could look like that- sharp features, soft eyes, quiet presence, and still be the same person who got flustered over the smallest things. the same person who held a water bottle at a party like it was a personality trait. the same person who couldn’t even handle a simple conversation without short-circuiting halfway through.

you found that part the most interesting. because the more you paid attention, the more obvious it became. the way his ears turned red when you said his name. the way he avoided eye contact for just a second too long before forcing himself to look back at you. the way his voice shifted- slightly quieter, slightly less steady, every time you directed your attention at him. it was subtle. but not to you.

and maybe that was why you kept doing it. the teasing i mean. the small touches. the way you said “hoon” like it was already yours to use. “you’re smiling.” you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts as you looked up to see jake watching you with a knowing expression, one eyebrow slightly raised. “what?” you said, immediately playing it off, leaning back slightly in your seat. jake didn’t look convinced. “you’re smiling,” he repeated, like he had caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to. “i always smile,” you shrugged lightly, glancing down at your drink before taking a small sip, deliberately casual. “not like that,” he said, a grin slowly forming on his face. you narrowed your eyes slightly. “like what?”

“like you’re thinking about something,” he replied easily. “or someone.” you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you looked away for a second, pretending to be more focused on the room around you than the conversation itself. “okay,” you said lightly. “and what makes you think that?” jake leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself now. “i’ve seen you,” he said. that made you pause. “…seen me?” you repeated, glancing back at him. “yeah,” he nodded, way too amused. “in class. with sunghoon.”

oh.

you let out a small laugh almost immediately, like it didn’t mean anything. “okay?” you said, tilting your head slightly. “and?”

“and,” jake continued, dragging the word out just a little, “you sit next to him. you talk to him and you laugh.” you rolled your eyes, though there was still a hint of a smile on your lips. “that’s what people do, jake. they sit, they talk and they laugh.” 

“yeah,” he said, leaning forward slightly now, lowering his voice just a bit. “but not like that.” you looked at him for a second. “like what?” you asked again, softer this time. jake studied you for a moment, like he was deciding how far to push it, but then he smirked. “he talks about you, you know.” that made something in your chest shift- small, unexpected. but you didn’t let it show. you just laughed. “okay,” you said, shaking your head slightly. “and what does he say?” jake shrugged, clearly entertained. “enough.” you huffed out another quiet laugh, looking away again, like it didn’t matter. like you weren’t even a little curious. like you didn’t already know. “please,” you said lightly. “sunghoon barely talks.”

“that’s what you think,” he shot back immediately, but you didn’t respond to that,  you just smiled again, softer this time, eyes drifting somewhere else entirely for a brief second before you caught yourself. jake noticed. of course he did. “so,” he said, casually, like the question didn’t matter at all. “you like him, don’t you?”

and just like that, the question itself made you laugh, like it was a joke hearing it be said out loud, like the answer already didn’t exist. “jake,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off before it could go any further. “you’re overthinking it.” he didn’t respond immediately. just waited. which made you exhale softly through your nose, your smile still there- but a little thinner now, a little more controlled, like you were holding onto it instead of letting it come naturally.

“it’s not like that,” you added, glancing away for a second before looking back at him. Then you let out a small laugh, light and effortless, like the idea itself was a bit ridiculous. “he’s just… fun to be around.” the words came out easy. too easy. you shrugged lightly, as if you hadn’t thought about it beyond that. “i mean,” you continued, your tone staying casual, almost amused, “he gets all flustered over the smallest things. it’s kind of cute, in a way.” another small sip of your drink followed, your gaze drifting briefly across the room before returning to jake, completely at ease on the surface. “easy to tease, easy to get a reaction out of,” you added with a soft chuckle, shaking your head slightly like you were recalling something mildly entertaining. “it’s kind of fun, honestly.”

jake huffed out a laugh at that, clearly catching onto your tone now. “wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair, grin spreading across his face. “so he’s basically your entertainment.” you let out a short laugh in response, not denying it. “not in a weird way,” you said, still smiling, waving your hand lightly as if to dismiss the idea. “just… he’s not exactly the type you take seriously.” you said it so casually, like it was obvious. like it didn’t carry anything deeper.

jake raised an eyebrow, amused now rather than suspicious. “damn,” he muttered with a laugh. “you’re brutal.” you smiled faintly at that, shoulders relaxing again as you leaned back slightly. “just being honest,” you said lightly, tone still easy, still unbothered. “just someone to pass time with,” you added with a small shrug, like that was the end of it. and time passed a little too quickly after that night.

you woke up slower than usual, the dull ache behind your eyes settling in before you even fully opened them, like your body was gently reminding you of your own decisions. it wasn’t a full hangover, just enough to make everything feel a little heavier, a little quieter, like your thoughts were moving through fog instead of clarity. you stayed in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, blinking against the soft light filtering through your window as pieces of the night before drifted back to you in fragments- jake laughing, your own voice a little looser than usual, words coming out easier than they should have.

and then that conversation.

you shifted slightly, turning onto your side, your brows knitting just faintly as something about it lingered longer than the rest. not enough to fully unpack. not enough to sit with. just enough to be there.

“…it’s whatever,” you muttered quietly to yourself, brushing it off almost instinctively, like thinking about it any longer would give it more weight than it deserved. so you didn’t. you got up, got ready, and by the time you stepped outside, the cool air helped clear your head just enough to feel like yourself again, or at least something close to it.

campus was already alive by the time you got there, students moving in loose patterns between buildings, quiet conversations blending into a steady background noise that felt oddly comforting. you walked slower than usual, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder as you made your way across the familiar path, your headache still lingering but softer now, dulled by fresh air and routine. your thoughts drifted aimlessly, not really focused on anything in particular. until they were, because you saw him.

sunghoon stood just off to the side near one of the benches, slightly hunched over as he organized a small stack of books into his bag with that same careful precision you’d started to associate with him. everything about the way he moved was deliberate, slow, neat, controlled- like he was making sure everything fit perfectly, like nothing was allowed to be out of place.

it made you smile without even realizing it. for a second, you hesitated. you could’ve just kept walking, pretended you didn’t see him. but you didn’t want to. so instead, you shifted your direction slightly, your steps quiet as you approached him from behind, watching the way he adjusted one of his notebooks before slipping it into his bag.

“hey hoon.” your voice was soft, casual, but close enough to catch him completely off guard.

he startled immediately. not subtly, no, his entire posture tensed as he turned too quickly toward the sound of your voice, his hand slipping at the worst possible moment as two of his books slid right out of his grip and hit the ground with a dull, awkward thud.

there was a brief pause, but then you laughed. it slipped out before you could stop it, light and soft, your hand coming up instinctively to cover your mouth as your shoulders shook just slightly.

“oh my god, sorry,” you said quickly, still smiling as you crouched down in front of him, reaching for one of the fallen books. “i didn’t mean to scare you that bad.”

sunghoon looked like he had completely lost control of the situation. “i- no, it’s fine,” he said almost immediately, his voice a little rushed as he bent down too, movements slightly uncoordinated now as he grabbed the other book. “i just didn’t hear you, that’s all.”

you glanced at him briefly, amused. “yeah, clearly.” you handed him one of the books, your fingers brushing against his for just a second longer than necessary before you let go. “you’re really jumpy today,” you added lightly, tilting your head just a little as you watched him. “i’m not,” he said quickly, almost defensive, but the faint redness creeping up his ears completely betrayed him.

your smile widened just slightly. “right,” you hummed, unconvinced, letting the teasing linger in your tone as you stayed crouched for a second longer, watching him carefully stack the books again, this time with even more focus, like he was trying to regain some kind of control. you stood up slowly, brushing your hands together as he finally zipped his bag, adjusting the strap over his shoulder like everything was normal again. it wasn’t. “morning, hoon,” you said again, softer this time, like the first one hadn’t been enough.

“…morning,” he replied, quieter now, glancing at you properly for the first time since you startled him. there was a small pause. not awkward, but not entirely comfortable either, just… there. you shifted your weight slightly, studying him for a second, the way he stood just a little too straight, the way his hand lingered near the strap of his bag like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. “how are you?” you asked, your voice easy, natural, like you weren’t watching him react to every little thing you did.

he hesitated. just for a second. “i’m fine,” he said, nodding slightly, like he needed to confirm it to himself as much as to you. “you?”

you let out a quiet breath, rolling your shoulders just slightly. “a little tired,” you admitted, tilting your head back for a second before looking at him again. “jake was… a lot last night.”  the moment the name left your mouth, something shifted, subtle, almost unnoticeable, but there. sunghoon’s expression didn’t change much, but his grip on his bag tightened slightly. “oh,” he said, nodding once. “right.” you watched him for a second, then smiled. “but i think i’m better now,” you added casually, your tone softening just a little. he looked at you again. “…yeah?” he asked, quieter. you nodded slightly, taking a small step closer without really thinking about it.

“yeah,” you said, your lips curving just faintly. “seeing you helped.” that did it. sunghoon froze. again. and you, you just watched him for a second longer than you probably should have, your smile soft, almost unreadable. then, like it was nothing,  you looked away first. you let the moment sit between you for just a second longer, watching the way he struggled to recover, the way something as simple as your presence seemed to throw him just slightly off balance every time. it wasn’t obvious, not to anyone else, at least, but to you, it was clear as day. the way his shoulders stayed just a bit too tense, the way his gaze flickered before settling, the way he seemed to overthink every response just a little too much.

and for some reason, you didn’t want to leave just yet.

“hey,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now, losing that teasing edge and settling into something more gentle, more genuine. you shifted your weight slightly, adjusting the strap of your bag as you glanced toward the path leading off campus before looking back at him. “do you… have time right now?” sunghoon blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question, like he hadn’t expected the conversation to continue this way. “…right now?” he repeated quietly, his voice careful, like he was making sure he understood you correctly.

you nodded, offering a small, easy smile. “yeah. i was thinking of getting coffee,” you said, tone light but sincere. “you could come with me… if you want.” there was nothing complicated about it. no pressure, no teasing, just an invitation. “oh, uh… yeah,” he said quickly, then paused, clearing his throat as he tried to steady himself, his voice softening just slightly as he corrected himself. “yeah, i can. i don’t have anything until later.” the tips of his ears were already turning red again. you smiled a little at that. “good,” you said simply. “come on.”

the walk felt quiet in a comfortable way, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled constantly. you talked here and there, small things, classes, assignments, but it was easy, natural, like neither of you had to try too hard. sunghoon stayed just half a step beside you, always matching your pace, always just slightly aware of where you were. at one point, you shifted your bag, and your hand brushed his, accidental, but noticeable. you didn’t react, just kept walking. but sunghoon did. his entire focus had shifted from the conversation to the exact distance between you, to the way your hand kept brushing his like it meant nothing, like it didn’t completely disrupt his ability to think properly. he kept his gaze forward, trying to act normal, trying to respond when you spoke, but his thoughts kept slipping, circling back to the same thing over and over again.

don’t react.

don’t make it weird.

just walk. just act normal.

he was not acting normal. when you reached the café, sunghoon instinctively stepped ahead just slightly, reaching for the door before you could. he pulled it open, holding it there for you without hesitation.

“go ahead,” he said softly. you glanced at him for a second, a small smile forming as you stepped inside. “thank you,” you said, your voice just as soft. he nodded a little, following after you once you were through, letting the door fall shut behind him carefully before stepping back into place beside you. the warmth inside wrapped around you almost immediately, the quiet hum of conversation and the soft clink of cups filling the space as you both approached the counter. sunghoon stepped forward first.

“hi,” he said politely to the barista, his voice calm, respectful, a complete contrast to how flustered he’d been just minutes ago. “could I please get one americano?” there was a small pause as the barista nodded, entering the order. sunghoon gave a small nod in return. “thank you.” then he stepped slightly to the side, turning his head just enough to look at you. just for a second. like he was checking, waiting. you shifted forward, ready to order, your attention already moving to the menu as you opened your mouth to speak- “and an iced vanilla latte, please ” sunghoon said quietly, just before you could. you blinked, the words catching you off guard just slightly as you turned your head to look at him.

but sunghoon didn’t look back. he was very suddenly focused on anything but you-his gaze dropping somewhere near the counter, then briefly to the card reader, then anywhere that wasn’t your face. the faint flush on his cheeks hadn’t gone away, if anything it had deepened just a little, spreading up toward his ears again like he was fully aware of what he’d just done and didn’t know how to handle the fact that you noticed. you stayed quiet for a second, just watching him. and then, before you could say anything, he was already pulling out his card. “i’ll- uh, i’ll get it,” he said quickly, his voice a little softer now, almost like he was trying to move past the moment before it could become something bigger. “oh, you don’t have to- ” you started, instinctively reaching for your bag. “it’s okay,” he interrupted, not rudely, but gently, firmly enough that it stopped you anyway. he glanced at the barista, offering a small, polite nod as he tapped his card. “i want to,” he added quietly once the payment went through, his tone sincere, practiced. “…thank you,” you said instead, your voice softer now, a little more thoughtful than before. he nodded once, still not quite meeting your eyes.

a few minutes later, drinks in hand, sunghoon led the way to a small table by the window, instinctively choosing a quieter spot away from the busier parts of the café. he pulled the chair out just slightly- subtle, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it, and waited for you to sit before taking the seat across from you himself.you set your drink down carefully, fingers still wrapped loosely around the cup as you looked at it for a second, then back up at him. “you didn’t-” you started, a hint of surprise slipping into your voice, your brows lifting just slightly as you looked at him properly now. but he cut you off. “i heard you say it once,” he said quickly, like he had been expecting the question, his words coming out just a little too fast before he slowed himself down. “at the party.”

he hesitated briefly, then added, quieter this time, “you said it was your favorite.” you blinked again. “oh.” he shifted slightly in his seat, his fingers brushing lightly against his cup before he looked down at it instead of at you, like it was easier to focus on something concrete. “i just… remembered,” he added, almost like it wasn’t a big deal. but it was. at least to you. because you hadn’t expected that. not from him. not from someone who barely seemed able to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time. and yet- he remembered something that small. something you had said once, casually, without thinking.

you felt the warmth rise to your face before you could stop it, your fingers tightening just slightly around your cup as you looked down for a second, a quiet smile forming without your permission. it was sweet. and for a moment, your thoughts drifted somewhere softer, quieter, lingering on the way he paid attention in ways that weren’t loud or obvious, the way he noticed things without making a show of it, the way he remembered. it wasn’t flashy. it wasn’t bold. but it felt real. and that made it matter more than it probably should have.

“…that’s really nice,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now, more genuine, as you looked back up at him. sunghoon shook his head slightly, almost dismissing it. “it’s nothing,” he murmured.

you didn’t believe that- not really, but you let it go. a small silence settled between you again, this one lighter, more comfortable than before as you took a sip of your drink, the familiar taste grounding you just slightly. sunghoon did the same, though a little more carefully, like even drinking coffee required some level of focus right now.

“…how did you and jake meet?” he asked. the question came out a little hesitant, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he should be asking it, but curious enough that he did anyway.

you glanced at him over the rim of your cup, lowering it slowly. “jake?” you repeated lightly, leaning back just a little in your chair. he nodded, his gaze flickering up to you briefly before dropping again. “yeah.”

you hummed softly, thinking for a second. “we had a class together last semester,” you said, your tone easy, relaxed. “he sat next to me once and just… never left.” a small smile tugged at your lips at the memory.

“he’s kind of like that,” you added. “talks a lot. makes himself comfortable everywhere.” sunghoon nodded slowly, like that made sense. “…yeah,” he said quietly. you watched him for a second, tilting your head just slightly. “why?” you asked, a hint of curiosity slipping into your voice now. “you jealous, hoon?” the nickname came out softer this time.

but he just… froze, his fingers tightening slightly around his cup as his eyes flickered up to meet yours for the briefest moment before immediately dropping again. the reaction was instant, almost instinctive, like his body had already decided for him before his brain could catch up.

he wasn’t, was he?

it’s not like you guys were anything, just classmates, right?

a slow, obvious blush creeping up his neck, settling across his cheeks, his ears turning red all over again like you’d just said something far more serious than you actually had. “i’m not-” he started, a little too quickly, his voice catching slightly before he stopped himself, exhaling quietly through his nose like he needed a second to reset. “it just… came up,” he said after a moment, quieter now, more controlled but still not quite steady, his gaze fixed somewhere near the table instead of you. “i was just asking.” you hummed softly, leaning back just a little in your chair, studying him like you didn’t entirely believe that. “just asking, huh?” you repeated lightly.

he nodded once, still not looking at you. “yeah.” the way he said it; the hesitation, the way his fingers kept adjusting his grip on the cup, the way his shoulders stayed just a little too tense- made it obvious there was more behind it, even if he wasn’t going to say it out loud. you took a small sip of your drink, letting the silence stretch just slightly, your eyes still on him. “okay,” you said finally, your tone easy again, like you were letting it go. like you weren’t going to push.

he let out the smallest breath at that, barely noticeable, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “anyway,” he added after a second, like he needed to move the conversation somewhere safer, somewhere less dangerous. “you said you were tired… was it just because of last night, or-”

“are you always this serious?” you cut in softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head again, watching him. he blinked, caught off guard. “i’m not-” he started, then paused, clearly reconsidering his words. “…am i?”

“a little,” you said, your voice light, not mocking, just honest. he looked down again, almost sheepish. “…sorry,” he muttered, and that made you laugh. “oh, don’t apologize,” you said, softer now, leaning forward just slightly. “i don’t mind it.” he paused at that. just for a second. like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, but then something shifted. it was subtle, so subtle most people wouldn’t even notice, but you did. the tension in his shoulders eased just a little, his grip on his cup loosening as he let out a quiet breath, almost like he was letting himself relax for the first time since you sat down.

“…you don’t?” sunghoon asked, glancing up at you again, this time holding your gaze just a second longer than before. you shook your head lightly, your smile soft, easy. “no,” you said. “it’s kind of… nice.” that caught him off guard again, but differently this time. not in a panicked way. just… surprised. he looked down for a second, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips like he was trying not to let it show too much. “i didn’t think anyone would say that,” he admitted quietly. you leaned your chin into your hand, resting your elbow against the table as you watched him. “why?” you asked. “do people usually complain about you being too serious?”

he let out a small breath that almost turned into a laugh. “…not complain,” he said, thinking for a second. “but they don’t usually… notice it in a good way.” you hummed softly, tilting your head just slightly. “well,” you said, your tone thoughtful but still light, “i think it suits you.” that made him laugh, like, actually laugh. the sound was softer than you expected, a little quiet, like he wasn’t used to laughing like that around people, but it was there, and it made something in your chest feel warmer than it should have.

“…that’s kind of a weird compliment,” he said, glancing at you again, his eyes a little brighter now. you smiled, a little amused. “i give weird compliments.”

“i noticed,” he replied, and there was something different in his tone now, lighter, more relaxed, like he was starting to meet you halfway instead of just reacting to you. you raised an eyebrow slightly. “oh? you’ve been paying attention?” that made him hesitate for a second, but instead of shutting down like before, he just huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “…a little,” he admitted. you smiled into your cup, taking a small sip before setting it back down. “that’s good,” you said. “i’d be offended if you weren’t.”

“i am,” he said before he could stop himself. then immediately froze. you blinked. “…you are?” you repeated, amused. he let out a quiet breath, clearly realizing what he’d just said, but instead of completely panicking this time, he just rubbed the back of his neck slightly, looking a little embarrassed. “i mean- i notice things,” he corrected quickly, though the slight smile on his face didn’t quite disappear this time. “not just… you.” you tilted your head, pretending to consider that. “sure,” you said, unconvinced. he shook his head again, a quiet laugh escaping him, and for a moment, he looked… comfortable, actually comfortable.

“so,” you said after a second, your voice softer now, more curious than teasing, “what do you do when you’re not being serious in class?” he blinked at that. then leaned back slightly in his chair, thinking. “…i don’t know,” he admitted after a moment. “study, mostly.” you stared at him. “…that’s still serious, hoon.” he smiled a little at that. “okay, then… i ice skate sometimes,” he added, a little more quietly, like he wasn’t used to bringing it up. “it helps me clear my head.” that caught your attention immediately. “you ice skate?” you repeated, leaning forward slightly now, your expression lighting up just a little. “like, actually?”

he nodded, a little unsure of your reaction. “…yeah.” you smiled. “that’s kind of cool.” he let out another small laugh, shaking his head slightly. “you say everything is ‘kind of’ something.” you shrugged lightly, smiling. “i like leaving room for interpretation.”

“…that sounds like something someone says when they don’t want to fully commit to an opinion,” he said, and there was the smallest hint of teasing in his voice now. you blinked, then laughed. “okay, that was a little mean.” “it wasn’t mean,” he said quickly, though he was clearly amused now. “it was-”

“judgmental,” you cut in.

“observational,” he corrected. you narrowed your eyes at him slightly, but you were still smiling. “wow. you’re getting bold.” he paused. then, just slightly- 

“…a little,” he admitted. and this time, he didn’t look away.

sunghoon pushed the door of his apartment shut behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet space as he exhaled under his breath, already feeling the fatigue settle into his shoulders. the day had been long- classes, walking around campus, the lingering awareness of conversations that kept replaying in his head, but none of that stuck quite as much as the moments that followed him home.

he ran a hand through his damp hair after stepping out of the shower, the towel draped over his head as he gently patted it dry, movements slow, absentminded.  the warmth of the water still lingered on his skin, but his thoughts were somewhere else entirely, somewhere that didn’t quite let him relax the way he expected to.

he stared at his reflection in the mirror for a brief second, but his eyes weren’t really focused on himself. they drifted, unfixed, like his mind had already slipped back to earlier that day without his permission. you.

he paused slightly, the towel still in his hands, the corners of his lips lifting before he even realized it. it wasn’t a big smile, nothing dramatic, nothing he’d even admit to out loud- but it was there, soft and quiet, like it appeared on its own without asking for permission. he shook his head faintly, as if that would help clear his thoughts.

it didn’t.

instead, your laugh replayed in his mind again, light and effortless, the kind that didn’t feel forced or careful. it had a warmth to it that lingered longer than it should have, the kind of sound that made silence feel less empty afterward. he found himself exhaling softly, almost amused at himself for remembering it so clearly.

and then your expression; it reminded him of little kids, the way their face lights up when someone remembers their birthday when they thought they wouldn’t.the moment you realized he had actually remembered something you said. that slight pause. the way your eyes shifted, just for a second, like you hadn’t expected it.

there had been something in your face then- surprise, yes, but also something softer underneath it. something that made the moment feel… different. more personal than he had anticipated when he first said it. his grip on the towel loosened slightly as he leaned back a bit against the counter, eyes half-lidded now, thoughts no longer scattered but centered on the same person. he let out a small breath, almost like a quiet laugh to himself, though no sound really came out.

“…what is this,” he murmured under his breath, not really expecting an answer. because he already knew. it wasn’t confusing, not really. it just felt new. unfamiliar in a way that made him more aware of things he normally wouldn’t think twice about; the way he paid attention to you, the way his thoughts drifted back to small details, the way your presence seemed to settle somewhere in the background of his mind and stay there.

he had already been in bed for a while, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of his bedside lamp as his phone rested in his hand. the day had finally quieted down, his body sinking into the mattress with a kind of relief that only came after everything else had stopped demanding his attention. he had been scrolling absentmindedly, not really absorbing anything on his screen, his thoughts still drifting back and forth in a slow, unbroken loop- between class, the café, and you.

then his phone buzzed.

unknown number: is this sunghoon?

he stared at the text for a moment, blinking once, then once more, his mind immediately trying to place who it could be. it wasn’t a saved contact. it wasn’t familiar. but something about the phrasing… felt oddly specific.

he typed back after a brief pause.

sunghoon: depends on who’s asking.

unknown number: it’s mee, hoon unknown number: don’t tell me u already forgot abt me

his eyes lingered on the message a second longer than necessary before something in his expression softened almost immediately. a quiet breath left him, the faintest hint of a smile forming at the corner of his lips as he leaned back slightly into his pillow.

of course it was you.

sunghoon: hey, [name]

a moment later, another message came through.

you: i realized i didn’t really say it properly at the café earlier, but i just wanted to tell you i really enjoyed today!  you: talking to you was really nice :)

he read it slowly once, then again. his thumb paused over the screen as he processed the words, his chest feeling just slightly lighter without him really knowing why. 

sunghoon: i enjoyed it too  sunghoon: a lot

there was a brief pause before he added another message, almost instinctively.

sunghoon: what are you doing?

a few seconds later, his phone buzzed again, and this time a photo loaded into the chat. he tapped it open.it was you. sitting at a table, books spread out in front of you, your posture slightly leaned forward as if you were in the middle of focusing on something. the setting looked quiet, late, the kind of environment that made studying feel both productive and exhausting at the same time. and you looked… tired.

[one image sent]

you: studying :( it’s kind of hard ngl

he stared at the image for a moment longer than he probably should have, his expression softening as he set the phone down briefly against his chest before picking it back up to reply.he set the phone back in his hand, still looking at your photo for a second longer than necessary before finally typing.

sunghoon: you’re studying biochem? again?

another message followed almost immediately.

sunghoon: is it the enzyme kinetics part from today?

almost as if he already knew the answer.

you: okay, keep up w the smart talk and im leaving, hoon

sunghoon: haha im joking, pretty sunghoon: relax

what the hell is wrong with him? why the fuck would he say that??

he ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly, visibly frustrated with himself now more than anything else.

“…what the fuck am i doing,” he muttered under his breath, staring at the ceiling for a second before glancing back at his phone again. he hadn’t even noticed how much he’d been overthinking until now. before he could spiral further, your reply came in.

you: okay 😭 you’re acting like a whole different person rn you: but like… i don’t mind it you: also yeah it’s hard, could you help me??

“…a whole different person,” he repeated quietly, a small, almost disbelieving breath leaving him as he reread that part again. his ears warmed slightly again, though this time it wasn’t from embarrassment alone.

“…you’re really…” he started under his breath, trailing off as he shook his head faintly, a small smile forming without him realizing.

sunghoon: yeah, i can help

he leaned back slightly on his bed, one arm resting behind his head now, the earlier overthinking replaced with something calmer, more grounded.

sunghoon: send me the part you don’t understand sunghoon: i’ll walk you through it

more like talk you through it.

he started typing again, slower now, more deliberate.

sunghoon: so for enzyme kinetics, especially what we discussed today, you have to think in terms of how the enzyme interacts with the substrate first, not just the equation

he paused briefly, then continued.

sunghoon: like, when you look at Michaelis–Menten behavior, the key idea is that the rate depends on enzyme-substrate complex formation. so when the substrate concentration is low, the enzyme isn’t saturated, which means small increases in substrate will significantly increase the reaction rate sunghoon: is it too much? you don’t mind, do you?

okay, maybe it is too much.

sunghoon: i could explain it properly in person if you want? sunghoon: it’d be easier than doing it over messages

he stared at what he wrote for a brief second, then sent it without overthinking it too much this time.

you: omg, ur the best you: that would definitely be much better you: thank you sm, hoon 🤍

he blinked once, then let out a small breath through his nose, the faintest hint of a smile appearing again.

sunghoon: no worries, im glad I can help 

you: tomorrow @ 3? you: we can meet at the cafe spot :)

sunghoon: yeah, ill be there 👍🏻

you: thank you so much again, hoon you: goodnight ;)

yeah, he was not sleeping tonight, that’s for sure.

the next day came quicker than it should have, slipping into place with a quiet normalcy that somehow made it feel more important than it needed to be. you found yourself walking into the café with the same kind of anticipation you didn’t fully acknowledge; nothing obvious, nothing dramatic, just a subtle pull that guided your steps toward the familiar corner table you had started to associate with him.

the moment you stepped inside, the warm air and low hum of voices wrapped around you, blending with the faint aroma of coffee and something sweet baking somewhere behind the counter. your eyes moved across the room almost instinctively, scanning without really thinking about it, and then they landed on him.

sunghoon was already there, seated in the same spot as before, just like you had seen him last time. his posture was composed, slightly leaned forward over his notebook, pen in hand as he appeared to be reviewing something with quiet focus. but the moment you walked in, he noticed.

“hey,” you said softly, your voice carrying just enough to reach him as you stopped by the table, a small smile already forming as you approached. “hey,” he responded, just as quietly, his tone steady but slightly gentler now that it was directed at you instead of the silence he had been sitting in.

you set your bag down beside the chair and stepped closer to the table, your eyes naturally drifting to the surface in front of him; books, notes, and then something that made you pause. there, placed neatly on the table, was a drink. an iced vanilla latte. your favorite. again. your brows lifted slightly in surprise as your attention lingered on it for a second longer than you expected, your expression shifting subtly as you looked back up at him.

“…you already got one?” you asked, your voice carrying a quiet curiosity, mixed with a hint of something softer now that you had noticed it.

he followed your gaze briefly, then returned his attention to you, his expression calm, though there was the faintest trace of attentiveness in the way he watched your reaction. “yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. there was a small pause as he leaned back just slightly in his chair, one hand resting lightly on the table while the other relaxed near his notebook. “i wasn’t sure if you’d get it yourself,” he added after a moment, his tone still even, but a little more thoughtful now. “so i just got it.”

“it’s nothing, really.” you looked at the drink again, then back at him, your expression softening in a way that was subtle, but present- like something had settled quietly in your chest at the realization.

“…you remembered again,” you said under your breath, more to yourself than anything else, though the words slipped out just loud enough to be heard. he didn’t respond immediately. and in that brief moment, the usual distance between him and others felt slightly thinner, like the space he normally kept was quietly adjusting without him forcing it. he shifted his hand slightly on the table, then nodded once, small and understated. “yeah,” he said simply.

and somehow, that was enough.

when you chose biochemistry as your major, you never really thought it would feel this confusing, it was the persistent kind of confusion that settled in the back of your mind and refused to fully leave, no matter how hard you tried to push through it.

you were sitting across from him, notebook open, pen in hand, eyes scanning the material in front of you as he began explaining the topic again; enzyme kinetics, reaction rates, inhibition types, this and that.  his voice steady, structured, and far more organized than the scattered thoughts you were trying to align in your own head.

you swore you were trying to focus, really. but your attention kept slipping. not because you didn’t care, but because something else kept pulling it away.

the way his glasses kept sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose, forcing him to pause every so often to push them back up with a small, almost absentminded motion. the way his hair fell softly across his forehead, slightly tousled, catching the light in a way that made it look lighter than it probably was. the subtle movements of his mouth as he spoke; occasionally pressing his lips together, or biting them lightly when he was concentrating on choosing the right way to explain something.

and his hands- fuck, those hands.

they were moving across the page, pointing at diagrams, underlining key terms, tapping lightly when emphasizing a point. but instead of helping you focus, they were your biggest distraction. you hadn’t really thought about it before, but now that you were sitting this close, watching the way his fingers moved with precision and ease, you couldn’t help but notice how slender they were, how defined in a quiet, understated way. veins faintly visible under the skin, movements controlled but natural, like he had full awareness of everything he was doing.

your mind drifted for just a second too long. wondering, almost absentmindedly, how much control those hands had, how far they could reach, how steady they were when he wasn’t thinking about them.

who knew hands could be this interesting?

you didn’t even realize you had gone quiet until “you good?” his voice cut through your thoughts gently, enough to pull you back into the present. you blinked. refocusing. looking up at him, but sunghoon was already looking at you, his expression calm but observant, like he had been watching you long enough to notice the shift in your attention without making it obvious. “…yeah,” you said quickly, recovering with a small, slightly sheepish smile. “it’s just… kind of a lot.”

he didn’t seem surprised. in fact, there was a faint understanding in his eyes as he nodded slightly, pen resting lightly between his fingers now. “yeah,” he said softly. “i noticed.” there was no judgment in his tone. just an observation. matter-of-fact. like he had been paying attention to you just as much as you had been trying to pay attention to the material.

he let the moment settle, his gaze briefly dropping back to the page in front of him- but not fully. not immediately. because, in the quiet that followed, he found himself doing it again. looking at you. not in a way that would be obvious if anyone else were around. not in a way that interrupted what he was supposed to be focusing on. but just… briefly. naturally. like his attention kept drifting back without him consciously deciding to.

you were leaning slightly forward over your notes, brows faintly drawn together in concentration. a strand of hair had fallen loose near your face, and you didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on trying to follow along with the explanation. your pen hovered over the page, then moved, then paused again, like you were working through each step carefully, even if it wasn’t fully clicking yet. and something about that; about the way you were trying, not giving up, not pretending to understand when you didn’t. it made something in his chest settle in a way he couldn’t quite name.

you weren’t falling for park sunghoon, just like he was falling for you, right?

the time between leaving the café and returning to his dorm felt shorter than sunghoon expected. or maybe it just felt different. because this time, the quiet that usually followed him home wasn’t empty- it was filled with fragments of your voice, your small laughs, the way you leaned in slightly when you were trying to understand something, the way you said his name like it wasn’t just a name at all.

by the time he pushed the door open, his expression had softened into something he didn’t even realize he was carrying. a faint smile.

inside the dorm, the atmosphere was exactly what he expected.

jake was already in the kitchen area, leaning his back against the counter, one hand holding a spoon while the other held a tub of ice cream. he was mid-bite when sunghoon walked in, his eyes lifting almost immediately, like he had been waiting for something interesting to happen.

and then he saw it; sunghoon’s face, and that small but unmistakable smile. jake’s expression shifted instantly into something knowing. “oh,” he said around the spoon, swallowing before pointing it slightly in sunghoon’s direction. “yeah, you’re down bad.” he let out a short laugh after that, clearly amused, going back to scooping another spoonful like he had just confirmed something he already suspected.

sunghoon didn’t respond right away. he just closed the door behind him, setting his bag down with a quiet thud, his fingers lingering on the strap for a second longer than necessary as he tried to compose himself.

“i’m not—” he started, but his voice lacked conviction, cut short by the fact that he knew exactly why jake was saying that. before he could finish, footsteps echoed from down the hall. heeseung walked into the room, glancing between the two of them with a curious expression, clearly catching onto the energy immediately. “what’s going on?” he asked, eyes moving from jake to sunghoon, then back again, like he was trying to piece together the situation.

oh, but jake didn’t hesitate.

“oh, him?” he said casually, gesturing toward sunghoon with his spoon again. “he was on a date.” heeseung blinked, once, then again. a smile started forming almost immediately, a mix of surprise and amusement lighting up his face.

“no way,” he said, sounding genuinely intrigued now as he looked at sunghoon. “you didn’t tell us that.” sunghoon’s ears warmed instantly. his posture stiffened just slightly as he set his bag fully down, clearly caught off guard by how quickly the situation had escalated. “it wasn’t a date,” he said quickly, his tone a bit more firm now as he stepped further into the room.

jake raised a brow, already smirking. before either of them could say anything else, sunghoon reached out, scratching the back of his own neck with one hand in a reflexive, slightly tense gesture- like he needed something to ground himself. “it was tutoring,” he added, a little more controlled this time, though the faint flush creeping up his neck gave him away completely. he glanced between the two of them, clearly aware of how this looked, and even more aware of how little he could defend himself against it. “…that’s it.”

jake and heeseung didn’t even need a second invitation. the moment sunghoon denied it, too quickly, too firmly, it only made things worse. jake’s grin widened instantly, like he had just been handed confirmation without sunghoon realizing it. he shoved another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, then pointed again, laughing under his breath as he looked at heeseung.

“see?” jake said, voice rising slightly as he pushed himself off the counter. “that’s exactly how someone acts when they’ve got a crush.” heeseung let out a soft laugh, clearly entertained now, stepping further into the room as he looked at sunghoon with a knowing expression. “yeah,” heeseung added, smiling. “you’re way too defensive for someone who says it’s just tutoring.” sunghoon exhaled through his nose, already regretting walking into the room like that. “i don’t-” he started again, but stopped himself, realizing it was useless, and that was all Jake needed.

“and he’s doing the stammer thing,” jake immediately pointed out, his voice louder now, dragging heeseung along with him as if they had just unlocked a shared joke. “he’s down bad bad.” sunghoon pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, shutting his eyes briefly. “you guys are unbelievable.” but instead of calming down, they had to make it worse.

jake set the ice cream down on the counter and suddenly moved, half-walking, half-jogging into the living room while laughing, heeseung right behind him. within seconds, they were both moving around the space like they had no intention of stopping anytime soon. “park sunghoon has a crush!” Jake shouted, clearly exaggerating for dramatic effect. “he’s in love!” heeseung added, playing along, his tone light but teasing.

“i am not in love—” sunghoon’s voice followed them, slightly raised now as he stood where he was for a moment, watching them with a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. but they weren’t done. jake turned around mid-step, walking backward now as he pointed again. “then what is it? explain why you came home smiling like that.” sunghoon didn’t answer. instead, he turned on his heel and walked straight down the hallway toward his room, clearly done entertaining them.

“wow, retreating already?” jake called after him, laughing as he leaned toward heeseung. the other shook his head, still smiling. “let him breathe, Jake.”

the noise in the dorm settled back into something quieter, the earlier chaos fading into background sounds, occasional movement, low conversation, the normal rhythm of shared space. sunghoon had been in his room, sitting at his desk at first, then leaning back slightly in his chair, staring at nothing in particular as his thoughts drifted back, uninvited, to earlier in the day. he exhaled quietly, running a hand through his hair before dropping it back onto the desk. a knock on his door pulled him out of it. “yeah,” he said, not looking up immediately. the door opened anyway. jake stepped inside.

this time, he wasn’t loud. no teasing entrance, no exaggerated tone. just jake, closing the door behind him and walking in like a normal person for once. he leaned against the wall near the door, crossing his arms loosely as he looked at sunghoon.

“…so,” jake started, his voice calmer now, though still carrying that familiar edge of curiosity. “how was it?” sunghoon glanced at him, then looked away again, his fingers lightly tapping against the edge of his desk. “…it was fine,” he said. jake hummed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “fine?” he repeated, raising a brow slightly. “that’s it?” sunghoon hesitated. that pause alone was enough. jake’s lips twitched into a small smile.  “…okay,” sunghoon added after a second, his tone quieter now. “it was… good.” jake nodded slowly, encouraging him without pushing too hard.

“she’s… easy to talk to,” sunghoon continued, almost like he was choosing his words carefully. “and she actually tries to understand things. not just… pretend.” there was a brief pause. jake didn’t interrupt this time. sunghoon glanced down at his hands for a moment, then exhaled lightly through his nose. “…and she listens,” he added, a bit more softly. “even when she doesn’t get it right away.”

that was as much as he seemed willing to say out loud.  jake tilted his head slightly, watching him with a knowing expression, though he kept his tone light. “mhm,” he said. “sounds like you had a great time then.” sunghoon gave him a brief look at that, not quite amused, but not annoyed enough to stop the conversation either. “…it wasn’t like that,” he muttered. jake smirked. “yeah, sure.”

but this time, the teasing was softer. less chaotic. more observant than anything else. and sunghoon, he didn’t deny it further.  he just leaned back slightly in his chair again, letting the quiet settle back in, while jake stayed there, still watching him with that same small, knowing grin.

the next few days passed in a way you didn’t really expect them to.

what started as one tutoring session somehow turned into… more. not in a planned way, not in a “let’s schedule this properly” kind of way, just naturally. like it made sense to keep meeting.  like neither of you really questioned it.

you’d text him something simple, are you free? and somehow, an hour later, you’d be sitting across from park sunghoon again. same café, same table, same notebooks spread out between you. except it didn’t feel the same anymore. not exactly. at first, it was just studying. structured,  focused, him explaining, you trying to keep up, occasionally getting distracted, occasionally getting something right. but as the days went on, something shifted; quietly, subtly, without either of you pointing it out.

you started talking more. not just about biochemistry, about classes, about professors, about random things that didn’t matter and somehow mattered anyway. and somewhere between reaction mechanisms and enzyme inhibition, laughter started slipping in- unexpected at first, then easier, more natural.

“no, because if you write it like that,” sunghoon said one afternoon, leaning slightly closer to your notebook, his pen hovering over the page, “you’re basically saying the enzyme just gave up.” you blinked, then looked at him. “…it can do that?” you asked, completely serious for half a second. he paused, then let out a quiet laugh.

and for a moment, you just stared at him, because that was new. you didn’t even think about it before you reached out, your hand lightly touching his shoulder as you laughed too, leaning back in your chair. “oh my god,” you said between small giggles, “that’s so mean. poor enzyme.” the touch was brief.

his shoulders tensed just slightly- not enough to pull away, not enough to make it obvious, but enough that he noticed it. his breath caught for just a second before he forced himself to relax, clearing his throat quietly as he looked back down at the page. “…it doesn’t have feelings,” he muttered, though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips now.

and that kept happening, the small moments.

you leaning closer to see something, your arm brushing against his. your fingers grazing his wrist when you reached for the same pen at the same time. your hand resting briefly on his shoulder when you laughed at something he said, because he was saying more now. he was loosening up; not all at once, not dramatically, but enough that it was noticeable. his explanations were still detailed, still precise- but now, they were mixed with small comments, quiet humor, little remarks that caught you off guard. he’d glance at you sometimes while explaining something, like he was checking if you were following, and when you weren’t, he didn’t get flustered the way he used to.

“you’re overthinking it again,” he said once, tapping your notebook lightly with his pen. you frowned slightly, looking up at him. “i’m not-”

“you are,” he interrupted calmly, though there was a softness to it now. “you’re trying to make it more complicated than it is.” you narrowed your eyes at him, but there was no real annoyance there. “…you sound very confident for someone who holds his water bottle like emotional support,” you shot back. you smiled without thinking. and without realizing it, your hand reached out again, lightly pushing his shoulder this time. “see? you can be funny,” you said, teasing. he shook his head slightly, looking down for a second, but the faint smile didn’t leave his face this time. “…you’re distracting,” he muttered, almost to himself.

and the more time passed, the more natural it started to feel. like sitting this close to him wasn’t something you thought about anymore. like touching him, even briefly, didn’t feel like something you had to hesitate over. like laughing with him, came easier than it should have. and sunghoon, even if he didn’t say it out loud, was starting to feel it too.

sunghoon: hey, u on your way yet?

the message sat there on the screen, simple, casual, like every other message he’d sent you before. delivered, but not read.

sunghoon hadn’t meant to check his phone as often as he was. at first, it was just a quick glance; something unconscious, something he didn’t think twice about as he sat at the café table, your usual spot, your usual drinks not yet ordered because he figured you’d walk in any second.

you were probably just a little late. that was normal. five minutes passed, then ten. by fifteen, he found himself checking the door more than his phone, his gaze lifting every time it opened, only to drop again when it wasn’t you. each time, there was a small pause, just a second too long, before he looked back down, fingers tightening slightly around his phone without him realizing it.

you always said something. even if it was just i’m late sorry or give me 5 mins something small, something quick. you never just… disappeared like this. his thumb hovered over the screen again as he reopened the chat, like maybe the message would suddenly appear if he looked at it one more time. still nothing. his jaw tightened slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back in a way that made it fall right back into place seconds later.

“…you would’ve texted,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything else. he tried to reason with it. maybe your phone died, maybe you got caught up in something, maybe you just forgot. but even as the thoughts came, they didn’t sit right, because none of them sounded like you. and that was enough. he stood up, grabbed his things, and left.

your room felt too quiet. not peaceful quiet, just… heavy. 

the kind that pressed down on everything, making even the smallest movements feel slower than they should. your head ached in a dull, persistent way, like it had been sitting there for hours, and your body felt off- tired, weak, just uncomfortable enough that you couldn’t ignore it. at some point, you had woken up with the intention of getting ready. of texting him, of saying something.

you even remembered picking up your phone, staring at the screen, opening your messages, but the moment passed. the energy it would take to type, to explain, to even form the words- it felt like too much. so you told yourself you’d do it in a minute, and then you didn’t. time blurred after that. you didn’t really keep track of it. not until the faint pressure in your head worsened, and you finally pushed yourself up from the bed with a quiet sigh, your movements slow and a little unsteady as your feet hit the floor. the room felt slightly warmer than it should have, or maybe that was just you.

you dragged yourself toward the small table where you had left your pills, one hand brushing lightly against the wall for balance as you walked. you didn’t think about the café, or the time, or the fact that someone was probably waiting for you, not until the doorbell rang. you froze. completely still for a second, like your body needed time to catch up with the sound. your brows furrowed slightly as you turned your head toward the door, confusion settling in almost immediately. you weren’t expecting anyone. not today. not at all.

for a moment, you just stood there, staring blankly, trying to figure out if you had forgotten something, or someone. the silence that followed felt louder than before, like it was waiting for you to react. then the doorbell rang again. this time, a little softer, more hesitant, more like him. you swallowed lightly before making your way toward the door, your steps slower than usual, each one feeling just slightly heavier than it should. your hand hovered over the handle for a brief second before you finally turned it and pulled the door open. and it felt like the whole world stopped.

because standing right there, just outside your door, was park sunghoon.

his hair slightly out of place, like he had rushed without thinking too much about it,  breathing not quite uneven, but not fully steady either. and his expression, that’s what caught you. the faint crease between his brows, the way his eyes immediately scanned your face the moment the door opened, like he was checking something, like he was trying to make sure you were okay without asking it out loud first.

you just stood there, staring at him, because you hadn’t expected anyone, and definitely not him standing at your door. you blinked at him, still trying to process why he was standing there, your mind slow to catch up with the situation, your hand still resting on the door like you hadn’t fully decided whether this was real or not.

“sunghoon?” you started, your voice a little weaker than usual, confusion laced through it as your brows pulled together slightly. “what are-”

“i texted you.” he cut you off, like he had been holding that in the entire way here. “i texted and you didn’t answer,” sunghoon continued, his voice a little breathless, his words coming out faster than they usually did, like he hadn’t fully slowed down yet. his eyes moved over your face again, more carefully this time, more deliberately, like he was trying to read something in your expression.

“i waited,” he added, quieter now, like that part mattered more than the rest. “and then you still didn’t reply, so i-”he stopped for a second, exhaling through his nose before finishing, almost like he knew how it sounded. “i asked jake for your dorm number.”

“…you what?” you said softly, the surprise finally settling in as you stared at him a little more clearly now, trying to piece together the fact that he had gone out of his way to find you. his brows pulled together just a bit more, his gaze softening into something that wasn’t just concern anymore- it was closer, more personal, like whatever he had expected to find wasn’t quite this. “…are you okay?” he asked, quieter now, his voice losing that earlier urgency and settling into something softer, steadier. and just like that, the energy shifted.

you exhaled lightly, your shoulders dropping a little as the moment caught up to you, your hand falling from the door as you leaned slightly against the frame. “i’m-” you started, then paused, your voice trailing off as you shook your head faintly. “i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not answer, i just…wasn’t feeling good, and i guess i fell asleep or something.” you let out a small breath, your words slower now, more tired than you intended them to be.

“i forgot,” you added quietly. “i’m really sorry.” for a second, he just stood there, looking at you. taking it in, then he exhaled. a quiet sound; half sigh, half something else, as he ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“…you’re fine,” he said, almost under his breath, like he was reassuring himself just as much as you. then, a faint, breathy laugh slipped out, soft and short, like the worry was still lingering but not as sharp as before. “just-” he started, shaking his head slightly. “don’t do that again.”

“go sit downfor me, hm?,” he said, his tone shifting into something more grounded, more certain, the kind of quiet authority that didn’t sound forced, it just was. “you don’t look great.” you blinked at that, still a little dazed as you stepped back automatically, letting him move past you, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “…okay,” you murmured, not really arguing, your body already too tired to resist as you made your way toward your bed, sitting down slowly, still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened.

sunghoon didn’t hesitate. he moved through your space with a kind of quiet purpose, his eyes briefly scanning the room before heading straight toward the small kitchen area like he already knew what he was looking for. you watched him, confusion slowly mixing with something else, something warmer, softer, as he opened a cabinet, then another, clearly searching for something. “…what are you doing?” you asked, your voice quieter now, a little hoarse, but curious.

“what tea do you like?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder briefly, his tone calm, like it was the most normal question in the world. he was standing in your kitchen, looking for something to make you feel better. you sat there for a second, watching him, your thoughts slowing in a completely different way now, something soft settling in your chest despite how off you still felt. “…anything warm is fine,” you said quietly. but your eyes didn’t leave him, because suddenly- this didn’t feel like “just tutoring” anymore.

there was something careful about the way he moved around your kitchen, like he didn’t want to make too much noise, like he was aware constantly that you were just a few steps away, not feeling well, sitting there waiting without really asking him to do any of this.

he found a mug, then the tea and the kettle. each movement was quiet, deliberate, almost methodical in a way that grounded him after the rush of worry that had brought him here in the first place. the sound of water heating filled the small space, soft and steady, and for a moment, he let himself breathe properly again.

when everything was ready, he didn’t hesitate long. he grabbed the mug carefully, along with a glass of water and the pills he had found nearby, balancing them as he walked back toward you.

he slowed down just slightly when he got closer, his steps softer now, like he didn’t want to startle you even though you were already watching him. he sat down beside you. close. not too close, but close enough that the warmth of his presence was noticeable. “…here,” he said quietly, handing you the mug first, then the pills, then the glass of water, his movements careful, attentive in a way that didn’t feel forced.

you looked at him for a second before taking them, your fingers brushing his briefly in the process. “thank you,” you murmured, your voice softer now, your expression gentler despite how tired you felt. “you’re too sweet.” a faint flush crept up his neck as his gaze dropped for a second, his fingers curling slightly against his palm as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “…it’s nothing,” he said, a little too quickly at first, then softer, more composed. “it’s the least I could do.” but he didn’t look at you right away after that. there was something quiet there, something unspoken, something neither of you addressed, but both of you felt.

he cleared his throat softly, breaking it first. “you should take the pills,” he said, his voice gentler now, almost careful. “and… get some rest.” you nodded slightly, doing exactly that, but your eyes didn’t leave him completely. “…you can stay,” you added after a moment, your tone light, but not careless. “if you want.” sunghoon hesitated, not because he didn’t want to, but because he did. and that alone made him second guess it for just a second too long. “…yeah,” he said finally, nodding once, more to himself than anything else. “just… to make sure you’re okay.”

that was the excuse, the one he chose to hold onto.

you smiled faintly, then shifted slightly on the bed. “…maybe we could watch something?” you asked softly. sunghoon shifted slightly beside you, the movement small but noticeable as he reached for the remote, his fingers brushing against it before he picked it up, his posture still a little careful, like he was aware of you in a way that made him slightly more deliberate with everything he did. “yeah… we can,” he said quietly, his voice soft, almost like he didn’t want to break whatever calm had settled between you. he leaned forward just a bit, elbows resting loosely on his knees as he turned his attention to the screen, starting to scroll through the endless list of movies, his thumb moving slower than it probably needed to, like he wasn’t really in a rush to pick anything.

the room stayed quiet for a moment, filled only with the soft clicking of the remote and the faint background noise of the interface shifting from one option to another. it wasn’t awkward, though, not like before. it felt easy, like the silence didn’t need to be filled right away. “…what do you usually watch?” he asked after a bit, his voice coming out naturally this time, not forced, not overly thought-out. he glanced at you briefly, just for a second, before looking back at the screen, his expression relaxed in a way that would’ve been unfamiliar to anyone who didn’t know him well. you shifted slightly under the blanket, pulling it a little closer around yourself, your shoulders relaxing as you let your head tilt just slightly toward him. “honestly?” you murmured, your voice still soft from earlier, but steadier now. “anything that isn’t horror.”

he blinked once, then slowly turned his head toward you, his brows lifting just a little in quiet amusement. “…really?” he said, and then a small laugh slipped out, it was soft, slow, almost under his breath, but real. “scared, huh?” the way he said it was light, teasing in a way that felt new coming from him, like he was testing it out, seeing if he could get away with it. you narrowed your eyes at him immediately, though there was no real irritation behind it, just that familiar spark, the one that had started showing up more often around him.

“oh my god, shut up,” you muttered, and without really thinking about it, you reached out and lightly punched his shoulder. it caught him off guard just enough that his body reacted before his brain did, his shoulders shifting slightly as he let out a quiet, surprised breath. then he laughed again. “okay,” he said, lifting one hand slightly like he was surrendering, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. “no horror. got it.”

there was something different about him in that moment; something looser, more comfortable, like he wasn’t holding himself as tightly as before. like being around you like this, in a space that wasn’t a classroom or a crowded café, was slowly changing the way he carried himself. he went back to scrolling, but slower now, occasionally pausing on something for a second longer, glancing at you like he was silently asking if it was okay before moving on again.

“…this one?” he asked at one point, tilting the screen slightly toward you. you leaned in just a bit to look, your shoulder brushing lightly against his as you did.

“mm… no,” you said softly, your voice thoughtful as you scanned it for a second before leaning back again, though not quite as far as before. he nodded, “yeah, okay” soft laugh fell from his lips, before he could question it. eventually, you landed on something simple- something light enough that it didn’t require too much thinking, something that could just exist in the background while you both sat there. when he pressed play, neither of you really noticed the shift.

somewhere between settling back against the bed and adjusting the blanket, you both moved, just slightly, closer. your shoulders brushed again, this time not pulling apart afterward. the warmth of him beside you wasn’t subtle anymore. it was there; steady, constant- and instead of moving away, you leaned into it just a little without even realizing. he did the same, but not enough to make it obvious. the movie started playing, soft voices and background music filling the room, but it didn’t demand your attention, not really. it became something secondary, something that existed around you rather than something you were fully focused on. your hand brushing against his when you adjusted the blanket again, your fingers grazing his for just a second longer than necessary before pulling back slightly. his hand shifting near yours, not pulling away completely, just… staying close.

sunghoon’s breath caught, barely noticeable, but there. his eyes flickered down for a split second, his fingers still, like he wasn’t sure if moving would break something. your hand didn’t pull away. they stayed there, close, barely touching, like the space between them was something fragile. something that could shift into something more if either of you made one small move. and for a second; it felt like that might actually happen, like the distance would disappear completely, like you didn’t have to pretend anymore, like your fingers would finally-

his phone rang. the sound cut through everything. too loud for how quiet the moment had been. sunghoon flinched slightly, his hand pulling back almost immediately like the contact had burned him, his chest rising a little too quickly as he blinked, his thoughts scrambling to catch up. “…shit,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything else, reaching for his phone with slightly unsteady fingers.

“hm? who is it? your voice but through the silence.  sunghoon glanced at the screen again for a split second before answering, his expression tightening just slightly, the softness from before fading into something more restrained. “…it’s jake,” he said, a small, almost forced smile pulling at his lips as he looked at you, like he was trying to brush it off even though the timing couldn’t have been worse.

he shifted a little, already pushing himself up from where he was sitting, one hand rubbing briefly at the back of his neck; a habit that came back the moment he felt even slightly out of place again. “uh- you mind if i take this?” he asked, his tone polite, but there was a quiet edge of reluctance there, like he didn’t actually want to step away. you let out a soft giggle, the sound light and warm, completely unbothered as you looked up at him. “go on, hoon,” you said gently, your voice carrying that same easy softness it always did when you said his name. “i won’t go anywhere.”

oh, fuck you, jaeyun sim.

but he nodded anyway, a small, quiet motion before turning slightly away, bringing the phone up to his ear as he stepped just a little further from the couch. “what do you want, jake?” he said, his voice low, flat, and just slightly irritated, the words coming out more bluntly than usual. there was a pause as the other end of the call filled with whatever jake was saying, but sunghoon didn’t respond much, his answers were short, minimal, almost nonexistent. a quiet “yeah”,  distracted “mm.”

at one point, his gaze flickered briefly back toward you without meaning to, like his attention was split no matter how much he tried to focus on the call. “…hm,” he said after a moment, his tone still dry, still clipped. “okay, bye.”and then he pulled the phone away, the screen going dark as he let out a quiet breath through his nose, his shoulders relaxing just slightly as the call ended. he turned back toward you almost immediately, already stepping closer, ready to sit back down, ready to return to that same quiet, warm space you had been sharing just minutes ago.

“it was jake, he was just- ” he started, his voice softer again, the earlier irritation already fading as he looked up, and stopped, because you weren’t looking at him anymore, you had fallen asleep sometime during the call. your head tilted slightly to the side, your breathing slow and even, the tension from earlier completely gone, replaced by something soft, peaceful- like your body had finally given in to the rest it needed. sunghoon stood there for a second, just looking at you. like he didn’t want to move too quickly and disturb it.

there was something about the way you looked like this; peaceful, calm, unaware, that made his chest tighten just slightly, something warm settling there without him fully understanding why. you didn’t look like the same person who teased him, who laughed at him, who called him “hoon” like it was the easiest thing in the world. you just looked soft. and it did something to him.

slowly, carefully, he stepped closer. each movement quieter than the last until he was right in front of you, close enough to really see the small details, the way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the faint rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips were slightly parted as you breathed. he crouched down beside the couch, one knee pressing lightly against the floor as he lowered himself to your level, his eyes not leaving your face. for a moment, he didn’t do anything. just looked. then, without really thinking, his hand moved, but it was slow, almost careful- like he was giving himself time to stop, but he didn’t.

his fingers brushed lightly against your hair, gently tucking a loose strand away from your face, his touch so soft it barely disturbed anything at all. the motion was instinctive, natural in a way that surprised even him. “…you should rest,” he murmured quietly, even though you couldn’t hear him, his voice barely above a whisper.

he reached for the blanket next, pulling it up a little higher over your shoulders, making sure you were properly covered, his movements just as careful as before, like he didn’t want to wake you, but also didn’t want to leave you like this without doing something. his hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary, then slowly, he pulled away. the space between you returning, even if he didn’t really want it to. he stood up quietly, glancing at you one last time, like he was committing the image to memory without meaning to. then he turned and left

before the door could close behind him, his hand already reaching into his pocket for his phone, your chat open before he could make a step, the quiet of the hallway wrapping around him as he stepped away from your dorm.

his fingers hovered over the screen for a second- like he was thinking about what to say before he started typing.

sunghoon: hey, i left. you fell asleep on me sunghoon: get some rest, okay? sunghoon: text me when you wake up

and then, after just a second more- 

sunghoon: if you need anything, just tell me

he stared at the message for a moment before hitting send, exhaling quietly through his nose as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. there was still a faint smile on his face as he walked away.

and even as he left, his thoughts stayed with you.

morning didn’t come fast, it came slowly, like your body wasn’t fully ready to be awake yet; like sleep was still clinging to you, heavy and warm, refusing to let go completely. your head throbbed faintly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of last night, of the way everything had felt a little too loud, a little too much. 

for a moment, you didn’t move. you just lay there, eyes barely open, staring ahead without really focusing on anything, letting your breathing even out as your thoughts slowly started catching up.

your brows pulled together slightly as you pushed yourself up, the blanket sliding down from your shoulders, your fingers instinctively catching it before it could fall completely. you paused, looking down at it, confusion settling in for just a second. you didn’t remember pulling it up that high, you didn’t remember grabbing it at all. and then it clicked. the couch, the movie. sunghoon. your gaze lifted slowly, scanning your dorm like you were trying to piece everything together without fully trusting your memory, and that’s when you noticed it- on your bedside table was a glass of water, and a note.

something in your chest shifted, small but noticeable, as you reached for it, your fingers still a little sluggish as you unfolded the paper, your eyes moving over his handwriting. it was neat, careful. a little too precise in a way that felt very him- like even something this simple had been done thoughtfully. you read it once, and the again, for a moment, you just sat there, the quiet of your room settling around you in a way that felt softer than usual, your grip on the paper loosening slightly as you exhaled.

“…he’s actually so sweet,” you murmured under your breath, your voice still rough with sleep, quieter than you intended. your lips curved slightly before you could stop them, your head tilting just a little as your thoughts drifted somewhere softer than you expected them to. you exhaled quietly, leaning back against the couch, your eyes dropping to the note again before they slowly shifted away. the way he got flustered over the smallest things, the way his ears turned red when you said his name, the way he avoided your eyes for half a second too long before forcing himself to look back, like he didn’t want to seem rude but didn’t know what to do with himself either.

and yet, he still showed up, still helped you, still sat there, explaining things patiently even when you didn’t understand, never making you feel stupid, never making you feel like a burden.

“…he’s so easy,” you murmured, but the words didn’t come out the way they used to.   you reached for your phone. the screen lit up immediately, and there they were- his messages, sitting there like they had been waiting for you this whole time.

hey, I left. you fell asleep, get some rest, okay? text me when you wake up, if you need anything, just tell me

your thumb hovered over the screen, your expression softening just slightly as you read them again, slower this time, like you were paying attention to the way they felt instead of just what they said.

there was something about it, about him, that made you hesitate. just for a second. because people didn’t usually do this, not like this. not without expecting something back. but sunghoon, sunghoon just did things. quietly- without making a big deal out of them. and for some reason, that stuck with you more than anything else.

you inhaled softly, then started typing.

you: hey… i just woke up

you paused, staring at the screen for a second before continuing.

you: thank you for yesterday, hoon 🤍 you: you didn’t have to do all that

your fingers hovered again, your gaze softening as your thoughts caught up with you just enough to make you add one more line.

you: but i’m really glad you did

the day was supposed to be productive, that had been the plan.

your dorm was a mess; clothes half-folded, books scattered, notes stacked in uneven piles that made it look like you had completely lost control of everything. it had been bothering you for a while now, sitting in the back of your mind like something you kept putting off.

so you started cleaning. at first, it worked. you moved around your room, picking things up, organizing them into proper places, throwing away things you didn’t need anymore. the motion helped, the repetition giving you something to focus on, something that didn’t require too much thinking.

but then, your phone buzzed. you froze for a second, your hand still resting on a stack of papers as your attention shifted immediately, almost instinctively, toward the sound.

sunghoon, of course.

and before you even realized it, there was a small smile forming on your lips as you unlocked your phone.

sunghoon: you’re awake sunghoon: how r u feeling?

you leaned back against your desk, your posture relaxing as your attention fully shifted away from everything else.

you: better :) still a bit tired tho

the reply came quickly.

sunghoon: did you eat anything? sunghoon: you should probably eat something

you let out a quiet laugh under your breath, shaking your head slightly as you typed.

you: wow, are you my mom now? you: but yeah i will dw

There was a short pause.

sunghoon: just making sure

and something about that made you stop for a second.

you pressed your lips together slightly before setting your phone down, exhaling softly as you pushed yourself back up. “focus,” you muttered under your breath, glancing around your room again.

you picked up where you left off. for a few minutes, maybe. before your eyes drifted back to your phone again. it became a pattern before you even realized it. you’d start cleaning, actually trying to focus, telling yourself you needed to get things done, and then your thoughts would drift. not to anything specific. just…to him. at some point, you ended up sitting on the floor, surrounded by books you had meant to organize, your back resting lightly against your bed as your attention stayed completely locked onto the screen in your hands instead of the mess around you.

you talked about small things, nothing serious. just things.

you: i’m reorganizing my notes you: they were getting out of hand

sunghoon: i can imagine sunghoon: you seem like the type to have color-coded tabs and everything

you smiled, your head tilting slightly as you typed back.

you: i do you: and it still somehow becomes chaos🫩

sunghoon: that sounds inefficient

you huffed out a quiet laugh.

you: oh my god shut up

sunghoon: you love it

your smile lingered this time.

you: maybe a little

there was a slight delay before his response came through, long enough for you to notice.

sunghoon: …maybe

and something about that- something small, subtle, easy to miss- made your chest feel just a little lighter than before.

 somewhere between the jokes, the small check-ins, the quiet moments where neither of you said anything for a few minutes before picking it right back up again, your thoughts circled back to the same thing. he’s really nice, too nice. and as you sat there, your room finally starting to look cleaner, more put together, you realized something you weren’t quite ready to deal with yet, because no matter how much you tried to focus on anything else, you kept thinking about him anyway.

a few days passed like that- quietly, unevenly, filled with small conversations that never felt like they were trying too hard to be anything. messages that came in at random times, short laughs over text, simple check-ins that somehow became part of your routine without either of you really acknowledging it.

and then, campus again. lecture hall, the low hum of students filling seats, papers flipping, pens clicking, the familiar pre-class chaos settling into background noise as you sat there half-focused, your notebook already open but your mind not fully in it yet.

you weren’t really thinking about anything specific. just drifting. until the door at the back of the hall opened, and he walked in. sunghoon, except he didn’t look like usual; his hair was slightly messy, like he hadn’t fully bothered fixing it, his steps were quicker than normal, a little rushed, like he’d just been moving too fast to calm down properly. and there was the faintest sign of breathlessness in the way he paused for half a second once he spotted you- like he’d been in a hurry and only just made it on time. his eyes met yours briefly. and something in his expression softened- just a fraction. 

he made his way down the row, slipping into the seat right next to you, his bag dropping lightly onto the floor beside him. for a moment, he didn’t say anything; just sat there, adjusting his breathing slightly, shoulders still a little tense. “…hi,” he muttered. you turned toward him immediately, your expression softening without even thinking about it. “hi,” you replied just as gently, like you were matching his energy without trying to force anything brighter onto him. “you okay?” he hesitated for a second, eyes flicking down to his notebook before nodding once.

“yeah,” he said, though it didn’t fully convince you. he wasn’t looking at you properly yet, still slightly out of it, like his thoughts were elsewhere.

you tilted your head a little. “you look like you ran here,” you added softly, a small smile forming at the corner of your lips. that earned you the faintest exhale from him, almost a laugh, but not quite. “…i might have,” he admitted, quieter now.

you were about to turn back to your notes when he spoke again. this time, faster. like he’d been holding it in and finally just let it slip out before he could overthink it. “do you want to go on a date?” you blinked, slowly turning back toward him. his eyes widened slightly the second the words left his mouth, like he realized how it sounded after saying it.

immediately- “not-” he started quickly, voice a little higher than usual. “not a date date. i mean—could be just like-out. a hangout. i just—” he stopped, ran a hand briefly through his hair, visibly frustrated with himself now. “…a hangout,” he repeated, quieter, like he was trying to fix the damage. you stared at him for a second, not knowing what to say, but then you giggled, which somehow made it worse for him, because now his ears were turning red. and he was looking anywhere except your face.

“that’s what’s been on your mind this whole time?” you asked lightly, teasing but not mean, your tone gentle as you leaned a little closer. he didn’t answer immediately, which was answer enough. “…yes,” he admitted finally, so quietly you almost missed it. that made your smile soften, because somehow, it was kind of sweet. the way he could handle stoichiometry like it was nothing, but asking you something as simple as this made him fall apart. you tilted your head slightly, watching him for a second longer before speaking again. “okay,” you said quietly.

he looked at you then, finally. and you added, almost like it was nothing-

“…even if it’s a date.”

the words hung there for half a second longer than they should’ve. and you saw it immediately; the way his breath caught, the way his fingers tightened slightly on his pen, the way he looked at you like he didn’t quite know what to do with that answer. “…okay,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “yeah.” and for a second, neither of you moved back to your notes. just sat there, too aware of each other now in a way that made the rest of the lecture feel a lot further away than it actually was.

at first, neither of you said much. just small adjustments, the quiet rustle of notebooks opening, pens clicking, the occasional glance toward the board. but then, slowly, almost naturally, the silence between you started to fill in- not with pressure, but with ease.

“…this part doesn’t make sense,” sunghoon murmured at some point, leaning slightly closer to your notebook without fully looking at you yet. his voice was lower now, steadier than before, like being in the lecture had helped him reset just enough to function properly again. “the enzyme curve they’re showing, it’s not matching what we did last week.” you followed his gaze, brow furrowing slightly as you leaned in too, your shoulder brushing his for just a second before you both adjusted like it was nothing. “wait,” you whispered back, squinting at the diagram. “i thought we said it shifts left when it’s competitive inhibition?”

“it does,” he said immediately, nodding once. then, softer, like he was thinking it through as he spoke, “but here they’re keeping vmax constant, which only makes sense if they’re isolating km changes, so they’re simplifying it for the model.”

you blinked at him, then at the page. “…that’s what I meant,” you muttered, half-laughing under your breath. “you’re just saying it better than i am.”

that earned you the faintest curve of his lips- not quite a smile, but close enough that you noticed it anyway. he didn’t respond directly, just adjusted his pen between his fingers and scribbled something small in the margin of your notes, like it was instinctive to help without making a big deal out of it.

and at some point, the conversation shifted away from the material completely.

“…so, you actually ran here?” you asked quietly after a while, your tone lighter now, teasing in a way that didn’t feel sharp. he hesitated for half a second, then exhaled through his nose. “yes,” he admitted, not looking at you. “because someone decided to tell me ten minutes before class that attendance matters more than I thought.”

you blinked. “…jake?”

“…yes.” that made you laugh quietly, covering your mouth slightly so you didn’t get caught. sunghoon glanced at you immediately, like the sound itself distracted him more than it should’ve. “you’re unbelievable,” you whispered.

“whatever” he shot back just as quietly, though there was no real bite in it. that made you tilt your head slightly. “you’re kind of in a bad mood today, hoon.” he went still for a second, then blinked. “…am i?”

the way he said it made you laugh again, softer this time. “a little,” you confirmed. he looked away briefly, like he was thinking about it, then, almost quietly “…sorry.”

“oh no, no. don’t apologize,” you said immediately, voice gentle now, leaning a fraction closer again without thinking. “i don’t mind it.” that made him pause again. like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of answer. and then, instead of responding directly, he just nodded once and turned back to his notes, but his ears were slightly red again.

by the end of the lecture, your notebook was filled with both your handwriting and his small additions, your margins slightly crowded with explanations that somehow made everything feel clearer instead of messier.

you stretched slightly as people around you started packing up, the room slowly shifting back into noise and movement, but you didn’t rush, and neither did he.

sunghoon closed his notebook slowly, then glanced at you once. “…you understood most of it?” he asked. you smiled faintly. “yeah,” you said. “with your help.” he paused, just for a second. then nodded, looking away like it didn’t matter, but his expression softened anyway. “…good,” he said quietly. and as you both finally stood up to leave, it didn’t feel like class ending. it felt like something continuing.

your room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of your desk lamp, your notes spread out in front of you in a way that looked organized at first glance but felt overwhelming the longer you stared at it. you had been sitting there for a while now, pen in hand, trying to focus on something, anything, but your mind kept slipping, your thoughts not fully staying where they were supposed to.

you sighed quietly, leaning back in your chair for just a second, your eyes closing briefly. then, your phone buzzed. you didn’t even hesitate. you reached for it immediately. and there it was; his name. your lips curved slightly before you even opened the message.

sunghoon: hey sunghoon: you studying again?

you huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slightly as you typed back.

you: wow… how did you know? you: stalker behavior hoon

the reply came faster than you expected.

sunghoon: just a guess sunghoon: you kind of seem predictable

you smiled at that, your fingers moving without much thought now.

you: oh? you: and what else do i “seem” like?

sunghoon: someone who overthinks enzyme kinetics

you let out a quiet laugh, your head tilting slightly as you leaned back again, your pen forgotten somewhere on your desk.

you: okay rude you: and accurate but still rude

another message came in almost immediately.

sunghoon: told you sunghoon: you just think too much

you rolled your eyes, though there was a softness in your expression that didn’t match the reaction.

you: and you think too little

sunghoon: that’s not true sunghoon: i think about important things

your brows lifted slightly.

you: like what?

this time, the pause was longer. you found yourself staring at the screen without meaning to, your thumb hovering slightly, your attention completely pulled in.

sunghoon: like friday

your breath caught just a little. you stared at the message for a second longer than necessary before replying.

you: oh yeah? you: you mean our “not a date” date?

sunghoon: i said it’s not a date sunghoon: it’s just… us going out

you: mmhmm you: sounds like a date to me

sunghoon: …you’re impossible

you let out a quiet laugh under your breath, resting your chin lightly in your hand as you typed.

you: and yet you asked me out

sunghoon: yeah

time passed without you noticing. minutes blending into each other, your notes completely abandoned at some point as your attention stayed locked onto your phone instead.

you shifted slightly in your chair, pulling your legs up as you leaned back more comfortably, your entire focus now on him.

sunghoon: so friday sunghoon: what time are you free?

you thought about it for a second.

you: afternoon? you: i have class in the morning

sunghoon: that works sunghoon: i’ll pick you up

your brows lifted slightly.

you: look at you

sunghoon: what does that mean

you smiled, biting lightly on your bottom lip without really thinking about it.

you: nothing you: just… gentleman behavior

there was a noticeable delay this time. and when he finally replied-

sunghoon: i try

your smile softened. you shifted slightly in your seat, your fingers tapping lightly against your phone before typing again.

you: so where are we going?

sunghoon: it’s a surprise

you blinked, then sat up a little straighter without realizing it.

you: a surprise??

sunghoon: yeah sunghoon: you’ll like it

something about that, the confidence, certainty; it made your chest tighten just slightly. in a way you weren’t expecting. you stared at the screen for a second, your lips pressing together faintly before you typed again.

you: you sound very sure of yourself

sunghoon: i am

you: okay… now I’m curious

sunghoon: good

you exhaled quietly, your gaze lingering on the screen for a moment longer than necessary, a faint warmth settling in your chest that you didn’t really try to push away. at some point, you leaned back fully in your chair, your notes completely forgotten, your room quiet around you as the conversation continued in soft, easy waves.

and without really realizing it- you were looking forward to friday, more than you probably should have.

friday came faster than you expected. it didn’t feel like a slow buildup, didn’t feel like something you had been waiting for all week- until suddenly it was here, and you were standing in the middle of your room with music playing softly in the background, your heart just a little too aware of itself.

your room looked different today, like it reflected the small reset you had forced yourself into earlier in the week. clothes neatly folded, desk organized, everything in place, except for you, standing in front of your mirror, turning slightly from side to side as you adjusted the way your outfit sat against your body.

a short skirt hugged your hips just right, soft fabric brushing against your thighs every time you shifted your weight, paired with a slightly oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder without you even trying- like it belonged there, casual but intentional. it made you look softer somehow, effortless. your hair fell down your back in loose curls, each strand catching the light in a way that made it look almost too perfect, and tied delicately at the back with a ribbon, simple, pretty, the kind of detail that didn’t scream for attention but made everything come together. you weren’t overdoing it, not really. but you cared, more than you were willing to admit out loud.

you leaned in just slightly, smoothing your hair down, fingers running through the soft brown strands before letting them fall naturally again. your lips pressed together faintly as you reached for your gloss, applying it slowly, carefully, like the extra second mattered more than it actually did. you picked up your perfume without thinking twice, spraying it lightly against your neck, your wrists. the familiar vanilla scent settled around you almost instantly; soft, warm, just sweet enough without being too much. It clung to your skin in a way that felt comforting, grounding.

you paused for a second after, breathing it in faintly, your shoulders relaxing just a little. and that’s when your phone buzzed. you turned your head immediately, reaching for it almost without thinking, your heart doing something small and noticeable as you saw his name light up your screen.

sunghoon: im here

your lips curved before you could stop them. you stared at the message for a second longer than necessary, like letting it sink in made it more real somehow. you exhaled quietly through your nose, locking your phone and grabbing your purse and keys in one smooth motion, your movements just a little quicker now, a little more purposeful.

before leaving, you caught your reflection one more time, paused, then leaned in just slightly, running the gloss over your lips one last time. a small habit. you turned, heading for the door, your heartbeat just a little louder than before as you stepped out, locking it behind you without thinking twice. down the hallway, down the stairs. each step making it feel a little more real. a little closer. and for the first time since this whole thing started, you weren’t overthinking it.

the air outside felt different the moment you stepped out; cooler, quieter- like the world had softened just a little compared to the warmth and noise of your dorm. 

the door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness, and for a second, you didn’t move. your fingers tightened just slightly around the strap of your purse, your heart suddenly very aware of itself, beating a little faster than usual, a little heavier with something you didn’t want to name yet. and then, you saw him. sunghoon stood just a few steps away, leaning against the car in a way that looked like he had tried to seem relaxed, but didn’t quite pull it off. one shoulder rested lightly against the side, his posture just a little too stiff, like he wasn’t fully settled in his own body yet. his gaze had been somewhere else at first- down, maybe, or lost in his own thoughts, but the second he noticed you stepping out- everything about him changed.

his eyes found you instantly, and it was like something inside him shifted all at once. they lit up, actually lit up, in a way you hadn’t seen before, like all the nervous energy he’d been holding onto suddenly turned into something warmer, something softer, something that belonged entirely to you being there. the color rose to his face almost immediately, brushing pink across his cheeks and creeping up to the tips of his ears, so obvious it made your chest tighten just slightly.

and then you noticed it, the bouquet in his hand. your steps slowed just a fraction as your eyes dropped to it, taking in the familiar colors, the way the flowers were wrapped carefully, like he had put actual thought into it- not something random, not something last-minute. your favorite flowers. your breath caught, you hadn’t told him that. not directly, not clearly enough for him to just… know. and yet there they were, wrapped neatly in his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

how did he..?

your thoughts didn’t even get to finish, because he looked up, and the second his eyes found you, he didn’t say anything. just stood there watching you; like he had forgotten how to speak, like he needed a second to process the fact that you were actually in front of him, not just a message on his phone, not just someone sitting next to him in class, but here, dressed up, standing in front of him like this.

you felt it- the way his attention stayed on you. it made your steps feel slower, softer, your expression shifting without you realizing it- your usual confidence melting into something quieter, something more careful as you walked toward him.

when you finally stopped in front of him, the distance between you felt smaller than it should have. your gaze dropped briefly to the flowers again, your lips curving into a soft smile that you didn’t try to hide this time, your fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the bouquet as he held it out to you. “not a date, huh?” you murmured, your voice gentle, laced with a teasing softness that didn’t quite hide how sweet you thought it was. the reaction you got was immediate.

a quiet, almost breathless exhale left him as his free hand lifted to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly at it in that familiar, nervous habit you had already come to recognize. his gaze dropped for a second, then flickered back up, then away again, like he couldn’t quite decide where to look. “…i-uh.” he started, the words catching in his throat before he even finished the sentence. he swallowed, tried again. but then- he looked at you, really looked this time.

his eyes moved; quickly, but not unnoticeably, taking in the way your sweater slipped off your shoulder, the soft fall of your curled hair, the ribbon tied neatly at the back, the way everything about you came together in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else. and whatever he had been about to say changed. “…you look pretty.” it came out quieter than he probably meant it to. not practiced. and that- that was what got you, the way there was no teasing in it. no hesitation once the words were out, just something honest, something simple that didn’t try to be anything more than what it was.

you felt it immediately, the warmth rising to your cheeks before you could stop it, your fingers tightening just slightly around the bouquet as you looked back at him, your smile faltering just a little- not disappearing, just… softening, because the way he said it, it wasn’t just a compliment, it felt like something he meant. for a second, you just stood there, holding the bouquet in your hands, your fingers lightly brushing over the petals like you were making sure they were real, like this moment was real. the way he was looking at you, the way he had said it.

your eyes dropped briefly, a small, almost shy smile forming on your lips as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the motion slower than usual, more careful, like you suddenly didn’t trust your hands to act normal. “thank you, hoon,” you murmured quietly, your voice softer than it had been before, gentler in a way that matched the way your chest felt. his name left your lips so naturally now, and somehow, that made him freeze for just a second. not completely, not in an obvious way, but enough that you caught it. the slight pause, the way his shoulders stiffened before relaxing again, the way his gaze flickered back to you like he was trying to process something small but important. “…yeah,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat lightly, his voice a little quieter than usual. “of course.”

he moved then, almost like he needed something to do, stepping around the car quickly, his movements just slightly rushed, just slightly more deliberate than necessary as he reached for the passenger side. you watched him without saying anything, the corners of your lips still curved faintly as he opened the door for you, holding it open with a quiet kind of attentiveness that didn’t feel forced. “please,” he said softly, stepping back just enough to give you space.

there was something about the way he did it- simple, polite, careful, that made your chest tighten again, just a little. you stepped closer, brushing past him as you got in, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the vanilla still lingering on your skin for just a second. you settled into the seat, smoothing your skirt slightly as you adjusted, placing the bouquet carefully on your lap like it was something fragile. the door closed gently behind you. and for a moment, you just sat there, your fingers tracing lightly over the flowers again, your thoughts quieter now, softer.

a second later, the driver’s side door opened. sunghoon slid in, movements controlled but just slightly tense, like he was still aware of everything all at once, where to put his hands, how to sit, how to act like this wasn’t affecting him as much as it clearly was. he shut the door, the sound a little louder in the small space of the car, and for a brief second, neither of you spoke, just the quiet hum of the outside world.

he reached forward, starting the engine, the soft vibration filling the space as the car came to life. his hands rested on the steering wheel for a moment longer than necessary. he glanced at you, just for a second, before looking back ahead again. for a moment, the quiet in the car lingered- soft, almost fragile, like neither of you wanted to break it too quickly. the low hum of the engine filled the space, steady and grounding, but everything else felt… a little too aware.

sunghoon adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, then seemed to hesitate, like he was thinking about something. his fingers tapped lightly once, twice- before he reached for his phone, unlocking it quickly, almost instinctively, like he needed something to ease the tension settling in his chest. he glanced at you, and this time, when he did- he smiled. not the small, hesitant one from earlier, but something a little more relaxed. a little more him. “be the dj tonight?” he said, holding his phone out toward you, his voice soft but steadier now, like he was easing into this- into you.

you couldn’t help the small giggle that slipped out, your fingers brushing against his as you took the phone from his hand, the contact brief but enough to make his breath catch just slightly before he looked away again, pretending to focus on pulling out of the parking spot.

“careful,” you teased lightly, already unlocking it further and opening spotify. “you might regret giving me this much power.”

“…i doubt it,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice now. you smiled to yourself, scrolling through his playlists, your head tilting slightly as you skimmed over the names- some organized, some a little too specific, some that made you raise your eyebrows just a little.

the opening of pyramids by Frank Ocean filled the car, smooth and slow, the sound settling into the space like it belonged there. you leaned back slightly in your seat, satisfied, still scrolling absentmindedly through his playlists while the music played, your fingers moving lazily over the screen.

and then, you paused. a soft giggle slipped out before you could stop it. sunghoon glanced at you immediately, brows pulling together just slightly in confusion. “…what?” he asked. you turned your head toward him, a small smile playing on your lips, your tone light, teasing, but gentle.

“didn’t take you as a dean listener.”  his hands tightened on the steering wheel, his ears tinting pink again almost immediately, his gaze flickering between the road and you like he wasn’t sure whether to defend himself or pretend he didn’t hear you. “…it’s not- ” he started, then stopped, clearly reconsidering his words. a quiet exhale left him. “…it’s just a few songs,” he muttered, his voice a little lower now, like he was suddenly aware of himself again. you smiled a little wider, leaning your head slightly against the seat as you watched him for just a second longer than necessary. “mmhmm,” you hummed softly.

you rested your elbow lightly against the door, turning slightly toward him, the bouquet still settled carefully on your lap, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of the wrapping as you spoke. “so,” you started, your voice light, almost curious, “do you actually like biochem, or are you just… freakishly good at it for no reason?” sunghoon let out a quiet breath through his nose, something between a laugh and a sigh, his grip on the steering wheel loosening just slightly as he glanced at you for a second before looking back at the road.

“i like it,” he said, simply at first, then added after a moment, “it just… makes sense to me, i guess. like, there’s always a reason something happens. even if it looks complicated, it’s still predictable once you understand it.” you watched him as he spoke, the way his tone shifted without him realizing it- more confident, more grounded, like this was the one place where he didn’t second guess himself. “that’s so unfair,” you muttered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i feel like i’m constantly trying to catch up.”

“you’re not,” he said immediately, almost too quickly, like the thought of that bothered him more than it should’ve. his brows pulled together slightly, his voice softer now. “you just… need it explained differently sometimes.” you blinked at him. then smiled. “…that’s a very nice way of saying i struggle.” he shook his head lightly, a faint hint of a smile appearing again. “it’s a correct way of saying it.”

you huffed out a quiet laugh, leaning back slightly in your seat, your shoulder relaxing as the conversation shifted naturally “okay, genius,” you teased, your tone softer now, “what about outside of school? or do you just sit in your room solving enzyme equations for fun?”

that made him actually laugh, the sound catching you a little off guard in the best way. “…not always,” he said, glancing at you again, this time holding it for just a second longer. “i mean, sometimes i just stay in. watch something, ice skate, listen to music.” “dean,” you added under your breath.

he rolled his eyes faintly, though the pink at the tips of his ears gave him away immediately. “…sometimes,” he admitted. you smiled, and it felt easy, talking about small things. “so you’ve known jake for a while?” you asked, your tone thoughtful as you looked ahead for a moment, remembering “yeah,” he nodded. “we’re tight, well, he initiated it, he just… started talking to me and never stopped.” you laughed softly. “yeah, i can imagine,”  “and heeseung’s been my roommate since second year,” he added. “he’s the only reason i leave the dorm sometimes.”

“so you can be dragged out,” you teased lightly. “…rarely,” he muttered. you smiled to yourself, your fingers still idly playing with the edge of the bouquet, the soft petals brushing against your skin as the conversation slowly, almost without either of you noticing, started to shift. you turned your head slightly, watching him more carefully now, your voice quieter when you spoke again. “…thank you,” you said softly. he blinked. “for what?” “for the tutoring,” you replied, your fingers stilling slightly in your lap. “you didn’t have to do that. or come all the way to my dorm the other day.”

his expression shifted- subtly, but you caught it. the way his shoulders relaxed just a little, the way his grip on the steering wheel loosened again. “…i wanted to,” he said simply. “i’m not always… like that, you know.” you tilted your head slightly. “like what?”

he exhaled softly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, though you could tell he was thinking more than he was speaking. “…this,” he said after a moment. “talking this much. or… i don’t know, being around people like that.” you didn’t interrupt, just listened “i was always kind of quiet,” he continued, his voice steady but softer now, more honest than before. “don’t really like parties, don’t drink. just… never saw the point, i guess.”

and then it clicked; the memory from the party. you blinked once. and suddenly, you started laughing. it slipped out of you all at once, your shoulders shaking slightly as you leaned back, barely able to catch your breath.

sunghoon immediately glanced at you, startled, his brows pulling together in confusion before he let out a small, confused laugh of his own. “…what?” he asked, glancing between you and the road. you shook your head, still laughing, your hand coming up slightly like you were trying to calm yourself down but failing completely. “i’m sorry” you managed between breaths, your voice soft but broken with laughter. “i just-”

you looked at him, and that might’ve made it even worse. “you were just standing there,” you continued, laughing again, “holding that water bottle like your life depended on it-” he froze, for a second. then groaned quietly, his head dropping just slightly as he shook it. “…please don’t,” he muttered, though there was a faint smile pulling at his lips despite himself.

“i’m serious,” you went on, your voice softer now but still laced with amusement, your eyes bright as you looked at him. “everyone else had drinks and you were just-standing there like, hydration is important.” he let out a quiet laugh, this time more genuine, his shoulders relaxing as he glanced at you again. “i didn’t know what else to say,” he admitted, a little embarrassed now, the pink returning to his cheeks.

“you were so shy,” you added, smiling. “i was shy,” he corrected softly, then paused. “…i still am.” you watched him carefully at that, the way he said it, not defensive, just… honest. “but,” he added after a moment, his voice quieter now, something softer slipping into it, “i don’t feel like that with you., well, not anymore” that made your breath catch, enough that you noticed. you didn’t speak right away. you just… looked at him, and slowly- you moved your hand, resting it gently over his on the center console, your fingers warm against his skin, the contact soft but intentional.

“i’m glad, hoon,” you whispered, your thumb brushing lightly against his hand without even thinking about it. “thank you for trusting me.” “i feel the same.” for a moment, everything stayed exactly as it was. your hand resting over his, warm and soft, your fingers lightly curved like they had found their place there without needing permission. the music played quietly in the background, something slow and smooth weaving through the silence, but it didn’t feel like empty space- it felt like something holding the moment together, like neither of you needed to rush it or fill it with words.

sunghoon didn’t move at first. didn’t pull away, didn’t interrupt it. instead, his fingers shifted slightly beneath yours, subtle enough that you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already so aware of him, like he was grounding himself in the feeling, like he was letting it happen instead of overthinking it for once. and then, he softly squeezed your hand. it wasn’t anything big, not something anyone else would’ve thought twice about, but to you it felt… steady, reassuring, like something quiet being said without words.

your breath caught just a little, your fingers instinctively curling against his before he slowly let go, his hand returning to the wheel, posture straightening just slightly like he was trying to regain control over himself. neither of you said anything, but the warmth lingered. the drive shifted after that. you didn’t notice it immediately, too caught up in the feeling still sitting in your chest, but slowly, the world outside began to change. the streets grew brighter, more alive, colors flickering faintly against the window beside you before growing stronger, more vivid, more impossible to ignore.

you turned your head, brows knitting slightly as you leaned just a little closer to the window, your voice quieter now, threaded with curiosity. “…where are we going?” sunghoon didn’t answer right away. you caught the way his lips pressed together faintly, the way he glanced at you for just a second before looking back at the road, something almost shy in the way he held onto whatever he had planned. “…you’ll see,” he said softly. the car slowed, turned. and then, it came into view.

an entire stretch of light and motion unfolding in front of you, bright colors cutting through the dark sky, rides towering above everything else; roller coasters twisting and looping, their tracks catching the light as they moved, the distant sound of laughter and music carrying through the air like something alive.

your breath caught instantly. “…wait-” you leaned forward slightly, eyes widening as everything came into focus, your voice soft with disbelief. “no way.”

sunghoon parked the car, the engine going quiet, but you barely registered it, because you were still looking, still taking it in, still smiling in that way that wasn’t careful or controlled, but completely real.

“…i haven’t been somewhere like this since i was really little,” you said softly, your voice carrying something almost nostalgic now, like the memory had been sitting somewhere in the back of your mind waiting to be pulled forward. “like-actually little. I forgot what it felt like.”

you turned to him then, your eyes still bright, something lighter in your expression now. “this is so nice, hoon,” you added, your voice warm, genuine.

a small grin tugged at your lips. “but also,” you continued, your tone shifting just slightly, something playful slipping in, “we’re going on everything.”

“…everything?” he repeated, his voice a little more cautious now. you nodded immediately, already turning back toward the window like you were mentally planning it out, excitement building in the way you spoke. “every ride,” you confirmed. “i don’t care how scary it looks.”

there was a pause, a very brief one. sunghoon glanced at the towering roller coaster in the distance, then back at you. “…yeah,” he said, nodding once, like he had already decided he wasn’t backing out of this. “of course.” but the way his grip tightened just slightly on the steering wheel, the faint hesitation in his voice, gave him away completely.

the moment you both stepped out of the car, the atmosphere hit you all at once. it was louder here; brighter, warmer, alive in a way that wrapped around you instantly. the air carried a mix of things; sweet, sugary scents from nearby stands, the distant echo of laughter, the sharp metallic rush of rides cutting through the night. lights flickered everywhere, casting soft colors across your face as you walked side by side toward the entrance.

and without even realizing it, you were smiling, aunghoon noticed immediately. he stayed just half a step behind you for a moment as you both walked in, his gaze drifting toward you more often than anything else around him. the way you looked around, taking everything in like it actually meant something to you, like this wasn’t just another place, but something you were genuinely excited about.

and it did something to him, quietly. he smiled too. the moment you passed through the entrance, it felt like stepping into something completely different. everything was louder now, closer, more vivid- the music, the chatter, the movement of people passing by, the glowing lights stretching overhead like something out of a dream. rides towered around you, some spinning, some dropping, some twisting through the air, each one more tempting than the last. you barely had time to take a full breath before your eyes caught onto the first one. it wasn’t the biggest ride there. not the tallest, not the most terrifying, but it moved fast enough, dipping and turning just enough to make your excitement spike instantly.

“oh-” you breathed out, your whole body shifting slightly as you turned toward it, your eyes lighting up. and without thinking, you reached for him. your hand slipped into his, fingers intertwining so naturally, so easily, like it had already happened a hundred times before. sunghoon froze, just for a second. his breath catching slightly as his fingers instinctively tightened around yours, like his body reacted before his mind could even process what was happening. you didn’t seem to notice, or maybe you did and didn’t care. because you were already looking up at him, your smile wide, bright, your eyes practically glowing under the lights as you leaned just a little closer. “can we go on that one?” you asked, your voice full of excitement, almost hopeful in the way it lifted at the end.

he looked down at you, then at your hand in his, then back at your face. and whatever hesitation he might’ve had- whatever nerves, whatever thoughts, they didn’t stand a chance. “…yeah,” he said, his voice softer now, but steady, a small smile forming as his fingers curled more securely around yours. “of course we can.”

the ride slowed gradually, the sharp rush of wind fading into something softer as the cart pulled back into place, the metal creaking lightly as everything came to a stop. your heart was still beating a little faster than usual, adrenaline lingering in your chest as you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding. “…that was so fun,” you laughed, your voice still slightly breathless as the safety bar lifted. you stepped out first, your movements a little lighter, a little more unsteady from the rush, your hair completely messed up from the wind; strands falling out of place, framing your face in a way that was anything but put together.

sunghoon stepped off right after you, steady but quieter, his gaze immediately finding you again like it had been doing the entire night. he watched you for a second, taking in the way you looked right now; hair slightly wild, cheeks flushed, eyes still lit up from the ride. and before he could overthink it, he stepped a little closer. leaning down just slightly, his hand lifting without hesitation this time, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. the touch was soft, careful, but it lingered just a second longer than necessary.

“…you’re a mess,” he murmured quietly, a small smile pulling at his lips, there was no teasing in it, just something warm. and then, like he suddenly realized what he’d done, his hand dropped back to his side, his expression shifting just slightly as he cleared his throat under his breath. “…you thirsty?” he added, a little more casually now, though his voice was still softer than before. “we can get something to drink.” you blinked at him once, still caught off guard by the way he had just touched you, but then smiled again, nodding easily. “yeah,” you said. “that sounds good.”

the park felt even more alive now as you moved through it again, the noise wrapping around you, people passing by in every direction, laughter and music blending into something constant. you started walking first, weaving your way through the crowd with small, careful steps, glancing back occasionally just to make sure he was still close, and he was, right behind you. and somewhere in the middle of it, without a word, your hands found each other again. this time a little more naturally, less hesitant.

your fingers slipping into his like it made sense, like it was expected now. sunghoon didn’t react as strongly this time, but the warmth still spread through him immediately, his grip tightening just slightly as he followed your lead through the crowd, letting you guide him without question. when you finally reached one of the drink stands, the line was longer than you expected, people gathered around, voices overlapping, the bright menu glowing above.

you turned toward him, still holding his hand, your expression thoughtful for a second before lighting up again. “can we get slushies?” you asked, your tone hopeful, almost playful as you tilted your head slightly. “…yeah,” he said, a small smile forming again. “of course.” you stepped forward slightly, looking up at the options before pointing without hesitation. “strawberry,” you said. “that one’s my favorite.”

he let out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head just slightly, a soft, amused expression settling on his face. “…of course you’re choosing that one,” he muttered under his breath. you gasped lightly, immediately pushing his shoulder in mock offense, your laugh slipping out right after. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you shot back, smiling.

“nothing,” he said quickly, though he was already smiling too now, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “mhm,” you hummed, unconvinced, but still laughing. “and you?” you added, glancing at him. he looked back at the menu briefly. “…blue raspberry,” he said. you smiled. “that checks out.” he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head again just as the line moved forward, both of you stepping up together. when it was finally your turn, you stepped up to the counter together, the bright lights of the stand reflecting off the plastic cups stacked behind the vendor, the hum of machines blending into the background noise of the park.

“i’ve got this one,” you said quickly, already reaching for your bag, your tone firm but light, like you had decided it before he could even argue. sunghoon didn’t even hesitate. “…no,” he said just as simply, already pulling out his wallet. you turned to him immediately, narrowing your eyes just slightly. “hoon.” he glanced at you, completely unfazed this time, a small, almost amused smile tugging at his lips like he already knew how this was going to go. “you can get the next one,” he said, calm, steady. “you said that last time.”

“and i meant it,” he replied, handing the money over before you could stop him. you let out a small huff, shaking your head as you crossed your arms lightly, though there was still a smile lingering on your face. “…you’re impossible.”

“mm,” he hummed softly. “I’ve been told.” but there was something different about him now, less hesitant, less unsure. still gentle, but more comfortable, like he wasn’t second-guessing every little thing anymore. when your drinks were handed to you, the cold plastic pressed against your fingers immediately, condensation already forming along the sides. you took a quick sip of your strawberry slushie, the sweetness hitting instantly, refreshing after the warmth of the night.

“okay, this is actually really good,” you said, glancing at him. sunghoon took a sip of his own, nodding slightly. “yeah, it’s-” you didn’t wait. “lemme try,” you said, already reaching for his cup. you took a sip, tilting your head slightly as you considered it. “oh wait,” you said, eyebrows lifting. “this one’s good too.” “…you just wanted mine,” he said flatly, though there was a faint smile hiding in his tone.

“obviously,” you replied, handing it back before holding yours out toward him. “try mine.” he looked at you for a second. then leaned in slightly, taking a sip from your cup, his hand brushing yours briefly as he steadied it. “…yeah,” he said after a moment. “yours is better.” you grinned.

“i know.” both of you laughed softly after that, the sound blending into the noise around you as you started walking again, shoulders occasionally brushing, your hands finding each other again without needing to think about it.

you wandered from place to place, sometimes stopping at small games, sometimes just walking and talking, the conversation shifting naturally between random things-comments about the rides, teasing each other, small jokes that didn’t really matter but still made both of you laugh. at one point, you stopped in front of a claw machine, the soft glow of it catching your attention immediately.

“wait,” you said, tugging his hand slightly. “that’s cute.” inside was a pile of plushies, pastel-colored, slightly unevenly stacked, one of them, a small teddy bear, tilted just enough to be tempting. sunghoon glanced at it, then at you. “…you want one?” he asked. you shrugged, smiling lightly. “i mean… if you can get it.”

he stepped forward, letting go of your hand as he pulled out a coin, his focus shifting instantly. his posture straightened just slightly, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he gripped the controls. he adjusted the claw carefully, moving it inch by inch, calculating the angle like it was something he could solve rather than chance. “…you’re taking this really seriously,” you said, laughing softly.

“i am,” he replied without looking at you. the claw dropped. with the teddy bear caught securely, your eyes widened. “no way-” a second later, it dropped into the slot with a soft thud. you turned to him immediately, a surprised laugh slipping out as he reached down and picked it up, handing it to you like it was nothing. “…here.” you stared at it for a second before looking back at him.

“hoon-” he shrugged slightly, a small smile on his face. “it wasn’t that hard.” you laughed, holding the teddy closer to you, something warm settling in your chest again. “thank you,” you said, softer this time.

by the time you suggested the last ride, the night had already settled into something softer.

the lights felt warmer now, the crowds slightly thinner, the air cooler against your skin as you walked side by side, your fingers brushing occasionally like neither of you were even thinking about it anymore. the energy from earlier hadn’t disappeared, it had just… shifted, slowed down, deepened into something quieter, more intentional. and then you saw it, the biggest ride in the park. the tracks twisting high into the sky, the drop steep enough to make your stomach flip just from looking at it, the sound of it rushing down echoed faintly through the air, metal against metal, sharp and fast. your eyes lit up instantly. “that one,” you said, almost immediately, pointing toward it without hesitation, your voice filled with excitement again. “we have to go on that one.”

sunghoon followed your gaze. snd for a second, he didn’t say anything. his eyes traced the height of it, the way it climbed impossibly high before dropping, the speed, the turns, everything about it loud and intense in a way that was very much not him. you looked back at him expectantly, he pressed his lips together. a small, almost imperceptible inhale.

“…yeah,” he said finally, nodding once, like he had already decided there was no way he was backing out now. “okay.”

gosh, the line was long. long enough that the excitement settled into something slower again, the noise of the ride looping overhead every few minutes, the distant screams of people dropping echoing down as a reminder of what was coming. but you didn’t seem to mind, you were talking; about random things again, small stories, little observations, things that didn’t really matter but felt important in the moment. your voice carried easily, light and warm, occasionally laughing at your own words, occasionally nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

sunghoon listened, really listened. he nodded when it made sense, hummed quietly in response, added small comments here and there, but for the most part, he was quieter again. his eyes kept drifting back to the ride. his grip on your hand tightening just slightly every time it rushed down, you noticed. of course you did, but you didn’t call it out. instead, you leaned just a little closer to him as you talked, your voice softening slightly, your thumb brushing lightly against his hand like a quiet reassurance.

“…and then she really said that,” you finished one of your stories, laughing softly as you looked up at him, your eyes catching his again. he blinked, like he had been pulled out of his thoughts. “…that’s insane,” he said, a faint smile forming despite everything. you smiled back, and for a moment, he forgot to look at the ride, because you were right there; talking to him like this, smiling like that, and somehow- that was louder than everything else around him. and each time, his lips pressed into that same thin line again, his shoulders stiffening just slightly before relaxing when you spoke again, pulling him back down, grounding him, keeping him there, with you.

by the time the restraint locked into place, the world around you felt like it had narrowed into something smaller, tighter- like everything outside of this moment had faded just enough to make every little detail sharper. the metal bar pressed firmly across your lap, the seatbelt snug against you, the faint hum of the ride vibrating through the structure beneath your feet. you could hear people talking around you, laughter, nervous chatter, but it all felt distant, like background noise you couldn’t quite focus on anymore.

because next to you, sunghoon’s hand had already found yours. not gently, but instinctively. his fingers wrapped around yours with a kind of urgency that made your breath catch slightly, his grip tighter than it had ever been before, almost like he needed to be sure you were actually there. his palm was warm, but there was tension in it, subtle, but unmistakable. you turned your head toward him, your brows knitting together immediately as you took in the way he looked, his posture was rigid, shoulders slightly raised, jaw tight. and when he glanced at you- that small smile he tried to give you didn’t quite land.

“hoon?” you asked softly, your voice cutting through the noise around you, quieter, more focused. “you okay?” for a second, he didn’t answer, like he was deciding whether to say it or not, then he leaned just slightly closer, his voice dropping low enough that it felt like it existed only between the two of you.

“…yeah,” he said, but it came out too controlled, too measured. and then- after the smallest pause- “…i might’ve forgotten to mention that i’m scared of heights.” your eyes widened instantly. “…you’re joking.” but he didn’t respond, didn’t laugh, didn’t even try to play it off. and that’s when it hit you. 

“oh my god,” you breathed, your grip on his hand tightening without thinking, your body already shifting as you glanced toward the operator. “no-okay, we can get off-”

but the moment had already passed. the cart jerked slightly beneath you, then started moving. the mechanical clicking began almost immediately as you were pulled upward, the track guiding you higher inch by inch, each sound sharp and deliberate.

too late.

you turned back to him quickly, your voice softer now, but steady, grounding. “it’s okay,” you said, your thumb brushing lightly over his hand, trying to ease some of that tension you could feel in his grip. “just hold my hand.”

sunghoon let out a breath- tight, uneven, his head tilting forward slightly as his eyes shut without hesitation, like that was the only way he could handle it. “…fucking shit,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible, more to himself than anything else.

the cart kept climbing, higher, and higher. the sounds below you started to fade, replaced by the wind brushing faintly against your skin, the open space becoming more noticeable with every second. the park stretched out beneath you now, lights blending into colors, people turning into movement rather than individuals.

click. click. click.

sunghoon’s hand tightened again, like he was anchoring himself to you, his thumb pressed slightly against your knuckles, his fingers curling tighter as if letting go wasn’t even an option his body would consider right now. his breathing was shallow, controlled in the way someone tries to stay calm when they’re very much not.

you shifted just slightly in your seat, turning your hand in his so your fingers laced more comfortably with his, your grip steady, intentional. “i’m right here,” you murmured softly, your voice calmer now, more certain.

he didn’t respond with words, but his grip changed. the climb continued, slower now, like it was stretching the moment on purpose, dragging out the anticipation until it settled deep into your chest. at one point, the cart gave a small jolt. sunghoon’s grip reacted instantly; tightening sharply. his shoulders tensing again, a quiet breath catching in his throat as he instinctively leaned just a fraction closer toward you without even realizing it. his eyes stayed shut, but his head turned slightly in your direction.

as everything else kept pulling him higher and higher into the air. the ride slowed down with a long, dragging screech of metal, the cart finally easing back into place after what felt like a blur of adrenaline and wind and noise. your heart was still racing, your breath uneven from laughing and screaming, your hands still gripping the bar for a second longer before you let go.

“…oh my god,” you breathed out, a wide smile still on your face as you turned toward him, energy still buzzing through you. “that was insane-”

but then you saw him, sunghoon was… quieter, not in a bad way, just… recovering.his hand was still loosely wrapped around yours, though his grip had finally relaxed, his shoulders dropping slightly now that everything had stopped moving. his eyes were open again, but there was still a faint tension lingering in them, like his body hadn’t fully caught up to the fact that it was over. and yet, he was smiling, because when he looked at you, all he saw was how happy you were.

“…yeah,” he said quietly, exhaling through his nose, almost like he was letting go of everything he had been holding in during the ride. “you liked it.”

you nodded immediately, still smiling, but then your expression shifted slightly as your excitement settled just enough for something else to take its place.

“…wait,” you said, your brows knitting together as you turned your body more toward him. “hoon-” your hand squeezed his gently now, your voice softer.

“i’m sorry,” you added, more sincerely this time. “i didn’t know you were actually scared of heights. i wouldn’t have made you go if I knew.”

for a second, he just looked at you. then he let out a quiet breath and laughed.

“it’s fine,” he said, shaking his head slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back messily. “really. you don’t have to worry about it.”

but then he paused. his eyes flickering back to you, something shifting slightly in his expression. a hint of something playful.

“…actually,” he added, his tone changing just a little, lighter now, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

you blinked. “hm?”

he tilted his head slightly, pretending to think about it for a second, like he was seriously considering his options. “…you should probably make it up to me somehow,” he said. there was a beat of silence. then he laughed softly, almost like he didn’t expect you to take it seriously, but there was still something teasing in it now. you narrowed your eyes slightly, a smile forming again despite yourself. “oh really?”

“yeah,” he nodded, more confidently this time, his shoulders finally relaxing as he stepped off the ride with you, his hand brushing yours again as you both moved aside.

you crossed your arms lightly, tilting your head at him. “okay then,” you said. “what do you want?” sunghoon went quiet for a second, actually thinking. his gaze drifting around the park, scanning the lights, the small attractions, the games, the scattered little booths lined up nearby. and then, his eyes landed on something. he smiled, subtle, but sure. “…there,” he said, nodding toward a small photo booth tucked between two brightly lit stands, the curtain slightly swaying as people stepped in and out.

“a photo booth?” you repeated. he shrugged lightly, but there was something almost shy behind it- like this idea meant more than he was letting on. “yeah,” he said. “i think that’s fair.”

your smile softened instantly. “okay,” you said, stepping a little closer to him again. “let’s do it.” and as you both started walking toward it, it didn’t feel like making up for anything. it just felt like something you both wanted.

the walk to the photo booth felt quieter than everything before it. not silent, but softer. like the noise of the park dimmed just a little around you, like something about the moment had shifted without either of you needing to say it out loud. the lights still glowed around you, people still passed by, laughter still echoed somewhere in the distance, but your attention stayed on him. and his, somehow, stayed on you. when you reached it, the little booth looked almost out of place compared to everything else, tucked between two bright stands, the curtain slightly swaying as someone stepped out, a strip of photos still fresh in their hands. sunghoon pulled the curtain aside for you without thinking. you stepped in first, he followed right after. ynd suddenly, it was just the two of you.

the space inside was small, smaller than you expected. your shoulders almost brushed immediately, your knees nearly touching as you sat down side by side on the narrow bench. the glow of the screen in front of you lit up your faces softly, casting a gentle light that made everything feel just a little more intimate.

“…you pick,” he said quietly, glancing at you. you leaned forward slightly, scrolling through the filters, your shoulder brushing his again, your arm lightly pressing against his as you hovered over the options. “there’s so many,” you murmured, half to yourself, half to him. he watched you for a second. then shook his head faintly. “…plain one’s fine,” he said. you paused, then smiled. “yeah,” you agreed softly. “plain is better.”

the countdown started.

3… 2… 1…

the first picture snapped. neither of you had really reacted in time. it caught you both mid-movement, slightly turned toward each other, your expressions not fully set, like you hadn’t quite realized the camera had gone off yet. it wasn’t posed, it wasn’t planned. it just… was.

you both let out a small laugh right after, the sound soft and a little surprised, your shoulders brushing more fully now as you adjusted in your seat. “okay, wait,” you said, smiling as you leaned back slightly. “this one we actually try.” sunghoon nodded, a faint smile on his lips now, more relaxed than before. the second countdown started. this time, you were ready.

you turned slightly toward the camera, your shoulder pressed lightly against his, your smile wide, genuine, your eyes bright under the soft glow. he did the same. and when it snapped, it captured both of you like that.

the third countdown started. you turned toward him instinctively, your smile still lingering as you leaned just a little closer, your voice soft, playful. “wait—what should we do for this one?” you asked, your head tilting slightly as you looked up at him, but he didn’t answer, because he wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. he was looking at you; at your eyes, then your lips. and something about the way you were sitting- close, warm, your voice soft, your expression open, it made everything else fade. the countdown kept going.

3…

2…

you were still talking. “…we could-”, but he didn’t hear the rest, not really. because before he could think, before he could stop himself, he leaned in. slow at first, like he wasn’t fully sure, like he was giving himself time to pull back if he needed to, but he didn’t. and neither did you. your breath caught for just a second, your words falling away mid-sentence as your eyes flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes- and then you leaned in too. your lips met softly at first, careful; like both of you were testing something fragile. but the moment it happened- something shifted.

your hand moved instinctively, fingers curling slightly into his sleeve as you leaned in just a little more, your lips pressing more firmly against his, your body angling closer without hesitation. sunghoon responded immediately. his hand moved to your side, steadying you, pulling you just a fraction closer as the kiss deepened- not rushed, not overwhelming, but real. the camera flashed, capturing it. but neither of you noticed, not right away. because for a second, it was just that; the feeling of it, the warmth, the way everything else disappeared. your lips brushing once more before separating, your breath still close to his, your foreheads resting gently against each other without either of you thinking about it.

your eyes met, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. you just smiled- soft, a little breathless, a little surprised, but real. the final picture snapped, capturing that moment; your foreheads gently touching, your eyes soft, your smiles small but full.

and somehow, it felt like the most important one of all.

the walk back to the car was slow. not because either of you said anything about it, but because neither of you sped it up. your steps matched without trying, shoulders brushing lightly every now and then, the contact lingering just a second longer each time before easing apart again. you were still holding the bouquet, your fingers loosely wrapped around the stems, occasionally adjusting them like you needed something to do with your hands. the night air was cooler now, brushing softly against your skin, but it didn’t feel cold.

when you reached the car, sunghoon moved ahead just slightly, like he had already decided what to do before thinking about it too much. he opened the passenger door for you, his hand resting lightly against it as he stepped back, giving you space. “thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft, your eyes lifting to meet his for just a second before you stepped in. he nodded quickly, almost like he didn’t trust himself to say anything without overthinking it, closing the door gently behind you before walking around to the driver’s side. he sat down, adjusting slightly in his seat, his hands resting on the steering wheel for a moment before he started the engine. the soft hum filled the space again, familiar now, grounding.

“thank you for tonight-”

“did you-”

you both stopped, turned, looked at each other. and then you both laughed. A little embarrassed, a little shy. you shook your head slightly, smiling. “you go,” you said quietly. he exhaled through his nose, the faintest smile still on his lips as he glanced at you before looking back ahead. “…i was just going to ask if you had a good time,” he admitted, his voice gentle, a little more relaxed now. you shifted slightly in your seat, the bouquet resting against your lap as your fingers tightened around it just a little. “i did,” you said, softer this time, more sincere. “i really did. it was… really nice. there was a small pause. he nodded once, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly.

“…i’m glad,” he said quietly. “i had a good time too.” the drive back was quiet, but not empty. the music played softly in the background, low enough that it blended into the silence instead of interrupting it. you leaned back slightly in your seat, your head resting gently against it, your gaze drifting out the window for a moment before shifting back toward him. every now and then, he’d glance at you. quick, like he didn’t want to get caught. and every time, you noticed, but didn’t say anything. you just let it happen.

the car slowed down gradually, not in a sudden stop but in that smooth, careful way that made the end of the drive feel like it was stretching itself out- like it didn’t want to arrive just yet. the headlights washed over the front of your building, illuminating the entrance you’d walked through a hundred times before, but tonight it didn’t feel the same. tonight it felt like something you were being brought back to, not just going home to. you shifted slightly in your seat, the bouquet still resting in your lap, your fingers loosely wrapped around the stems, though your attention wasn’t really on them anymore. you were aware of the faint rustle of the wrapping every time your hands moved, the soft scent of the flowers mixing with the lingering vanilla on your skin, but your focus kept drifting back to him, to the quiet between you, to the way the night hadn’t felt forced at any point.

sunghoon didn’t move immediately. his hands stayed on the steering wheel, fingers curled around it like he needed something steady to hold onto, his gaze fixed forward even though there was nothing left to focus on. the engine was still running for a second longer, the low hum filling the silence, before he finally reached forward and turned it off. the sound disappeared, and the quiet that followed felt heavier than before. he inhaled slowly, like he was grounding himself, then pushed the door open and stepped out, his movements careful, a little slower than usual, like he was aware, very aware, of every second passing now.

from inside, you watched him walk around the front of the car, the dim light catching the edges of his figure, the way his hand brushed lightly against the hood without him realizing it, like a small, absent habit just to keep himself occupied. he didn’t rush, he didn’t hesitate either.

he reached your side and opened your door. cool air slipped in immediately, brushing against your legs, your arms, carrying with it the quiet of the night that felt so different from the warmth inside the car. you looked up at him, your gaze lifting slowly, and he was already looking at you. you shifted forward, carefully stepping out, your hand brushing lightly against the edge of the door for balance before you straightened, the bouquet still held gently in your other hand. for a second, you stood close to him, closer than necessary, close enough to notice the faint shift in his breathing, the way his shoulders moved as he stepped back just slightly to give you space.

he closed the door behind you. and without needing to say anything, he started walking toward the building. you followed immediately, falling into step beside him like it was instinct, your pace matching his without effort. the space between you wasn’t distant, it never had been, but it wasn’t fully closed either. it sat somewhere in between, where your arms brushed occasionally, where your shoulder would graze his just slightly, the contact lingering for a fraction longer each time before easing apart again.

the entrance got closer with every step, the familiar door standing just ahead of you now, the quiet of the night wrapping around everything in a way that made the moment feel smaller and bigger at the same time. when you reached it- you stopped. and so did he.

you turned toward him slowly, your body fully facing his now, the bouquet held a little closer to your chest, your fingers tightening just slightly around the stems before loosening again. your eyes lifted to meet his, and for a second, you just looked at him. the faint pink still lingering on his cheeks, the way his gaze stayed on you, steady but soft, the way he didn’t seem in a rush to break it. “thank you, again.” you said quietly, your voice softer than it had been all night, more careful now, like the words carried more weight here. “for tonight. i really… enjoyed it.”

he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes stayed on yours for a second longer, like he was taking it in, like he needed that extra moment before answering. then he nodded once, slow and subtle, his expression softening in a way that made your chest tighten just slightly. “…me too,” he said, his voice just as quiet. “i had a great time, too” he shifted his weight slightly, like he was about to step back, like he was about to end it there. “…goodnight,” he added, softer this time.

your fingers adjusted slightly around the bouquet, then slowly, almost without you fully thinking it through, you let one hand fall free from it. your fingers wrapped around his hand gently, the contact soft but intentional, your touch warm against his skin. It wasn’t sudden, it wasn’t rushed, it was slow enough that he felt it before it fully happened.

his fingers didn’t move right away, his body stilling like his brain hadn’t caught up yet, like he didn’t know what to do with it, but he didn’t pull away. your grip tightening ever so slightly as you tugged him down toward you, your movement small but enough to close the distance between you without making it feel forced.

your heart was louder now, you could feel it. but you didn’t stop. you leaned in and pressed your lips softly against his cheek, it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t hesitant either.

your lips lingering just long enough for him to feel it fully before you pulled away again, the space between you returning slowly.

“…goodnight, hoon,” you whispered, your voice quiet, softer than anything you had said all night, close enough that he could feel it more than hear it.

you let go of his hand slowly, your fingers brushing against his for just a second longer before slipping away completely, the warmth of his skin fading from yours.

your hand finding the door handle, pushing it open as you stepped inside, the warmth of the building wrapping around you instantly, replacing the cool air from outside.

the door began to close behind you and just before it did, you glanced back. only for a second, long enough to see him still standing there, exactly where you left him, hand still slightly lifted like he hadn’t fully come back to himself yet. his cheeks flushed, his expression soft. and his lips, curved into a smile he clearly wasn’t trying to hide.

sunghoon’s already had his first kiss, so why does it feel like you were his first?

the thought sits stubbornly in his mind, looping in a way he can’t shut off, following him from the moment he grips the steering wheel to the second he pulls away from your building, his hands steady but his thoughts anything but. because it doesn’t make sense, he knows it doesn’t. he remembers his first kiss, remembers where it happened, who it was with, remembers how little it meant even as it was happening. it had been quick, forgettable, something that didn’t stay longer than a few minutes after it ended. but you, you didn’t just stay. you lingered.

and it’s not just the kiss on his cheek, even though that alone had been enough to mess with his head more than anything should. it’s everything before that. the photo booth, the cramped little space, the way your knees brushed his, the way your laughter filled the tiny enclosure until it felt too small to contain it, the way the camera flashed once, twice, three times, and somewhere between those moments, you had leaned closer, your forehead brushing his, your breath mixing with his in a way that made his chest tighten without warning.

he tightens his grip on the wheel slightly at the memory, his jaw tensing as he exhales through his nose, eyes flicking briefly to the road before focusing again. “…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, the word slipping out before he can stop it. because that’s the problem, it didn’t feel like just a kiss, it felt like something happened. and now he can’t go back to how things were before that moment, even if he tried.

his phone buzzes again in the passenger seat, lighting up briefly, pulling his attention away for just a second before he reaches over at a red light, unlocking it without thinking.

your name. of course it’s you.

his chest tightens immediately, something warm settling there as he opens the message.

you: i still can’t believe you got me flowers btw

his lips press together, but the hint of a smile pulls through anyway, small and unintentional, his fingers hovering over the screen for a second before he types back.

sunghoon: you deserve them

he stares at it for half a second before sending, then locks his phone again, tossing it gently back onto the seat as the light turns green, his heart’s still beating faster than it should.

the days after that night don’t feel separate. your messages come easier; more frequent, less hesitant. you text him in the morning, sometimes before he even has the chance to reach for his phone first, your name lighting up his screen before he’s fully awake.

you: good morning hoon you: did u sleep or did u stay up overthinking again

he exhales quietly at that, a soft scoff leaving him as he types back without thinking.

sunghoon: i slept

a pause.

sunghoon: a little

and somehow, that turns into a conversation that stretches longer than it should, messages going back and forth until he’s fully awake, until he’s sitting up in bed without realizing it, his entire focus on you instead of anything else he was supposed to be doing.

and then there’s the tutoring.

except, It’s not really tutoring anymore, not fully. he knows that, you know that. but neither of you say it out loud, because it always starts like tutoring. he sits next to you, notebook open, pen in hand, explaining something in that calm, focused way of his, his voice steady as he walks you through equations, concepts, things that should make sense on paper.

“so if the system is absorbing heat, the enthalpy change is positive,” he says, pointing at your notes, his shoulder brushing yours lightly as he leans closer.

you really do try, but then- 

“…you always talk like that?” you murmur, your voice softer now, teasing slipping into it without effort. he pauses. “…like what?” “like a textbook,” you smile faintly, tilting your head as you look at him instead of the page.

and just like that, he loses his place. his pen stills, his thoughts scatter. “…i don’t-” he starts, then stops, his brows pulling together slightly as he tries to recover, his ears already turning pink. “you’re not even listening,” he had said once, trying-trying-to sound serious, his brows pulling together just slightly. “i am,” you had smiled back, your chin resting in your hand, your eyes on him instead of the page. “you’re just distracting.”

“…how am I distracting?” he asked, genuinely confused, completely thrown off.

you didn’t answer, just looked at him and smiled. and that was enough to ruin him completely for the next five minutes. it happens like that every time. a few minutes of actual studying, then talking, then laughing, then him forgetting what he was explaining in the first place because you said something that threw him off completely, and somewhere in between, it stops feeling like something he’s doing for you. and starts feeling like something he just wants to keep doing.

so when your name flashes on his screen again, now, while he’s driving, he doesn’t hesitate. not even a second. he answers immediately, his voice softer than usual, more attentive. “…hello?”

“hoon,” your voice comes through, a little strained this time, a little more frustrated than usual, but still unmistakably you. “i don’t get this at all.” he straightens slightly. “what are you talking about, love?” he asks, already focusing, completely ignoring the nickname that just came out of his mouth. “this thermodynamics thing,” you sigh, and he can practically picture you, brows drawn together, lips slightly parted in frustration. “like i understand parts of it, but then it just..stops making sense.”

his grip tightens slightly on the wheel. “…enthalpy? entropy?” he asks, already narrowing it down. “enthalpy,” you say immediately. “and like the equations, i don’t know when to use what.” he doesn’t even think. “i’ll come over.” the words come out so naturally it almost surprises him. there’s a pause. “…what?”

“i’ll come over,” he repeats, already turning the wheel slightly, his route shifting without him consciously deciding to do it. “it’s easier if I explain it in person.”

“…you don’t have to,” you say, softer now. “i know,” he replies. and he does. he knows, but that doesn’t matter, because this is what he wants. “i’ll be there in ten,” he adds, his voice steady, certain.

by the time the knock comes, you’re already halfway to the door. you don’t even realize how fast you moved until your hand is already on the handle, your heart just a little too quick, your thoughts scattered somewhere between thermodynamics and him. the door opens, and there he is. sunghoon stands there, one hand still loosely holding his keys, the other resting by his side, his posture a little more relaxed than it used to be, but not completely. his eyes find yours almost instantly, and something in his expression softens the second he sees you, like whatever was going on in his head before this just… quiets.

“hey,” he says, voice low, easy. “hey,” you reply just as softly, but there’s a smile already pulling at your lips. you don’t hesitate, you step forward and hug him. your arms wrap around him naturally, like you’ve done it before, even if you haven’t like this, and for a second, he freezes just slightly before relaxing into it, his arms coming up around you a moment later, slower, but just as sure. you pull back first, but not far, your hands still brushing lightly against his arms as you step aside. “come in,” you say, softer now. he nods, stepping inside, his eyes flicking around your space briefly before settling back on you, like he’s checking, like he’s grounding himself.

“do you want something to drink?” you ask, already moving a little further in. “i’m okay,” he says, shaking his head lightly, though his attention lingers on you more than anything else. you nod once, then lead him into your room. and the second he steps in, he notices. papers. everywhere. on your bed, scattered in uneven piles, notes overlapping, pages half-folded, diagrams circled and crossed out like you’ve been trying to make sense of something for way too long. you sit down on your bed almost immediately, pushing a few papers aside to make space, tucking one leg under you as you exhale quietly.

sunghoon takes the chair by your desk, sitting down slowly, his gaze still scanning over the mess before landing back on you. “…you’ve really been studying, baby, hm.” the word slips out so casually it almost doesn’t register at first, but then it does.

you look up immediately, a slow smirk forming as you tilt your head slightly. “oh,” you say, voice light, teasing, “so it’s baby now, huh?” he blinks, just once. then looks away, reaching for one of the papers like nothing happened, like he didn’t just say that. “…you said you didn’t understand,” he mutters, completely dodging it, his ears just slightly pink. you huff out a quiet laugh under your breath, but you let it go, for now. “yeah,” you sigh, picking up a paper and holding it up like evidence. “i really don’t.” he nods, leaning forward slightly, his tone shifting into something more focused as he starts explaining, his pen moving across the page, writing out equations, pointing at steps, breaking things down the way he always does. “okay, so look, if the system absorbs heat, delta H is positive, right? so here-”

you try, you really do. you look where he points, you follow the numbers, you nod at the right times. but your eyes keep drifting, to his hands, to the way his hair falls slightly into his face, to the way his lips move when he explains something he understands so well.

and eventually, you stop pretending. he notices, of course he does.

his voice trails off mid-explanation, the pen slowing before stopping completely as he looks at you more closely, his brows pulling together just slightly. “…you’re not even trying,” he says, but his tone isn’t sharp. it’s softer, observing. you don’t answer, just look at him, and that’s enough. he exhales quietly, placing the paper down on your bed, the pen following a second later as he leans back slightly in his chair. then, without making it a big deal, he stands up, walks over, and lays down next to you. his head turns slightly toward you, his expression softer now, less focused on the work and more on you. “…what’s up with you today?” he asks quietly.

you sigh, turning your head to look at him, your expression softer now, less playful, more honest. “just…” you start, your voice quieter than before, “…missed you.” there’s a small pause, you hold his gaze. “feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” the words sit there between you, simple, but they land. he doesn’t look away, doesn’t joke, doesn’t deflect. he just… looks at you. and something in his expression shifts again, softening in a way that feels real, unguarded. “…you saw me yesterday,” he murmurs, but his voice is quieter now, almost like he’s saying it more to himself than to you. you smile faintly. “yeah,” you say softly. “still.”

that makes his lips press together slightly, like he’s holding something back, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his hand shifts, slowly finding yours. his fingers slide against yours, not fully interlocking, just… there. careful, like he’s testing it without making it obvious.

his thumb brushes softly against your fingers, back and forth. his gaze flickers briefly toward your desk. the vase, the flowers. still there, still fresh. “…you still have the flowers i gave you,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, his attention half on you, half on the small detail that somehow means more than it should. you watch his gaze drift toward the vase, following it for a second before your eyes settle back on him, softer now, your fingers still resting in his as they absentmindedly move together. “yeah,” you murmur quietly, your voice gentle, almost fond, “it was really sweet, hoon.”

he looks back at you, fully now, his lips parting just slightly before pressing together again, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with that kind of honesty, with the way you’re looking at him right now. “' ‘m glad you liked them,” he says quietly.

and for a second everything slows. his gaze lingers, not just on your eyes. it flickers. down to your lips. then back up again. then down again, like he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. your breath catches-just slightly. not enough to break the moment, just enough to feel it. the space between you feels smaller now, closer than before. and neither of you moves away. it’s him who moves first. he leans in just a little, his hand still loosely holding yours, his other resting beside him as his eyes search yours one last time, quiet, asking without words. you don’t pull back, so he closes the distance.

the kiss is soft at first, barely there. just the gentle press of his lips against yours, hesitant for half a second like he’s still figuring it out, like he’s still not fully believing he’s allowed to do this. but then you lean in, and that’s all it takes. something in him melts. his hand tightens around yours without thinking, his breath catching softly as the kiss deepens-not rushed, not messy, just… more certain. warmer. like he’s settling into it, like he’s finally letting himself feel it instead of overthinking every second.

your lips move slowly against his, unhurried, soft but intentional, the kind of kiss that lingers, that builds quietly instead of all at once. your free hand shifts, resting lightly against his shoulder. then sliding up, fingers brushing into his hair. a quiet, breathy sound slipping from him, almost like a small whine he didn’t mean to let out, his grip tightening again as he pulls you just a little closer without even realizing it. “h-hey-” he murmurs against your lips, but it doesn’t sound like he wants you to stop. not at all, if anything, he leans in again; like he needs it, like he’s chasing it now.

you shift slightly, moving without breaking the kiss, your knees pressing into the mattress as you turn toward him more fully- and then you’re closer, closer than before. your hand sliding down from his shoulder as you move, your body shifting until you’re settling onto his lap, the movement slow, natural, like it just happens without needing to be thought through. his breath catches again, sharper this time, his hands instinctively finding your waist like he needs something to hold onto, his fingers pressing lightly against you as his mind tries, and fails, to keep up.

“…w-wai-—” he stutters softly, but there’s no real resistance in it, no pull away, just the sound of someone overwhelmed in the best way possible. your lips meet his again, softer this time but deeper, your movements slower, more certain, your fingers still tangled lightly in his hair as you lean into him. the tension he always carries around you- gone, replaced with something warmer, something softer, something that makes his hands tighten slightly at your waist as he leans into the kiss instead of away from it.

his lips move against yours a little more confidently now, still gentle, still careful, but no longer hesitant. and when you finally pull back, your faces are still close. your breath mixing. his lips part just a little as he looks at you, completely flushed now, cheeks pink, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them, like he’s still trying to process what just happened. “…you’re-” he starts, then stops, clearly losing his train of thought. his hands are still on you; not moving, not letting go. “…you’re really distracting,” he finishes quietly. and this time- he doesn’t even try to hide it. “you know that?” he buries his face in the warm curve of your neck. his breath was slow and warm against your skin as he pressed lazy kisses there. one behind your ear, another trailing down your jaw. his hands, which had been resting on your waist, gripped your thighs and pulled you even closer, like he didn’t want a single inch of space between you.

you tilted your head, giving him more room, and a shiver ran down your spine when his lips found that little spot right behind your ear. his hands started to explore, slowly sliding up your back, pulling you into an embrace that was pure want. when he lifted his head, his dark eyes were half-lidded, focused on your mouth. you didn’t wait. you leaned in and kissed him. slowly at first. without thinking, your hips started to move. a slow, circular motion, a gentle grind in his lap. you felt his body tense beneath his sweats, and a muffled groan escaped sunghoon’s throat, swallowed by your mouth.

he matched your rhythm, lifting his hips to meet yours, creating a delicious friction that made you bite down on his lip a little harder. his sweatpants did nothing to hide how hard he was, and the feeling of him pressing against you, even through the fabric, was almost unbearably good. sunghoon’s hands slid up your ribs slowly, then moved to the front. he cupped your breasts, his fingers finding your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. he squeezed, and a gasp escaped your lips.

the room felt hotter. both of you were breathing heavy, more ragged. you could feel your own heart racing as the pace quickened. suddenly, he stopped. the kiss just ended. he pulled his face back, panting, his chest rising and falling. his hands, which had been on your breasts, moved quickly to cover his own face. there was something strange in his expression, almost like he was embarrassed. “what is it?”

“i’ve never- i”  his voice breaks off, quiet and uneven, like the words get stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat. for a second, he can’t even look at you. his hands slide down from his face slowly, but his gaze stays lowered, fixed somewhere near your shoulder instead of your eyes, his breathing still not fully steady. there’s a faint shake in the way he exhales, like he’s trying to calm himself down but isn’t quite succeeding. “…not like that,” he finishes finally, softer this time, almost under his breath.

he swallows, his jaw tightening slightly before he forces himself to look at you again- and when he does, there’s something new in his expression. not just flustered. not just shy, vulnerable. “i just—” he starts again, slower this time, like he’s choosing every word carefully. “i don’t… usually… lose control like that.” his fingers curl slightly against his lap, like he’s still grounding himself, still trying to come back to where he feels safe. “…especially not with someone i-”

he stops, the sentence hangs there. unfinished, but it doesn’t need to be, he exhales quietly, shaking his head just a little, like he’s frustrated with himself for not being able to say it properly. “…i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he adds instead, his voice softer now, more careful. “or rush anything.”

his eyes finally meet yours properly again. and he doesn’t look away this time. “i just… really like being around you,” he says, quieter than before, but steadier now. “and i didn’t want to mess that up.” his hand shifts slightly on the bed, closer to yours without fully touching it yet, like he’s still unsure where he stands, like he’s waiting without making it obvious.

“…teach me?” he adds, his voice low, careful, like he’s not even sure if he should be asking, but still does anyway. it’s not long after your clothes are scattered all over the room. things got heated pretty quickly, and before you could even blink, he’s sitting in between your legs watching your hand as you show him-two fingers slipping into yourself, curling gently.  he watches your face as your mouth drops open. “like that?” he asks, already positioning his hand.

you gasp out a noise that shocks even you. “fuck- hoon”

he freezes. “too much?” you shake your head fast. “no-just-holy shit. your fingers are longer than mine.” he blinks, flushed. “is that… good?” you laugh breathlessly. “yeah. that’s good. that’s..really good.” he swallows and starts to move, slow and cautious. he watches your face like it’s a roadmap. you whimper when he curls them slightly—hitting a spot deep inside that makes your thighs jerk.

“there?” he asks, eyes wide. you nod frantically. “yes-right there-don’t stop-” the sounds are obscene now-slick, wet, constant. it echoes softly in the room, mixed with your sharp breathing and his shaky ones. his thumb brushes over your clit, lightly at first, but you buck into it. “oh my god,” he murmurs, stunned. “you’re dripping. i didn’t even know it could be like this.”

you’re flushed to your chest, gasping. “it’s ‘cause of you,” you whisper. “you’re doing everything right.” sunghoon presses in again, fingers curling deep, and you swear loudly. “you like that?” he asks, so shy and hopeful. you moan, clutching the sheets. “yes-yes—hoon, please-”

he obeys. he’s so careful, but so focused, curling with that perfect angle while rubbing tight circles with his thumb. your body can’t even handle it-you feel the heat coil impossibly tight, sharper than normal, wetter than normal. “hoon-”

“what? tell me, please, baby—”

“i—fuck—i think i’m gonna—” he groans. “please. i wanna see it, i wanna feel it.” that’s the last straw. your thighs clamp around his wrist, hips jerking wildly. your vision goes white as everything inside you snaps, the orgasm crashing through you so hard it rips a choked scream from your throat. but it doesn’t stop there.

there’s a sudden, humiliating gush—liquid squirting out around his fingers, soaking both of you, dripping onto the sheets. sunghoon groans, startled, but doesn’t pull away. he keeps his fingers moving a little, watching in total awe as you squirt all over his hand.

“holy fuck,” he breathes. you’re gasping, half sobbing, face burning hot. “oh my god,” you whimper. “i—shit—i don’t usually—” he’s staring at his soaked fingers. “you just… came everywhere,” he says reverently. you cover your face with one hand. “hoon- shut up—”

he’s grinning like an idiot, flushed and amazed. “i didn’t know girls could do that. that was—fuck. that was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.” you’re still twitching, thighs shaking. he finally eases his fingers out carefully, sticky and shining, and holds them up. “look at this,” he whispers, awestruck. you peek through your fingers, your face gets even redder. he catches your eye, suddenly shy. “…was that okay?” you let out a choked laugh. “okay? hoon, you made me squirt. that was more than okay.” his chest heaves. “so… i did good?”

“you did fucking perfect.” you drag him down for a kiss, slow and languid, letting him feel how wrecked you still are. his lips are so eager, even clumsy, but you love it. when you finally pull back, he’s panting, eyes dark. your gaze drifts lower, and you see the obvious, painful bulge straining his sweatpants. you bite your lip, heat rushing through you all over again. “hoon.”

he blinks. “huh?”

you raise an eyebrow, pointedly glancing at his lap. 

he looks down—then makes a strangled noise and covers himself with a hand. “fuck i-sorry-i can’t help it—” you catch his wrist, pulling his hand away. “don’t be sorry.” he gulps. “it’s just, i mean-watching you-feeling you, fuck, it was too much-”

you hum, dragging your fingers over his waistband. “looks like someone deserves a reward.” he stares at you, speechless. you smile sweetly. “want me to help you out?” “i’ve never..” sunghoon took a long deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. you are on your knees in front of him with your hands on his thighs and he’s sweating. “i’ve never did any of this.” he admits, covering his face with his hands. yeah, he was really embarrassed about his situation. 

“oh really? never?” you look up at him, your hands still trailing slow circles around his thighs. he tenses up almost immediately. “shh… i can make you feel good, ‘kay?”  his breath hitches as he feels your gentle touch on his thighs. he peeks at you through his fingers, his cheeks flushed a deep red. he's never been in this position before, and the uncertainty is making his heart race. “i- i don't know if i can...”

you smile as a sign of comfort. “oh i know you can, baby.” sunghoon bites his lower lip, his eyes darting between yours and your slow, soothing touches on his thighs. he's trying to relax, but his body is tense and ready to flee at any moment. he's never been touched like this before, and it's both terrifying and exciting. “just lay back for me and relax.” he hesitates for a moment, a mix of nervousness and curiosity clear in his eyes.  slowly, he begins to lower himself back onto the bed, his movements careful and deliberate. his heart is pounding in his chest as he lies down, propping himself up on his elbows to watch your moves. “good boy,” you look up at him for a second before taking off his shorts. 

a small gasp escapes his lips at your praise, his cheeks coloring even deeper with embarrassment and pleasure. he's fully laid back now, completely vulnerable, but trusting you. another sharp inhale leaves his mouth as his shorts are pulled down, revealing his bare thighs and the hem of his boxers. he spreads his thighs slightly, allowing you to remove his shorts completely.

“just relax,” you repeat. sunghoon takes a deep breath, trying to focus on your calming voice and the gentle touches of your hands on his skin. he closes his eyes, his brows furrowed in concentration as he attempts to relax his tense muscles. you slide down his underwear, gasping at how big he is. “fuck..” 

his body jolts as his underwear is removed, exposing him completely. his eyes fly open, and a small, embarrassed whimper escapes his lips. he's completely bare and exposed in front of someone for the first time. you gently start to stroke him, making sure he isn’t uncomfortable. as your gentle touch lands on his most intimate area, he tenses. It’s overwhelming. he looks down his body, watching as you stroke him softly, his mind reeling and his body trembling. 

then suddenly, he cums hard, making his eyes widen in shock as his body suddenly erupts in a climax. his small frame shakes as he cums all over his stomach and chest. he lets out a high-pitched, embarrassed scream, his face flushing bright red as he's overcome with the intensity of his first orgasm. “shitt baby…” you curse, letting out a small chuckle at how fast he came.his body continues to tremble as he comes down from his high, embarrassment washing over him in waves. he covers his face with his hands, mumbling through his fingers “i- I’m sorry... that was so fast..."

“no- no not at all, it was good for your first handjob, don’t worry about it.” you smile. relief washes over him, realizing you weren't disappointed by how quickly he finished. he bites his lower lip, glancing down at the mess on his stomach before shyly meeting your eyes again. the room settles into something softer again. not tense, not overwhelming, just warm, a little quiet, the kind of calm that comes after everything slows down and neither of you feels the need to rush away from it.

sunghoon shifts first, he’s still moving carefully around you, still aware of you in every little way. his hand brushes lightly against your arm before he sits up slightly, glancing at you with that same soft expression he’s been carrying, a little flushed but not embarrassed, just… tender. “hey,” he murmurs quietly. you look at him, a small hum leaving you. “hm?”

“hold on,” he says softly. there’s something about the way he says it; calm, reassuring, that makes you not even question it. you just watch him as he moves around your room a little, grabbing what he needs, his movements a little more focused now, like he has something to do. when he comes back, he’s gentle, careful. the way his hands move, light, slow, attentive, it doesn’t feel awkward or rushed. it feels… thoughtful- like he’s taking care of you in a way that comes naturally to him, even if it’s new territory. “…you’re really sweet, you know that?” you murmur quietly.

he pauses for a second, glancing up at you, his ears tinting just slightly pink—but this time, he doesn’t hide it. “…i’m just helping,” he says softly. “yeah,” you smile faintly. “still counts.” he huffs a quiet breath at that, shaking his head a little, but there’s a small smile there anyway. you both shift back onto the bed, the space feeling calmer now, softer than before. you lay down first, pulling the blanket up slightly, and sunghoon follows without hesitation this time, moving beside you like he belongs there.

he doesn’t keep distance, he turns slightly toward you, his arm slipping around you naturally, like it’s already become something familiar, something he doesn’t need to think about anymore. you move closer without even realizing it, your head resting against his chest, your hand sliding there too, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm. your leg drapes over his, and he adjusts slightly, just enough to make it easier for you. his hand rests against your side, thumb brushing lightly back and forth in slow, absentminded movements that feel almost grounding. neither of you speaks right away. you just… breathe. together.

“jake texted me earlier,” you murmur. he hums quietly in response, his fingers still moving gently against your side. “yeah?” “he said there’s another party this weekend,” you continue, your tone light, a hint of amusement slipping in. “asked if we’re going.” there’s a small pause. you lift your head just slightly, glancing up at him. “you wanna go?”

sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. not because he’s unsure, but because he’s thinking. then he exhales softly, his hand stilling for a second before resuming that slow, gentle movement against you. “…yeah,” he murmurs. “we can go.” you smile instantly, the corner of your lips lifting as you shift slightly against him again. “yeah?” you tease lightly. “you sure about that?” he glances down at you, brows pulling together just a little in mock confusion. “…why wouldn’t I be?” you tilt your head, smiling. “because you’re gonna stand there with that stupid wa-” a soft laugh escapes him, low and quiet, his chest moving slightly under your cheek.

“hey, stop that…it’s not stupid,” he mutters. “it is,” you grin. “you hold it like it’s your emotional support water.” he huffs at that, shaking his head a little. “…at least i’m hydrated.” you laugh softly, settling back against him. “you’re ridiculous.”

“…you like it,” he replies, just as quietly. “…yeah,” you murmur.

the music playing softly from your phone fills the room, something light and upbeat, barely loud enough to distract, but enough to make the moment feel a little more alive. you stand in front of your mirror, adjusting your outfit for what feels like the hundredth time, smoothing your hands over the fabric, tilting your head slightly as you check how everything falls.

behind you, sunghoon is sitting on your bed. he’s quiet, but not really. because you can feel it. his eyes, on you. you don’t even have to turn around to know he hasn’t looked away since he got there. you reach for your lip gloss, applying it slowly, deliberately, catching his reflection in the mirror for just a second, and yep, still staring.

“…what’s got you so focused, hm?” you ask, glancing at him through the mirror, your tone light but teasing.

he blinks, like he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “…what?” he says, a little too quickly. you turn slightly now, leaning your hip against the desk as you look at him properly, raising a brow. “you’ve been staring at me for like five minutes.”

his ears turn pink almost instantly. “i haven’t-” he starts, then stops, realizing he definitely has. he exhales quietly, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to play it off but failing just a little. “…okay, maybe a little,” he admits, softer now. “creep,” you tease lightly.

he scoffs under his breath, but there’s no real defense in it. “…you’re just taking forever,” he mutters. “oh, so now it’s my fault?” you laugh softly, turning back to the mirror. “didn’t say that.”

“you implied it.”

“i didn’t-” yYou cut him off with a small shake of your head, smiling to yourself as you reach for your perfume. “relax, hoon.” you spray it lightly, the soft vanilla scent filling the air almost instantly, warm and familiar, settling against your skin. and before you can even set the bottle down, his presence behind you. his arms slide around your waist slowly, naturally, like he’s gotten used to this kind of closeness, like he doesn’t hesitate anymore. your breath hitches just slightly as he leans in, his face dipping closer to your neck, his voice low, softer than before, but more confident now. “…you smell so good,” he murmurs, the words brushing against your skin, warm, quiet. you giggle softly, your hands coming up to rest over his arms where they’re wrapped around you.

“thank you,” you murmur, tilting your head just slightly toward him. you turn your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder, smiling. “we can go now,” you say softly. “I’m ready.” he nods, but he doesn’t let go immediately, just holds you there for a second longer, before finally pulling back, a small smile still on his lips. “…okay,” he says. and even though it’s just a party, it already feels like the best part was before it even started.

the music hits harder the moment you both step fully inside, the bass vibrating through the floor and up into your chest, blending with laughter, voices, and the constant movement of people brushing past one another. the air is warmer here, heavier, filled with that familiar mix of cheap alcohol and something sweet lingering in the background.

sunghoon’s hand settles instinctively against your lower back as you walk in, not hesitant anymore, just natural. his touch is light, but steady, guiding you through the crowd without needing to say anything, his fingers adjusting slightly every time someone passes too close, like he’s making sure you don’t get lost in the chaos of it all. you don’t even think about it, leaning into the contact just a little, your body syncing with his pace as you move further inside.

“yo-there you are,” jake’s voice cuts through the noise, easy and familiar. he’s already grinning when he reaches you, a red cup in his hand, his eyes flicking between you and sunghoon in a way that’s quick, but not unnoticeable. he takes in the small details; the closeness, the way sunghoon’s hand is still resting against you, the way you don’t pull away.

for a second, it looks like he might say something. but he doesn’t. instead, he just lets out a short laugh, shaking his head like he’s already clocked everything and decided to leave it alone, for now. “you guys took forever,” he says, nudging sunghoon lightly. “some of us have standards,” you shoot back without missing a beat. “some of us don’t need a full production to get ready,” he grins.

“watch it,” you point at him, but you’re smiling. jake just laughs again, lifting his cup slightly before nodding toward the side. “heeseung’s over there, by the speakers, go save him from talking to people he doesn’t like.” you glance over, spotting heeseung almost immediately, then look back at sunghoon, your hand brushing lightly over his arm before you step away. “i’ll be right there,” you say, your voice softer now. he nods easily this time, no hesitation. “…yeah, go,” he says, his hand slipping from your back as you move.

you fall into conversation with heeseung almost instantly, laughter coming easily, the two of you talking over the music, leaning in slightly just to hear each other properly. it feels familiar, comfortable, like slipping back into something you’ve known for a long time. but even then, you’re aware. of him. you don’t look right away, but you feel it; that quiet presence nearby, not hovering, not awkward, just… there. and sure enough, when you glance to the side- sunghoon is already making his way back.

he’s not stiff, not standing off to the side with that same unsure posture he had before. He moves more easily through the crowd, shoulders relaxed, one hand holding two drinks without overthinking it. he steps up beside you, close enough that your arm brushes his as he hands one to you. you glance at it, then at him. a slow smile spreads across your face.

“no water?” you tease, raising a brow. he huffs softly, but there’s a small smile there, easy, unbothered. “…got a beer this time,” he says, lifting it slightly like proof. you blink, exaggerated. “oh, wow. big night.” heeseung snorts beside you. sunghoon just shakes his head, more amused than flustered now. “it’s just one,” he says. “mmhm,” you hum, taking a sip. “progress.” he leans slightly closer, just enough so you can hear him over the music. “…don’t make it a thing.”

“too late.” he rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

time moves without you noticing. the music shifts, the crowd grows, conversations blur into each other, and at some point, the drink in your hand is half-empty and the warmth settles into your chest in that light, easy way.

you turn toward him again, your movements a little looser now, a small smile already playing on your lips. “hoon,” you say, leaning closer so he can hear you. he looks at you immediately, like he’s been half-waiting for it. “hm?” you tilt your head slightly. “dance with me.” there’s a brief pause, but it’s different this time. he doesn’t freeze, doesn’t overthink it. he just exhales softly, then nods. “…yeah, okay.” you take his hand without hesitation, fingers slipping into his as you start leading him toward the dance floor, weaving through the crowd with a small, determined smile on your lips.

people are everywhere, shoulders bumping into yours, bodies shifting unpredictably, someone laughing too loudly right next to you as you try to squeeze past. at one point, you have to pull him a little closer just to get through a tighter space, your hand tightening around his as you guide him behind you. “sorry-” you mutter once or twice, though you’re already moving again before anyone really responds. sunghoon doesn’t resist. if anything, he stays close, letting you lead him through it all, his hand steady in yours, his other instinctively hovering near your back whenever someone gets too close, like he’s making sure you don’t get pushed around in the chaos.

where the music is louder, the bass heavier, and everything feels just a little more alive. the center of the room is louder, the bass heavier, the music pulsing stronger as you pull him with you, your fingers brushing his before catching his hand fully.

at first, his movements are a little off, like he’s still figuring it out, but he’s not stiff anymore. there’s no tension in his shoulders, no awkward hesitation holding him back. he just needs a second. you step closer, your hands finding his arms lightly, guiding him just enough. “relax,” you say, smiling. “i am relaxed,” he replies, but there’s a small laugh in it now. you raise a brow. he exhales, shaking his head slightly. “…okay, i’m getting there.”

“that’s better.” and slowly, he does. his movements loosen, his posture softens, and instead of focusing on everything around him, he focuses on you, on your rhythm, on the way you move. at some point, he laughs, quiet, but real, and it catches you off guard enough to make you smile wider. because he’s enjoying it. actually enjoying it.

when the song ends, you’re both a little breathless, your hand still loosely brushing his as you step back slightly. then you spot them, your friends. “oh—wait,” you say, glancing back at him. “that’s layla and alex, i haven’t seen them in forever.” he follows your gaze, then looks back at you, nodding easily. “…go,” he says, no hesitation. you hesitate just for a second, then lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips warm against his skin for just a brief moment. “don’t disappear,” you murmur. he lets out a quiet breath, a small smile forming almost immediately. “…i won’t.”

you pull back, already turning, weaving through the crowd toward your friends. sunghoon stays where he is for a moment, watching you go, not in a distant way, not disconnected, just… present. his fingers lift slightly, brushing over the spot where you kissed him, more out of habit than anything else. then he exhales softly, shaking his head a little to himself, a faint smile still there. “…okay,” he murmurs. he takes another sip of his beer, the taste unfamiliar but not unpleasant, then makes his way over to the couch, sitting down comfortably this time, one arm resting along the back as he leans into it slightly.

he doesn’t realize how long he’s been looking at you, it’s not obvious, not in a way anyone else would notice. he’s leaned back against the couch, one arm resting loosely along the backrest, the other holding his drink, his posture relaxed in a way that would’ve felt impossible for him just a few days ago. but his eyes keep finding you. across the room, you’re laughing; head tilted back slightly, hand brushing your hair away from your face as one of your friends says something, your whole expression lit up in a way that makes something in his chest settle warm and easy. every now and then, you glance back, just for a second, and when your eyes meet his, you smile.

“yo.” the voice comes from his side, slightly slurred, too loud compared to everything else around him, sunghoon glances over. jake drops onto the couch beside him, not gracefully at all, one arm slinging over the back as he exhales loudly, clearly a few drinks past where he should be.

“…you’re just sitting here?” jake says, squinting slightly at him. sunghoon huffs a quiet breath, a faint smile still lingering as he looks back toward you for a second before answering. “needed a break,” he says simply. jake follows his gaze, and sees you. “yeah,” he drags out, nudging sunghoon’s shoulder with his own. “i can see that.”

sunghoon rolls his eyes lightly, taking a small sip of his drink. “…what’s that supposed to mean?” jake snorts, leaning his head back. “you’ve been staring at her for like-” he gestures vaguely, “-i don’t even know how long.”

sunghoon’s eyes flick back toward you for half a second. “…i wasn’t staring,” he says, but there’s no real defense in it, just something light, easy. jake turns his head slowly, squinting at him like he doesn’t believe that for a second. “right,” he says, dragging the word out, amused. “you just happen to be looking in the exact same direction she’s standing in.”

sunghoon rolls his eyes, but there’s a faint smile there anyway, his shoulders relaxed, posture loose in a way that would’ve been impossible for him here not that long ago. “…shut up,” he mutters. jake laughs, nudging him lightly. “nah, it’s cute,” he says, grinning. “you guys are like-always together now.” sunghoon exhales through his nose, but he doesn’t deny it, doesn’t even try. “…we hang out,” he says simply.

“you always hang out,” he corrects, leaning forward slightly now, pointing between him and you across the room. “you walked in together, you left together last time, you’re basically attached.” sunghoon glances back at you again, this time a little longer. “…so?” he says, quieter now, but still calm. jake shrugs. “nothing,” he says easily. “just saying.”

there’s a pause. then he leans back again, a small, almost careless laugh slipping out. “but you’re not like- taking it serious, right?”

the question lands weird; not heavy, not yet. just… off. sunghoon’s brows pull together slightly, his head turning toward jake. “…what?” jake waves a hand vaguely, like it’s nothing. “i mean,” he says, laughing under his breath, “after what she said, i don’t think it is.” that makes something in sunghoon’s chest shift. “…what do you mean?” he asks, slower now.

jake blinks at him, like the question surprises him, then laughs again, a little louder this time, shaking his head. “wait- you don’t know?”sunghoon doesn’t answer. he just looks at him, waiting. and something about that- something about the way he doesn’t laugh it off, doesn’t brush it away like before, makes jake hesitate.

“…i mean,” he starts again, his tone a little less sure now, but still loose, still careless, “she said it wasn’t serious. that you’re just-” he pauses, like he’s trying to remember. or maybe like he’s deciding how to say it, but he says it anyway. “…just fun to play with.” sunghoon doesn’t move, at all. jake keeps going,, because he doesn’t notice it yet, doesn’t see the way something just shifted completely beside him.

“like- you know,” he adds, shrugging, “not in a bad way, just… like she doesn’t really take it that serious. said you’re easy to mess with, easy to get a reaction out of.”he lets out a small laugh, like it’s just another joke. “just something to pass time with or whatever.”

the music is still loud, the bass pulsing through the room as the party carries on around him. people are still talking, laughing, moving without noticing anything different. across the room, you’re still there, smiling, exactly the same as before. but for sunghoon, everything goes quiet, not literally. but it feels like it.

his grip on the beer tightens just slightly, the condensation slipping against his fingers, cold and distant compared to the warmth that was there just seconds ago. his gaze doesn’t move right away, like his brain is trying to catch up to something it doesn’t want to process. “…what?” he says finally.

“what the fuck are you talking about, jake,” he says, his voice low, controlled, but there’s something under it now, something tighter. jake snorts, leaning back into the couch like this is just another dumb conversation. “bro, relax,” he laughs, waving a hand lazily. “i’m just saying what she said.” sunghoon finally turns his head slightly toward him, not fully, just enough.

he just shrugs again, taking a careless sip from his drink. “yeah, I don’t know, man,” he mutters, slurring just slightly. “it’s not that deep, broski.” the music doesn’t stop. the bass is still heavy, vibrating through the floor and up through his chest, people still moving around him, laughing too loud, talking over each other like nothing has changed, like nothing shifted in the last few seconds. someone brushes past him, another voice rises somewhere behind him, glasses clink, a burst of laughter cuts through the noise, but for sunghoon, it all feels..wrong now. distant, Like he’s sitting in the middle of it, but not really there anymore, like everything’s happening just a little too far away.

the words don’t leave. they don’t get swallowed by the music or drowned out by the noise. repeating, again and again, like his mind latched onto them and refuses to let go.

she’s just playing with you.

his grip tightens around the beer without him even realizing it, his fingers curling slightly as the cold condensation slips against his skin, the chill grounding in the worst way possible, because everything inside him feels too warm, too tight, too unsettled. his jaw clenches faintly, his gaze drifting back toward you before he can stop it. across the room, you’re still there. still laughing, head tilted back slightly, your hand brushing your friend’s arm as you react to something they said, your smile wide, easy, effortless in a way that just seconds ago felt comforting.

now, it feels different. or maybe he’s the one who’s different.

it wasn’t serious.

something in his chest pulls tight, like something is pressing down on it from the inside.

he’s just fun to play with.

his breathing shifts, subtle at first, then uneven, like his body is trying to keep up with something his mind already spiraled into. his thoughts start moving too fast, overlapping, stacking on top of each other until he can’t separate one from the next.

just something to pass time with.

his fingers loosen slightly around the cup, like he forgot he was holding it in the first place, like his body is lagging behind his thoughts. “…right,” he mutters under his breath, but it doesn’t sound like agreement. It doesn’t even sound like confusion anymore. his gaze stays on you for a second longer than it should. watching the way you move, the way you smile, the way you look so completely unaffected; like nothing between you carries weight. like it never did. and something in his chest twists tighter.

it was all just a game.

his stomach drops slightly, that slow, sinking feeling settling in deeper with every second. he leans forward, placing the beer down on the table in front of him, his movements controlled, almost too careful, like he’s trying not to draw attention, trying not to let anything show.

it didn’t mean the same thing to her.

“…yeah,” he breathes out quietly, shaking his head just slightly, like that’ll clear it, like that’ll stop the thoughts from repeating. then, he stands. but he does it slowly, steadily. like if he moves too fast, something worse might happen, like everything he’s holding in might spill out in a way he can’t control.

his hands fall to his sides, fingers flexing slightly, his posture still composed, but only just. and then he turns, and walks. before he says something. before he does something. before he looks at you again and can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. and this time, he doesn’t look back.

the music is still loud when you make your way back, your body still carrying that light, warm buzz from earlier, your steps a little slower as you weave through the crowd again. you’re smiling to yourself, still half caught up in whatever your friends were saying, already looking toward the couch, toward him.

but when you get there, you stop. because it’s not him, it’s jake; slouched back into the couch, one arm thrown lazily over the back, his head tilted slightly like he’s barely holding himself upright, his drink hanging loosely from his hand. sunghoon’s not there. the spot where he was sitting is empty. your brows pull together slightly, the small smile on your lips fading just a little as you glance around quickly, scanning the nearby area like maybe he just stepped away for a second, but he’s not there.

“hey,” you say, stepping closer, your voice raised just enough over the music. he turns his head slowly toward you, blinking like it takes effort to focus, his expression loose, unfocused. “hm?” he hums. “where’s hoon?” you ask, your tone casual at first, but there’s something under it now, something more aware. jake squints at you like he’s trying to process the question. then he lets out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly. “dunno,” he mutters, his words slurring together just a little. “he was just-here…”

he gestures vaguely to the empty space beside him, like that explains anything. you frown slightly. “did he say where he was going?” you press, glancing around again, your chest tightening just a little. jake shrugs, sinking further into the couch. “nah,” he mumbles, barely coherent now. “he just—got up… said something… i don’t- ” his voice trails off, his attention already drifting somewhere else.

you stare at him for a second longer, trying to piece together something useful from whatever he just said, but there’s nothing. nothing that makes sense. “…okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. your fingers curl slightly around your phone as you step back, your eyes scanning the room one more time, just in case you missed him somehow. you didn’t, so you pull your phone out. unlock it. your thumb hovers over his name for just a second, your message is quick.

you: where did you go?

for a second, you just stare at the screen, your thumb hovering like you expect the three little dots to appear immediately, like he’s going to answer the way he usually does; quick, easy, like he’s already halfway through typing before you even finish your sentence.

but nothing happens. no typing, no read. just delivered.

you press your lips together slightly, your brows pulling in just a bit as you lift your head, glancing back up into the crowd again, scanning faces, movements, trying to catch even a glimpse of him somewhere between the shifting bodies and flashing lights. he’s not near the couch, not by the kitchen, not anywhere you can see. you take a few steps forward, weaving slightly through people again, your eyes moving more carefully this time, slower, more intentional, like maybe you just missed him before, like he’s standing somewhere just out of sight. but he isn’t.

you glance back down at your phone again. still nothing. the message sits there, unanswered. you hesitate for a second, your thumb hovering again before you type another one.

you: are you okay?

you hit send before you can overthink it. and this time, you don’t look up right away.

the music keeps playing, people still laughing around you, someone bumping into your shoulder lightly as they pass, but you barely register it. your focus stays on the screen, waiting. but still, delivered. you swallow slightly, your fingers tightening just a bit around your phone as you lift your gaze again, scanning the room one more time. he’s really not here.

the night air is colder than expected, brushing against his skin, grounding in a way the party wasn’t, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t clear anything. If anything, it makes everything sharper. every thought, every word, every moment replaying in a loop he can’t seem to shut off.

she’s just playing with you.

his jaw tightens slightly as he exhales through his nose, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his steps steady but automatic, like he’s not really thinking about where he’s going anymore. because he knows. he just… doesn’t want to think about why he feels like this. but he does anyway. your smile, that’s what sticks. not what jake said, not at first. it’s your smile; the way you looked across the room, eyes finding his like you always do, soft, familiar, like nothing had changed, like everything between you still meant something. and maybe that’s what makes it worse. because now, he doesn’t know if it did.

by the time he gets home, everything feels heavier, quieter. the door shuts behind him with a soft click, and for a second, he just stands there, unmoving, his hand still resting on the handle like he hasn’t fully stepped back into himself yet. his phone buzzes. once, then again. the sound cuts through the silence of his room, sharp, insistent, pulling his attention down to his pocket. he knows it’s you. he doesn’t need to check. still, he pulls it out, his thumb brushing over the screen just enough for it to light up.

you: where did you go?  you: are you okay?

your name sits there at the top. your messages right under it. they’re simple, concerned. so… you.

his eyes linger there for a second longer than they should, but then he locks the screen again. he just lets the phone drop onto the counter beside him, the faint sound of it hitting the surface echoing slightly in the quiet.

the shower runs hotter than usual; steam quickly filling the space, fogging up the glass, the mirror, everything around him until the room feels smaller, more closed in.

but even then, it doesn’t help. water runs down his face, his hair, his shoulders, but he’s not really paying attention to it. His hands rest flat against the cool tile for a second, his head tilting forward slightly as he exhales, slow and uneven. and his mind doesn’t stop. it keeps drifting back..to you

to the way you laughed earlier, nudging him lightly during studying, the way you leaned over his shoulder, pretending to focus but clearly not, your voice soft and teasing as you distracted him on purpose. to the late nights, messages that never really ended, conversations that stretched longer than they should’ve, turning into something else without either of you saying it out loud. to the photobooth. gosh that damn photobooth, the way your faces were too close, your smiles softer in the last picture, your foreheads touching like it just… happened, like it meant something. his breath stutters just slightly at the memory, his eyes closing for a brief second as the water keeps running, warm against his skin. he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, the water mixing with the tension sitting too tight in his chest.

by the time he steps out, the bathroom is filled with steam, the mirror completely fogged over, the air warm and heavy around him. towel wrapped low around his waist, damp hair dripping slightly, water trailing down his neck and shoulders as he reaches for his phone again, almost without thinking. the screen lights up, your messages still there; unread, unopened, waiting. he stares at them for a long moment, longer than he should. his thumb hovers over the screen, like he’s about to open them. about to say something. anything. but instead, he taps into the chat.

why did you say that?

he stares at it, but then deletes it, and types again.

did any of it mean anything to you?

his jaw tightens, delete.

sunghoon: went home.

he sends it, immediately. before he can change his mind, before he can think about it too much.

he drops the phone back onto the counter like it suddenly weighs too much, running a hand through his damp hair before turning away from it completely. he doesn’t look at the screen again, doesn’t wait for your reply. he just walks out of the bathroom, the quiet of his room settling around him as he moves to get dressed, his movements slower now, more absent, like his mind is still somewhere else.

the morning feels heavier than usual. not just because of the headache pulsing faintly behind your eyes, or the way your body still feels a little sluggish from the night before, but because something feels… off.

you notice it the moment you step onto campus. the air feels the same. people are walking past you, talking, laughing, rushing to their classes like they always do. nothing’s changed. but something’s missing, and you don’t need to think too hard to know what it is. your eyes drift automatically- down the usual paths, past the spots where you’d normally catch a glimpse of him, where he’d already be waiting or walking toward you without you even texting first, but he’s not there. you press your lips together slightly, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you keep walking, telling yourself not to read into it too much. maybe he’s just late, maybe he didn’t sleep well, maybe- yeah its time to stop now.

by the time you sit down in the lecture hall, your head still faintly aching, you’re already scanning the room without even meaning to. the seat next to you stays empty. you set your things down slowly, your movements a little more distracted now, your eyes flicking toward the door every few seconds like you expect him to walk in at any moment, slightly out of breath, hair messy, giving you that small, apologetic look before sitting down beside you.

but minutes pass, students keep filing in, the professor starts setting things up. and he’s still not there. your fingers tap lightly against your phone where it rests on your desk. you hesitate for a second. and then pick it up.

you: seat next to me is free

you stare at the message for a second, then add-

you: just in case you’re running late

you hit send before you can overthink it, your phone stays in your hand.

read. that’s it, no reply.

your stomach dips just slightly, but you swallow it down quickly, locking your phone and setting it back on the desk like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t expect anything more.

he’s probably just busy.

the class ends, but the feeling doesn’t go away. if anything, it lingers. you don’t text him again right away. you don’t want to seem… clingy, or weird, or like you’re overthinking something that might not even be what you think it is.

by the time you get to the café, it’s quieter than usual. the familiar space wraps around you easily, the same table, the same spot where you always sit together, where your books are already spread out in front of you like they always are. like everything is normal. except, he’s not there. you glance at the door once. you check the time, he’s not late, not that late. but still, something in your chest tightens just a little.

you: are you coming? you: i’m already here

you hit send, this time, the reply doesn’t take long. your phone buzzes almost immediately.

sunghoon: can’t make it today

no explanation, no “sorry”, no “next time.” just that.

you stare at the message for a second longer than you should, your brows pulling together slightly as your thumb hovers over the screen again.

you: oh you: everything okay?

sunhgoon: yeah. just busy.

you sit there for a second, your phone still in your hand, your books open in front of you, the empty chair across from you suddenly feeling more noticeable than it ever has before. and for the first time, you don’t tell yourself it’s nothing. because it doesn’t feel like nothing anymore. you’re still standing there, your phone is still in your hand.

yeah. just busy.

you read it again, and again. like maybe the words will change if you stare at them long enough, like maybe you missed something hidden between them, something softer, something more like him, but there’s nothing there. just the same flat tone, the same distance sitting in those three words like they don’t belong to the person you’ve been talking to for days, weeks, like they don’t belong to the person who used to text you like he actually wanted to.

your thumb hovers over the screen again, but you don’t type. because what are you even supposed to say to that? your fingers tighten slightly around your phone instead, your other hand pressing lightly against the edge of the table as you sit there, the empty chair across from you pulling your attention over and over again like it’s louder than anything else in the café.

he should be there, he’s always there. leaning back slightly, sleeves pushed up just enough, pen in his hand, looking at you over his notes like he already knows you’re not paying attention. you blink, and the image disappears.  your chest tightens a little at that. you inhale slowly, trying to shake it off, trying to tell yourself it’s not that deep, that he said he’s busy, that people get busy, that it’s normal, that this, this doesn’t mean anything. but it doesn’t feel like nothing.

did you do something? did you say something wrong?

you don’t feel so sure anymore. and that uncertainty settles in your chest, heavy and slow, making it harder to just brush this off as nothing, making it harder to pretend that this distance isn’t real.

your room is quiet; not the comfortable kind of quiet you’re used to, not the one that comes with soft music playing in the background or the low hum of your own thoughts settling into something productive. this one feels… heavy, like everything just stopped without asking you first.

your books are open in front of you, pages filled with notes that should make sense by now, diagrams you’ve seen before, terms you know you went over with him, but none of it is sticking. you’ve been staring at the same section for longer than you want to admit. reading the same sentence again. and again, and again. and somehow, it feels even more confusing now than it did before. your pen rests loosely between your fingers, unmoving, your focus drifting not to the page, but somewhere else entirely. you exhale quietly, leaning back slightly against your headboard, your eyes closing for just a second as you press your fingers lightly against your temple, trying to ease the lingering headache that never really went away after last night. it’s not just the exhaustion, it’s everything else. because now that you think about it, he really did help you. a lot. more than you realized at the time.

the way he explained things slowly, patiently, like he didn’t mind repeating himself until it finally clicked for you, the way he’d notice when you were zoning out and gently pull you back without making you feel stupid for it. the way studying with him never actually felt like studying. your eyes open slowly, drifting back down to the mess of notes in front of you, your brows pulling together slightly as you try, really try, to focus this time. you read a line, pause and try to make sense of it, but your thoughts don’t stay there. they drift again. back to the café, back to his messages. yeah. just busy. your chest tightens slightly. “…right,” you murmur under your breath, though it doesn’t sound convincing.

because if he was just busy, why does it feel like this?

you let out a slow breath, setting your pen down beside your notebook, your shoulders sinking just a little as the weight of it all settles in again. your phone lies next to you on the bed. you glance at it without meaning to, like you’re expecting something, like you want something. even if you’re not sure what.

9:04 pm. yeah well, it feels later than that.

your fingers tap lightly against the mattress as you stare at nothing in particular, your thoughts circling the same questions again, the same confusion, the same quiet ache that hasn’t really left you all day.

was it something you said? something you did? did you-

your phone buzzes. the sound cuts through the silence so suddenly it makes you flinch slightly, your heart jumping in your chest as your eyes snap toward it. for a second, you just stare at the screen. then when you reach for it, and pick it up. you see the name at the top, and your breath catches.

sunghoon.

your breath catches for a second when his name appears. it’s not even a long pause, just enough for your fingers to hesitate before unlocking your phone, like part of you is bracing for something you can’t quite predict. you open the message, and immediately, something feels off.

sunghoon: so it mean nothint hm?

your brows pulling together slightly as your eyes move over the sentence again, slower this time. the words feel… off. messy, like they weren’t thought through, just thrown out. your stomach dips, your fingers move before you can stop them.

you: ??

you send it. and this time, the reply comes almost instantly.

sunghoon: you said it wanst serius ribht sunghoon: jus fun haha

you stare at it, your lips parting slightly. another message comes in before you can even process the first.

sunghoon: get smthn out of me or wgatever

your chest tightens now, the confusion starting to twist into something sharper, something more uneasy as the pieces don’t fully fit, but they’re close enough to make your stomach turn. “…what are you talking about…” you whisper to yourself. your fingers move again, quicker this time.

you: sunghoon are you drunk?  you: is everything okay?

sunghoon: so mow its sunfhoon huh

another one, right after.

sunghoon: not hoon ansmore?

your grip tightens around your phone, your brows pulling together as your heart starts to beat a little faster, not from panic, not yet, but from something unfamiliar, something off in the way he’s talking. because this isn’t just messy. it feels…wrong.

your brows knit together more deeply now, confusion twisting into something heavier, something sharper as you stare at the message, trying to understand what he means, why that sounds like an accusation when it shouldn’t. because you’ve always called him that, haven’t you? your eyes stay on the screen, your grip tightening just slightly around your phone as you reread his messages, trying to make sense of them, but nothing is landing the way it should. the typing bubble doesn’t come back this time. there’s just a pause, a stretch of silence that feels heavier than it should.

your phone starts ringing. you flinch a little at the sudden sound, your heart jumping as his name flashes across the screen again. he’s calling you. you stare at it for a second, like you weren’t expecting this, like you don’t know if you should pick up or not, but you do anyway, bringing the phone up to your ear.

“…hello?” your voice comes out softer than you intended. there’s noise on the other end. not clear, nor steady. just movement, breathing, something shifting. and then his voice; lower, rougher. “…open the door.” you freeze, your brows pull together immediately, confusion washing over your face as you sit up a little straighter on your bed. “…what?” you say, almost instinctively. “the door,” he repeats, a little uneven, like the words don’t come out as clean as they should. “just- open it.”

your grip tightens slightly around the phone, your heart picking up just a little, confusion twisting with something sharper now. “sunghoon, what are you talking about?” you ask, your voice more alert now. “what door-” a sound cuts you off. a knock; soft at first. then again, louder this time. your head turns toward your room door immediately, your breath catching slightly as your chest tightens, your mind trying to catch up to what’s happening. no. there’s no way-

you stand up before you even fully process it, your feet moving on their own as your phone stays pressed to your ear, your pulse quickening with every step you take toward the door. “…sunghoon?” you say again, quieter now. but he doesn’t answer. you reach for the handle slowly, your fingers hesitating for just a second before you finally pull it open. and the moment the door swings wide everything stops, because sunghoon is standing there.

for a second, you don’t even process it fully, like your brain needs a moment to catch up to what you’re seeing, to match the voice from the phone to the person in front of you. his eyelids are heavy, barely open, his gaze unfocused in that way that immediately tells you he’s not fully there, his hair is a mess, falling into his face like he ran his hands through it one too many times, and there’s something else, something that makes your chest tighten. his eyes. they’re red, glossy. like he’s been crying. “sunghoon-” your voice softens instantly, concern washing over everything else as you take a small step forward. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

he doesn’t answer, not really. he just looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to focus, like he’s trying to see you properly, and then he moves. or tries to. he stumbles slightly as he steps inside, brushing past you without waiting, without saying anything, his shoulder barely grazing yours as he walks further into your room like he knows the space, like he’s been here enough times that he doesn’t need to think about it. “hey-careful,” you murmur, instinctively reaching out, but he’s already moving away from your touch, already heading toward the couch. he drops onto it heavily. you close the door slowly behind him, your hand lingering on the handle for a second before you turn back, your eyes immediately finding him again. he’s slouched forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his hands hanging loosely between them, his head tilted down just enough that his hair falls over his eyes again.

“hoon…” you say softly, stepping closer, your voice quieter now, more careful. “you’re drunk.” it comes out almost like a whisper, like saying it too loudly might make it worse. he lets out a small, uneven breath at that, a quiet sound. not quite a laugh, not quite anything. “…am I really that easy?” the words land wrong.

your brows pull together immediately, confusion flashing across your face as you take another step closer, your heart starting to beat a little faster now, not from panic, but from something else. something you don’t understand yet. “…what?” you ask softly.

he lifts his head slightly then, just enough for you to see his eyes again, they don’t look the same, there’s something in them—something heavier, something that doesn’t belong there. “like you said,” he adds, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “easy.” your chest tightens, because now, now it sounds familiar. “…sunghoon, what are you talking about?” you ask again, your voice more careful now, more cautious, like you’re trying not to say the wrong thing without even knowing what the wrong thing is.

he exhales again, shaking his head slightly, like he can’t believe you’re asking that, like it doesn’t make sense to him that you don’t already know. “you told jake,” he mutters, his words slipping over each other slightly, slower now. “that i’m just-” he stops, swallows. his jaw tightens. “…fun,” he finishes quietly. “not serious. just… something to mess with.”

the room feels smaller suddenly. your eyes close for a brief second, your head tilting down just slightly as the pieces fall into place all at once, heavy and sharp and unavoidable.

jake, of course.

you inhale slowly. a quiet sigh slipping past your lips as you finally understand where this is coming from, why he’s been distant, why he’s been avoiding you, why everything suddenly changed without explanation. “…sunghoon,” you murmur softly. you hesitate for just a second, then step closer. you sit beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of him, but not close enough to fix anything, not yet. the silence stretches between you, heavy, fragile, like one wrong word could break it completely.

he exhales shakily, running a hand through his already messy hair before letting it fall back down, his fingers twitching slightly against his knee. For a second, it feels like he might just stay quiet, but he doesn’t. “then what was it, huh?” his voice comes out uneven, rougher now, a little sharper than before. not loud, but there’s something underneath it. something that’s been building. “all of it… what was that supposed to be?”

your chest tightens instantly. he lets out a small, bitter breath, shaking his head slightly like he’s trying to steady himself, but it’s not really working. “because i thought-” he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening, his gaze still fixed somewhere ahead of him instead of you. “i thought it meant something.” the words land heavier than anything else he’s said. not because they’re loud, but because they’re not, because they’re quiet, and real, and you can hear exactly how much they cost him to say.

“i thought you-” he swallows, his voice catching just slightly before he forces it out again, slower this time. “i thought we had something. like… something real. not just-” he huffs softly, frustrated, shaking his head again. “not just some joke.” your throat feels tight, you don’t know what to say, you don’t even know where to start. because hearing it like this, hearing it from him, like this- makes everything feel heavier than it did in your head, heavier than you expected it to feel.

and when he finally looks at you, it stops you completely. because there’s a tear. just one, quietly slipping down the side of his face, catching the light for a second before trailing lower, and it doesn’t match the way he’s trying to hold himself together, the way he’s trying to stay composed even now. something in your chest pulls tight, your breath catching as your own eyes sting almost instantly, your first instinct rising before you can think it through, to fix it, to tell him it’s okay. but you don’t even know how, because you don’t know what to say that would make this better.

“…hoon,” you whisper softly, your voice is barely there. your hands move before your thoughts catch up, lifting slowly, hesitating just for a second before you cup his face, your fingers warm against his skin, your thumbs brushing lightly under his eyes. you wipe the tear away carefully, like it’s something fragile, something you don’t want to make worse. he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans into it. like he didn’t realize how much he needed it until you did it. his eyes flutter for a second, his breath uneven as his hand shifts faintly against his knee, but he doesn’t stop you. your eyes stay on his, searching, softer now, more careful, more aware of every little shift in his expression. you inhale slowly. “…i’m sorry,” you whisper.

“i’m really sorry, hoon… i didn’t-” your voice catches slightly, your brows pulling together as you shake your head just a little. “i didn’t mean it like that. I swear I didn’t.” the words start coming easier after that, but not in a rushed way, just honest. “i didn’t think it would-” you stop, exhaling softly, your gaze dropping for just a second before coming back to him. “i didn’t think it would sound like that. or that it would get back to you like that.” your thumbs slow where they rest against his cheeks. “i wasn’t trying to make you look like that,” you add more quietly. “or… make you feel like that.”

he lets out a quiet breath, his eyes dropping away from yours again, his hand coming up to push lightly at your wrist, not enough to make you move, just enough to create a little space, like he needs it to think. “i trusted you,” he says. it’s not loud, but it lands heavier than anything else. “i told you things i don’t tell people,” he continues, his voice a little rougher now, a little more unsteady. “i let you-” he pauses, jaw tightening, like the words are harder to get out than he expected. “i don’t let people get that close.” your breath stills. because you can hear it now; not just the hurt, but the vulnerability behind it.

“and then i hear that i’m just…” he huffs softly, shaking his head, his gaze still not fully meeting yours. “something to play with? something easy?” his lips press together, his shoulders tensing slightly. “…it feels like you used it against me.” you feel it settle in your chest immediately, heavy and undeniable, your fingers faltering slightly against his face as your expression shifts, no longer just confused, no longer just apologetic. now you understand. not just what he heard, but what it did to him.

your hands lower slowly from his face, not pulling away completely, just resting lighter now, like you’re giving him the space he asked for without fully letting go. “…i know,” you say softly. and your voice is different now. “i know it sounded like that,” you continue, your eyes staying on him, not looking away this time. “and i know why you’d think that.”

“i shouldn’t have said it like that,” you admit quietly. “even if i didn’t mean it that way… i still said it. and it still hurt you.” your fingers curl slightly against your lap, your shoulders relaxing just a little as you let yourself sit in that truth instead of trying to escape it. “i wasn’t thinking about how it would sound,” you add, softer now. “or how it would make you feel if you heard it.”

“i didn’t mean you were nothing to me,” you say, your voice quieter, but steadier. “and i didn’t mean that this-” your gaze flickers between his eyes for a second, searching for the right words. “-was just a game.” you don’t rush the next part, you let it come naturally. “…because it’s not,” you finish softly. your eyes stay on his, even as they start to blur, even as your chest tightens and your throat feels too small to hold everything you need to say. your hands lift again, slower now, more certain, resting gently against his face like before, but softer this time, like you’re holding something you’re afraid to lose.

your breath trembles slightly. “…you’re enough, hoon,” you whisper. “i love you, park” the words come out quiet, barely above a breath. but they land between you like something real, something you can’t take back, something you don’t want to take back. “so much,” you add, your voice breaking just a little as your thumbs brush under his eyes again, catching the tears that keep slipping down his skin. “i didn’t realize how much until you weren’t there today, until everything felt… wrong without you.”

your own tears spill now, slow and warm, tracing down your cheeks as you shake your head slightly, your gaze never leaving his. “i missed you,” you continue softly, the words tumbling out now, honest, unfiltered. “i couldn’t focus, couldn’t think straight, everything just kept going back to you, your voice, the way you explain things, the way you look at me like i’m not completely lost even when i am-” a small, breathless laugh escapes you, shaky, emotional. “i like being with you,” you whisper, your fingers curling slightly against his skin. “i like how easy it feels, how safe it feels… you’re not something i play with, you’re not something temporary, you’re… you’re everything i didn’t expect to feel.” your voice softens even more, almost fragile now.

“i would never use you like that,” you murmur. “not you. not us.” you swallow, your breath uneven as your eyes search his again, trying to make sure he understands, trying to give him everything you couldn’t say before. more tears till slipping down his face, quiet and steady, even as he looks at you like he’s trying to process every word, like he doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing yet. your thumbs move instinctively again, wiping them away.“…i’m drunk,” he whispers.

a small smile breaks through, even through the tears, your head tilting just slightly as you let out a quiet breath. “…yeah,” you whisper back gently. “i know.” he doesn’t move away, he leans closer. close enough that your breaths start to mix, slow and uneven, the space between you barely there anymore. his forehead almost brushes yours, just hovering there like he’s unsure whether to close that last inch or not, like he’s holding himself in place by sheer will alone.

his eyes don’t leave yours, they search, carefully, quietly, like he’s trying to find something solid in them, something he can trust, something he can hold onto after everything that’s been sitting heavy in his chest. “…don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he murmurs, his voice low, slower than usual, each word deliberate despite the way they slightly blur together. there’s no anger left in it now, just something softer, fragile. “i won’t be able to pretend I didn’t hear it.”

your heart tightens immediately, not in a painful way, in a way that makes your chest feel too full all at once. your hands are still on his face, your thumbs resting lightly against his skin, and this time, you don’t hesitate. “i mean it,” you whisper back, your voice steadier now, even through the tears still clinging to your lashes. “i’ve never meant anything more.”

your fingers shift slightly, brushing gently along his jaw, grounding him, keeping him there with you. “i’m not taking it back tomorrow,” you add softly, your eyes flicking between his, making sure he sees it—all of it. “or the day after that. i’m not saying it because you’re here right now, I’m saying it because it’s been there and i just… didn’t realize it until i almost lost you.” his gaze doesn’t waver, but something in it changes, just a little. the tension eases, not completely, but enough for you to see it. enough for you to feel it.

your thumb brushes under his eye again, catching another tear before it can fall too far, your touch slower now, more intentional. “…you’re not easy,” you murmur. “you’re not something I’d ever play with. you’re the only person I’ve ever… felt like this with.” your voice softens even more. “and I don’t want to lose that.” you stay there- close, breathing the same air, everything else fading into the background like it doesn’t exist outside this moment.

and then, he leans in. slowly, giving you time, letting you pull away if you wants to, but you don’t, not even a little. your lips meet his softly, its a gentle, lingering kiss that feels more like a promise than anything else, your hand still resting against his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin as you stay close. and when you pull back just slightly, your forehead finally resting against his, you don’t move away.

a quiet breath leaves him as you stay close, your forehead still resting against his, your fingers lingering softly along his jaw like you’re afraid that if you let go, something fragile between you might slip again. for a moment, he just stays there, eyes half-lidded, breathing slower now, like the storm inside him finally settled just enough to let him feel everything else. a small, almost sheepish smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “…i’m never drinking again,” he whispers, voice low, a little hoarse, the words barely brushing against your skin with how close you still are. you huff out the faintest breath of a laugh, soft and warm, your nose almost brushing his as you tilt your head just slightly, your thumb still moving absentmindedly against his cheek.

“good,” you murmur gently. his smile lingers, but there’s something else behind it now, something quieter. more real. he shifts just enough to look at you properly again, his eyes searching yours the same way they were before, but softer this time. “…wish i could hear you say it while i’m sober,” he adds, voice quieter now, like it means more than he’s letting on, like it’s not just a joke. your hand slides slightly, fingers curling lightly at the back of his neck, keeping him close, not letting that distance come back. “you will,” you whisper. “i’ll say it again,” you add softly, your lips brushing just barely against his, not quite a kiss, just close enough to feel. “as many times as you need to hear it.”

the space between you stays small, almost nonexistent, your hand still wrapped around his like it found its place there and doesn’t want to let go. your thumb moves slowly against his skin, absentminded, grounding, like you’re not even thinking about it anymore, like your body just knows to keep him close. something in his expression softens again, quieter this time, less conflicted and more… certain. not reckless, just guided by feeling more than thought.

his hand shifts slightly, moving from where it rested near yours, sliding carefully along your arm, slow enough for you to notice, gentle enough that it doesn’t startle you. his touch is warm, steady, like he’s asking without saying anything out loud. he moves. guiding you back just a little at first, his other hand coming up instinctively to support you, to make sure you don’t lose balance as your back meets the couch. there’s nothing rushed in it, nothing forceful, just a quiet shift, like gravity pulling you both into something softer.

and then he’s there, hovering above you. he’s not pressing down, not overwhelming, just there, his weight held up by one arm beside you, the other still lingering lightly against you like he hasn’t decided whether to pull you closer or not. his face is near yours again. close enough that you can see the faint flush still on his cheeks, the way his lashes lower slightly as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips again, like he’s caught in that same quiet pull. your breathing is softer now, but not steady. because everything still feels a little too real, a little too new, like one wrong move might shift it again. “sunghoon…”

his name slips from your lips in a quiet, uneven exhale, softer than before, almost fragile, like you’re testing how it feels now, saying it like this, with everything that’s changed sitting between you. your eyes search his, slower now, more careful, like you’re trying to read him the same way he was reading you just moments ago. “…we shouldn’t.”

“why?" he breathes it against your skin, then shifts until he's half over you, bracing his weight carefully on his forearms so he can look down at your face. he needs to see you. “tell me why, because I can't think of a single reason right now. I can't think of anything but you." you're looking up at him and your expression is- god, you're going to destroy him.  you're looking at him like you've been holding something back too, like maybe he isn't the only one who's been keeping distance on purpose.

“because," you say, and it's not an answer, and you both know it's not an answer. “you're still drunk.” he traces his mouth up your cheek, the curve of it, your temple, the center of your forehead. he has spent weeks keeping himself from this and he refuses to rush now that he's finally here. every kiss is a confession he doesn't know how to make with words. every brush of his lips says I notice you and I think about you and you're the only person who has ever made me feel small and safe at the same time.

“you're so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, the words spilling out of him like a secret he can't keep anymore. “do you know that? do you have any idea what you do to me, just... existing?" his mouth reaches the corner of yours and he stops, waits. his heartbeat is embarrassingly loud in his own ears. and then you move first. you're the one who crosses the last impossible inch. you're the one who presses your lips into his, soft and certain, like you've decided something.

your lips are slow, consuming, devastatingly unhurried. like you've thought about how you'd do this and you are not going to let him rush you. he's been kissed before. not many times, but he has, and none of it felt like this, like being unmade.  he matches your rhythm, your pace, letting the fire catch slow, slow and sizzling and inevitable, like something that was always going to happen, like something that should have happened months ago, like maybe the whole weeks has just been them circling this moment and finally, finally falling in. the kiss softens before it deepens again, slower this time, more intentional. your hand stays at the back of his neck, keeping him close, while his slides along your side, hesitant at first, but not unsure. just careful, always careful. but there’s something else there too, something new. something warmer, needier. you feel it in the way he doesn’t quite pull back when he should. in the way his breath catches a little heavier than before, his forehead resting briefly against yours like he’s trying to steady himself—but doesn’t move away.

“…we should-” he starts, but the words don’t finish. because he doesn’t want to stop, not really. you shift slightly beneath him, your fingers brushing down his arm, grounding both of you at the same time. and for a moment, you just look at him. “sunghoon…” you murmur softly. “are you sure?” you ask quietly, your hand still resting against him, steady. “you’re not just… feeling this because you were drinking, right?” he stills at that. for the first time since everything started to blur into feeling instead of logic, you can actually see it on his face again, that hesitation, that awareness.

“i want you to remember this,” you add softly. “all of it.” his gaze meets yours properly this time, clearer, more present than before. “…i’m not that drunk,” he murmurs, quieter now. “i know what I’m doing.” and then, softer “i know it’s you.”

you sit up slowly, your hand finding his again, guiding him with you as you stand. he follows without question this time, his fingers tightening slightly around yours, like he doesn’t want to lose contact even for a second. you lead him toward your bedroom, not pulling, just guiding, and he lets you. when you stop near the bed, you turn toward him again, your hands still lightly holding his, your eyes searching his one more time, just to be sure. he doesn’t look away, not anymore. and when you move closer again, it’s slower than before, because you both know exactly what you’re choosing.

soon enough, iyou’re kneeling between his legs, fingers wrapping around him slowly, teasing, brushing over the slick head and thick shaft as he leans back against the headboard. his chest rises and falls fast, lips parted, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and the way he’s trembling makes your pulse race.

“ah…fuck…oh shit…” he whimpers, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white, barely holding himself still.  you lean closer, lips ghosting over the tip, flicking your tongue lightly, eliciting a guttural moan that vibrates through him. he jerks against your hand instinctively, hips bucking just slightly, eyes closing in bliss. “mm…” his voice is a low, ragged whine, barely words, just raw sounds of need and pleasure. you let out a soft mumble of satisfaction and wrap your lips around him slowly, taking him in, hand moving in perfect rhythm along his length, teasing him with a slow, steady stroke. he groans, head falling back against the pillow, fingers tangling in your hair. “f-fuck baby-“

you pull back just enough to swirl your tongue over the tip, suck gently, then push him back in your mouth, slow and sensual. every motion makes him whimper, a soft, broken sound, hips shifting against you, hands sliding down to your hair and face, holding you close, yet not stopping your movements. he’s gasping, whimpering, each sound more ragged and desperate than the last, unable to form coherent words, only letting pleasure escape in guttural, needy noises. your hand keeps time with your mouth, slowly jerking, teasing him, feeling him twitch and pulse against your fingers and lips. he moans again, deeper this time, a shaky groan of need, lips parted, chest rising and falling unevenly.

“mm….sweetheart..” he’s trembling now, hips jerking slightly with each careful stroke, his moans ragged, broken into soft whimpers. you watch him, savoring the way his body reacts, the way he’s lost in sensation, unable to speak, only letting every whimper, groan, and moan betray how good it feels. when you feel him start to falter, you slide yourself off the edge of the bed, letting him shift and flip you onto your stomach, body pressed into the mattress. his hands settle on your hips as he spreads your legs slightly, leaning down between them, head close to your core.

he’s quiet at first, just the faintest sigh escaping him as he buries his face in you, lips and tongue pressing, sucking, kissing, exploring. the only sounds are low groans and whimpers, each one vibrating through you. he’s completely lost, no words, just fully consumed by you, tongue gliding over your folds, sucking and teasing, lips and fingers working in tandem. he murmurs praises every once and a while, low and muffled against you, a small “such a pretty pussy, s-shit..” as his hand presses firmly into your hip, pulling you closer, letting you feel every inch of his attention. he moves slowly, savoring, head buried in you, groaning and whimpering softly, the only sounds the wet, sticky noises of his mouth devouring you, your own whimpers mingling with his. he shifts, curling a finger inside you while tongue teases your clit, soft moans vibrating through him, body trembling, utterly consumed.

“mmph! hoon—oh, oh my—“ you gasp out. he keeps the rhythm slow and deliberate, letting you writhe beneath him, fingers clutching the sheets, hips pressing back instinctively, matching the movements he guides you into. his groans are rough, urgent, lost in sensation, and every whimper from him sends shivers down your spine. you’re trembling too, entirely overwhelmed by the intimacy and intensity of him, the quiet focus, the way he’s completely lost in you, every lick, suck, finger curl calculated to drive you insane. the only sound to your pleasure is the wet, messy sounds of him eating you out, low, ragged moans, soft whimpers, the occasional shaky groan.

by the time you’re gasping, thighs trembling, body slick and flushed, he’s still buried in you, head buried, hands gripping your hips, groaning softly into the mattress, lost in your scent and taste, utterly consumed and speechless, letting every sound be a confession of how good it feels. 

but little do you know, he wasn’t done here.

and that's how you found yourselves on your bed, his head resting against the headboard, mouth slightly open and eyes closed. his hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin, leaving the imprint of his touch as you moved above him. each bounce sent waves of pleasure through both of you, his cock filling and stretching you completely. his muffled moans and whimpers filled the room, blending with the sound of your bodies slamming together. his hips thrust upwards to meet your movements, matching your rhythm perfectly. “look at me,” you murmured through a soft moan, your hands clutching his shoulders for stability as you rode him, the sensation of his hard muscles grounding you.  his eyes fluttered open, revealing deep blue pools clouded with pleasure and desire. they locked onto yours and roved over you, taking in every detail from the way your hair fell around your face, to the rise and fall of your tits, down to the point where your bodies were joined, your core enveloping him deliciously.

“so tight. fuck — yes, jus’ like that,” he stammered, his voice rough with need. his chest heaved with each ragged breath.  “i’m so close,” sunghoon whispered, his voice breaking. his hands guided your hips with a firm grip. up and down, up and down. you felt your walls tightening around him, signaling that you were just as close to the peak as he was. you leaned forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck. the soft, breathy moans escaping your lips against his skin caused a shiver to run down his spine. the heat of your breath, the closeness of your bodies, the mingling of your scents — it all heightened the intimacy of the moment.

with a final, powerful thrust, you reached the pinnacle of pleasure. your hips slowed, following the rhythm of sunghoon’s release as he filled you up completely.  waves of ecstasy washed over you both, your bodies trembling in unison. the room was filled with the sound of your breaths, heavy and satisfied. for a moment, you both stayed still in silence, your hearts beating in sync.

who knew park sunghoon was this good in bed, while being just a little drunk and completely undone.

the air feels different now. a year and a half from the moment you and sunghoon met, everything feels softer somehow- lighter, warmer, like the world settled into something that finally makes sense. the same music hums through the theme park, the same laughter echoes around you, the same bright lights flicker in every direction—but this time, it doesn’t feel overwhelming. it feels… familiar, comfortable. like coming back to something that already belongs to you.

your hand is in his, fingers intertwined so naturally it doesn’t even feel like a conscious choice anymore. his thumb moves slowly over your skin as you walk, absentminded, grounding, the same way it always has. and you’re laughing, again, about something that probably wasn’t even that funny to begin with, but with him, everything turns into something lighter.

“you’re literally lying,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips, that same soft one you’ve come to know so well. “i’m not,” you insist, even though you’re already laughing again, your fingers tightening around his hand as you try to walk straight and fail miserably. “you are,” he shoots back, quieter now, leaning a little closer just so you can hear him over the noise. “you always do this.” “do what?”

“this-” he gestures vaguely between you, his expression amused, fond. “make things up and then pretend you didn’t.” you gasp lightly, feigning offense, but the smile never leaves your face. “okay, first of all, rude.” he huffs out a soft laugh, shaking his head again, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your hand. “second of all,” you add, leaning closer to him now, your voice dropping just slightly, playful, “you love it.” his smile softens into something quieter. “…yeah,” he admits under his breath. and somehow, that feels louder than everything else around you.

you’re still smiling when you spot it. at first, it doesn’t fully register, just something familiar at the edge of your vision, but then your steps slow, your head turning slightly as your eyes lock onto it properly.

the photobooth. the same one. the one from your first date.

your grip on his hand tightens instantly. “hoon-” you start, already turning toward him, your expression lighting up in a way he recognizes immediately. he follows your gaze, and the second he realizes- “…no,” he says immediately, but there’s no real weight behind it, just a quiet laugh already slipping through. “yes,” you counter just as quickly, already tugging on his hand. “baby,” he groans lightly, letting himself be pulled anyway, his steps following yours without resistance. “do we really have to go? there’s literally a line.”

you stop just long enough to turn back to him, and give him that look; your eyes wide, your lips slightly pressed together in a way that’s just barely holding back a smile, your whole expression softening into something dangerously convincing. puppy eyes. and he knows it. he exhales sharply through his nose, looking away for a second like he’s trying, really trying, not to give in. “…you’re so annoying,” he mutters. but his fingers tighten around yours anyway, and he doesn’t let go.

you don’t even remember waiting, one second you’re standing there, shifting your weight impatiently, and the next, you’re inside.

the curtain falls shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the park, leaving just the small, enclosed space and the faint hum of the machine. you both look at each other for a second, and then-you start laughing. the timer beeps, and you barely register it. because he’s already leaning closer, his hand finding your waist like it always does, like it’s second nature now, and you’re already leaning into him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “we’re not even ready—” you try to say, but it dissolves into laughter when he kisses you mid-sentence. the flash goes off.

your lips meet his again, softer this time, slower, more familiar, but no less full of feeling, no less real than that very first time. “i love you,” you mumble against his lips, breathless, smiling. he huffs out a quiet laugh, his forehead resting briefly against yours. “i love you more,” he murmurs back, like it’s automatic, like it’s something he’s said a hundred times and still means every single one.

another flash. you both try, try, to pose properly this time, but it lasts all of two seconds before you’re laughing again, your hands tangling together, his nose brushing yours. “stop moving—” he says, but he’s smiling too much to mean it. “you stop moving-”

another picture, another laugh, another quiet, soft i love you slipping somewhere in between. when the strip finally prints, you both lean in to look at it together, shoulders pressed close, your head instinctively tilting toward his.

the first photo, blurry laughter. the second, him looking at you instead of the camera. the third, mid-kiss. and the last one, both of you smiling. not at the camera, but at each other.

“…we’re really doing this, huh?” you murmur softly.

he glances at you. “doing what?”

you smile a little, your fingers brushing over the edge of the photo strip. “…a year.”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, his hand finds yours again, his fingers intertwining with yours like they always do, like they always will.

“…yeah,” he says quietly. 

you both just lean in. your lips meet his in a soft, familiar kiss, the kind that feels easy now, natural, like it’s something your body remembers before your mind even catches up. His hand tightens slightly around yours, his other still resting at your waist, pulling you just a little closer without even realizing it.

you let out a small giggle against his lips. “wait-” you murmur, pulling back just slightly, your nose brushing his as you smile.

“…take off your glasses.”

he huffs out a quiet laugh, already smiling, already knowing exactly what you mean. his hand lifts without hesitation, sliding them off this time, your fingers brushing his as you take them from him. “you’re impossible,” he mutters softly, but there’s no real complaint in it.

you just grin, setting them aside quickly before leaning back in, this time, nothing in the way. the kiss lands deeper, warmer, slower, like you’re both taking your time with it, like you’ve learned how to exist in these moments without rushing through them.

his forehead presses lightly against yours between breaths, his lips brushing yours again, softer now.

“happy one year anniversary, baby.

© 2026 LOVECVREXX. please do not repost / claim my work is yours.

In a private booth of a nightclub, a group of long-legged, broad-shouldered alphas huddle around the table, drinks in hands. The air is layered with pheromones and adrenaline, occasionally flashing with neon lights and blurred with thin smoke. 

In the middle of the couch, Heeseung sits leisurely, manspreading with ease. On either side of him, Jay and Riki lean back in a similar posture, each of them engaged in the conversation bouncing between the team.

The team has just won a friendly match against their long-sworn rival, a university from the east, after a frustrating streak of loss for two consecutive tournaments. It wasn’t really a landslide win, considering their competitive skills, but a win is a win. A satisfied smirk curls around Heeseung’s bow-shaped lips, his alpha purring with pride.

Friendly or not, the whiskey surely tastes extra sweet tonight.

“Did you see K’s face just now?” Riki pipes up from his left, still buzzing with adrenaline. Being the last man to score and secure the win for them, it’s obviously hard for Riki to contain his enthusiasm. He’s beaming wide. “I did that. I wiped that smirk off his face, gentlemen!”

The rest of the team roars in reply, infected by Riki’s contagious excitement. Heeseung and Jay wear a fond smile on their lips, clearly delighted to see the younger alpha’s happiness. Glasses clink again as they toast to their win, and to their future wins, and to the sexy, beautiful cheerleading omegas that played a part in keeping their spirits up just now—to which Jay grimaces and Riki rolls his eyes at. Heeseung snorts.

He forgets that he’s friends with a prude and a loyal, claimed alpha.

“Speaking of omegas,” Heeseung tilts his head at Riki when the chatters break into small groups of conversations among the team, leaving him to talk to two of his closest friends. “It’s a surprise to see you here, Ki. Like seeing a four-leaf clover.”

Jay joins in, his signature lopsided grin on display. “I half-expected you to run home to your girlfriend. It’s hard to see you hang out with us at the club now, pup.”

Riki crosses his arms with a dramatic huff. His bottom lip juts out in a pout. In this light, when Riki shows this side of him, free from fake nonchalance and his cool persona, Heeseung sees him ten years younger than his actual age. Riki is so cute.

“I fully expected to run home to her too, hyung. But she forced me to come here. Said something like I should celebrate my win with y’all,” Riki sighs, messing with his newly-dyed hair and tipping his head back. “So here I am. Drinking with you idiots when I could’ve cuddled with my sweet, sweet omega at home.”

Jay feigns offence while Heeseung laughs. The both of them know too well of Riki’s devotion to his girlfriend. Maybe it’s the alpha-omega bond, or just the fact that they’ve known each other practically their whole lives, but Riki is never at ease whenever she’s not around. 

But tonight, the alpha seems more relaxed than usual. He’s not playing with his fingers or toying with the hem of his shirt like he always did when his girlfriend is absent. Heeseung wonders why the sudden change until he catches a glimpse of something at the back of Riki’s neck.

His brows furrow. His movement falters mid-air.

“Riki? Is that…” Heeseung squints his eyes, trying to see better while the tips of Riki’s ears slowly redden. From his right, Heeseung can hear a soft gasp from Jay.

“Holy shit. Is that your mating mark, Ki?”

It is. It is a mating mark, Heeseung realises, when a purple neon light flashes on Riki’s wounded skin. The alpha is rubbing his neck sheepishly now, heat sweeping across his cheeks. Despite his sudden shy demeanour, Heeseung can smell the pride in his sandalwood scent, and in that moment he finally notices the subtle layer of sweet vanilla—Riki’s girlfriend’s scent—in Riki’s pheromones.

“Yeah,” Riki confirms, still red like a tomato. “I mated with her last night.”

“Wow,” Jay breathes out in amazement, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “About time, man! You’re finally mated!”

Jay’s exclamation attracts attention and soon, the whole group is congratulating Riki on the milestone. The said alpha is red down to his neck now, clearly not expecting the sudden shift of focus on him but still relishing in the pride of having his mating mark, if the musky lilt to his pheromones is anything to go by. 

Heeseung remains a quiet observer, watching as Riki pulls down the collar of his shirt to proudly show the mark. Two other alphas join him as they speak fondly of their omegas, relishing in their identical mating mark on their napes. Beside him, Jay listens with an adoring smile. There’s a certain longing in his gaze when he stares at the mated alphas that doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung. 

Heeseung averts his eyes away, trying to forget that familiar look on Jay’s face. He almost scoffs at the image.

He knows that look like the back of his hand. 

Jay, too, yearns for a mate. Like Riki. Unlike Heeseung.

Mate. It’s the word that is so common in omegaverse but so foreign in Heeseung’s little world.

If Jay is a walking green flag that effortlessly attracts omegas with his gentleman charms, Heeseung is a running red flag that chases after willing omegas. If Jay stays away from wild sex life, Heeseung lives by it. If Jay dates to marry, Heeseung fucks to breathe. He’s everything Jay’s not that Riki was so bewildered when the two first met him.

Don’t get him wrong—he’s not the creepy kind of chaser. Rather, he likes to call himself the sexy one. It’s not hard for him to pull; just a few flirty comments here and a couple of filthy whispers there and the next hour he’ll have an omega to bring home and under him. 

He doesn’t know if he’s the only one wired this way, but where territorial instincts stream in his alpha blood, his sexual desires run even harder and faster. It’s like an itch that just won’t get away if he doesn’t scratch at it. He’s an attractive alpha with a high sex drive, he admits it, but is he really wrong to accept any omegas with his long, eager arms?

He thinks not.

Plus, they’re omegas. Heeseung tries not to objectify them, but gosh, the scent wafting from them is always so sweet and inviting. They’re curved softly, meant to hold and love the right, physical way that he’s known how to. He’s a weak man, and an even weaker alpha; Heeseung can’t resist a good fuck between two consenting adults and he always, always consents to being sucked off dry and scratched to bleed. 

Fuck, just thinking about it is already making him excited.

Heeseung’s eyes wander, tuning out the conversation about mate as he scans for any attractive omega. It’s starting to bore him—the talk about mate and having a mate and being mated—so he’s entertaining himself with the exposed skin and swaying hips of dancing omegas on the dance floor.

For someone like him that gets off on having sex with omegas and being drunk on their sweet pheromones, mating culture is a big no for him. The idea of being tied to only one omega makes him laugh; it sounds ridiculous to him. He’s an alpha capable of giving and his knot is not limited to only one hole, so why should he settle?

Only hopeless-romantic alphas believe in the belief of fated mates. And unfortunately, two of his friends do. Heeseung mentally rolls his eyes.

He decides that he’s had enough when the mated alphas start talking about having pups; another commitment that makes goosebumps rise in his skin. Wordlessly, he places his shot glass on the table, having sipped only half of it throughout the night. 

“Leaving already?” Jay asks, craning his neck when Heeseung stands. The latter only cocks his head to the dance floor with a knowing look. The corner of his mouth curves into a playful smirk when Jay makes a face.

“The usual.”

Jay shakes his head. “Whatever. Just don’t do it raw.”

“I’m always clean and safe, Jongseong.” Heeseung retorts, already taking his leave. “Call me when you’re leaving.”

Whatever Jay replies is muffled by the loud bass and Heeseung couldn’t care less to know what the alpha has said. Probably throwing him insults for using him as his personal chauffeur again. Heeseung only shrugs. Jay’s not his concern tonight. He has a bigger fish, or rather, a pretty wolf, to catch.

His eyes sweep across the space. From where he’s standing, his nose can pick up different scents of alphas and omegas. Even the faint scent of betas are visible, usually amplified by alcohol and adrenaline. He’s still deciding between two male omegas throwing asses back on the dance floor and a group of female omegas giggling at a table not far from him when a spiked scent stabs at his senses.

His nose instantly scrunches, frowning as he tries to detect that smell. An omega in distress. It’s faint, coming from the direction of the exit door, but he can’t see anyone crying or visibly uncomfortable in his line of sight.

Heeseung looks around, momentarily distracted from his initial mission. Nobody seems to notice the scent, however, and Heeseung blames his dominant traits for this. He sometimes forgets that he’s a dominant alpha. Unlike Jay and Riki, his senses are more sensitive and developed, which is a blessing when he’s looking for a hookup and a curse when he’s inside the locker room after a game when the air is drenched in his teammates’ pheromones. Heeseung shudders at the memories. He’s always the first to shower and leave the room because only Riki smells good when sweating.

His thoughts are brought back when the scent intensifies. Heeseung keeps sniffing and blindly follows the trail of wilting daisies and burnt honey, his shoulders braced and jaw tense. He doesn’t know why, but the scent has awakened his senses to a new degree. His alpha is on full alert now. 

He passes by dancing bodies and tables to get to the exit door but he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. Heeseung looks down.

A soft, seductive voice reaches his ears. “Heeseung-ssi?”

Heeseung blinks at the smiling omega. After a second of stunned silence, he finally recognises the logo on her varsity jacket and the makeup on her face. Realisation dawns upon him.

She’s part of his college’s cheerleader squad.

The omega is running a hand up and down his arm now, arching her back to flaunt the soft swell of her chest. Behind her, her fellow cheerleaders watch closely, hiding eager smiles behind their palms. Heeseung looks down at her hand, gulping despite himself. 

“Spare me a few minutes, will you, my precious, capable alpha?”

Her voice is so enticing, dripping with the kind of allure Heeseung’s so much familiar with. There is a strong wave of her sweet scent—bubblegum and cotton candy, Heeseung notes—coming from her in full force. She’s fluttering her lashes now, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Heeseung does; oh does he get the message so well. He knows what she’s hinting on and on any other nights he’ll succumb to the temptation without putting any efforts to think, melting into a puddle of juices at the slightest touch of seductive omegas. It’s a no-brainer decision for him, usually, because he’s always ready to fuck and he always brings a pack of condom with him for this sole reason.

But tonight his wolf is restless. And the reason is none other than the bitter scent still clinging to his nose.

Heeseung gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and removes her hand from his arm. The omega frowns, brows almost uniting at the center when the alpha takes a step back.

“Next time, yeah?”

Without waiting for her reply, Heeseung slips away from the crowd, ignoring the sour turn of her pheromones. He can feel their eyes boring into his back, but that’s not his concern now. Following the haunting scent and the sudden flaring instincts to get closer to the owner of it, Heeseung lets his legs bring him closer to the exit door. 

Heeseung hates to admit it, but right now, his wolf is thrashing at the bitter scent and his chest feels like caving in. He can feel the itch in his nails; his claws are threatening to sharpen. He frowns.

He’s never reacted this way to any omegas in distress. So why now? Why this particular scent?

When he reaches the door, Heeseung doesn’t waste a second to push it open and steps outside. As he does so, a weight suddenly crashes into his chest, pushing him slightly backwards from the force.

“Oof—” 

Heeseung reaches up to steady the figure by the arms. At this sudden proximity, the scent is thicker, the wilting daisies are more prominent it's making his heart constrict. Heeseung lets out a deep exhale and looks down to the person practically in his arms. 

A female omega. Clearly in distress, judging by the unshed tears and the tremble in her lips. A familiar varsity jacket drapes across her frame and Heeseung feels his breath stop when he recognises that face.

It’s you. One of the cheerleaders. Heeseung knows many cheerleaders, having been in bed with most of them; but even the most forgetful alpha will remember an omega like you.

A sweet face with a sweeter scent to match, but you are always detached from alphas and their advances. You’re the shy cheerleader his teammates always talk about. The untouchable one. The politely-smile-and-then-reject omega. Heeseung remembers you too well, being one of those rejected alphas himself.

He still remembers how disappointed his wolf was, whining and pouting when a pretty omega he had his eyes on rejected him. But Heeseung is a respectful alpha. He’ll take a no as a no. And you were also so kind when doing so that he moved on from it pretty fast and well.

That was one year ago.

Now you’re crying in his arms, for whatever reasons he doesn’t know and is determined to find out. He can feel your hold on his arms tighten, the spike in your scent when you recognise him, and the hitch in your breath that follows. The bitter scent is definitely coming from you.

“H-Heeseung?” Your voice is so small, like you’re not sure if you can call his name. It’s shaky and breathless. “Please help me.”

Behind you, Heeseung can see three shadows entering the alleyway. Even from the distance, his nose immediately picks up the pheromones of aroused alphas; thick and unpleasant. Your scent lingers amidst the stench, wavering in fear, so heavy he can practically taste it on his tongue. Heeseung instinctively pulls you closer.

“Are they bothering you?”

You nod frantically, the tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. When you speak, your voice is wet from tears and fear.

Nothing can ever prepare Heeseung for the words that are about to leave your mouth.

“P-Please…Please scent me.” You sob, clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt tighter. Heeseung’s breath stutters. “Please, Heeseung.”

Scent-mark. A low rumble sounds from his chest.

You’re asking him to mark you. To…claim you. It’s basically you asking him to bond with you, to shower you with his pheromones and make you smell like him. Smell like you’re his.

This is not what Heeseung’s looking forward to tonight. The fantasy of saving an omega in distress and scent-marking belongs to Jay, an alpha that was even willing to help an omega in heat out of the goodness of his heart. But not Heeseung. That’s never Heeseung. Heeseung doesn’t play the hero; he’s the one stealing the female lead from them.

Scent-marking is way…too intimate to share between two complete strangers with no interaction—that is, if you consider being rejected to having sex together as zero interaction.

Heeseung looks between you and the shadows closing in, then licks his lips. “I can’t,” he tries, and the broken look on your face damn near makes his heart take the same fate. Heeseung schools his expression, forcing himself to push you slightly away from him.

“I—This is not right. You don’t want this.”

He can’t take advantage of you. This is just your scared omega speaking. Outside of this situation, he’s damn sure you’d refuse any kind of bonds with him. Heeseung might be a sex addict, but he’s not an asshole.

But you pull him with you, shaking your head as you keep taking a glance at the approaching alphas. “I do! Please,” you choke, failing to keep your voice steady as you plead at the alpha in front of you. Heeseung forces restraint to his instincts. “Please just scent-mark me, Heeseung. I-I can’t—They will—” You heave a deep breath, your scent taking a sourer lilt at his refusal.

“They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.”

Something sharp stabs at his chest, rendering him speechless and frozen for a moment. Heeseung stares at your trembling figure, at your shrinking body as if to make yourself disappear, and it suddenly hits him how disgusting the whole situation is.

They won’t back down unless it’s another alpha.

Alphas only take a no when it comes from another alpha.

Heeseung feels nauseous. His throat closes in and there’s a quiet ringing in his ears. In that heavy, stilled silence, everything is muffled to his senses. Only the echoes of your words ripple in his mind.

Unless it’s another alpha.

It’s a hard pill to swallow; one that Heeseung finds it bitter to believe—because it’s so, so easy to walk away from omegas than force yourself on them. It’s so, so easy to shoot your pride down than dwell on it and go feral over a rejection. It’s so, so easy to respect an omega, even for a fuckboy like him, so why is it hard for other alphas to do so?

And the result of this harsh world, of this fucked up power imbalance is sobbing in his arms, shaking and forcing herself to be okay with an unwanted bond just to save herself. Heeseung’s heart breaks for you, for the fate that follows a beautiful being like you just because of secondary genders and because the world says so.

“Please, I-I don’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Heeseung whispers, rubbing a soothing circle on your arms. Your crying subsides a fraction. “I’ll scent you if that makes you feel better. Is that…okay?”

You blink at him tearily, streaks of salty tears tainting your unblemished cheeks. Even with a swollen face, you still look as pretty as he remembers.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, taking a hold of your wrist when he senses those alphas getting near. “Or we can just get inside and call the cops on them if you change your mind. You can find—”

“No,” you grip him tighter, your previously-calmed scent spiking again. “Cops are useless. T-They won’t—please, Heeseung. You know how they are.”

You know how unfair the system is.

Heeseung swallows hard before he nods, the burnt honey in your pheromones starting to get really thick and sticky. He rubs the inside of your wrists, slow and deliberate, before bringing the scent gland to his nose. It’s the most appropriate point to scent, less intimate than scenting at your neck, which he guesses the last thing you want from him right now.

The tip of his nose caresses the delicate skin tentatively, testing and tasting before he takes a deep inhale. Immediately, the scent of daisies and honey fill up his senses and Heeseung’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling. There is a rush of energy bursting through his veins, his senses tingling and his wolf purring at the sweet combination of your pheromones. Heeseung feels his wolf hum, almost singing and sighing, like his muscles are unknotting in a hot spring. 

It’s strange. It’s new. But Heeseung pushes the thoughts aside.

He runs his nose over your wrist over and over again, blanketing you in his pheromones and starting to feel you relax in his arms.

The tension in your shoulders visibly disappears as you let yourself melt into Heeseung. You sigh. Heeseung’s pheromones are just like him; warm spice of cinnamon carried by cool air of sea breeze. It symbolises his fierce persona on the court and his calm demeanour when he’s out of his jersey perfectly. You lean into him further, your squirming wolf unknowingly calms down when being washed by his pheromones.

If Heeseung notices the change in your demeanour, he doesn’t say anything about it, shoving the thought to the back of his mind. His singular focus is entirely on your pulse, nosing at your wrist and pumping out his calming pheromones. When he opens his eyes, they mirror the look in yours: dazed and slightly glassy. The air is now loaded with daisies and cinnamon, intertwining with each other in a perfect, balanced mix of scent. 

Heeseung tries to ignore the loud pounding of his heart, but it’s all he can hear. He tries to ignore the stars in your eyes, but it’s all he can see. He tries to ignore how perfectly balanced the mix of your scent is with his. His grip on your wrist tightens, breath caught in his throat. His wolf refuses to let you go, wanting to keep you here, tucked safely in his embrace for as long as he can.

And that thought is so foreign and scary. He really hopes that’s just his wolf and not him.

“Hey, little bunny.” A sick, twisted voice interrupts. 

Oh, right. 

Those fucking, disgusting alphas.

Heeseung is always slouching, making him appear shorter than he actually is. But in that moment, he’s standing so tall, dominating the space around him like the air is making room for him itself. 

He instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from the hungry eyes of the approaching alphas. His shoulders are braced like they’re ready for an impact and Heeseung has to force a snarl down his throat when his eyes land on the wolves.

When the shadows step under the light, it takes less than a second for Heeseung to see the jerseys clinging to their bodies before he realises who he’s looking at. 

They’re the players from the opposing team that his team just beat tonight. 

K, EJ, and Nicholas.

Heeseung grinds his jaw so hard he might pop a vessel.

“If it’s not the mighty Lee Heeseung,” K taunts, wearing a smug smirk like a badge at the sight in front of him. He cocks his head, trying to see you over Heeseung’s shoulders. You cower. “Mind sharing your pretty little cheerleader? She’s exactly my type, shy but slutty.”

Shame spreads across your skin and you screw your eyes shut. Shy and slutty, you bite your lips. You’re nothing but a kinky fantasy for alphas like them.

As if sensing your turmoil, Heeseung stands taller, his eyes narrowing thin.

“Get lost.” Heeseung tries to hold back, but the rage he feels seeps through anyway. “And cover your gland, for fuck’s sake. You stink.”

K’s eyebrows shoot up, his grin turning cheshire. “Come on, man. Are you gatekeeping your cheerleaders?” K tries to take a peek at you, but Heeseung moves and covers you with his whole body. His frown deepens. “You had fucked her already. Don’t be greedy, captain.”

His alpha minions laugh, and Heeseung is now seeing red. Something hot spreads in his chest, burning in his vein like wildfire at the insult. Was it a hit to his ego and his shameless sexual routine? Definitely, but Heeseung never takes it to heart. Rather, it’s the way you gasp and sob into his back, shaken by the disgusting assumption of your dignity and your virginity. The storm of the ocean spikes in the air, taking his pheromones to a dangerous peak, gathering a tide to a new height.

Heeseung doesn’t think he’s ever released pheromones this bad. But something about seeing the same pattern of omegas falling victim to empty-headed alphas makes his blood boil.

Behind him, you whimper, your omega reacting to the agitated alpha in front of you. But Heeseung is now relentless. He holds out an arm around your waist, protecting you from their sight in a tight, almost-possessive grip.

“Watch your fucking mouth. Don’t you get it?” Heeseung seethes, pupils thinning as the laughter dies down. “She doesn’t want you. In what fucking language must she say no for your stupid brain to understand? She’s—”

Mine. She’s mine, his wolf howls. My omega. 

Heeseung grits his teeth.

No, she’s not. Get a fucking grip, Lee Heeseung. You don’t have a mate.

“...not a toy.”

The sea-salt bite of his pheromones thickens in the alley. K scoffs, stepping forward in offense but is stopped by Nicholas. The latter has his arm shot out against K’s chest, preventing him from approaching the couple.

“No, K,” Nicholas murmurs, nose sniffing at the heavy pheromones in the air. Underneath the eye-watering spice of cinnamon and the raging storm of Heeseung’ sea breeze scent, there is a tangled sweetness of daisies and honey clinging to it. He visibly gulps. “They’re together. And Heeseung…”

Nicholas throws him a side eye, giving him a once-over briefly. He takes in the sharp glare directed his way, the downturned curl of his mouth, the tense shoulders ready to pounce. Nicholas shudders imperceptibly and shakes his head.

“…He’s a dominant alpha.”

His statement, though meant to deescalate the situation, only rages Heeseung on further. The alpha takes a menacing step forward, eyes narrowing thin at the trio. They falter back.

“Get this in your empty brains you freaks,” Heeseung grits, fuming beyond reason. Nicholas swears he sees something red flickering in his irises. 

“When someone says no, you back the fuck off. Dominant alpha or not. Omega or not.” He spits out the word, the venom in his voice nearly poisons the air. “Do you fucking get it?”

His raging pheromones are turning physical, pressing on each pair of lungs like lead on a mattress. Nicholas fights the urge to cover his nose and pulls his two friends backwards with him.

“We get it. Sorry, captain.”

“Not me,” Heeseung hisses. A low growl rumbles in warning. “Her.”

Nicholas licks his lips and nods. He bows down quickly, forcing the other alphas to bend despite it hurting his pride. K reluctantly follows, though his eyes return the glare Heeseung gives him in a similar intensity. 

“We’re sorry, omega. Shit, I don’t know your name, but—we’re sorry.”

In the next moment, the three alphas are already retreating. Nicholas aggressively whispers something among them while K visibly restrains himself from running back to Heeseung. He clearly doesn’t mind taking up a challenge with the dominant alpha and Heeseung finds himself not minding to dirty his hands too.

A beat of heavy silence falls upon you. You stay rooted in place, pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung is still facing away from you, ragged breathing slowing down. The air of dense pheromones is thinning out, leaving behind trails of spicy cinnamon and soft daisies.

You let out a breath and your knees buckle. 

Heeseung is by your side in a flash, the same, now-familiar arms caging you against his tall frame. You put your hands on his chest, trying to steady the wobble in your legs.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay now. They’re gone.”

They really are. You cry. They’re actually gone.

An ugly sob racks through your chest and soon, the wilting daisies are back, staining the air with crumpled petals and sad flowers. Heeseung tightens his hold. He doesn’t like seeing people cry, but his alpha apparently despises it the most when he sees you in this state.

His calming pheromones pour out in waves, hands carding through your hair gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

You’re safe with me.

Your crying slows down. For a few seconds, you let yourself savour the warmth of Heeseung’s  embrace. Closer, his pheromones, layered with a faint trail of his body wash, are stronger, filling up the almost-nonexistent space between the two of you. Strangely, the spice and the salt work wonders on calming you down.

Your wolf—previously anxious and distressed—is now quiet. 

Heeseung adjusts his hold on you, and in that moment do you only realise in horror how long you’ve been shamelessly hugging him. Like a reflex, you pull away from his embrace, cheeks now flaming red when his shirt is now stained with two big spots of your tears.

“I’m sorry!” Your palms instinctively rub at the stains, as if they can dry out the tears out of the fabric. “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

Heeseung looks down, silently watching the small of your palms against his broad chest. There’s a strange flutter that follows, quiet and unfamiliar. He hopes that you can’t feel it through the fabric.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Heeseung murmurs, eyes finding their ways back to your face. Red nose, swollen eyes, blotched cheeks. You really went through it, still sniffling as you still try to fix the stains on his shirt. A small part of him twists uncomfortably.

Heeseung catches your wrists, his thumbs moving almost instinctively against the soft skin.Your breath catches as you lift your gaze to look at him.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks, voice soft and gentle. You immediately nod, admittedly feeling better after being bathed in his calming pheromones.

“I’m okay. Just a bit thirsty.”

He searches your face, as if trying to detect any kind of discomfort or distress. But in the end, he ends up staring into your eyes, counting the lashes that guard your beautiful eyes.

It should end there. He really should just escort you back into the safety of your friend group and leave you be. Perhaps, he can go find the previous omega, seduce his way back and bring her home. The normal. The usual.

But something inside stirs in protest to that idea, and so instead he finds himself saying: “Let’s get you something to drink.”

The convenience store is bright under the dark sky, located just two blocks away from the nightclub. It’s already past one in the morning, but to the people of the night, it’s only the beginning of fun. From a distance, the queue line is only getting longer.

Beside you, Heeseung is walking on the edge of the pavement, looking out for cars despite the slow traffic. He’s been quiet since the alleyway, seemingly lost in thought. Occasionally, his hand will brush yours, a quiet graze that sends electricity in your system. You try not to react.

The convenience store is empty, save for a group of partygoers sobering up around the round table outside, leaving only a long bench beside the door empty. You stop when Heeseung does, his hand already tapping on the sensory handle.

“Wait here. I’ll buy you something to drink.”

You nod, obediently sitting down. Heeseung takes one last look at you before he enters the store, the harsh lights greeting his tired eyes. He grabs the coldest mineral water and stops in front of the necessities shelves.

Without thinking, his hand moves like it has a mind of its own, grabbing whatever his eyes land on—a heat pack, chocolate, a pack of wet tissues. It’s only when the cashier scans the items that he pauses, staring at the items with wide eyes.

Since when does he…do this?

“Anything to add, sir?”

Heeseung gulps, looks past the cashier’s head, and lands on the rows of pills behind him.

She cried too much, she might have a headache.

And so, as if on instinct, Heeseung adds paracetamol to his receipt.

Outside, the air is cooler, biting at exposed skin like a bug. Heeseung wordlessly sits beside you, placing the plastic bag on his lap. You curiously peek into the bag.

“That’s a lot. Are you hungry?”

Heeseung pauses, realisation dawns upon him. His instincts flare again. “No. Are you? Do you want ramyeon? Or packed rice? I can—”

“No! It’s fine, Heeseung,” you laugh softly, the sound like a melodious chime of a bell to his ears. “I had dinner.”

Heeseung visibly relaxes and nods. He hands you the bottle first, twisting the cap open before passing it over without a word. He watches you drink, takes the bottle from you, and gives you the heat pack next.

You blink at him. “It’s cold,” Heeseung shrugs, pulling your hand towards him and placing the heat pack on your palm. He closes your fingers over it. “This will warm you up a bit.”

For a second, you just stare at him. The warmth in your hand spreads from your fingers up to your chest, where your heart is thumping wildly at his gentle act.

You bring the heat pack to your neck, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare at him, cheeks blooming red. They put him in a trance, your eyes, as Heeseung finds himself unable to look away. His gaze then drops to your lips when they move, already clinging to every syllable without even knowing it.

“Thank you, Heeseung.”

The flutter comes back, now more frantic and aggressive than before, like a caged bird trying to escape. This time, Heeseung forces himself to look away, the plastic bag wrinkles under his tightening grip. 

“Don’t mention it.”

“I mean it, though.” You counter back, gazing at the passing cars as you feel a gust of chilling wind breezing through. You scoot closer to the heat beside you. “It was really scary. Thank you for helping me out.”

There’s a bitter tone, faint and subtle, to your scent, as if you’re recalling the ugly incident that just happened almost half an hour ago. Heeseung clenches his jaw. 

Before he can stop it, his pheromones spill out like soft waves, calming and comforting, cocooning you again like a safety blanket. His wolf hums in quiet satisfaction, watching the way your shoulders loosen, the tension melting off you bit by bit.

Heeseung doesn’t know when or how it happened, but there’s no gap between you now. But he doesn’t hate it like he thought he would. Here, you’re so close to him, your shoulder practically glued to his, seeking warmth from his body heat.

It’s a foreign feeling. A comfortable, foreign feeling.

You stay in that position, slowly getting drunk on his pheromones. Your eyes droop, fighting sleep, but the exhaustion from running away from scary alphas has finally caught up to you. Before you know it, your head dips against his shoulder, breath evening out as your fingers lose their grip on the heat pack. 

Heeseung swallows. He doesn’t dare move. From the proximity, he can smell your fruity hair wash, blending smoothly with your scent. 

It’s so unfair. Every inch of you smells really good, whether it’s your natural scent or the products that you use. It’s like every inch of your skin decides that you only deserve to smell the best, and Heeseung himself can’t help but agree too. It’s so unfair.

Heeseung finds his hands hover awkwardly in the air, hesitating for a second before settling carefully on your head. His fingers thread through your hair, slower this time.

“Don’t feel scared anymore,” he mumbles, gently caressing the dark strands of your hair. 

It’s me who should feel scared.

His fingers freeze in your hair. 

Scared. He is scared.

This is not him. If Riki or Jay were to walk in to see him in this state, they’d drag him to the nearest police station and demand they find the real Heeseung. The normal Heeseung. The usual Heeseung.

The Heeseung that doesn’t stay, or spend his time watching people breathe in their sleep. The Heeseung who’s out the door before the sheets even cool down. The Heeseung that dislikes small touches like these; like caressing the hair of the girl he just saved, because the only physical touch he brands himself with is sex.

Not this. Not whatever this is.

He wants to move, but his body doesn’t listen—he stays despite himself. His wolf, like it’s found something it’s been looking for all along, settles deeper instead, quiet and satisfied. You nuzzle closer into his body and Heeseung feels his chest tighten.

Something uneasy creeps up his spine.

This should feel suffocating. It should itch under his skin, make him want to pull away, shake you off, leave. 

But it doesn’t. It feels easy. Too easy, in fact.

And it scares the shit out of him.

When your senses return to you, the first thing that greets you is someone’s scent.

Warm, spicy cinnamon and calm, salty sea air.

The memory follows not long after; of angry frowns and disgusting smirks that make your skin crawl. Amidst it all, a familiar face flashes in your mind and you feel your heart stutter.

Heeseung.

The pulse in your wrist thuds violently, as if not letting you forget the owner of the pheromones now wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You faintly remember, in your subconscious, being carried to a car and your roommate, Yujin, hugging you in panic. Unconsciously, you pull your blanket closer to your chest.

Did Heeseung send you home? Did he really…scent-mark you to help you?

You bite your lips between your teeth. The clarity is palpable now that the haziness of pheromones and distress are no longer around. There’s no way an alpha—a dominant one, at that—is willing to scent-mark an omega he has no connections to. The implications are more than the action itself. Heeseung surely knows about that, right? 

It feels like a dream. It has to be a dream.

What a capable alpha, your wolf preens. Shut up, you hiss.

Then, as if the universe was insistent to prove you wrong, your eyes land on a plastic bag placed neatly on top of your vanity, a damning evidence of last night’s incident.

No way.

Your brain swirls with possibilities and your own made-up theories that it has started to throb faintly. Before you could lose your sanity, thread by unraveling thread, you rush to the bathroom to, hopefully, get rid of his scent, even when your omega begs you not to.

Unfortunately for the human-you, the cinnamon trails after you even post-showers. It clings to your clothes when you change and it doesn’t let you go even as you sit for breakfast prepared by your doting roommate. It’s strange, really. No one’s scent ever clung to you so stubbornly like this, like a chewing gum latching on shoe soles. You always cuddle with Yujin and even her green tea pheromones never stay with you after washing up.

“It’s a bit odd, yes,” Yujin munches through a mouthful of her own signature pancake. “But it’s not totally out-of-this-world. His scent will fade by this evening, I promise.”

You chew painfully slowly, eyes going wide at another possibility. “You don’t think that I conjured some kind of bond with him, right?”

It’s common knowledge that a thin, fragile bond can be easily formed when an alpha and an omega scent each other, mated or not. After all, context and intention are greatly considered, whether it’s meant for familiarity, protection, or possessiveness—each one will determine how long it’ll last.

You pull at the sleeves of your cardigan, a telltale sign of your anxiousness. The same wilting daisies accent of your scent from the night before comes back, signalling your impending distress. Yujin drops her fork and reaches a hand to yours.

“Hey, hey. Calm down for a sec, Y/N.”

“It’s just,” you swallow harshly, your traitorous mind replaying the scene from last night. Your heart thumps at the base of your throat. “I don’t know—fuck. I forced him to do this. And—and despite the circumstances, he still helped me and now…now I think…”

Your eyes turn glassy, reminded of the wolf residing deep inside you.

“I think my omega might like him.”

Yujin is silent for a moment, assessing the right words to say. It’s obvious to everyone on campus of the nature of Lee Heeseung. He’s not exactly the alpha you’d seek for companionship or commitment; he seems to be allergic to those things. 

And to get your wolf to like him…well, let’s say that you’re already set for thousand-words of angst and a life of yearning. Yujin isn’t exactly fond of the idea of dishing out what you already knew. You already seem restless enough with your own thoughts.

“Okay. That’s valid.” Yujin starts slowly, treading through every syllable like a mother to her kindergartener son. “He’s super attractive. It’s understandable. But you can, you know—unlike him.”

You perk up at that, though the doubt clouding your face is more prominent now. “How?”

“Find a better alpha,” Yujin shrugs, as if explaining the world’s simplest equation. “For the record, I do think Heeseung’s a good guy, just not in the romantic department. I don’t know why your wolf is picking a fuckboy out of all alphas, but taste is subjective.”

“It’s because he stepped up and protected me!” You deflect and pause, realising how defensive of him you have become. Yujin raises a brow and you sigh, defeated, slumping in your seat.

“Fuck. Now my omega hates you for badmouthing him.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Just kill me.”

Yujin shoots you a small smile, pushing your now-cold plate closer to you. You reluctantly take a bite. “Why not someone else, though? You could ask literally any other alpha, like—” Yujin pauses and it takes her less than a second to pick a name. “Jay. Like Jay. He’s like, the safest option, the greenest flag. But why Heeseung? And don’t tell me it’s because he was the only one there—you could’ve just barged in and found someone else. It’s a freaking nightclub.”

You freeze, unmoving for a slow second. There is, of course, an answer to that. One that you admittedly avoid to admit, because admitting it will admit that there is something underneath that only you know, and you admit that it’s scary to admit that. Fuck this admission! Yujin wouldn’t make fun of you, right?

“I…” You trail off, second-guessing your decision. Should you really tell your roommate? Seeing the eager look on her face, with her sweet, cute dimples showing up, you decide that people with dimples should be banned from this world. Promptly, you’re reminded of your junior—an alpha with Jungwon or something as his name. The both of them possessed dimples that could make any alpha (or omega) drop down to their knees.

Alas, you force yourself to tell the truth.

“I smelled him for afar.” You watch carefully for Yujin’s reaction. “Like, from outside. While I was running from those scary alphas.”

Yujin contemplates. “Did you feel some kind of a pull towards him?”

You don’t even contemplate. “Yes.” 

“Holy shit,” Yujin laughs, her grin turning giddy. “This shit is actually real?!”

“What is?!” You frown, not liking being kept in the dark. A playful punch lands on Yujin’s shoulder, who’s now throwing her head back in laughter. Unconsciously, a pout is formed on your lips.

“What is it? Tell me!”

“It’s just, there’s this joke going around,” Yujin hiccups between every inhale, “that an omega will eventually crave for his knot. I can’t believe it’s happening to you!”

The lines in your forehead deepen. You regard your roommate with a look of contempt, thinking of the best spot to hide a body.

“That’s not true. I don’t crave his knot, or whatever it is.” You sigh, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know what? I’m just gonna pretend last night didn’t happen.”

Resigned and defeated, you rise and bring your plate to the sink. Your class doesn’t start until the next three hours, and then the evening is reserved for your new routine practice for the upcoming tournament. The ninety-two unread messages from the group chat are still left unopened; you haven’t had time to review the routine video yet.

You put on your apron and reach for the cabinet. When in distress or deep thoughts, other than nesting in your bedroom, you often opt to stress-bake instead. The scent of baked goods always puts you at ease, and it blends sweetly with your daisies and honey pheromones. Everyone who knows you knows to empty their stomach and be ready for a mass sweet-feeding whenever you’re in your stressed baker mode.

Behind you, Yujin’s laughter dies in her throat. Then, a question that stops you in your tracks comes.

“Hey, you don’t think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates, right?”

Fated mates. The words settle like a heavy blanket, pressing you down with its weight and keeping you warm altogether. 

It’s sacred. It’s ancient. It’s something that you never speak of lightly, afraid that a slip of a tongue would taint the purity of such a bond. Against all odds and critiques on the concept of fated mates, you’re part of the minority who believed in it, no matter how foolish or ridiculous it may sound.

You believe in fated mates. You believe in the name written in the stars, in the love that has been shaped and created just to cherish you. You believe in spending the rest of your life looking for a face that your heart would recognise in a heartbeat, feeling that inevitable pull like you’re each other’s missing half.

But after last night, do you think it’s because you and Heeseung are fated mates?

Heeseung, who’s always made it clear to everyone about his relationship with commitments?

Heeseung, who never shies away when the boys tease him about the girls he sleeps with?

You’re never one to judge someone’s sex life, but you might be a little too concerned about how they view a long-term, committed relationship. Because that’s what you’ve been looking for. 

An alpha who’s not afraid to love you loudly. An alpha whose instincts are to love and protect you. 

Sometimes, you really envy mated couples. You envy how loyal Riki is of his girlfriend, craving the same kind of devotion to be directed to you. You envy how proud Taesan is to show off his mating mark, like it’s a badge of honour and love that promises forever.

Eventually, your mind drifts to Heeseung. The captain of the basketball team. Someone who deceives people with how approachable he seems, but is actually the most detached.

Heeseung is a perfect and capable alpha. You’ve seen it.

He leads his team with the kind of leadership that becomes a glue, keeping the team together no matter what challenges they’re going through. You know that he’s from the music department, and there are a few songs with his name being credited as the producer, composer, lyricist—you name it. Heeseung is a dominant alpha and uses his authority well, and he knows how to fend for himself.

You admire him, you really do. 

But will he devote himself to you? Will he look only for you in a crowd of beautiful omegas, and beautiful omegas who have spent the night with him? Does he share the same sentiment as you when it comes to fated mates?

The churn in your stomach provides an answer clearer than any of your exams had ever done.

You let Yujin’s question fade in the background, letting yourself lose in your element—baking and baking and baking until it feels like you could feed a whole team of athletes. Which is what Yujin has suggested before she leaves for her lab session, after saving a big jar of cookies for herself.

Fated mates.

What a scary thought.

For the first time in his life, Heeseung is actively avoiding omegas.

It’s not any omegas, though. It’s only you. But since it’s you, it’s actually a pretty big deal to him. 

Heeseung doesn’t play favourites. He doesn’t believe in fated mates, remember? But last night left a lasting impact in the form of your scent still clinging to him this morning, even after showering.  Not to mention how excited his wolf has been when realising that it’s you. 

It’s you, for fuck’s sake! The one who rejected him one year ago, and, admittedly, one of the prettiest omegas on campus. You might as well be every alpha’s ideal type. Well, maybe not Riki, that man is proudly claimed and fiercely loyal to his mate. But it’s definitely the case for him and Jay. 

Knowing his best friend, Heeseung’s sure you’re just Jay’s type. And his. No. He didn’t say that. He doesn’t have a type, remember?

As if to make it worse, you also have a scent that might just be his favourite one yet. The same scent that is currently invading his senses, dampening other pheromones in the court despite being on opposite ends from you. The same scent that his wolf decides to pick up and single out the moment he steps foot in the campus, recognising you before his eyes can even see you first. The same scent that still lingers in his lungs, mingling with his cinnamon and sea breeze notes like dancing partners. 

Yeah, Heeseung is starting to think that he’s slowly going insane. 

“Dude, stop staring. You’re scaring them.”

Heeseung blinks, Jay’s voice successfully snapping him out of whatever omega-spell that you have casted on him. Yeap, he nods. It’s definitely that. You’re actually a witch. There’s no other explanation to this other than that.

A blob of freshly-dyed blonde hair pops up beside Jay. “Hyung showed up smelling like daisies and honey and suddenly he’s staring at the cheerleaders like they owe him money.” Riki teases, then grins when he realises something. “Wait, that kinda rhymes—”

“I’m not staring!” Heeseung almost shouts, belatedly realising that he, indeed, has been staring at the group of cheerleaders stretching across the court. Or, to be more precise, he’s been staring at you. He glares at Riki.

“Okay. So why do you smell like one of them then? What’s her name again, Jay hyung?”

Heeseung grumbles. “It’s no one—”

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, that one. The shy one.” 

Heeseung groans. He kicks Riki’s shins and makes a show of turning his back facing the cheerleaders. But for some reasons he refuses to admit, as if he has eyes on the back of his head, he still can point where you’re standing just from his senses alone.

These stupid, useless alpha senses.

At least Jay takes pity on him. “Your Heeseung hyung saved her from perverts last night. He scented her to calm her down because she was reacting pretty badly.”

Heeseung mentally thanks Jay and continues warming up. He opts to just watch his teammates dribble and stretch just like him. The faint hum of scent neutraliser—a new, advanced one, thanks to that incident with Riki’s girlfriend—rumbles slowly. Somewhere behind him, he can hear you laugh and taste the sweet spike in your scent on his tongue. Heeseung grits his teeth. 

What is wrong with his wolf? Please get your tail together.

Riki, on the other hand, is intrigued. “Really? Did it happen after I left? Who were those alphas?”

“Some idiots from that team we beat last night.”

Riki frowns, clearly displeased with the news he just heard. “Well, I’ll keep my eyes on them. How did Heeseung hyung find her?”

Jay shrugs and shoots him a look. Heeseung really hopes he can slap that annoying smirk off his face one day. “Dunno. Ask him. His alpha probably recognised her from miles away.”

Heeseung doesn’t like what that sentence implies. “Shut up. It’s just instinct. Normal alpha-omega reaction.”

“Keep lying to yourself. I can practically see your tail wagging when you smelled your pheromones on her just now.”

“I didn’t—” Heeseung closes his eyes, forcing himself to calm down despite the sudden flare of defensiveness exploding in his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s so reactive and not in his usual calm composure, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with you. Jay and Riki snicker. 

“The only people that believe in fated mates are you two idiots. Do you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” Riki snorts and looks at him, amused. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean I have a fated mate. That shit is rare. It’s like finding my size in Calvin Klein.”

Jay frowns. “I don’t see the correlation.”

“There is. My dick is just too big, hyung. There’s no size for me—”

“I don’t need to know that!” Jay slaps at Riki’s shoulders while the younger alpha only lets out a full-body laugh. “Save that information for your girlfriend, Riki. I didn’t raise you like this.”

“She already knows that.”

“Nishimura Riki!” 

Heeseung is back to zoning out, his energy is suddenly drained out of his soul. That’s usually the case when you have to deal with a Nishimura Riki and a Park Jongseong on a daily basis. His mind, choosing to move at the pace of a snail today, is replaying Riki’s words back like a broken loop.

The realisation hits him five seconds late. “Wait. Did you mean that you and your girlfriend are not…fated mates? I thought you were!”

Riki is trapping Jay in a headlock when he answers. “Nope. We only imprinted on each other from early on because we’re childhood friends.”

“So like…what’s the difference?” Heeseung pauses and hesitates for a moment. He glances at you and then thinks, fuck it. If curiosity didn’t kill the cat then it’ll definitely kill him. “Can you smell your girlfriend in a sea of people?”

Riki scrunches his nose, his hands busy play-fighting with Jay. Heeseung ignores them like it’s a daily occurrence to see them act this way. Which is probably not far from the truth. “Not really? If they’re too many people, like right now, with your stench and too many omega scents—it’s difficult to find her.” Jay tackles his side and Riki yelps. “B-But it’s getting better after the mating bite, though—Jay hyung! I just got my tattoo there!”

“So…you can’t like…” Heeseung licks his lips, his throat suddenly dry. He has a feeling that he’s not going to like the answer Riki’s going to give him once he finishes his sentence. Jay is now on the floor while Riki is pulling him by the legs and dragging him around like a used rug.

“You can’t single her out from her scent alone?”

There. He said it. His two idiotic friends will catch on it and grill him for the problem he partially caused. The other part is, no doubt, his wolf’s fault for deciding to like one single scent. You’re not at fault at all. Never. Wait, who said that?

Riki is breathless from the laughter and play-fight, but he still manages to listen and answer, thanks to his alpha senses. If he finds Heeseung’s questions strange, he only shares his suspicion through a knowing look with Jay.

“Sometimes. Like I said, it’s only when the crowd isn’t too big and when she’s in the same room as me.” Riki finally spares Heeseung a glance, tilting his head in a feigned curiosity. “Why are you asking, hyung? Did you smell Y/N from miles away or something?”

How the fuck did that idiot know?

Heeseung looks away from the teasing grin thrown his way. He really doesn’t like this. “No,” he grumbles. “I’m just afraid if I might be Jay’s fated mate because his pheromones are fucking everywhere.”

“Hey! What the fuck did I do to you?!” 

Riki bursts out laughing and high-fives Heeseung with a cheeky smile. On the floor, Jay is already huffing and sulking, mumbling something about ‘always catching strays’ and ‘citrusy pheromones aren’t smelly’. Heeseung sighs quietly when the topic takes a turn into a debate about who has the best smelling pheromones, which is an easy win for Riki, if Heeseung’s going to be honest. 

Don’t tell Jay though. Heeseung doesn’t want to lose his passenger princess privilege so soon.

Much to his relief, it’s already time for practice. Heeseung tries to ignore the prickle in his neck coming from your direction as you and your fellow cheerleaders leave the gym to go to your own practice room. He fights the urge to look back, to stride forward and ask you to stay—which is insane, by the way, what the fuck is wrong with him?

Before he slips into his captain mode, however, Jay approaches him with a more serious look on his face. “Calm your flat tits, Hee. It’s normal for her scent to linger; you kinda scented her aggressively to protect her last night.”

Heeseung weakly nods. Jay pats his shoulder. “A deep bond can’t be conjured just from scenting alone, unless you’re fated mates.”

This time, Heeseung doesn’t move, his tension visible in the rigid lines of his posture, the frantic movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

“Yeah,” he croaks, his pulse louder than his own voice. “Hope not.”

Practice goes on for the next two hours. Heeseung eventually falls into routine, finding himself lost in adrenaline and competitiveness. The thoughts of you cease for a moment, replaced by his quick-thinking strategy and sharp reflexes. He keeps dribbling, scoring, and making passes, not even aware of the ticking clock or when the cheerleader squad comes back in to take a break.

The last whistle finally blows before the players dramatically fall in a heap of sweaty, breathless alphas. The practice was particularly grueling, which made his body ache and his shirt clung to his skin. The coach is on fire today, all because his wife has been giving him a silent treatment. Apparently, he forgot to buy diapers on his way home last night.

Source: Nishimura Nosy.

“I think I might die,” Jay huffs, claiming a bench all to himself. His chest rises and falls in a rapid motion. “But even as a ghost, I bet the coach would still unearth my grave to force me to practice.”

“I’ll be Ghost Number Two.” Heeseung deadpans, lying down on the bench next to Jay. The latter continues to talk about something else, which Heeseung would know and remember if he didn’t get distracted by daisies and honey.

Fuck. You’re in the court again.

The urge to corner you, to grab your wrist and ask if you were okay, crawls under his skin again—restless, unrelenting.

Heeseung isn’t stupid. He knows last night, ugly as it was, doesn’t just fade by morning. His alpha has been clawing at him since then, sharp and impatient, demanding he go to you.

But Heeseung doesn’t move.

For once, he’s a coward.

He shoves it down, buries it deep, treating his own wolf like a disease he refuses to catch.

Heeseung blinks at the ceiling in an active effort to not start looking for you and staring at you like a creep. This time, he wonders quietly why your scent smells stronger than before. Perhaps the adrenaline from your routine. But even so, you don’t only smell strong, but you also smell closer—

“Free cookies!”

Heeseung jolts in surprise and whips his head in the direction of that voice. Or, precisely, your voice. His heart, as if trying to shorten his life span, decides not to take a break from the session just now and continues beating even faster.

There, just a few paces away from him, is you, standing in the middle of the court with one of your cheerleader friends. In her hold, there’s a purple Tupperware, its lid nowhere to be found. You stand slightly behind your friend, shyly looking over her shoulders as she talks to his teammates.

“Oh my God, they brought us cookies?!” Jay is already standing up, stretching lazily like a cat. “C’mon, Hee. It’s free cookies.”

Heeseung’s quick to refuse, despite his wolf begging him to go. “Nah—”

But before he can spit out any excuses, Jay is already dragging him, his weeks spent in the gym working out with Riki are finally paying off. “Don’t be ridiculous. Take your portion and give it to me.”

Heeseung groans. He really should start joining their workout session. He can’t be manhandled by his two best friends easily like this.

Distracted, Heeseung fails to register the decreasing distance between you and him. It’s only when your scent spikes sweetly, which hits him in the face like a fucking tidal wave, does he catch your eyes and realises that, fuckfuckfuck she’s here ohmyGod—

“Hi, Jay. Hi, Heeseung.”

Wait hold on, why does his name sound even more beautiful coming from your voice?

He stands like a flag pole beside Jay, actively avoiding your eyes while being fully aware of that pretty pair staring at his face. The floor suddenly looks very interesting, with skid marks from their shoes and some sweat trails. Okay. Ew. That’s gross.

“Hey, pretty ladies.” Jay greets, flashing his attractive smile as he gestures at the container. “Heard there’s free cookies for the taking? Mind if we have some?” 

Smooth as ever, Jay doesn’t even realise how easily he has charmed your friend with his simple greeting. Poor omega is already blinking rapidly, almost bouncing on her toes as she practically shoves the Tupperware into Jay’s chest. 

“Yes! Yes, of course you can, Jay. There’s only little left! Take them all!”

Your eyes, fixated on Heeseung since he arrived, tries to search his face as you shyly interrupt, whispering into your friend’s ear. 

“Offer some to Heeseung too…”

Heeseung doesn’t know whether to curse or thank the Goddess for his advanced dominant-alpha senses, because overhearing those words…it makes his chest feel warm and tight at the same time.

But your friend doesn’t pay you any mind, urging Jay to take the Tupperware from her. Jay, ever the gentleman but still a little shameless shit when it comes to food, takes it from her eager hands. He takes one bite and immediately lights up.

“This is so good! I love that it’s not too sweet.”

Like a mirror reflecting light, you beam widely, returning Jay’s enthusiasm. Heeseung tries to ignore the ugly twist in his chest. “Really? That’s…good to hear.”

“She made these, by the way!” Your friend proudly announces, which makes red blooms across your cheeks, ducking your head down slightly. You’re so shy, so pretty, Heeseung can’t stop staring.

And so good at baking. Such a perfect omega, his wolf continues. Shut the fuck up, Heeseung hisses.

“You’re really good at this, Y/N,” Jay interrupts his internal war, his voice sounding wrong in his ears. “Care to share the recipe?”

Now, is Jay flirting with you? Since when does his voice sound like that?

Heeseung tries to inhale, attempting to calm his fucking irrational wolf down, but all he can smell is the sugary scent of yours, tangling delicately and blending seamlessly with his spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze. Somewhere in his chest, his heartstrings soften, drunk in the perfect mix of your pheromones, a ghost of a mark from last night. 

Maybe that’s what possessed him to snatch the Tupperware from Jay.

Heeseung wastes no time and starts munching two cookies at once, ignoring the gasps from you and your friend and the bombastic side-eye from his fellow alpha friend. The flavour of buttery vanilla and sweet chocolate chips melt on his tongue and Heeseung almost purrs at the taste.

Outside, he makes an effort to look calm.

“These are good,” he comments coolly, trying to make it sound more like a statement than a compliment (he’s failing). This time, he dares himself to meet your eyes, and has to force down another purr when he sees the sparkles in your eyes. “Thank you, Y/N.”

There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest when the blush in your cheeks deepen. You quickly look down to the floor, mumbling softly that could’ve been missed had it not been for his senses.

What kind of pull is this? Why is every sense of his attuned to you? Heeseung swears he can smell the subtle spike of your scent, the sound of your heartbeat and your soft breathing. It’s like his whole body has decided that it wants to worship you.

And Heeseung doesn’t worship. Fuck. This is terrifying.

“Thank you, Heeseung…”

There. Your voice again. Heeseung swallows. His grip on the Tupperware tightens. Seeing you under this light, flushed and softly smiling to the ground while sneaking glances at him—it undoes him in ways he never dared imagine. 

The question is already at the tip of his tongue without his realisation. ‘Are you okay? Does what happened last night still bother you?’ The urge to comfort and soothe, now growing like a rolling snowball, threatening to spill from his mouth.

And the scary part is: Heeseung isn’t sure if that desire comes from his wolf or himself.

However, he never gets the chance to, because Jay with his perfect, universe-timing is already pulling him backwards. “Thank you for the cookies! We’ll eat them well!”

Heeseung reluctantly nods, the grip he has on the Tupperware turning knuckle-white.

“What the fuck was that?” Jay whisper-yells when they’re out of earshot, walking back to their previous spot. “And those are not only for you. Give them back to me!”

Heeseung dodges his grabby hand. “Why the fuck are you eating more?” He asks, failing to mask the bitterness in his voice.

“Didn’t they give all ten of them to us?”

“You’ve had two.”

“And you’ve had five!”

“I don’t care. These are mine.”

“You are being ridiculous.”

That’s what it takes for Heeseung to freeze in his tracks. Seeing an opening, Jay quickly snatches the Tupperware from his grasp and runs back to his spot on the bench, not forgetting to flip off the burgundy-haired alpha as he does so.

Heeseung is losing his fucking mind.

Sighing, Heeseung closes his eyes, a faint trail of daisies and honey still clinging to his senses. Even across the room, among the murmur of the gossiping cheerleaders, it’s your voice, the only one clear and crisp to his ears. 

I’m being ridiculous.

This isn’t me.

Slowly, his human side starts taking over, all flowery images of you vanish within seconds.

Fuck, he curses. He wishes this scent-marking will be gone by tomorrow morning.

Three mornings later, much to his dismay, your scent still clings to him. On the bright side, it has been notably fading, now only the remnants of daisies and honey underneath cinnamon and sea air; like crunched petals along the shoreline, waiting to be washed away.

Against his own judgment, however, his wolf is fucking devastated.

He’s been whining like a kicked puppy ever since he walked to practice this morning and couldn’t smell his scent on you instantly. He still can spot you from two buildings away, which is still strange, but the lack of spice and salt in your scent is what does it. Heeseung has to fight the urge to march towards you and start scenting you.

His wolf has been restless. And, inevitably, it puts Heeseung in a terrible mood, too. He never knew his wolf was that desperate. 

Practice ends late that night. With the tournament just around the corner, everyone is being a little shit at managing their emotions and competitiveness on the court—the downside of having an all-alpha team that people rarely talk about. 

Heeseung is not excluded from the equation, though. He almost threw the ball to Taesan’s knot and made his omega pups-less and pregnancy-free when he accidentally made a bad pass. The court had smelled like tension and a barely held-together brotherhood when he left before a cheerleader came up to him to flirt and he wasted no time to drag her to an empty classroom.

Now, Heeseung finds himself making out with that omega, tongue licking up into her mouth while she breathlessly moans into his. It’s been five days since his last fuck, and while he usually can go on without sex for weeks (one month was his best record), he’s been at his wit’s end today. Add the confusion and silent wars he’s been having about you into the mix, and Heeseung is nothing more than a stressed body waiting to be relieved.

Weirdly enough, the frustration he hopes to get rid of stays as frustration. The old sparks he usually feels when having this intimate moment with an omega seems to disappear tonight. In the back of his mind, like a looming cloud carrying a storm, is a hazy image of teary eyes and red, trembling lips.

Something stirs uneasily in his chest.

His huge, veiny hands slip under her skirt and find purchase on her cunt, gathering the slick leaking from her arousal. Her scent spikes as she bucks up her hips and, to Heeseung’s own surprise, he recoils from the smell of it and breaks the kiss. The girl doesn’t stop her advances, switching to kiss down his long neck instead.

He subconsciously scrunches up his nose, his finger halting its movement for a second. 

“What perfume are you wearing?” He asks, voice hoarse from the makeout session. He tilts his head back, allowing access and finding stimulation, but the usual thrill is a bit dull tonight.

“My pheromones,” she manages between kisses, “you like it?”

It’s quite the opposite, to be honest. Heeseung finds himself hating it. It’s too sweet. Too sharp. It sits wrong in his nose, burns at the back of his throat, like inhaling smoke for the first time. His eyes water.

There’s something wrong. He’s not enjoying this. 

And to make things worse and more confusing, his chest hurts. It constricts, like his lungs decide to shrink into a ball of unexplained pain. Heeseung’s breath stutters, almost doubling over. His mind is a frantic buzz of noise, chanting something that he can’t seem to fully register yet.

Not my omega. Not daisies. Not honey.

Heeseung feels something twist in his gut.

The nameless omega—he forgot to ask for her name—doesn’t notice the shift yet, the way Heeseung is already a frozen statue of confusion and frustration in her embrace. She continues, trailing down hot, wet kisses along the prominent line of his collarbone and sucks the tender skin. 

“Ow!” Heeseung yelps, instinctively pushing her away. The spot stings like a pulsing heartbeat, void of any pleasure that it usually would give. He staggers backwards once.

The girl frowns, clearly not happy being pushed like that. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“I—” Heeseung hisses, his shirt sitting wrong on his skin, her scent smelling wrong in his nose. He shakes his head. “Shit. I’m sorry, I—I have somewhere to be.” 

The girl scoffs, disbelieving. “What?! Heeseung, you can’t just—”

But Heeseung can, and he already does. The alpha is out of the room in the next minute, deliberately the calls of his name and the strings of insults that come from behind him. He makes a run for it.

What the fuck did just happen? Heeseung is never one to refuse a good time with omega, but his wolf is quiet tonight. Too quiet, like it’s being silent on purpose in solidarity for something he’s yet to know—or yet to realise. 

The hazy image comes back to his mind, slowly becoming sharp and clear. Heeseung thinks his lungs have turned into bricks when he realises that he’s been imagining you. That his head has been loud with the thoughts of you, even when he’s with someone else.

Why? Why is this happening? Why you?

Heeseung makes a turn to where the locker room is, planning to grab his duffel and leave, when he bumps into Riki and Jay, freshly out of the shower.

“Heeseung hyung?” A shirtless Riki calls his name, then raises a brow when he sees his condition. “Was wondering where you were. But those lipstick stains told me enough.”

Heeseung wipes his neck harshly. Wordlessly, he yanks his locker open and checks himself out in a mirror. He turns his face left and right, yanking down his under eyes, then sighs. Riki and Jay exchange looks. The air is slowly thickening with the pheromones of a distressed alpha, coming from none other than Heeseung.

“You good, mate?” Jay decides to ask him. Heeseung doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he’s as good as he wants himself to be. The alpha lets out another sigh and slams the door closed.

“I think something is definitely wrong with me.”

“Is it practice?” Jay softens his voice, already switching on his therapist-friend mode. “Hee, today’s just that day. Everybody was losing their shits, it’s not just you.”

Heeseung leans his back on the locker and tilts his head upwards. “It’s not that. I mean it biologically. Ever since—” Heeseung pauses, suddenly unsure if saying out loud would make things right. But Riki and Jay have already caught onto it.

“Ever since what?”

Heeseung chooses to deflect. “Look, I was trying to make out with this one pretty omega just now. But no matter how much kissing we did, I just couldn’t enjoy it.” Heeseung points to his sweatpants. Riki and Jay curiously follow with their eyes. “She was practically sucking my tongue and I’m not even bricked up, man!”

Riki furrows his eyebrows. “Not even a spark?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “I couldn’t feel anything. At all. Only,” he swallows harshly. “I only felt disgusted. By her.”

Silence hangs in the room at his revelation. Riki’s expression morphs into something akin to genuine surprise, while Jay only stares at him with a gaping mouth before he starts typing on his phone.

“This is dead serious. You can’t have sex without your dick. That's like a banana cake without bananas.”

Heeseung and Riki grimace. “Please don’t ever compare my dick to a banana again.”

“Or a banana cake.” Riki slaps his shoulder. “That’s my favourite, hyung. Don’t be gross.”

Jay waves a dismissive hand, eyes still glued on his phone. “Right, right. Anyway, I texted Sunoo.”

Heeseung’s eyes go wide like saucer plates at the name and groans. “Sunoo?! Jay, you know he’s still mad at me.”

“I know, but he’s the only one who probably knows the answer to this.” Jay smacks his lips when he reads a new text from Sunoo. “He’s staying back for a lab session. Let’s go to the medicine building.”

And that’s how Heeseung finds himself cramped into a tiny booth of a ramyeon stall, located by the road near the faculty of medicine. A pouty Sunoo is sitting across from him, shooting him his foxy side-eyes as he whines at Jay.

“Jay hyung, why did you bring this traitor with you?” Sunoo pulls at the sleeves of Jay’s hoodie, sulking away from Heeseung. It’s only the three of them since Riki had gone home with his girlfriend just now. “I thought the three of us would include you, me, and Riki.”

Jay sighs exasperatedly. “I had to, Sunoo. That traitor is having a critical dick malfunction and he needs your help.”

The waitress arrives with three bowls of steaming ramyeon. Jay and Sunoo pause their not-so-quiet argument and help her place the bowls on their table. She clears her throat awkwardly, and takes a quick glance at Heeseung before leaving. Heeseung groans internally.

Great. Now words about him and his dick problem will spread around the campus.

“Is STD finally catching up with you?” 

Heeseung should know that it was never that easy to get Sunoo off his back. That boy is a professional pouty sulk-er, he’ll never let Heeseung go easily. Not after harassing him with his sass, at least. Heeseung holds back a sigh, already resigned and defeated.

With a grim voice, he apologises to the brown-haired alpha. For the fifth time. 

“Sunoo, I am so sorry. I know it was my fault, but for the record, I didn’t know you were serious about pretending to be an omega. Why would you even do that, anyway?”

“Because I like the attention!” Sunoo is fast to defend himself, his pout only deepening. “And because alphas will only spoil me if I was their pretty little soft omega—which I am not! And you exposing my secondary gender to that alpha just ruined my chance to be with him. Who would even call their friend, ‘my cutie little fake omega’, anyway?!”

“I was drunk!”

“A drunk traitor is still a traitor!”

Heeseung turns to Jay, sending him signals to help him out. But his best friend deliberately ignores him, too engrossed in his own bowl, pretending to be a wall. Heeseung rolls his eyes and looks back at Sunoo.

It might not be that easy to console the sulky boy, but Heeseung is labelled a sweet talker for a reason.

“You’re already a pretty alpha, Sunoo. Prettier than any omega I know. Anyone would drop everything for you even if they knew you weren’t an omega.”

Like a switch being flipped, the frown on Sunoo’s melts away, replaced by a beam so wide it shows off his perfect teeth.

“Aw, Heeseungie hyung. You’re now forgiven. Now tell me about this dick problem of yours.”

Jay and Heeseung look at each other and relax into their chairs in relief. Heeseung sends him a look of, ‘That was easy,’ to which Jay raises his eyebrow, ‘Why hadn’t you done it sooner?’

Now, with Sunoo not threatening to kill the burgundy-haired alpha anymore, Heeseung can finally enjoy a few bites of his untouched ramyeon. It’s already a bit cold and soggy, but the broth makes up for it. He retells the story to Sunoo between bites, watching the ever expressive boy react to it with various expressions.

“It’s not uncommon, though. But since it’s you, it must have felt very concerning.” Sunoo hums in thought, tapping his full lips with the thinnest tips of his chopsticks. “Well, Heeseungie hyung, did you imprint on any omegas?”

Heeseung hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head, feeling Jay’s eyes on him.

“No.”

“Hm, okay. Even if it’s due to imprints, it has to come from both sides,” Sunoo rubs his chin, now looking every bit a live action of Detective Conan, minus the glasses. “Did you conjure a bond with anyone? Maybe accidentally?”

Heeseung’s lips part. “I…would’ve known, right?”

“Right.” Sunoo nods firmly, then tilts his head. “Did you scent one of your hookups, then?”

“An almost-hookup,” Jay cuts in, clearly enjoying this interrogation. Heeseung shoots him a look. Jay is always out to rat him out and he’s actually so close to disowning him.

He grunts. “Just…someone.”

Sunoo smiles in amusement. “So you did scent someone. Was it someone you like?”

“Define like.”

“Like them enough to want to kiss them. Like them enough to want to fuck them. Like them enough to even want to scent them to begin with.” Sunoo shrugs. “Pick one.”

Heeseung closes his eyes. Does he like you? Wanting to kiss and fuck someone don’t equal to liking them. Because if that was true, then there’s no other explanation to Heeseung ‘liking’ every omega he has fucked other than him having an insanely big heart—which he doesn’t. He liked the sex and their company; that was all there was to it.

Which leaves him option number three. 

Heeseung’s never the guy to sit with his feelings—at least not the romantic kind. You’re an unfamiliar territory; something that he deliberately avoids his entire life, simply because he never sees settling down with a mate as a desirable goal or accomplishment. And, perfectly hidden under his fuckboy persona is also a thin layer of fear.

Fear of getting hurt by the thing that’s supposed to be love.

But does he like you?

Maybe he does. He’s always liked the way you laugh; you always cover your mouth with one hand when you do, like your smile is only visible in the privacy of those who really know you. He’s always noticed the way you touch the tip of your nose when people’s eyes are on you. He’s always thought the natural blush that you have when you’re shy is adorable.

In that one single minute, Heeseung realises that he’s been paying attention to you more than he thought he did.

Fuck. He does like you.

But does liking have to lead to being mated?

That responsibility is way taller and heavier than him and Heeseung is beyond freaked out.

“Earth to Heeseungie hyung?”

“Why does it even matter? What does it even have to do with me not getting a boner during a makeout session?” Heeseung demands, frustration bleeding into his voice. Is Sunoo punishing him for being the reason he fumbled that tall, hot alpha two weeks ago? Will Sunoo truly ever forgive him? He already apologised five times!

Sunoo, seeing enough of his hyung’s suffering, finally relents. “Geez, relax. I wasn’t playing with you. I asked because most of the time this happens,” he gestures at Heeseung and his crotch. Heeseung instinctively closes his long legs. “It’s because the wolf has already liked one omega. An omega they recognise as their mate. It’s the only explanation why you felt disgusted just now.”

Mate. That cursed word again. Beside Sunoo, Jay is whistling.

“Sorry. You mean my wolf, my alpha, likes one omega and decides I shouldn’t fuck around anymore?”

Sunoo nods. “Basically, yeah. But it usually isn’t that easy, hyung. A bond has to have been conjured between your wolf and their wolf by any kind of markings.”

“Like?”

“Like biting. Or scenting.”

Scenting. Heeseung didn’t just do scenting with you, he was scent-marking you.

“But that’s impossible,” Jay interrupts, confusion etching onto his handsome features. His leaning forward now, his empty bowl pushed to the center of the table, which reminds Heeseung of his own bowl. The alpha quickly finishes his noodles. “Scenting between unmated alpha and unmated omega will only conjure a temporary, fragile bond. It should’ve been gone by now—the scenting happened five days ago.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I can detect some floral scent in Heeseungie hyung’s pheromones.”

Heeseung almost chokes on his noodles. “You do?”

Sunoo leans forward, squinting his eyes at him like he’s some kind of lab specimen. “Yeah. It’s faint, but it’s there. Sweet. Floral. Clingy.” He tilts his head again. “It’s weird.”

Across from him, Heeseung is frozen. His grip on the chopsticks tightens. He swallows harshly.

“That’s not supposed to happen…right?”

“Exactly,” Sunoo points at him. “That’s why I’m saying it’s weird.”

Jay leans back, arms crossed. “But if it’s still there after five days—”

“It doesn’t automatically mean fated mates,” Sunoo cuts in quickly, tone sharper this time. He shoots Jay a look before turning back to Heeseung. “Don’t jump to that conclusion. That’s, like, extremely rare. And also very dramatic.”

Heeseung exhales, shoulders dropping just a little.

Right. Dramatic. His alpha begs to differ.

“It could just be a stronger-than-usual temporary bond,” Sunoo continues, more thoughtful now. “Maybe your alpha overdid it when you scented them. Or the omega was in a heightened emotional state, so the bond lasted longer.”

Jay hums, not entirely convinced.

“But the whole not getting turned on thing?” He gestures vaguely. “That still doesn’t explain it fully.”

Sunoo taps his chin again. “Mhm. That part’s interesting.” He levels Heeseung with a curious look. “Who is this girl, anyway? You seem pretty fucked over her.”

Heeseung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you not say it like that? Like I’m some kind of a broken alpha?”

“You kinda are right now,” Sunoo says bluntly.

“Sunoo.”

“I’m serious!” He leans forward again, eyes lighting up. “Your body is rejecting other omegas. That’s not normal for you. Like, at all.”

Heeseung slumps deeper into his seat. As if it’s not already obvious enough, Sunoo just had to spell it out loud.

“I noticed,” he mutters, defeated.

Sunoo softens slightly at that, sighing as he rests his chin on his palm. “Okay. Look. Don’t panic yet.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You’re literally here because your dick stopped working.”

“…Okay, I’m a little panicked.”

Sunoo waves his chopsticks dismissively. “It’s probably not fated mates. If it were, you’d be way worse right now.”

Heeseung stills. “Worse?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo shrugs. “You’d be obsessing. Unable to stay away. Your senses would go crazy. You’d feel everything they feel, more or less.”

Jay slowly turns to look at Heeseung. Heeseung immediately avoids his gaze. That fucker is always eager to catch his ‘Gotcha!’ moment, it irritates him to the core.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” he says a bit too quickly, the lie tasting acidic on his tongue.

Sunoo mustn't know about the knot of uneasiness in his chest. Sunoo mustn’t know about the face that comes to his mind when he’s kissing someone else. None of his friends must know that he’s obsessing right now, itching to flee and find you in the middle of the night.

“Exactly,” Sunoo nods, unaware of his friend’s turmoil. “So relax. I’ll look into it more, yeah? Might be some weird hormonal response or delayed imprint reaction.”

Heeseung lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, okay.”

“Or you can do a try-and-error,” Sunoo suggests, reaching over to pat Heeseung’s shoulder. “Just do what you always do—try hooking up with different omegas. Maybe the one you made out with tonight was just a bad compatibility for you.”

Heeseung perks up at that. Sunoo and Jay, not noticing the shift in the air, are already moving forward with a different topic, completely oblivious to the newly-lit determination now burning up his body.

Just do what you always do.

Right. Heeseung has a high body count for a reason. He decides, with a final resolution, that he should solve this his own way.

If Heeseung spends every night for the next two weeks trying to bed different omegas, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.

If Heeseung fails each time, unable to enjoy every kiss and friction, Sunoo and Jay don't have to know.

If the pain in his chest worsens every time he leaves the barely-warm beds, Sunoo and Jay don’t have to know.

If Heeseung avoids looking at you, avoids bumping into you, avoids speaking to you—he hopes you don’t know about it.

A quiet voice from his wolf whispers something that he refuses to acknowledge: He hopes you’ll forgive him for being unfaithful.

You’ve been sick for two weeks. 

At first it was subtle, like a faint throb in your heart that makes you stop whatever you’re doing. The first time it happened, you were in the middle of a group discussion for an elective subject. 

A quiet alpha, or a wolf hybrid named Sunghoon, to be exact, had noticed the way you winced from the pain. He didn’t say anything, but you guessed he told an omega about what he saw because right before you exited the library, one of the girls had passed you a free menstrual pad.

He thought you were experiencing period cramps. You wished it was just period cramps.

Then, it gradually grew to something worse. A sudden stabbing pain in your chest. A twist in your gut, like you were expecting something bad to happen. Sometimes it was random palpitations, where your heart was skipping huge beats, as if you were about to go down on a roller coaster.

Each time it happened, you only placed your palm over your heart, hoping it’d go away. You never understood why, but those pains only came at night, preventing you from getting any good sleep and rest. And each time you tried to close your eyes, there was only one face flashing behind your eyelids.

Heeseung.

Yujin had dragged you to the clinic, but the doctor came to a conclusion that you were just having pre-heat symptoms—which couldn’t be further from the truth, because you just had your cycle one month ago. You’re not supposed to go on your quarterly-cycle of torture for another two months.

“Oh my Goddess, you’re burning up.” Yujin’s palm is cold against your forehead. Her face is pulled into a tight expression. “Let’s just skip today’s classes, okay? I’ll stay with you.”

You weakly nod, barely registering Yujin’s movement around the room. Your body feels like a furnace, the heat simmering in your veins almost rivaling a volcano’s lava. You discard the blanket to get some sort of relief, only to shiver in the cold when the air touches your skin.

After a few minutes of exiting and entering your room, Yujin finally sits by your bed. She helps you with a glass of water and a dosage of paracetamol, careful to wipe any loose drops like a concerned mother. It doesn’t get better, but at least your throat doesn’t feel like it’s being scrubbed with sandpaper anymore.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Dying, but a bit less dramatic.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to give Suho from True Beauty a run for his money, would we?”

You chuckle softly, though it sounds more like a seal with a sore throat.

“But seriously, though. It’s been two weeks.” Yujin purses her lips, the worriness still marring her beautiful face. “I’m so worried, Y/N. What’s happening to you?”

You don’t answer right away. “It’s my omega.”

Yujin’s eyebrow jumps. “What about her?”

You also wonder the same thing. Swallowing, you finally let your friend in on the torturous days you have been going through. “One night, after our practice ran quite late two weeks ago, she went a bit hysteric. I couldn’t stop vomiting.” You recalled, eyes distant in memory. “She kept yelling something about a traitor, about rejection. I don’t know, really. But that’s how it started.”

“Two weeks ago, at night, you say?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Yujin is quiet for a few extended minutes, caressing her thumb over your knuckles. The motion puts you at ease, and slowly, you feel the pills begin working their chemicals.

“Did you, perhaps, hear about anything that happened that night?” You shake your head, unsure if your cheerleader squad had mentioned anything. Yujin hums. “Because I think I did.”

“What?”

“So I’m friends with this one omega named Sunoo from my faculty. A pretty boy and a petty gossiper.” Yujin starts, now treading her words slowly as if walking on eggshells. “He knows everyone on this campus. Especially the hot stuff, you know—student body, athletes, cheerleaders.” Yujin eyes you but not unkindly. “He knows you too. Just the basic stuff.”

“Like?”

“Your name, your major, your Instagram account.”

You let out a breath, a bit unsure where this is heading, but listen anyway. “Okay.”

“And because of his impeccable knowledge of gossip, I heard from him about a cheerleader breaking down in the group chat after a certain alpha left her mid-making out, all slicked and horny while he didn’t even pop a borner.”

You hold onto her every word, but for some reason, a dread has settled deep in your bones, like your body is already anticipating some bad news. Your heart, previously beating fast, is now sprinting like it might escape your rib now.

“And that alpha was Heeseung.”

It hits before you can even think.

A sharp, twisting pain lances through your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs like you’ve been struck. Your fingers curl into the sheets, clutching at nothing.

Your omega whines—hurt, betrayed. And suddenly, you understand why. The cries about betrayal. His face haunts you every night, like a painful reminder of the destiny you're subjected to.

You try to swallow once, then twice, before you find your voice back.

“Heeseung?” You try. His name now tastes bitter on your tongue.

Yujin, ever the empathetic, senses it, and tightens her hold on your hand. “Yeah,” she nods. She lets a moment of quiet pass, fidgeting and swallowing like you. Like the news has more stories that she’s yet to tell; an extended part to a nightmare that’s been keeping you up at night. You brace yourself.

“And two nights ago I saw him at Jake’s frat party with a girl. Doing sexy stuff. The usual.” Yujin can’t look at your face, choosing to stare at your intertwined hands instead. “The frat boys told me that he’s been at it almost every night. For two weeks.”

Is it possible to hurt someone this much in a span of five minutes? Getting shot multiple times would’ve hurt less than this.

There’s a heavy silence, then there’s your small, quiet voice, laced with unfiltered hurt.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I’m saying, Y/N, that you might be facing bond rejection symptoms right now.” Yujin licks her lips. “I’m saying that you and Heeseung just might be fated mates. That night he scented you? You guys conjured a half-bond. And him fucking around with other omegas like this hurts your wolf because she knows—only this kind of bond can do that.”

Is having a fated mate supposed to hurt like this? Like your chest is caving in, collapsing under the torment of unwanted love. Can you even call it love? Whatever it is that you and Heeseung unknowingly have been sharing—Is it even love?

It’s not. It’s just…fate.

You shake your head. There’s hot pain behind your eyes, a sign of an impending doom. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.”

A drop of tears rolls down your face and in the next blink, everything is already blurry. “I—I think I already knew it.” Your voice is wet from despair, the pain almost feels tangible.  “He never meets my eyes anymore and—and every time I see him, I feel like I might die.”

A warm pair of arms pulls you close, and instantly the scent of green tea fills up your senses. Your roommate holds you tight, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as you sob into her chest. 

Your wolf, the contradict that she is, hopes that it was Heeseung embracing you. Still hoping it was the alpha comforting you, soothing you with his voice and that calming pheromones of his. Still foolishly longing for him despite everything.

You feel pathetic.

Your crying subsides after a while, still curling up against Yujin like a hurt puppy. You’re already losing track of time, if it’s still proper to have breakfast or if it’s already time for lunch. It is Yujin who finally speaks first.

“Do you hate it?”

You let the question linger in the air, turning it over in your thoughts like what you’ve been doing the past hour since you woke up. “I don’t hate the bond. Nor him.”

You pause, gnawing at your lower lip. Then you exhale.

“I just hate that I was never given a chance to do this properly.”

Yujin pulls away and makes you face her. She wipes your tears using her sleeves, murmuring sweet words as you feel your chest slightly loosening at her kind gesture. “You might still have it. Go and talk to him, Y/N. If he’s avoiding you like this, he might’ve felt something too, right?”

“If he’s avoiding me like this, he might just not want anything to do with me.” A humourless chuckle escapes your lips. “And to think that I thought I had a chance.”

“Wait, I never asked you this. Do you like Heeseung? Both of you; your wolf and you.”

You don’t answer right away. The question sits between the two of you, heavy and fragile; like a mark refusing to be looked over. 

Do you like Heeseung?

Your wolf stirs immediately. Yes, I like him.

The answer is quick. Certain. Definite. 

But you purse your lips, forcing yourself to think harder, deeper. Forcing yourself to think about you, not her. You can only come to one conclusion.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, honest. It sounds weak even to your ears. Beside you, Yujin keeps rubbing small, grounding circles over your hand.

“I already know my omega likes him,” you admit softly. “She decided that the moment he stayed and took care of me that night.”

Oh, how pathetic is it to fall for someone for doing something as mundane as staying and taking care of you?

It’s laughable. But it makes your chest ache even more, like your heart was an empty can and fate was crushing it with its tight grip.

“But me…” you continue, voice quieter now, “I don’t even know him like that.”

You shake your head, frustration flickering through your expression.

“I don’t know what he’s like when he’s not surrounded by people, or when he’s not—” you gesture vaguely, like you can scoop up every rumour tied to his name. “That version of him everyone talks about.”

You stare at your hands. “But I wanted to.”

Yujin follows, voice soft. “Wanted to?”

“I wanted to get to know him,” you continue, voice trembling. “When I first found out how my wolf feels for him, I thought it could be like how I’ve always imagined having a fated mate would be: slowly falling in love with them. With him.”

A wistful smile graces your beautiful features, soft and vulnerable. “I wanted to know which game he remembers the most. I wanted to know if the number on his jersey means anything. Silly things like that. Not this.”

Your hand moves to your chest unconsciously, rubbing the surface softly.

“Not like this. Not when it hurts every time I—” you cut yourself off, breath shaking. “Not when it hurts every time I look at him.”

You still remember, after one grueling routine, when the pain was still kind enough to let you come to practice. The players had just finished their practice too, slicked with sweat and looking exhausted as ever. Among the tired alphas, your eyes locked onto Heeseung’s.

You had the instincts to go to him and pass him the cold mineral you’d unknowingly saved for him. But the look in his eyes—it was unreadable. Cold. An abyss that was enough to make you stay rooted in your place.

Then, without even a graze of a smile, he looked away, taking a bottle from Riki’s hand.

It had hurt more than you’d like to admit.

“I think…” you try again, more carefully this time. “If things were different, I would’ve liked him.”

Your throat tightens. This time, you’re reminded of that night before everything turned cruel like this. The warmth of his embrace that lingered. The spice of his scent that clung. The safety of his company that comforted you. 

Was any of it real?

“And if things were the same…I think I would've still liked him anyway.”

That’s the truth. A quiet, terrifying truth that settles deep in your chest like an unshakeable ground. The kind of truth that makes even your most grounding friend sit still in your bed.

“And that’s what makes it worse,” you whisper.

Because now it’s not just your omega.

It’s you, too.

The one-week intervarsity basketball tournament has finally begun. Around seven universities have sent their representatives, leading to a flood of humans in different-coloured jerseys wandering around on your campus, its official host. 

You’re excused from the whole week’s classes, seeing your cheerleaders and bunches of alphas more than you have ever seen your classmates since the tournament started. It was exciting at first, to participate in such a prestigious tournament that is always the talk of town. But the tight schedules between games is becoming more taxing and demanding.

It doesn’t help that the bond rejection symptoms have only gotten worse, hindering you from giving your best potential at each routine. Which, of course, catches the attention of your captain, and she’s not very amused with it.

“Y/N. If you’re not telling me what is wrong with you, then don’t make me find excuses to put you on the bleachers.” Narin once whispered to you on the third day of the tournament. You merely nodded, trying hard not to scrunch your noise at the sour smell of bubblegum and burnt cotton candy. She eyed you up and down, before she scoffed.

“Don’t get too butt-hurt that Heeseung’s fucking other cheerleaders,” she grunted. You froze. “At least you got your round that night. He fucking rejected me.”

What? The confusion must be clear on your face, because then Narin rolled her eyes, fixing the blue ribbon in her hair before she turned to face you.

“You smelled like him for weeks, Y/N. Don’t think people didn’t know that you two fucked after they won against that eastern university that night.” And then she left, leaving a dumbfounded you in the hallway, standing still like a lifeless statue.

Realisation starts settling in. Did people think you and Heeseung—fuck. You should’ve known.

No wonder many eyes were on you during those days when you still smelled like Heeseung.  You thought it was just because Heeseung was one of the most sought after alphas on campus. Not this. Not whatever allegation this is.

Still, the bomb Narin had dropped wasn’t enough to stop yourself from pushing yourself past your limits. You don’t even know what your limits are anymore. They seem to keep expanding with every new pain that blooms in your chest. 

You’re still a bit sluggish, but at least Narin is off your back. Whatever bitterness she harbours for you, though not forgotten, is at least tamed on the last day of the tournament.

You knew she wouldn’t understand, but you couldn’t help it if the pain worsens. You wish, for once, that Heeseung would take it slow with the cheerleaders from the opposing teams. Because the pain has become unbearable; cracks turning into holes of emptiness in your heart, faint pulsing turning into straight-up invisible stabbing in your gut. You’re actually surprised that you’re not already bleeding from how real it has felt.

However, deep down, there’s a small, barely-there gratitude for Heeseung for not doing it in front of you. At least you can spare yourself from whatever possible torment this fate has destined for you to face if you had to watch Heeseung fucking another omega in the empty locker room.

But you guess it’s time you finally, actually reach your limit, and your body can’t seem to be more dramatic to choose the last game as its last straw. As Heeseung hoops in the last score for the team, sealing their title as the champion, the audience erupts into the loudest cheer you’ve ever heard. You quickly get to your feet to perform the celebratory routine, but the world is spinning and your head is light when you stand up. You stagger backwards.

“Oh my Goddess, are you alright?” One of your cheerleader friends catches you in her arms, shaking you out of your pained daze. 

“I…” you cough, your voice only scratching at your throat. “I just need to. Sit. Yeah. I need to sit down and talk to Heeseung.”

“Heeseung?” The girl, who you finally recognise as Rei, looks over at the center of the court, where almost the whole school is hooting and hollering in joy. “Wait—let me sit you down first. You’re pale as hell, damn.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you’re finally seated. Rei has passed you a bottle of mineral water and fans you with her pink hand-fan. She stays by your side, looking after you as the rest of the world celebrates the first champion of your university team. You’re painfully grateful to her for it.

“Hey. Can I call one of your friends? Or maybe, do you have an alpha I can contact?” Rei starts when you’re not speaking, too focused on not focusing on the pain to remember to talk. “You asked for Heeseung just now. Is he your alpha?”

Is he?

You wish you knew the answer to that too.

Instead, you shake your head. “He’s not my alpha. I just…need to have a few words with him.”

Rei purses her lips, clearly not pleased with your priority at the moment but obliges anyway. “Alright. Let me text my cousin real quick.” She says, already rummaging inside her bag for her phone.

Her statement intrigues you. “Cousin?”

“Nishimura Riki. And he’s not replying. Gimme a sec.” You watch as Rei presses the call button on her phone and puts the device over her ear. You follow her line of sight as she turns to look at the court again. The crowd hasn’t calmed down from the high of the win yet.

“Hello, adopted fuck. I need you to read my text ASAP—Nobody’s stealing your girlfriend, Riki! You can go back to kissing her face after you read my text—Okay, okay! My friend, Y/N, needs to talk to Heeseung. President-level urgent.” Rei pauses, taking a quick look at you before she continues. “Yes. It seems very important. Just get his ass here fast. Yeah—Congrats, by the way. I’m not buying you that Chrome Hearts chain. Bye.”

Rei sighs as she pockets her phone. “Heeseung will be here in five minutes. You good? Do you still need anything? I feel like I should call someone else. You’re friends with Ahn Yujin, aren’t you?” She rambles on. For someone who barely speaks to you, Rei sure is a caring omega.

You give her a small smile.”I’m alright, Rei. I’ll rest after seeing him.”

Rei hums, checking her phone when it vibrates. “Aight, if you say so. I’ll be around here until they move to celebrate at Jake’s frat tonight.” She gathers her stuff and stands up, brushing her pleated skirt with practiced elegance that you know is instilled in every cheerleader’s demeanour.

“You take care of yourself. And I better not see you at the party.”

“Thank you, Rei.” You wave at her and watch as the lines of her frame get smaller, disappearing into the crowd. 

Now alone, the weight of reality is finally hitting you square in the chest. You curse, pulling your hair when you realise your stupid, impulsive decision, made in the whim of desperation to get the pain go away.

“This is stupid,” you whisper. Without thinking further, you grab your bag and stand to leave. But before you can flee the scene, a heavy presence with the familiar scent of spicy cinnamon and salty sea breeze drifts into your senses.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name leaving his lips has locked you in place. The haunting familiarity of his voice, one that follows you into your restless sleeps and every waking hour, engulfs you almost like the night he held you in his arms.

Except this time, there’s a piercing pain in your heart that comes with his presence. A dull, throbbing ache that’s been a constant company to you, manifested into the shape of the man that your wolf yearns for.

Lee Heeseung.

“Y/N?” He repeats, but you don’t dare to face him just yet. “Riki said you wanted to, uh, talk to me.”

Licking your dry lips, you turn to Heeseung, and the sight has almost rendered you breathless.

Heeseung’s still wearing his jersey, standing tall to his height like he’s dominating the air around him. His burgundy hair looks softer under the light, some small strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. His shoulders are squared up, still lined with pride and the high from winning the tournament. He looks at you calmly, but the edges of his eyes are somewhat gentler; if the lights weren’t tricking your eyes.

You gulp, already losing the battle before it has even started. Why does he have to look so handsome?

You force yourself to say something. “Yeah. I did. I mean, I do. It’s important. I think.”

Heeseung is patient. If your nervousness is something unusual to him, he doesn’t comment on it. After all, you’re indeed known as a shy girl among the cheerleaders.

“I’m…I’m going straight to the point and be honest with you.” Is this really happening? You’re scared that if you were to speak more, your heart might leap out of your mouth from how hard it is pumping behind your ribs. You hold your bag tighter, trying to ground yourself.

“I’m listening,” he hums.

The words are simple. His voice is calm. Too calm, like he’s unaffected, like he doesn’t have a clue about what you’re about to say. It almost makes you falter.

For a second, you just stare at him. At the same face your mind has been haunted for weeks, at the same eyes you’ve been avoiding because they make everything feel too real.

Except everything is actually real. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.

Your fingers curl tighter around your bag.

“Did you…feel anything?” you ask, voice smaller than you intended. “That night.”

Heeseung’s brows pull together, confused. “What do you mean?”

Your throat burns. Stop. Turn around. Leave. 

“When you helped me,” you stubbornly continue, ignoring the self-preservation act your wolf’s pulling. “When you scented me. Did you feel something? Anything?”

There’s a shift in the air. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Heeseung’s shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens a fraction. A flash of something that leaves your heart hopeful crosses his face, but it leaves as soon as it comes.

“I was just helping you,” he finally says, almost too quickly. “You were in a bad state.”

The ache in your chest pulses, turning alive with each passing second.

“I know that,” you nod, almost too fast, the throbbing in your head comes back. The headache is well-guaranteed after this, you’re sure of it. “I know. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I just—I just need to know if you felt it too.”

“Felt what?”

You stare at him. God, he’s really making you say it. Is he truly clueless or is he playing with you? Whatever he is trying to do, he’s succeeding at making you feel smaller and…desperate.

“The pull,” you whisper after a while, “the connection.”

Silent stretches between the two of you. Heeseung returns your gaze, but his black eyes reveal nothing about his thoughts. 

You try again. “You felt it too…right?”

There it is. For a fleeting second, you think you see it. That flicker in his eyes. The subtle hesitation. The twitch in his jaw. It almost makes you feel hopeful.

Heeseung exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N,” he starts slower this time, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “There’s no such thing as that.”

If your heart was made of lead, you’re sure it’d clang to the floor so loud for how fast it drops.

“What?”

“Fated mates. Bond. Whatever you’re thinking.” He shakes his head, like he’s making a show of how ridiculous you sound. “That’s not real.”

The cracks finally shatter, allowing a big, gaping hole filled with utter anguish to take place in where your heart used to reside. Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens. 

“But—” you try, voice undeniably trembling now. “Then, what is this?”

Your hand presses weakly against your chest.

“Why does it hurt like this? Why does,” your voice cracks, your omega thrashing wildly inside you, “why does it hurt so much?”

For a split second, panic flashes across his face. There’s a change in his scent. A sharp, biting spice that’s stinging your nose and thick, briny salt that leaves your throat itchy. 

Because he knows. He knows this isn’t normal. He knows how he almost went psychosis the moment it happened to him three weeks ago. 

But Heeseung’s always been good at leaving—it’s the one thing that’s been keeping his heart in a safe chest without any chances of getting hurt. It’s almost cruel that he never really cares if leaving right after sex would hurt any of the omegas, but he’s never felt bad enough to stop.

And you feel like someone who will make him stay.

So he does what he knows best.

“It’s in your head,” he says, firmer now. “Probably just your heat cycle messing with you. Or stress.”

The moment those words leave his mouth, your chest feels hollow. Your omega, previously hysterical and angry, is now awfully quiet and wounded.

Right. It’s just stress, he said.

You wish it was just stress.

“Oh,” is the only word you can utter. Heeseung nods, as if convincing himself too, and takes a step back.

But for you, it feels too much like a line being drawn.

“Maybe you should get some rest. You look kind of pale,” he suggests, though his voice is slowly getting small the longer he watches the changes in your expression. You’re not looking at him now, just staring at your feet with trembling fists.

The wilting flowers are back in his senses, filling up his nose and beating at his heart like a bat. Heeseung bites his lips, swallowing down the guilt. 

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

The sight of his retreating back…why is it so blurry?

“You are so fucking stupid, Heeseung.”

Heeseung’s always wondered how his best friend’s citrusy pheromones are going to smell like when he’s mad. Because Jay never gets mad at him. His friend has so much patience that every playful banter always stays as just a playful banter.

But tonight, Heeseung finally senses it. Jay smells bitter, like overripe lemon left too long in hot water. There’s a sharp, metallic tang to it too, representing the control that he’s trying so hard to keep in check. In response to the alpha’s irritated scent, Heeseung’s dominant wolf is itching to draw his claws out, sensing it as a threat.

They’re standing at the backyard of the frat house, where the pool is glowing blue and the night sky is blinking stars. It’s quieter here, with less people hanging around. Many guests have preferred to dance inside, still in celebration mode post-winning.

“What the fuck were you thinking, trying to get into someone else’s pants right after her—her confession?” Jay scoffs in disbelief. He has his back facing Heeseung, the tense muscle of his shoulders visible through the outline of his Polo shirt. 

Heeseung, on the other hand, looks more disheveled. The collar of his shirt is misplaced, and there are faint lipstick marks staining his neck and the corner of his mouth. Jay had heard from Riki about what happened between Heeseung and you and the alpha was determined to drag Heeseung out of the bedroom, not before muttering a small apology to the omega he was with. It was all shouts and aggressive whispers between the two alphas until Riki managed to shoo them out.

Which brings them to this moment, where Jay is a ticking bomb and Heeseung is trying his best to calm down.  Jay didn’t exactly know who she was, just that he’d seen her face among the cheerleaders. While Heeseung, well, he’s too worked up to explain.

“Confession? What made you think—”

“You guys are fated mates, Heeseung. Can’t you fucking see it?” Jay whips his head around. “This pull you’re feeling is because you guys are fated mates. There’s no other explanation to it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw. “Those things don’t exist, Jongseong. Not to me.”

“Oh, come on. Then explain your sex problem.” Jay hisses, his eyes turning sharper. “You think I don’t know that you still can’t get your dick wet with other omegas?”

The burgundy-haired alpha doesn’t blink. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is when she could’ve died!” Jay snaps, his scent flaring with his nose. Heeseung grits his teeth, feeling challenged. 

Then, softer, like vulnerability leaking through his anger, Jay continues: “You could’ve died, Heeseung.”

Heeseung stills. “What?”

Jay lets out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think so little of this matter, don’t you?” His voice drops, tight and furious. “A half-bond between fated mates when left too long can cause death. And with the speed you’re going with all these nameless omegas, I bet it’ll be her turn to die first.”

Heeseung scoffs, but it’s weaker now. There’s a new fear settling in his chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No,” Jay cuts in sharply. “You’re being stupid. I saw her just now. She’s pale as fuck.”

Heeseung’s quiet for a moment, staring into his friend’s eyes with almost the same amount of resentment. “It has nothing to do with me.”

Like a punishment to his lie, something twists sharply in his chest. But Heeseung is quick to mask his pain under a calm facade, gritting his teeth so hard he might break his jaw. Jay scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, so you’re doing this again.” Jay steps closer, not backing away. “You’re running away again, like the coward that you are. You’ll just run and run, deflect and disappear. Typical Heeseung.”

Jay knows he’ll hit a spot if he says it, but he couldn’t care less. He watches as the expression on Heeseung hardens, giving away the emotions he kept locked in his chest.

“Don’t.”

But Jay doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t.

“You think I don’t see it?” Jay presses, voice rising. “Every time something starts to mean something, you bolt. New omega, new bed, new distraction—anything to avoid actually feeling something real.”

“That’s not—”

“That’s exactly what this is!” Jay gestures wildly, frustration spilling over. “You found your mate, and instead of dealing with it, you’re out there fucking anything that moves just to prove you’re still in control.”

Silence slams between them, heavy and ugly. Both alphas are holding back from spiraling, neck straining from self-control and simmering anger.

Heeseung’s laugh this time is cold. “Mate?” he repeats, like the word tastes disgusting. “You really believe in that shit?”

Jay stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face. “I believe in what’s right in front of me.”

“There’s nothing in front of you,” Heeseung shoots back. “She’s just an omega I helped. That’s it.”

“Then why her?” Jay fires immediately. “Why can you find her in a crowd? Why does your scent stick to her for days—for weeks? Why can’t you even touch another omega without looking like you’re about to throw up?”

Heeseung falters, his words failing him as Jay hits him with those facts. His shaky stance doesn’t go unnoticed by the alpha, though. He’s quick to seize the chance.

Jay inhales sharply. “You know I’m right, Heeseung. You and Y/N share a bond.”

“So what?!” Heeseung snaps, frustration finally cracking through. “So what if there’s a bond? You want me to just—what? Drop everything? Play house? Act like I’m suddenly someone I’m not?”

Heeseung meets Jay’s fiery gaze head-on and shoves his friend harshly. “Stay out of it, Jay. I swear to fucking God.”

“And what? Watch you let her die because you couldn’t care less to acknowledge the bond?” Jay lets out a hollow laugh, pushing Heeseung back just as hard. “And then I watch you die?”

“Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about this.”

Their scents clash; sharp citrus and aggressive spice filling up the space like a warning siren. It almost turns physical, Riki almost bursts through the door when he sees their chests almost touching. But it is Jay who stops first.

Not because he wants to. But because he’s thinking of you.

“My parents are fated mates, Heeseung.” Jay starts, quieter, his voice losing its harsh edges. “Doesn’t mean you don’t believe in it, it isn’t real to other people.”

Heeseung remains quiet, his chest still moving rapidly.

Jay’s eyes turn glassy. He retreats one more step away from Heeseung. “If you don’t want her, reject the bond properly,” he says, breathing hard. “You’re letting someone know that you don’t want her as your mate. At least have the decency to be kind about it.”

Jay unclenches his fists.

“Don’t drag her through this half-assed bullshit where you keep hurting her just because you can’t make a decision.”

Heeseung freezes. Out of all words being shouted tonight, it is this quiet resignation from Jay that hits his heart the hardest.

Am I being cruel? Heeseung lowers his gaze. Am I a coward?

Heeseung doesn’t wait too long for an answer.

“Stop being a coward, Heeseung. I beg you.”

The words hang between them, like unwanted vines curling around a trunk of a tree. Heeseung’s gaze stays rooted to the ground, trying to find his voice.

But he doesn’t get the chance to.

“...Heeseung?”

Your voice, soft as it is, cuts through the air like a blade. Both alphas turn to where you’re standing by the door. The faint light spilling from the moon only highlights how pale your face is, void of any warmth and colour.

You stand there, one hand gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, your other pressed weakly against your chest. Your eyes, God, your eyes. They’re glassy, unfocused, yet locked onto him like you’ve found something you’ve been searching for your entire life.

Beside him, Heeseung can sense the way Jay’s body tenses the way his does.

“Heeseung…” you call for him again and move to get closer.

But then you flinch. Your entire body recoils, your nose scrunches. 

There, lingering around Heeseung like an unwanted mark, is a scent you know too well. Fruity bubblegum and cloying cotton candy; a scent that flashes pink in your head, turning into a female rage that hits too close to home. Your gaze catches the shape of someone’s mouth staining his golden skin, and something inside you breaks.

Narin.

Heeseung smells like Narin.

Your hand instinctively goes to cover your nose, eyes slowly going wide. The room goes silent, holding its breath as Heeseung feels it. 

The fleeting second where something inside you shatters.

Heeseung steps forward. “Y/N—”

But you retreat faster, away from him like he’s a disease that could kill you. 

“No,” your voice cracks, shaking your head as if trying to physically deny what your body is already registering. “No, no, no…”

Your breath comes out in shallow bursts, your fingers clawing at your shirt. 

It hurts. It hurts so bad. 

It’s like every system in your body is collapsing, failing to cope with the ultimate rejection that comes in the scent of another woman. Your fist hits your chest, forcing the air to flow in because it suddenly feels almost impossible to breathe.

Heeseung feels it now—really, really feels it. The bond is thrashing, frantic, like it’s holding onto something that’s slipping through its grasp. The pained scent of withering daisies starts filling up the air, suffocating both alphas instantly. Jay shifts uncomfortably, looking back and forth from Heeseung to you in alert.

“Hey, hey—Y/N,” Heeseung tries again, softer this time, reaching out instinctively. “Look at me. Y/N—”

“Don’t!” Your voice spikes, sharp with fear. Heeseung freezes, his throat closing up when he sees something you’re yet to realise.

That’s when you feel it—something warm trickling down your nose. You instinctively wipe it and stare at the red liquid smearing your fingers.

Blood. Then another drop falls on your palm. Before you can react properly, it already spills down your chin, past your fingers, dripping onto the floor, tainting the white tiles like a crime scene.

“Fuck.” Jay curses under his breath, his wolf perking up in alarm.

Beside him, Heeseung is beyond agitated. “Y/N!”

He doesn’t think. Heeseung lunges forward, longing to be close to you at that moment. But you’re already shaking your head rapidly, tears spilling uncontrollably now.

“Stop!” you gasp, pale lips trembling like dying petals. “I can’t do this—I can’t—”

Inside you, your omega is screaming in pain. In betrayal. In self-preservation. Her voice, raw and jagged, torn by pain, echoes in your head. 

An instinct, primal and desperate, takes over your being.

Cut it off.

Cut it off before it kills you.

You clutch at your chest, lungs burning up like a wildfire. Tears spill out freely, drenching your face in anguish and agony.

Cut it off!

And finally, you let go.

Across from you, just a few paces away, Heeseung feels it like a force, stopping him in his tracks.

It doesn’t come gradually, or slowly. It rips through his body. A violent, invisible force tearing straight through his chest like something sacred being forcibly severed. His breath is knocked out of him.

“Fuck!” Somewhere behind him, Jay is also spiraling, realising what’s going down.

But Heeseung doesn’t know. He staggers, his knees almost giving up as excruciating pain spreads from the scent gland in his neck down to his chest. Something inside him—something he never fully acknowledges—finally snaps. He almost screams.

A thick veil of tears wells up instantly, blurring his vision faster than he could process it.

“Y/N,” his voice breaks, the cracks showing up like poison in daggers. Across from him, you’re already sobbing.

It’s loud and raw, a wailing that stops even the loud music from inside. Your scent, bitter and beyond distressed, is now flooding the space like a broken dam. Your body folds in on itself as if trying to contain something that’s already shattered beyond repair.

Inside of you, your omega goes silent completely.

And it terrifies him. A lot. 

Heeseung clutches his neck, where his scent gland is pulsing violently, throbbing in an indescribable pain that feels like it could kill him. And when his eyes find yours, he realises with dread that the pull is no longer there. 

He can’t feel you. His wolf can’t feel your wolf.

The constant, aching thread that’s been tying him to you; it’s gone.

You cut the bond from your side.

The half-bond, already fragile with doubt and cowardice, is hanging by its loose thread. If it was a red string like many people had said, Heeseung’s sure it’d waver pathetically by his finger, trembling like a thread losing its kite.

“What…What did you do?” he whispers, voice hollow and shaky.

Heeseung takes a step forward again, ignoring Jay’s warning voice from behind him. His focus becomes singular on you, not minding the many pairs of eyes watching from the other side of the door.

This time, his step is slower and careful, like approaching something fragile. Something that is already broken.

Someone wounded.

You don’t move toward him. You don’t even spare him a look. You just cry, quietly, as now it feels empty where the bond used to be. You can’t feel him. 

You can only feel pain.

“Y/N…”

“...I want to leave.”

You wipe your nose, the blood still fresh and wet. You lean on the door for support, still trying to hold yourself up despite the urge to just collapse. Heeseung has to force restraint on himself, holding himself back from running to you. He searches your face, trying to catch your eyes, terrified beyond reason.

The silence is deafening.

At last, you lift your gaze, misty eyes meeting misty eyes.

“I ended it.” Your voice, used to be soft and warm, is now cold. Heeseung feels his lungs stop functioning.

“There’s nothing between us anymore.”

And that’s when it hits him brutally.

Heeseung didn’t just push you away.

He’s lost you.

sorry for the cliffhanger! part 2 coming soon 🔜

dividers from: @cursed-carmine 🤎

perm taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll

It was impossible to measure who was happier at that moment: you, surprised to see him suddenly appear, or him, who had counted the days, certain that this reunion would be their only real goal.

Before you could fully react, Heeseung dropped his backpack on the floor with a thud, as if carrying a weight he was no longer willing to lift. With one hand, he gently took the book from you and placed it on the coffee table. Then, without asking, he lifted the blanket and settled between your legs, lying face down on your chest, burying his face in your neck with a long, almost trembling sigh.

"Hee..." you murmured, caressing his back without thinking. He didn't say anything immediately; he just let himself be enveloped in your warmth, as if he wanted to imprint your presence on every fiber of his skin. You tugged the blanket around his shoulders, as if you were his refuge after a storm. "When did you arrive, my love? Why didn't you tell me? If you had, I would have made you dinner, at least," you asked quietly, as if afraid of breaking the calm of that moment.

His voice sounded muffled against your neck, deep and tired, but full of affection: "I already ate earlier. I didn't want you to worry about that. All I could think about was getting here, letting you pamper me a little. I've missed you so much, I needed to feel you, baby. I need your affection, I need my girl." Your heart tightened in your chest. You wrapped both arms around him, your fingers gently tangling in his hair, caressing each strand as if with that gesture you could restore all the calm he'd lost along the way.

"I missed you too, honey. I wanted to see you, to have you here with me," you whispered sweetly. He barely lifted his face, moving away from your neck to look at you directly. And that's when you noticed: on the side of his jaw, the pimples that usually appeared with stress were marking his sensitive skin. "Oh, my poor baby..." you murmured tenderly, brushing his face with your fingertips.

He raised an eyebrow gently, still nestled against your chest with no intention of moving away, and let out a husky laugh. "Is this really the first thing you've said to me in months?" he replied, his voice vibrating with a tone between amusement and emotion at the same time.

"Of course I am. You know I care about you, that I love you, and that if I don't take care of you, who would?" you replied, brushing your fingers over his skin.

Heeseung pulled away to sit up, and looked at you, his eyes shining with tiredness and tenderness. He stole a quick kiss on your lips before nodding. "Okay, let's go, you take care of me. But know that I only let myself be bossed around because it's you."

Without hesitation, you stood up and led him to the bathroom. Although he walked behind you, he never let go of your hand. When he sat down on the stool in front of the mirror, the first thing he did was pull you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rested his forehead on your stomach for a few seconds, as if he needed to anchor himself to you, and then raised his head with a soft smile.

"Now then, beautiful. I'm all yours, do whatever you want with me," he murmured, amused. You took the cleanser and, with gentle movements, began applying the foam to his face. He closed his eyes, but he never let go of your waist, keeping you close while you worked. Every so often, he turned his head slightly to brush your fingers with a fleeting kiss, making you giggle softly.

"Don't make it difficult for me. I'm on to something important here, Mr. Lee," you protested in a whisper, though it was hardly a real scolding.

"And how am I supposed to not do that, when I finally have you here? You can't even imagine how happy I am right now." —he answered, opening one eye only to look at you with mischief and tenderness.

When you finished rinsing him with the warm towel, Heeseung leaned forward a little, resting his face on your abdomen again, and placed a slow kiss just above the fabric of your shirt. His hands, still firmly on your waist, gently caressed your back as if he were recording every detail of you in his memory. You applied the moisturizer to his jaw in circular motions, and he leaned his head into your hand, chasing the contact. His lips parted in a sigh of relief. He looked up at you, and what you found in those eyes was so intense it made you catch your breath: not just gratitude, but pure love, quiet devotion.

"Promise me you'll always take care of me like this," he murmured softly, almost a vulnerable plea disguised as a joke. To which you leaned in and kissed his forehead, then nuzzled the tip of his nose with yours in a tender Eskimo kiss.

"You don't have to ask me. I already do it willingly, and with pleasure." When you finally applied the soothing mask, he chuckled softly when he looked at himself in the mirror, but instead of mocking, he turned to you. He took your wrist and pulled gently, just enough to bring you closer, and planted a lingering kiss on your palm before looking at you again.

"You have no idea how much I missed this... how much I missed you." His arms wrapped around you firmly again, and you had no choice but to lean against him, between his legs, while your hands gently stroked his hair. The mask needed time to take effect, but in reality, the cure he was looking for was already there: in you, in your warmth, in your love, giving him rest.

The mask's time eventually ran out, and you began to carefully remove it, sliding the damp towel over his skin as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. Heeseung kept his eyes closed, letting your hands guide him, and you found yourself smiling at him so calm, so confident in you. When you finished, you dried his face with a soft, clean towel and, stepping back a bit, looked at him, satisfied.

"There, love. You can look in the mirror now; I'm done with you," you said in a playful whisper. Heeseung slowly opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow, feigning pride.

"So? How do you see me, my darling?" he questioned with a flirtatious, almost arrogant, but no less casual tone.

"Like new, sweetheart ". you replied with a satisfied smile. He leaned toward you, bringing his face so close you could barely breathe.

"I'd say I'm still the same, just with more pampered skin." Before you could answer, he suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up in one movement.

"Heeseung!" you exclaimed in surprise, laughing immediately, gently hitting his shoulder. "What are you doing? You're going to make everything fall apart".

"I don't care about anything, or anyone but you." he replied firmly, although the smile on his face made him look more tender than serious. And he didn't let go. He walked with you in his arms to the bedroom, and although you protested between giggles, your heart was beating strongly with pure affection. As he entered, he gently dropped you onto the bed; The mattress dipped, then propelled you upward in a small bounce that drew another laugh from you.

Hee watched you for a few seconds, as if recording the image in his memory: you, laughing in the sheets, your cheeks flushed. He quickly removed his t-shirt and leaned over you, resting his hands on either side of your body. His expression changed slightly, becoming more serious, more vulnerable.

"I really need a lot of closeness with you this time," he confessed, with a sincerity that was evident in every syllable. He didn't wait for your response. He tugged at the fabric of your t-shirt and, with an ease brought by experience, slipped under it. His husky laugh mingled with yours as you felt him curl up there, burying his face against your chest as if seeking his own refuge. You couldn't contain your laughter at seeing him so comfortable in that position.

"God, you're so clingy right now, and so cute," you commented tenderly, looking at him as he settled in.

"I don't care. This is where I want to be, leave me alone," he replied, his voice muffled against your skin. He shifted more comfortably, letting out a long, relieved sigh. He hugged you tightly, wrapping himself around you as if he was afraid you'd let go, though you wrapped your arms around him too, your hands sliding under the t-shirt until they reached the warm skin of his back. Suddenly, he poked his head out from under the stretched collar of the garment. His hair was a little disheveled, and his lips were pursed, waiting for something obvious. "Give me kisses, please. I need your healing kisses," he asked in a soft tone, somewhere between innocent and pleading, but also with a certain playful undertone.

"You're so silly sometimes, baby boy." you whispered with feigned prejudice, but you leaned in without hesitation and covered his face with short kisses, one after the other, until his eyes closed in satisfaction the moment your lips made contact with his, giving him a soft, lingering kiss. Then he just stayed still, enjoying the moment, with that peace he'd longed for. You hugged him even closer, stroking his back tenderly, and murmured against his hair, “You can rest now, Hee. I'll take care of you.”

And in that moment, between your arms and your kisses, he found the only real rest after months of absence and fulfillment of the agenda without rest.

the struggles of only knowing one language definitely comes with the inability to communicate when you travel.

you told yourself countless times to study and prepare for the awkward language barrier before traveling to japan — but knowing how stubborn you were, you left it, and next thing you knew, you were on the plane already.

so far, it hasn’t been the worst when it came to communicating and translating — but you still had zero idea as to what they were saying to you.

then, there you were, bumping into a man at the convenience store and struggling to decide whether you should apologize in english or frantically google how to say sorry in japanese.

you stammered as you struggled to apologize, before taking a deep breath and recollecting yourself. “hello, uh.. i am so sorry for bumping into you.” you apologized, hoping that he at least partially understood what you said.

the stranger pulled his phone from his pocket, typing into it for a few moments before he turned it back around to face you.

‘butsukatte gomen’nasai, ojōsan.’

(i am sorry for bumping into you, miss.)

“oh!” you smiled, taking your phone out and writing messages into your translator app as well.

‘it’s okay, i’m sorry too, sir.’

(daijōbudesuyo, watashi mo gomen'nasai.)

the boy chuckled, before typing into his phone once again as a bright pink shade grew onto his cheeks.

‘totemo bijin-sandesu ne, kareshi wa imasu ka?’

(you are very pretty, do you have a boyfriend?)

you shook your head no the moment you read the translation, before watching a soft smile grow onto his face. he held his phone out to you so you were able to put your information down onto a special messenger app, feeling the eagerness in his chest.

‘message me, we can spend some time together.’

(messēji o okutte kudasai. issho ni jikan o sugosemasu.)

and that was where it all started.

you and that boy who introduced himself as riki had been texting each other back and forth since the day you met him, feeding into the potential friendship you two were building.

since that day, riki had been asking to see you every day and make him a part of your daily routine, taking advantage of every chance to see you.

are you going to the market at 11:30? riki would like to see you at 1:00.

oh, you’re having dinner at 6:00? riki would like to see you at 7:30.

his favorite places to go while he’s with you, are (without a doubt) restaurants. he loved to show you what his favorite foods were in the area, which place had the best tasting dishes, and what food stands had the best street foods or snacks.

other than showing you his favorite places to eat, he showed you his favorite view spots; popular, isolated, high, low, he showed it all.

he found the way you pronounced specific words fascinating, but also was in awe at the same time.

he found it cute.

texting was definitely easier to communicate between the two of you, since it automatically translated your messages to each other when sending them. since that made it easier to communicate, the two of you often texted each other while appreciating each other’s presence.

your japanese wasn’t the strongest, of course, so when you attempted to speak to him as your attempt to communicate, riki would tease and giggle here and there before correcting your pronunciation and grammar — which you ended up doing back at him when he spoke in english.

the language barrier wasn’t the worst, since both of you knew bits and pieces of each language, but it was still hard for the both of you.

luckily you had someone to help you out with that while you were here.

FOUR DAYS BEFORE DEPARTURE.

it was week three of your trip, approximately four days before your trip back home.

you were sitting in a 7/11 with riki by your side, before coming to the realization that you were going to be leaving in four days — and you still haven’t told riki.

you held your chopsticks with one end to your lips, about to take a bite of your ramen before pausing to process that moment of realization.

riki noticed your tense figure, taking a sip of his iced tea as he watched you from the corner of his eye. “are you okay?” he asked, slightly stammering.

you turned to him with your mouth full of noodles, chewing with a subtle smile on your face. he nodded with relief, glad that everything seemed to be normal on his end.

for you, however, nothing felt normal.

you were starting to fall for riki as the days pass, now making it hard for you to bring up the fact that you were going to be leaving soon.

“i’m okay.” you smiled, giving him a nod before filling your mouth with the noodles, preventing yourself from saying anything further.

“okay. good.” he smiled, “i- uh-“

riki paused, taking another sip of his iced tea before reaching for his phone, typing something with slight aggression with the tips of his fingers.

of course, with the curiosity eating up your insides, you attempted to peek at his screen, to which he flinched and turned his phone away. you hummed, tilting your head at the boy with confusion in your eyes, causing him to type even faster.

he then turned his phone over to you, displaying the familiar translation app on the screen.

‘anata ga, jibun ga dorehodo utsukushī ka to iu koto ni kidzuite kureru koto o negatte imasu.’

(i hope you realize how beautiful you are.)

a faint pink grew on your cheeks, causing you to feel hot from your collar up to your forehead. “thank you.”

“you are welcome.”

and with that, he went completely back to normal.

was he flirting? he was most definitely flirting.

how could he say these things to you and just move on as if nothing had happened? as if he didn’t just give you a nerve wrecking compliment?!

this makes it harder, but it’s fine. you have three more days to tell him.

THREE DAYS BEFORE DEPARTURE.

on the balcony of riki’s apartment, you and riki leaned against the cold metal railing, watching the sunset.

this had become a daily routine for you two, no matter what plans either of you had for the day, you two always made space in your schedules to watch the sunset together.

there were multiple occasions where you had caught him slide his hand closer to yours, moving it one inch closer every few minutes. of course, you didn’t mind, but a part of you also wanted him to just grab your hand and kiss you already.

“riki.” you spoke, turning your head towards the boy. he hummed in response, turning his head towards you as well.

the sun kissed your skin which practically made you glow, your eye color displayed more vibrantly as if it shined brighter than diamonds, and your lips looked glossy and pink from the reflection of the sun’s light.

riki looked at you in awe, admiring every detail of you without blinking — fearing that you would disappear if he did. he tucked your hair behind your ear, getting a better look at your face that held more beauty than he’s ever seen in his lifetime.

“is it okay?”

“is what okay?”

“can i.. uh..”

riki began to stutter, cupping your face as he struggled to find the words to express himself and ask his question. he rubbed his thumb against your chin, as if he was asking for permission to even touch you there.

no words left your mouth as he held your face, only giving him a nod as a way to give him permission to do what you had hoped for him to do — kiss you.

riki leaned in and connected his lips with yours, allowing your body to melt into his.

the kiss was sweet, yet passionate.

it felt as if; every inch of your body was heating up, butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, fireworks were going off in your chest — all at the same time.

was the sun making you hot or was it just the kiss?

nothing could ruin this moment, you could tell him about your flight later, right?

TWO DAYS BEFORE DEPARTURE.

it was the next morning.

you decided to stay the night with riki after the sweet kiss you two shared, spending the entire night in each other’s arms. regardless of the strategy, nothing could make you go to sleep.

the thought of his potential reaction to you leaving lingered in your head, being the partial cause as to why you weren’t able to sleep the night before.

you were beginning to mentally beat yourself up for it at this point; why didn’t you tell him when you first met? why did you let it get to this point? why did you fall for him? why, why, why?!

god, you couldn’t even believe yourself.

seeing the boy peacefully sleep by you made your heart ache, he likes you, and you knew he did.

so why were you holding back?

riki began to squirm by you, feeling the arm he wrapped around your waist begin to softly rub your side and back. without needing to open his eyes, he felt comfortable enough to completely turn his body towards you and wrap his other arm around you, breathing in your scent of vanilla and cherries.

“riki?” you whispered, earning a raspy hum in response. “good morning.” with that greeting, he chose to nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

how could you do this to him.

riki finally opened his eyes, allowing his vision to adjust to the brightness of the outside light. he kept his head at the crook of your neck, turning it slightly so he was face to face with your jaw, placing a soft and light peck onto it.

“breakfast?” riki softly spoke, clearing his throat in attempt to get rid of the heavy raspiness.

“yeah.. sure.” you softly nodded, displaying a fake smile for him to come off as if everything was okay.

“i make it, okay?”

“okay, riki.”

ONE DAY BEFORE DEPARTURE.

you had spent a lot of your time hiding in your hotel room, avoiding texts and calls from riki until you were completely finished with organizing and packing your belongings.

this was wrong, wasn’t it?

a part of you wanted to tell him, but still, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

you heard your phone buzzing continuously in the background, already assuming that it was riki who was blowing up your phone. after zipping up the last of your bags, you sat there on your bed, staring at the different luggages that sat nearly next to each other by the door.

you pondered, for awhile honestly. the only times you’d break out of your deep thinking would be when he called or texted you, to which you’d end up ignoring up until you couldn’t take the noise anymore.

you opened your chats with him, thumbs already hovering over the keyboard when you saw his last couple of spammed texts.

{ this app uses auto-translation features. }

riki :)

y/n? are you safe?

are we still going to watch the sunset?

hello!!!!

you

i’m sorry i fell asleep haha.

yes we can go see sunset

riki :)

it is 5 pm

how come you were still sleeping?

you

sorry.

just super tired today.

i will meet you soon okay?

riki :)

okay!

you tossed your phone aside and brushed your fingers through the tips of your hair, staring at the luggages and the floor of your room. the feeling of regret was deep, it was as if your chest was carrying the heaviest weight it had ever carried.

this feeling was odd to you, you had never made friends during your vacation trips and you most certainly have never fallen for anyone during them either.

first, telling him slipped your mind, and now you were completely avoiding him all together just so you could prevent yourself from the heartache — but you knew doing so would’ve been wrong.

after hours of pondering (which led to you sort of blacking out), you found yourself at riki’s doorstep with your hands in your pockets and your hoodie over your head. it took him only a few seconds after the first ring of the doorbell to open the door, already pink at the cheeks with the cutest grin you had ever seen.

oh, have mercy, why did the universe do this to you..

“hello, y/n.”

“hi, riki.”

sunset was beautiful that evening.

the same golden glow kissed your face ever so gently, reminding riki of your beauty once again. the colors of the sky swirled with pinks, oranges, and even hints of blues, and it was the prettiest sunset view you had ever seen.

but to him, you were the prettiest view he had ever seen.

THE DAY OF DEPARTURE.

it was hours before your flight, and you had to get to the airport soon.

you were laying on the bed of your hotel room, staring at the ceiling with a blank face. you felt nothing but everything at the same time, allowing the realization that today was the day, and you were going home.

riki was still asleep at this hour, which gave you the chance to fully focus on getting yourself to the airport.

you sat up from your bed, feeling your eyes sting from the overwhelming emotions you were feeling. tears fell from them the moment you dropped your face into your hands, feeling the palms of them grow wet from the liquid sadness.

it was bittersweet, maybe even more bitter than sweet.

japan was beautiful, you got so used to the lifestyle here that a part of you wished that you could stay, maybe even potentially start something with riki.

but you knew you couldn’t.

there was nothing in this world that could even compare to what riki was to you, he was different, he was kind, he treated you in a way no other man could even compare. that was a given.

and without a doubt, your heart will always be with the boy made in japan.

n ⋮⟢ finally posted this after 2 months of leaving it in my drafts everyone cheer!!!

SPECIAL THANK YOU TO @heedimples FOR PROOFREADING THIS FOR ME I LOVE YOU 5EVER

"yes, i'll accept the offer," riki said, looking at the director across the table.

he had just agreed to an opportunity most people only dream of. but instead of a rush of excitement, he felt a heavy weight crashing down. it was all moving too fast; his mind couldn't keep up with the gravity of his own words.

the man slid a black folder across the wood. inside, a single paper waited for his signature.

riki picked up the pen, opened the folder, and stared at the lines of ink.

"don't hesitate," the director said, leaning in. "something like this is rare. you only live once."

riki looked up, exhaled a shaky breath, and finally signed his name. he closed the folder, stood up, and gave a deep, formal bow.

he made it out of the room and into the elevator in a blur. when he finally stepped out of the building, the biting cold hit his face. he felt a momentary flick of relief that the meeting was over—but then he remembered the next part. the hardest part.

you.

he pulled his hoodie over his head, adjusted his crossbody bag, and started walking toward home.

but he didn't make it there.

riki found himself at a local bar instead. his head rested heavily on one arm while his other hand aimlessly swirled a glass of whiskey. his fifth of the night.

how was he supposed to tell you? how could he find the words to say he was moving to america, leaving everything behind—including you—for a career that demanded his entire life?

his phone pinged on the wood. he grabbed it, squinting at a message from an unknown number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: your flight is confirmed for sunday, 10am. don’t be late. -1 link attached-

he set the phone face down, stared at the amber liquid for a second, and downed it in one go. he slammed the glass onto the counter and signaled for another.

it wasn't until many drinks later, when the bartender finally cut him off and pushed a glass of water toward him, that he pulled out his phone again. his fingers were clumsy as he scrolled through his contacts and tried to find the one person he trusted.

"hello?" the voice on the other line answered, thick with sleep.

"jake... come pi-ick me up," riki slurred. his voice was a mere whisper, barely carrying over the low hum of the bar.

jake sat up in bed, squinting at the time on his nightstand. "3am? what the fuck are you doing out right now?" he groaned, but he was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for his shoes.

"i c-can't leave... her. i don't know w-what to do," riki mumbled. a lump formed in his throat, sharp and painful, as he fought back the tears that had been threatening to spill all night.

jake froze, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. he was wide awake now. he grabbed a sweater from the closet, pulling it on with one hand. "where are you? me and sunghoon will come get you."

"at the b-bar... down the street," riki managed to answer. he couldn't hold the phone up anymore. he let it slip from his hand, the screen landing face-up on the counter as he buried his face in his arms.

he didn't hang up. he just sat there, a broken mess, letting the open line serve as proof that he wasn't okay. and like the friends they were, jake and sunghoon were already out the door, racing down the quiet street toward him.

—

jake and sunghoon carried riki arm by arm, his weight sagging between them as they dragged him down the hallway. his shoes scraped against the floor with every uneven step.

sunghoon kicked his bedroom door open with the side of his foot, and together they dropped him onto the bed. the mattress dipped hard under him.

riki rolled onto his side immediately, grabbing the pillow behind him and pulling it to his chest like it was something solid enough to hold him together. jake bent down and tugged his shoes off, tossing them near the closet.

“and the cause for this mess tonight?” sunghoon asked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

riki stared at the tall windows across from his bed. the city lights reflected faintly in the glass, splitting his face in two. “i accepted their offer,” he muttered.

jake paused. “what offer?”

riki swallowed. “i’m moving to L.A., they want me to choreograph for a new group.”

the air shifted. “when?” jake asked.

“sunday.” riki slurred. “and i’m leaving yn.”

her name made his voice falter. but he didn’t mean for it to, it was like a trigger for him.

jake’s expression changed instantly. “and you told her?”

riki shook his head. “and i won’t.”

sunghoon pushed off the wall. “you can’t be serious.”

riki sat up slightly, wiping at his face like the tears annoyed him. “it’ll just make it worse,” he said quietly. “she’ll look at me like she’s waiting for me to stay. or choose her. and i can’t give her that.”

“so you’re just going to disappear?” sunghoon asked.

riki let out a humorless breath. “she’s better without me anyway. she’s steady. she knows what she wants.”

jake stepped back, jaw tight. “you’re not protecting her.” riki didn’t look at him. “you’re protecting yourself.”

“he’s a coward,” jake muttered, already walking toward the door.

sunghoon hesitated a second longer, looking at riki, like he wanted to say something that would fix it, but there wasn’t anything left to say. so he turned around, closed the door shut and left riki alone.

riki stayed sitting there for a moment, staring at the window until the city lights blurred. then he slowly laid back down, still holding the pillow against his chest.

it all felt unreal.

he tried to picture it—new studio, new faces, people who didn’t know him as anything but talent. no history. no expectations.

no you.

he thought about the way you laughed when you were trying not to. he thought about the way you always reached for his hand without thinking. like it was just natural.

he turned onto his side, facing the window. what would hurt you more? him leaving? or knowing he chose to?

his jaw clenched. the truth was ugly. if you asked him to stay, he didn’t trust himself not to hesitate. and he couldn’t hesitate. not when this was everything he’d worked for.

he shut his eyes, but all he saw was your face when you realized he was gone.

riki exhaled slowly, trying to steady his breathing. this was the right decision, it had to be.

—

the elevator opened, and riki walked all the way down until he reached your door. before he could even knock, he heard the music—loud, muffled bass vibrating through the wood. he knew that sound. you only ever blasted music like that when you were painting; you said it helped you think, but he figured it just helped you drown out the world.

instead of knocking, he slid the padlock up and punched in the code—the date you two started dating. it clicked open instantly.

inside, the living room was a chaotic sanctuary. you were hunched over a massive canvas, lost in a world of color. there was a splash of aggressive red in one corner, a soft bloom of pink in another—a messy, beautiful painting of life itself.

riki’s eyes trailed down. you were wearing one of his old white shirts, now a permanent casualty of your art, covered in smears of pigment.

he walked over to the tv and hit pause. the sudden silence was heavy.

"ki!" you turned instantly, eyes wide before melting into a smile. "jesus, you startled me." you laughed, setting your palette down on the cluttered table. you hurried over, hovering just an inch away to avoid staining his clothes before leaning in for a kiss.

it was quick, but it tasted like home.

"you should've told me you were coming," you said, reaching back to wipe your multicolored hands on your already ruined shirt.

"mm, i thought a surprise would be better." he smiled, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "let’s watch a movie. order some food."

you nodded eagerly. "let me wash off all this paint first. pick something good!" you giggled, darting off toward your room and clicking the door shut.

riki stood alone in the center of the room. his eyes drifted back to the canvas. you were so damn passionate. it’s how he’d met you, at a college showcase where your art had stood out more than anyone else's.

he wandered through the space as if he were memorizing it. he picked up a framed photo from the console table—a shot of the two of you the night of graduation. his arms were locked around your waist, your head tucked against his chest. you both looked untouchable.

with a quick, practiced motion, he turned the frame over, unscrewed the back, and slipped the photo out. he folded it once and tucked it deep into his sweatpants pocket. he put the empty frame back exactly where it was, hoping the void wouldn't scream at you later.

by the time you came back out, he was on the couch, scrolling through a streaming app. you were drowning in one of his oversized sweaters now, your bare feet silent on the cold floor.

"what are we watching?" you asked, tucking your legs under you as you curled into his side.

"something scary?" he suggested, glancing at you.

you hesitated, making a face, then playfully snatched the remote from his hand. "i've seen this one all over my feed—people we meet on vacation. let’s watch that. it’s supposed to be cute and romantic."

riki just nodded, watching the way your face lit up as you scrolled. you started talking then, rambling about the symbolism in your new painting, and he just listened.

he was going to miss this. the late nights, the effortless conversation, the way time seemed to stop in this apartment. nothing in america would ever impress him as much as you did.

as the movie started, you gravitated toward him until your head was resting in his lap. he laughed when the script called for it, and he hummed in response when you’d blurt out random thoughts about the characters. he ran his fingers through your hair, tracing the shape of your head, taking the moment for granted even as he tried to grave it into his brain.

then, the confession scene happened. the male lead stood in the pouring rain, baring his soul while the girl looked on, hesitant and torn.

riki’s body went rigid. his fingers stalled in your hair, his fist clenching slightly. you felt the shift immediately. you sat up, searching his face with a worried frown.

"what’s wrong?" you whispered.

he shook his head, eyes darting away. "nothing. just... cold."

"cold?" you echoed, clearly not buying it. you watched him, but he wouldn't meet your gaze. his eyes were everywhere else—the tv, the floor, the city lights shimmering outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

you weren't going to let it go. you were clingy by nature, and you knew his tells too well. you moved suddenly, crawling onto his lap. the hem of his sweater hiked up as you settled against him, your hands finding the back of his neck. one of them cupped his cheek, forced him to feel the warmth of your skin until he finally, reluctantly, looked at you.

"what’s wrong, ki? i can tell something's on your mind." your voice was a soft, melodic murmur. "i don't see you for a couple of days and this is how you act?"

it wasn't an accusation; it was pure concern. he hated how easily you could peel back his layers.

"it's nothing, really. i'm just tired," he lied, his sigh heavy as his thumb caressed your thigh.

you didn't argue. instead, you leaned in, peppering his face with tiny, soft kisses. you had a routine for this—a map of his face that you followed when he was stressed.

you kissed the mole on his cheek.

the one under his eye. the bridge of his nose.

the spot near his lips.

and finally, his chin.

his heart, which had been racing with the weight of his secret, finally started to settle. it was a breaker for him; you always knew how to break him.

"mm, i'll always know how to make you feel better," you whispered against his ear, your lips trailing down to the sensitive skin of his neck. you left soft, lingering marks there—pretty little bruises that would stay on his skin all the way until he landed in california.

it was a pity, really.

your hips began to sway against him, the friction of your body against his a cruel reminder of exactly what he was about to leave behind.

the movie was nothing but white noise now, the rom-com drowned out by the heavy, erratic thud of riki’s heart against his ribs. you didn't care about the screen anymore. you were hungry for him, a desperate, needy energy rolling off you in waves as you straddled his lap. your hands gripped the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair to pull his face closer, your lips colliding with his in a messy, open-mouthed kiss that tasted like urgency.

you started moving then, your hips rolling in a slow, punishing grind against him. the thin fabric of your shorts offered no protection against the friction, and you moaned directly into his mouth when you felt the thick, rigid length of him straining against his sweats. you were soaking through your underwear, the heat between your legs damp and pulsing as you rubbed your clothed cunt directly over his hard print, seeking the blunt pressure you’d been craving for days.

"ki," you whimpered against his lips, your breath hitching as you rocked forward, tilting your pelvis just right to catch the head of his cock through the layers of fabric. "fuck, i missed you so much."

riki’s restraint snapped. his hands, which had been resting tentatively on your thighs, slid upward with a possessive jerk. he gripped your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh through the oversized sweater, and he pulled you down hard against him. he wasn't being gentle anymore; he was responding to the filth in your movements with a raw, desperate strength of his own. he groaned deep in his throat, a sound that was half-growl and half-surrender, as he met your grind with a sharp upward thrust of his hips.

the friction was desperately good. you were frantic now, your hands sliding down to his chest, bunching up his shirt as you arched your back, your clit sliding and smashing against him with every rhythmic roll of your hips. the wetness was staining through, making the friction hotter, slicker. you broke the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck, your teeth grazing his skin right over the marks you’d just left.

"take me to the bed, riki," you choked out, your voice wrecked and trembling. "please... i beg you. right now."

with adrenaline and a low, guttural huff, riki stood up from the couch with pure force. you gasped as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and locking your ankles behind his back. his large hands stayed clamped onto your ass, holding your weight effortlessly as he started toward your bedroom with heavy strides.

he didn't stop kissing you, his tongue pushing deep into your mouth, claimed you with what felt like he was trying to consume you. every step he took caused your bodies to crash together, his hardness bumping against your entrance, sending sparks of hot lightning through your nerves.

he kicked your bedroom door open, the sound echoing in the hallway, and he didn't even make it all the way to the mattress before he pinned you against the nearest wall. the thud of your back hitting the surface made you moan, a loud, shameless sound that filled the room. riki pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, blown out, and completely feral.

riki carried you the rest of the way to the bed, his movements heavy with a weight you couldn't quite name. he lowered you onto the sheets with a tenderness that felt almost fragile, as if you were made of the same delicate glass as the frames in the living room.

he lingered over you for a second, his shadow stretching across the bed, just watching the way the dim night light caught the edges of your silhouette. he was terrified that if he moved too fast, the clock would hit midnight and you’d vanish.

slowly, he reached for the hem of the sweater—his sweater—and pulled it over your head. he followed with your shorts and the scrap of lace underneath, tossing them aside until you were completely bare before him. the moonlight filtered through the window, painting silver your skin, making you look like a masterpiece he wasn't worthy of owning.

he didn't reach for his own clothes yet. instead, he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, and began to kiss you.

riki started at your feet, his lips grazing your arches, his thumbs massaging the tension from your soles. he moved up the sensitive skin of your ankles, his kisses slow, as if he were memorizing the texture of your skin with his tongue. he traced the line of your calves and the back of your knees, his breath hot against your skin, making you shiver and arch into him.

"ki..." you breathed, your fingers tangling in the sheets as the sudden, focused pleasure began to build. "come up here."

"not yet," he murmured against your mid-thigh, his voice thick with a yearning that felt like a physical ache. "let me just... i need to see you."

he pressed a deep, bruising kiss to the soft flesh of your inner thigh, right where it met the damp heat of your center. he lingered there, inhaling the scent of you, his eyes stinging with a sudden, sharp angst. he wanted to brand this moment into his brain. he wanted to remember the exact shade of pink your skin turned when you were flushed, the way your hip bones popped out just slightly, the way your stomach fluttered when he ran his tongue over your navel.

he moved higher, his mouth finding the dip of your waist, biting gently at the skin there before moving to your ribs. he kissed every single rib, counting them with his lips, moving upward until he reached your breasts. he took his time there, circling the buds with his tongue, his hands cupping you with a reverence that felt so good.

you were soft moans and frantic touches, your hands reaching down to pull at his shoulders, desperate for the friction from before, but riki was focused on the tragedy of the last time. he moved to your neck, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, his kisses turning frantic, almost desperate. he sucked at the skin there, leaving a mark that was deeper and darker than the rest—a permanent souvenir he hoped would take weeks to fade.

"you're so beautiful," he whispered against your skin, the words sounding like a confession. "i'm never going to find anything like this again."

he finally moved up to your face, his thumbs wiping away the stray tears of pleasure in the corners of your eyes. he kissed your forehead, your eyelids, and then finally, he hovered over your lips. he looked at you with such raw, unfiltered soul-crushing love that it made your chest tighten.

his hands slid down, parting your legs wider, his fingers finally dipping into the slick, creamy heat he’d been worshipping from afar. you gasped, your hips bucking up to meet his touch, and he watched your face as he began to work two fingers inside you, the sound of the friction wet and filthy in the quiet room.

"look at me," he rasped, his voice breaking as he watched you unravel. "keep your eyes on me, baby."

he wanted to be the last thing you saw, the only thing you felt, before the world pulled him away.

riki stayed between your legs for a moment longer, his fingers working inside you with a rhythmic, heavy pressure that had you arching your back off the sheets. the sound was thick and wet—the only noise in the room besides your hitched breathing. he was watching the way your body reacted to him, the way your inner muscles clamped around his fingers, desperate for more. he was making sure you were slick, aching, and completely undone for him.

slowly, he pulled back and stood at the edge of the bed. his eyes never left yours as he stripped off his own clothes. he moved with a heavy grace, tossing his shirt and sweats aside until he stood there completely nude in the pale moonlight. he looked like a statue—strong, lean, and pulsing with a need that felt borderline painful.

when he crawled back onto the bed, he didn't go straight for the kill. he hovered over you, his chest brushing against your sensitive nipples, and he captured your lips in a kiss that tasted like a goodbye he wasn't ready to say.

"i'm so lucky," he whispered against your mouth, his voice cracking just a little. he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw that made your heart swell. "you're mine. you know that, right? always. no matter where i am... you're the only one."

you smiled up at him, your hands sliding up his biceps to cup his face. your touch was soft, the perfect anchor for the storm brewing inside him. you didn't see the tragedy in his eyes; you only saw the boy who loved you. you pulled him down for another kiss, your tongue dancing with his, inviting him to finally take what was his.

riki hovered over you, his knees prying your thighs wide until you were completely open, vulnerable, and glistening under the soft glow. he reached down, his fingers trembling with an aching sort of hesitation as he guided himself to your entrance. he didn't push in yet. instead, he just leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes shut tight as he took a ragged, shaky breath.

"ki?" you whispered, your hands sliding up to his neck, sensing the sudden weight in the air.

he didn't answer with words. he just pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips and began to sink into you. he watched your face as he stretched you open, inch by inch, as if he were trying to feel every single nerve ending in your body. a soft, broken moan escaped your lips when he finally bottomed out, his weight settling between your legs with a finality that felt like a secret.

he stayed there for a long moment, buried deep, just feeling the way your internal muscles fluttered and squeezed around him. he wasn't looking for a quick release, he was looking for a memory.

the rhythm that followed wasn't frantic. it wasn't the dirty, fast-paced fuck you’d started on the couch. this was slow. this was heavy. it was the kind of sex that felt like a conversation. every thrust was deep and meaningful, his hips grinding against yours with a desperate kind of yearning. he wanted to feel every ridge of you, every internal twitch, every bit of friction.

"fuck," he choked out, his eyes finally welling up. a single tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek before landing on your collarbone. he didn't try to hide it. he just kept moving, his pace steady and soul-crushing.

as he moved, riki started to break. he wasn't trying to hide the tears anymore; they tracked down his face and fell onto your cheeks, hot and salt-bitter. he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his thrusts never faltering—just slow, deep, and devastating. he was yearning for you even while he was inside you, his body mourning the loss of a touch he still had.

you didn't ask why he was crying. you just felt the overwhelming love in the way he held you, the way his hands shook as they cupped your face. you smiled up at him through the haze of pleasure, your thumbs wiping the moisture from his eyes. you were being so sweet, so loving, playing the part of the perfect girlfriend while his heart was shattering in real-time.

"it feels so good, ki," you whispered, your breath hitching as the pleasure started to build into a tight, pulsing knot. "you're so deep... i love you."

at the mention of love, he let out a choked, muffled sob against your skin. he picked up the pace just a fraction—not out of hunger, but out of a desperate need to be even closer. he wanted to be so deep inside you that you’d never be able to wash the feeling of him away.

"you're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumbs wiping the sweat from your temples. "you're mine, right? tell me you're mine."

"always, ki. only yours," you breathed, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted like salt and fever.

he pushed deeper, hitting that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. it was the ultimate intimacy—filthy and raw, yet so incredibly sad. he was marking you from the inside out, trying to leave a part of himself behind that wouldn't fade when he stepped on that plane.

"i'm never gonna find this anywhere else," he choked out, the tears finally spilling over and dripping onto your chest. "no one is ever gonna feel like you. no one."

you were too far gone to hear the finality in his voice. you just felt the love, the raw, unfiltered need he was pouring into you.

the tension in your body started to peak. your breaths came in short, jagged bursts, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, your nails leaving little crescents in his skin.

"gonna cum, riki," you whispered into his ear, your voice trembling. "so much... please..."

he nodded, his jaw tight as he picked up the pace a little more. his thrusts becoming more insistent, more forceful. he wanted to feel you break under him. he wanted to be the reason for that high. you cried out, your body shaking with the force of a climax that felt like it would never end, your internal muscles squeezing him so hard it was almost painful.

riki couldn't hold back any longer. with one final, bone-deep thrust, he let out a broken sound, a mix of a moan and a sob, and came hard inside you. he felt the heat of his release pulsing into you, a silent vow of everything he couldn't say out loud.

he didn't pull away. he collapsed on top of you, his body still twitching with the aftershocks. he was heavy, his full weight pressing you into the mattress, but you didn't mind. you wrapped your arms around his back, stroking his hair, holding him as he shook.

the room had fallen back into a heavy, weighted silence, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside and the synchronized rhythm of your breathing. riki remained draped over you, his body a grounding weight that you welcomed. one of his hands was firmly interlocked with yours, his fingers squeezed tight as if he were afraid you’d slip away if he let go, while his other hand moved in slow, hypnotic circles across your ribcage.

your eyes were closed, your body feeling heavy and spent. you were awake, but the edges of your consciousness were starting to blur into the soft dark of the room.

"you touched me and talked to me tonight like i’m something fragile," you murmured, your voice small and raspy from the screaming. "like something’s coming up. you were so... gentle."

riki went still for a heartbeat, his thumb stalling against your skin. he let out a long, shaky sigh that fanned across your stomach.

"every time we have sex, it’s always so rough," he said softly, his voice thick. "i just wanted a night where we both feel safe. in love and passionate. i wanted to really feel you."

you hummed, a small, sleepy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you squeezed his hand. "then let it be like this all the time. i love when you’re this clingy, ki. it feels right."

you couldn't see his face—he had it turned away from you, but the tears had started again. they tracked down his nose and began to drip onto your stomach, the salt stinging his eyes. he felt like a thief, stealing one last night of peace before the world turned upside down.

"life is gonna be so different," he whispered, almost like he was talking to himself. "i don't know if it's for better or for worse. i just don't know."

you shifted slightly, your mind too clouded with sleep to catch the ominous edge in his tone. "different how?" you mumbled, your words beginning to slur together.

"i don't know," he repeated, his voice quivering. "but either way... i think i'll be content. as long as i know you’re there. no matter what happens, or where we end up... as long as you're still mine."

you didn't answer this time. you just let out a soft, rhythmic breath, your grip on his hand loosening as sleep finally claimed you. you had no idea that he was mourning you while he was still holding you. you were just a girl drifting off in the arms of the boy she loved.

riki propped his chin up on your stomach, his face puffy and damp with tears. he stayed like that for a long time, watching the way your chest rose and fell, memorizing the peaceful expression on your face. he felt the weight of reality crashing down on him—the flight, the distance, the impossibility of everything.

"i love you," he whispered into the quiet air.

he leaned down and pressed a long, tender kiss to your stomach, right where his tears had pooled on your skin. it felt like a love spell, a silent promise he was making to the universe, or maybe just a desperate plea for you to wait for him. he stayed there, anchored to you in the dark, feeling everything at once until the weight of the end became the only thing left.

—

the morning sun was a cruel intrusion, bleeding through the window, golden slivers that danced across your sleeping face. riki watched the dust motes swirl in the light, his body feeling like lead as he finally pulled himself away from the warmth of the bed. he dressed in silence, his movements robotic and stiff. every piece of clothing he pulled on felt like a layer of armor he didn't want to wear.

before he reached for his bag, he stopped. he walked back to your side of the bed and sank to his knees on the cold floor, bringing himself eye-level with you. you looked so peaceful—one hand tucked under your cheek, your lips slightly parted in a soft, rhythmic sleep.

he reached out, his fingers trembling as he ghosted them over your knuckles. he took your hand with a gentleness that was almost painful, bringing your palm to his lips. he closed his eyes, pressing a lingering kiss there, and simply held it. he thought he was out of tears—he’d spent the entire night mourning you while he was inside you—but his chest tightened with a fresh, violent ache. his breathing hitched, a ragged, broken sound that he tried to swallow so he wouldn't wake you.

he kept thinking about the moment you’d wake up. he saw it in his head like a movie—you reaching out for his side of the bed, finding it cold. you calling his name, then realizing the silence in the apartment was different today. it wasn't just the silence of a morning; it was the silence of a life without him.

"i'm sorry," he mouthed against your skin, though no sound came out.

he leaned forward, pressing one last, agonizingly slow kiss to your forehead. he let his lips linger there, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and the lingering traces of the night before. then, with a force of will he didn't know he possessed, he let go of your hand. he stood up, grabbed his bag and walked to the door. he stood in the frame for a full minute, memorizing the way the light hit your hair, the way you looked so safe in a world that was about to shatter for you.

and then, he stepped out.

the moment the elevator doors hissed shut, the air seemed to leave the small space. riki’s hand flew to his chest, clutching at the fabric over his heart. it hurt—a sharp, physical stabbing that made his knees buckle. he sank into a squat in the corner of the elevator, his head between his knees, gasping for air as the reality of what he’d just done crashed over him. he had just walked away from the only thing that made him feel real.

back at his place, the atmosphere was somber. jake and sunghoon were already awake, standing by the door with grim expressions. they knew. they saw the state of him—the puffy eyes, the hollow look in his gaze. riki didn't say much; he couldn't. as he pulled his final suitcase toward the door, he stopped in front of them.

"look out for her," riki rasped, his voice sounding like broken glass. "please. just... for me? don't let her be alone."

jake stepped forward and pulled him into a tight, crushing hug, while sunghoon placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. they nodded, their faces with a silent promise. riki forced a small, tragic smile and then he walked out the door toward the airport.

hours later, the sun was high in the sky when you finally stirred. you sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist, the warmth of the sun hitting your face. but the warmth didn't reach your chest. your heart felt like it was made of stone, heavy and cold.

you looked to the left. his side of the bed was empty, still indented, but the sheets were ice cold.

you didn't call his name. deep down, in that hollow ache in your gut, you already knew. the way he’d touched you, the way he’d cried into your skin, the way he’d looked at you like you were a fading dream—it all clicked into place. he wasn't just gone for the day.

he was gone.

you pulled your knees to your chest, tucking your face into the space where he had been lying just hours before. the smell of him was still there, and that was what broke you. a sob tore out of your throat, raw and ugly, as you realized that the apartment was too big, the sun was too bright, and you were completely, utterly alone. you cried until your throat was raw, mourning a future that had vanished before you even had the chance to say goodbye.

miles away, thirty thousand feet in the air, riki sat by the window. he watched the clouds move beneath the wing of the plane, the world he knew shrinking into nothingness. his fingers were brushing against the edges of the graduation photo.

he knew why he was doing this. he wanted the career, the stability, the life he could never have if he stayed. he wanted to be someone worthy of coming back to. but as the plane tilted toward the horizon, all he could feel was the weight of the promise he’d whispered into your skin.

a hope that one day, when he was finally stable, he’d find his way back to the girl he loved more than ever.

<33: @lilyyyymaybe @corhypen @jellykikis @nothingcmpares @enhalxvr @shimjakelover29 @maritzjj @astrohypen @riksters @m3l4nchol @nishibrima @flowerstaesan @astronomicalastro-blog1 @wonstial @dr1diot @ewstain @s4eungie @leakingjaywon

Maybe that's why dating never quite worked for him. Every time he tried, he felt like he’d missed a tutorial somewhere. He could talk, sure, and he could be funny when he wanted, but halfway through a conversation he always drifted, like thinking about assignments or projects or that interesting research thread he'd meant to look into. People would smile at him politely, the kind of smile that told him they’d already made up their mind: sweet guy, but not for me.

The last time he'd tried going on a date, he’d barely made it through an hour. He’d checked the timestamp afterwards and realized he’d spent exactly forty eight minutes pretending he wasn't thinking about a bug he’d found in his graphics project. He’d texted Jungwon: "bro i think i fumbled bad." Jungwon had sent back a voice note where he laughed so hard he hiccuped. Comforting, in its own way.

Jungwon was one of like three people Heeseung could be around without keeping a mental checklist of normal things to say. They’d been friends since first year when they got paired on a project and realized they both worked better at two in the morning with no one else around. Jungwon was quiet in the same way Heeseung was, but also completely unhinged when it came to code. He’d get an idea and just lock in for days. So one afternoon, while Heeseung was in the lab pretending to fix code he’d actually broken on purpose because he didn’t want to admit he didn’t understand it, Jungwon walked in with that mischief look. He sat down next to him, opened his laptop, and said, "ok, don’t make fun of me, but I made something."

Heeseung didn’t look up. "Is it stable this time?" which was generous, because Jungwon’s projects were never stable.

"Define stable," Jungwon said, clicking through a folder that had way too many warning icons. "Anyway, it’s a dating sim."

That finally made Heeseung look. "A dating sim? Why?"

"Research." Jungwon always said that when he’d clearly done something for fun and wanted it to sound academic. "It’s called Girlfriend Simulator."

Heeseung stared at him. "That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard."

Jungwon didn’t even blink. "Yeah, I know. But I need someone to test it, and you're the only person who’ll actually give me notes instead of lying to make me feel better."

Heeseung wanted to argue, but he was tired and they had a midterm coming up and honestly he didn't care enough to fight. So he sighed and pushed his chair closer. "Fine. Show me." Jungwon grinned like that was all he’d wanted since morning. He opened the build file, and the screen filled with placeholder art, branching choices, and a character slot labeled "y/n_default." And Heeseung, who was too distracted to think twice, just shrugged.

He had no idea that saying yes to that stupid looking game would end up being the most disastrous decision of his entire academic life.

He only agreed because Jungwon wouldn't shut up about it, and because even with all his complaints, he had this soft spot for him that made it hard to say no. Also, he didn’t have anything better to do on a friday night; the rest of their friends were out, and he wasn't in the mood to socialize. And, honestly, he liked games where he could pretend to be slightly less single than he actually was. It was pathetic, sure, but it wasn't like anyone needed to know.

So later that night, Heeseung sat on his bed with the lights off and his switch on max brightness, which was probably not great for his already questionable sleep schedule but whatever. Jungwon had sent him the build file with a message that just said "lmk if it crashes :)" which was not exactly confidence inspiring, but Heeseung had agreed to this so he couldn't really back out now.

The game booted with this weirdly soft 8 bit lullaby that sounded like it was trying to hypnotize him. The title screen was clean, minimalist, just the words "Girlfriend Simulator" in a font that looked expensive. Heeseung snorted. Jungwon had definitely spent more time on the typography than the actual game mechanics, which tracked. Character customization loaded next, and Heeseung had to admit it was smoother than he expected. The interface was intuitive, the options were detailed, and the hairstyle physics were suspiciously good for something Jungwon had supposedly coded in his free time between problem sets.

He made his character half heartedly. Messy hair because that's what he had in real life and he wasn't creative enough to imagine anything else. A hoodie because hoodies were safe. He picked "student" as his class, and when it came to stats, he maxed out "humor" because he genuinely thought he was funny, even if nobody else seemed to agree. Then he looked at "emotional intelligence" and left it at zero. Honesty was important, right?

The loading screen that followed was surprisingly elegant. Just a slow fade to black with some text that read "Your First Meeting" in delicate script. Heeseung settled back against his pillow, expecting the usual dating sim fare: a classroom, a coffee shop, maybe a cherry blossom tree if Jungwon was feeling cliché.

And then the screen flickered. Just once, quick enough that Heeseung thought maybe it was his eyes. But then it happened again and the lights in his bedroom pulsed in sync, like someone had wired his lamp to the game's framerate. "What the hell," Heeseung said to no one. 

The switch started vibrating in his hands. Not the normal rumble feature, but something harder, more insistent, like the controller was trying to shake itself apart. On screen, a figure materialized. The girlfriend character. For a second Heeseung just stared because the sprite work was genuinely impressive. The lighting was too good, the shadows moved wrong. Everything felt almost real in a way that made his skin prickle.

And then the girlfriend, you, turned around. Slowly like you already knew he was watching. Your face came into view and Heeseung's brain did this weird stutter because you didn't look like a game character, you looked like a person, with the kind of detail you didn't get from placeholder art. Heeseung felt this uncomfortable twist in his stomach like he was the one being observed.

Then you spoke. Not with a text box, not with that awkward text to speech voice that indie games always used. Actual audio, clear and warm and way too close for his own good. "You're here!"

Heeseung's hands went cold. The voice didn't sound small or synthetic or compressed. It sounded like someone was standing directly behind him in his dark bedroom, breath on his neck, words in his ear. He whipped around so fast he nearly dropped the switch, but his room was empty. Just his desk and his dying succulent and his pile of laundry that he'd been meaning to deal with for a week. "What the—"

Before he could finish the thought, before he could even process what was happening, the lights in his room popped, like every bulb had blown at once. The screen went pure white, so bright it hurt to look at, and the controller in his hands went from cold to burning hot in the span of a heartbeat. He tried to drop it but his fingers wouldn't move, locked in place like the plastic had fused to his skin. The air pressure in the room shifted. His ears popped like he was in a plane taking off, and he felt this pull, this hook behind his ribs, yanking him forward with a force that didn't make any physical sense. He tried to pull back, tried to let go, tried to do anything, but the world was already dissolving.

The last thing Heeseung managed to think before everything shattered into pixels was that he was going to kill Yang Jungwon.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that the world was too bright. The grass beneath him looked like high definition fairy dust, each blade catching light in a way that grass absolutely should not. The sky was blue in that aggressive unnatural way that only existed in concept art. Everything was sharp and vivid and wrong. Heeseung sat up slowly, head spinning, and looked down at himself. His clothes had changed. Instead of his worn out hoodie and sweatpants, he was wearing the outfit his avatar had been wearing. The same hoodie he'd picked in character customization but real now, solid and heavy on his shoulders. His hands looked like his hands but also didn't. The proportions were slightly off, the lines a little too clean.

"What the fuck," he said out loud, and his voice sounded normal, which was worse. Everything else was strange but his voice was still his.

"You made it!"

Heeseung's head snapped up. You were someone standing a few feet away, watching him with this expression that was hard to read. Amusement, maybe, or curiosity. Like you'd been waiting for him and was pleased he'd finally shown up. except you weren't a sprite anymore. You were real, or at least as real as anything else in this place. You looked exactly like the character on screen but with dimension now, depth, the subtle movements of someone actually breathing. Your hair moved slightly in a breeze he couldn't feel. You were wearing something casual but put together in that effortless way that Heeseung had never managed to pull off.

You smiled at him, and he felt something weird in his stomach. "Hi," you said, like this was completely normal, like he hadn't just been ripped through a screen into a video game that shouldn't exist. "Nice to meet you!"

Heeseung opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. His brain was doing this thing where it tried to process too many things at once and ended up processing nothing at all. "What," he finally managed, which wasn't even a complete sentence but it was all he had.

"Sorry I'm late," you said, but you didn't sound particularly sorry. "Jungwon said you might be running behind. He's the one who set this up, by the way. Said we'd get along."

Heeseung blinked. "Jungwon... set this up?"

"Yeah, the blind date?" You looked at him like he was being slow on purpose. "He said you needed to get out more. His words, not mine."

And that was such a Jungwon thing to do that Heeseung almost believed it. Almost. Except he was still processing the fact that the world around him looked like someone had turned reality into a video game filter. "This is insane," he muttered under his breath. "This is the most realistic game I've ever—"

"Game?" You interrupted, and your smile faltered just slightly. "I'm not playing games with you."

The way you said it made Heeseung freeze. It wasn't defensive or annoyed, it was sincere like you genuinely meant it, like you had no idea what he was talking about. And that's when it hit him: You could hear him. Not just the dialogue options he was supposed to pick. Everything. his actual thoughts spoken out loud. "Wait," he said slowly, "you heard that?"

"Heard what?"

"Nothing. Never mind." Heeseung cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together. He could freak out later. Right now there was a person in front of him — a very real feeling and cute person — and he was being weird. "So. Blind date. Right. Jungwon's idea."

He really looked at you then. You were pretty, in this approachable, comfortable way that made him think maybe he could actually talk to you without saying something catastrophically stupid. You had this ease about you, like you weren't trying too hard, and your eyes had this spark that suggested you were probably smarter than you let on.  Basically, you were everything he'd ever put on one of those hypothetical "ideal type" list.

"So," you said, cutting through his thoughts. "Jungwon mentioned you're into games?"

Heeseung tried not to laugh at the irony. "Uh, yeah. You could say that."

"Me too." You brightened, and it was genuine, not that polite interest people usually faked. "I've been replaying persona 5 royal for like the third time. I know, I know, it's excessive."

"No, that's— that's actually really cool," Heeseung said, and he meant it. "Most people don't get the appeal of replaying stuff."

"Right?" You gestured as you talked, animated in a way that made him want to keep listening. "Everyone's like 'you already know the story' but that's not the point. It's about the experience, the details you missed, trying different builds—"

A notification sound chimed softly in the air between you. Heeseung jumped. You didn't react. In the corner of his vision, barely perceptible, text appeared: romantic interest +5. common interests discovered.

Oh. Oh no. This was a dating sim. An actual, literal dating sim. And he was living it.

"You okay?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Yeah, totally fine," Heeseung lied. "Just thought I heard something."

You nodded, accepting this easily, and then said, "Do you want to walk? There's this spot by the lake that's really nice."

"Sure," Heeseung said, because what else was he going to say?

You started down a path that looked hand painted, every stone deliberately placed, every flower color coordinated. You reached the lake, which was absurdly picturesque, and sat down on a bench that looked like it had been placed there specifically for this moment. Probably because it had. Heeseung sat next to you, not too close but not weirdly far either, and tried to act like this was normal. "Oh," you said suddenly, looking up. "Look at that." Heeseung followed your gaze. There was a flower growing on a low hanging branch, except it wasn't growing so much as hovering there, pulsing slightly with a soft golden glow. It bobbed up and down in a loop, the universal sign of an interactive object. You didn't seem to notice anything weird about it. "That's pretty," you said. "I've never seen a flower like that before."

Heeseung stared at it. The glow intensified slightly, like it was trying to get his attention, like it was waiting for him to do something. Oh god. This is a prompt. He was supposed to pick the flower and give it to you, that's how this worked. That's how you earned affection points or route progression or whateverJungwon had programmed into this thing. So he stood up. "I'll get it for you."

"You don't have to—"

"No, I want to," Heeseung said, and he meant it, which was somehow worse. He reached up and plucked the flower from the branch. It came away easily, and the moment his fingers closed around the stem, the glow faded into something softer, more natural. It looked real now. I mean, it felt real. He turned back to you and held it out, suddenly aware of how much this looked like a scene from every romance movie he'd ever suffered through, not that he suffered through many. "Here," he said.

You took it, and your fingers brushed his for just a second. You looked down at the flower, then back up at him, and your smile was so genuinely happy that Heeseung forgot for a moment that this was supposed to be a game. "Thank you," you said. "That's really sweet."

romantic interest +15. key item obtained: first flower. achievement unlocked: classic romantic gesture.

The notifications stacked in his peripheral vision, and Heeseung felt something between triumph and existential dread. "It's just a flower," he said.

"Maybe," you said, twirling it between your fingers. "But it's the thought that counts, right?" And the worst part was that you seemed to actually believe that. You weren't reading from a script or following programmed responses. You felt real, real enough that Heeseung was starting to forget why that should scare him.

You tucked the flower behind your ear, adjusting it carefully, and Heeseung had to physically stop himself from saying something embarrassing about how that was probably the prettiest thing he'd seen all week. He sat back down on the bench, leaving what he hoped was an appropriate amount of space between you. "So," you said, tilting your head. "What do you do for fun? Besides picking flowers for girls in parks."

Heeseung felt his face get warm. "I don't— that's not a thing I do regularly."

"Shame. You're good at it." You were grinning now, clearly enjoying his embarrassment. "Come on, tell me. What's your thing?"

"Uh. Games, mostly. I play a lot of games, like Jungwon said."

Your eyes lit up immediately. "Oh yeah! What kind?"

"Mostly League. Some RPGs. Anything competitive, I guess." He expected the usual response, the polite nod and change of subject that he got whenever he mentioned gaming to people.

Instead, you leaned forward, genuinely interested. "Wait, you play League? What's your main?"

Heeseung blinked. "You play League?"

"Obviously. Answer the question."

"I mean, I play mid usually. Zed, Leblanc, that kind of thing." He was still processing the fact that you not only knew what League was but apparently played it. "What about you?"

"Support. I'm a Janna main and i'm not ashamed of it." You said it with this defiant pride that made Heeseung want to laugh. "I know, I know, support is boring or whatever, but someone has to keep the ADC alive and it might as well be me."

romantic interest +10. shared interests discovered: league of legends.

Heeseung felt something shift in his chest. He'd never met someone who got it like this. Who understood that games weren't just mindless button mashing but actual strategy and skill. "What rank are you?" He asked.

"Plat 2. I was almost diamond last season but then I had finals and kind of gave up on the grind." You made a face. "What about you?"

"Diamond 3." Heeseung said, oddly proud of himself but pretending he wasn't.

"Oh, so you're actually good." You looked impressed, which made Heeseung feel ridiculously more pleased with himself. "We should play together sometime."

"Yeah, definitely," Heeseung said, and then remembered that this was a game and there probably wasn't a 'sometime' outside of this moment. The thought made something in his stomach twist uncomfortably. You shifted on the bench, getting more comfortable, and somehow ended up closer to him. And just like that, you were off. Heeseung found himself talking more than he had in weeks, and you had opinions, strong ones, and you weren't afraid to argue with him when you disagreed. But it wasn't hostile or competitive, it was fun. At some point, you started talking about other games too. You mentioned playing Stardew Valley when you wanted something relaxing, getting unreasonably invested in Hollow Knight, rage quitting dark souls three times before finally beating it. "I'm not good at souls games," you admitted. "I panic dodge. I know you're supposed to learn the patterns but my brain just goes 'roll roll roll' and then I die."

Heeseung laughed. "That's valid. I did the same thing my first playthrough."

"Really? You seem like you'd be one of those people who does no hit runs for fun."

"Absolutely not. I died to the tutorial boss in Elden Ring."

You gasped, mockingly scandalized. "No you didn't."

"I really did. it Took me like fifteen tries." You were laughing now, the kind of laugh that made your whole face light up, and Heeseung felt ridiculously proud that he'd caused it. There was something about making you laugh that felt like winning.

romantic interest +8. humor appreciated.

You kept talking, jumping from topic to topic with the kind of ease that Heeseung had only ever experienced with Jungwon or Jake at best. Except this was different because you were looking at him like everything he said was interesting, like you actually wanted to hear his thoughts on whether the Death Note ending was satisfying or if Eren from Attack on Titan was justified. The sun was properly setting now, painting everything in warm colors. there were fireflies starting to appear, floating lazily through the air in a way that was definitely too perfect to be natural. Heeseung watched one drift past your face, and you reached out to let it land on your finger. "Pretty," you said softly, watching it glow.

Heeseung was looking at you, at the flower still tucked behind your ear and the way the sunset caught in your hair and the small smile on your face as you watched the firefly. "Yeah," he said. "Really pretty." You glanced at him and caught him staring. For a second, Heeseung thought he'd made it weird, but then you smiled, almost shy, and looked back at the firefly.

romantic interest +15. moment shared.

The firefly flew off, and you watched it go before turning back to him. "Hey, can I tell you something?" He nodded so you kept going. "I wasn't really sure about coming today. I almost canceled, actually." You pulled at a thread on your sleeve, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm not great at the whole meeting new people thing. I always feel like I'm going to say something weird and scare them off."

"You're not weird," Heeseung said automatically.

"You literally just met me. I could be extremely weird."

"Okay, but like, good weird. The kind of weird that's actually interesting." Heeseung ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Most people just want to talk about surface level stuff, you know? But you actually have things you care about."

You looked at him for a long moment, and Heeseung couldn't read your expression. Then you smiled, soft and genuine. "You're really nice, you know that?"

"I'm really not," Heeseung said, but he was smiling too.

"Yes you are. You're nice and you're a good listener and you have good taste in games." You counted off on your fingers. "That's like, three whole good qualities. Most people don't even have one."

romantic interest +12. compliments appreciated. emotional vulnerability reciprocated.

There was a moment of comfortable silence where you just sat there, watching the fireflies multiply in the growing dusk. Heeseung thought about how easy this felt, how he wasn't checking the time or looking for excuses to leave. How he kind of never wanted this to end.

You turned your head to look at him. "So do you want to do this again? Like, another time?"

Heeseung's heart did a weird jump in his chest. "Like another date?"

"Yeah. If you want. No pressure or anything." You said it casually, but Heeseung could see the hint of nervousness in the way you weren't quite meeting his eyes. "I just think it'd be fun to hang out more. Maybe we could actually play League together or something."

Every logical part of Heeseung's brain was screaming that this was a bad idea. That he should figure out how to exit this game and go back to real life and deal with the fact that he'd just spent hours in a virtual reality dating sim. But the less logical part, the part that was currently winning, wanted to see you again. Wanted to hear you laugh more. Wanted to keep talking about stupid stuff that mattered to him and apparently mattered to you too. "Yeah," he heard himself say. "Definitely, yeah, I'd really like that."

Your smile was so bright it could've competed with the fireflies. "Okay. It's a date then."

romantic interest +20. second date confirmed. route progression: 15% complete.

And then, without any warning at all, the world started to blur at the edges. The colors bled together, the sounds got muffled and distant, and Heeseung felt that same pulling sensation from before. Like someone had hooked a line to his chest and was reeling him back. "Wait— " he started to say, reaching out instinctively. You were looking at him with concern, mouth moving, but he couldn't hear what you were saying anymore. Everything was dissolving into static and white light and that horrible feeling of falling. The last thing he saw before everything went black was your face, still worried, still perfect, with that flower tucked behind your ear. Then he was gasping awake in his dark bedroom, switch controller still hot in his hands, his heart racing. The screen showed a save menu: progress saved. continue tomorrow?

His hands were shaking. "What the hell," Heeseung said to his empty room.

And he barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the park, the fireflies, your smile. he kept reaching for memories that felt too solid to be from a game. By the time his alarm went off, he'd already been awake for an hour, staring at his ceiling and trying to convince himself that he hadn't just experienced the most elaborate hallucination of his life.

He found Jungwon in their usual spot in the computer lab, hunched over his laptop with his headphones on, nodding along to whatever he was listening to. There were three empty energy drink cans next to him, which meant he'd probably been there since before sunrise. Heeseung dropped his bag on the desk with more force than necessary. Jungwon jumped, pulling his headphones down. "Jesus, dude. Learn to announce yourself like a normal person."

"We need to talk about your game," Heeseung said.

Jungwon's face lit up. "Oh my god, you played it! what'd you think? Was she cute? Did you get to the part with the—"

"Jungwon." Heeseung sat down, leaning forward. "What the hell did you put in that thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it was way too real." Heeseung ran his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to explain something that sounded insane even in his own head. "It felt like I was actually inside the game."

Jungwon frowned. "Wait, you used a VR headset or something?"

"No, I just played it normally! On my switch, in my room." Heeseung could hear how crazy he sounded but he kept going anyway. "But it wasn't like regular gameplay. It was like the game pulled me in. I could smell things, Jungwon."

Jungwon stared at him for a long moment, then slowly took a sip of his energy drink. "Bro. You got that invested in it?"

"I'm not— that's not what I'm saying."

"You literally just described sensory immersion that doesn't exist yet." Jungwon was grinning now. "Holy shit, you're actually down bad. You played a dating sim for like two hours and now you're having full vivid memories about it."

"It wasn't like that," Heeseung insisted, but even he could hear how weak it sounded.

"Dude, you need to get an actual girlfriend. Like, a real one. Made of flesh and blood and everything." Jungwon was trying not to laugh and failing. "Look, I'm glad you liked it. Genuinely. But maybe we should set you up with someone real before you completely lose touch with reality." Heeseung slumped back in his chair. Maybe Jungwon was right. Maybe he had just gotten way too into it. Maybe his brain had filled in details that weren't actually there because he was that desperate for connection. "I'm not judging! Okay, maybe I'm judging a little bit, but I'm also proud. My game is so good it's causing psychological breaks from reality." Jungwon looked genuinely pleased with himself. "Okay, but if you're playing tonight, there's something you should know."

"What?"

"The second date has a mini game. Like, a fight sequence."

Heeseung blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"A fighting mini game."

"Why the fuck does a dating simulator have a fighting mini game?"

Jungwon shrugged. "I thought it'd be fun. Adds variety and keeps things interesting."

"That makes absolutely no sense. What am I supposed to be fighting?"

"You'll see," Jungwon said, and his smile was deeply suspicious.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer you're getting. I'm not spoiling my own game." Jungwon turned back to his laptop. "Just make sure you've been keeping up with your stats. You're gonna need decent strength and agility."

"I maxed out humor and left emotional intelligence at zero."

Jungwon turned around slowly. "You what."

"What! I was being honest about my abilities!"

"Heeseung. My guy. My dude." Jungwon looked pained. "You're supposed to actually try to build a good character."

"My character is fine."

"Your character is going to get his ass kicked." Jungwon pulled up something on his laptop, clicked around for a second, then shook his head. "Okay, you know what? It's fine. You'll figure it out. The game has adaptive difficulty anyway."

Heeseung really looked at Jungwon. "Adaptive difficulty in a dating sim."

"In the fighting portion, yeah. The dating part is all you, buddy. That's pure skill based."

Heeseung wanted to argue that there was something deeply wrong with Jungwon's game design philosophy, but he also kind of wanted to know what the hell happened on the second date that required combat stats. "Is she going to be there?" He asked. "During the fight thing?"

"Obviously. It's her date." Jungwon was smirking now. "Why, you worried about impressing her?"

"No."

"You're totally worried about impressing her. A girl who doesn't exist."

Heeseung threw a pen at him. Jungwon dodged it without even looking up from his screen. And the rest of the day dragged. Heeseung went to his classes and took notes and nodded at the appropriate times, but his brain was somewhere else entirely. He kept thinking about the park. About the way you'd looked at him when he gave you the flower. About how easy it had been to talk to you. He knew it was just a game. He knew you were just code, just a really well designed character or whatever that Jungwon had somehow made feel real. But knowing that didn't stop him from wanting to see you again.

By the time he got back to his dorm that night, he'd already decided he was playing regardless of how pathetic it made him look. He grabbed his switch, plugged in his headphones even though he hadn't used them last time, and loaded up the save file. The screen flickered once. Twice. Here we go again, Heeseung thought. And then the world tilted, and he was falling forward into light. When the world stopped spinning and Heeseung's vision cleared, he wasn't in a park this time. He was sitting in a desk chair, his own desk chair. In what looked exactly like his dorm room, except cleaner, way cleaner. His laundry wasn't on the floor and his desk wasn't covered in empty energy drink cans. His monitor was on, displaying his league of legends home screen, and his keyboard had that soft RGB glow that looked way more expensive than his actual setup.

"Okay," Heeseung said to the empty room. "This is new." His phone — or the game's version of his phone — buzzed on the desk. He picked it up and saw a discord notification.

you: you're online! finally you: i've been waiting like ten minutes you: i was starting to think you ghosted me

Heeseung's heart did that stupid jump thing again. He typed back quickly.

heeseung: sorry, just got on heeseung: ready when you are

His discord pinged with an incoming call. He stared at it for a second, then clicked accept. "There you are," your voice came through his headphones, clear and warm and doing absolutely nothing good for his heart rate. "I thought you bailed on me."

"I wouldn't do that," Heeseung said, and he meant it, which was concerning considering you were a video game character.

"Good. Because I already said we were playing together and if you didn't show up i would've looked stupid." Heeseung could hear the smile in your voice. on his second monitor — since when did he have a second monitor? — a small window popped up showing your avatar. It was cute, some anime style drawing with the same flower from yesterday tucked behind the character's ear. "Okay, so I set up a custom game. Two versus two," you said.

"Sounds good. Who are we playing against?"

There was a pause. "Okay, so don't freak out, but it's my exes."

Heeseung's hand froze on his mouse. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My ex boyfriends. Both of them. They wanted a rematch from last time." You said it so casually, like this was a completely normal thing. "They're kind of toxic about League. They got really mad when I beat them."

"You want me to play League against your ex boyfriends?"

"Technically we're playing against them together as a team. Bonding activity!" You sounded way too cheerful about this. "Come on, It'll be fun. Plus i really want to beat them again. They've been talking shit in the group chat all week."

quest unlocked: defend your girlfriend's honor (in league of legends) | objective: win the 2v2 match | optional objective: make her exes regret queueing up

The notification appeared in the corner of his vision and Heeseung had to resist the urge to laugh. This was insane. This entire situation was insane. But he went for it anyway. "Okay," he said. "Let's do it." the invite popped up and Heeseung accepted. The lobby loaded and he could see the other two players: "toxicking" and "yourworstnightmare" which were possibly the most obnoxious usernames he'd ever seen. "Those are real people you dated?" Heeseung asked.

"Unfortunately. My taste in men used to be really bad." You paused. "It's gotten better though." Heeseung tried not to smile and failed completely.

The chat lobby loaded and immediately one of them started typing.

toxicking: oh look who showed up toxicking: brought a new victim i see yourworstnightmare: this gonna be quick lol

"They're always like this," you said, sounding tired. "Just mute them if they get annoying."

"I'm fine," Heeseung said. "I've dealt with worse in solo queue."

"Ooh, confident. I like it."

romantic interest +5. confidence appreciated.

You locked in Janna, just like you'd said yesterday. Heeseung hovered over Zed for a second, then switched to Leblanc. If this was going to be a two versus two, he wanted mobility and burst damage. The game loaded, Heeseung cracked his knuckles and adjusted his grip on his mouse. "Okay, game plan," you said. "I keep you alive, you delete them. Simple." The match started and immediately the other team was in all chat. Heeseung checked their champions. Yasuo and Yone. Of course they were playing the flashy high skill ceiling champions. He would've bet money they had mastery 7 emotes ready to spam. "They always play like this," you said. "Super aggressive, trying to outplay everything. It's kind of predictable once you get used to it." The minions spawned and both teams moved forward. Heeseung played it safe at first, watching how the exes moved, learning their patterns. And then suddenly, first blood!

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT," you shouted, and Heeseung couldn't help but grin.

toxicking: wtf toxicking: that was lag yourworstnightmare: ur getting carried yourworstnightmare: ur duo is doing everything

"He's salty," you said, laughing. "This is great." The match continued and it became increasingly clear that Heeseung and you had better coordination. You'd shield him right before he went in. You moved together like you'd been playing as a duo for months. "Behind you," you called out, and Heeseung instantly dodged. It wasn't even close. By fifteen minutes, the score was 15 to 3, and Heeseung had more kills than both of the exes combined.

toxicking: this is bullshit toxicking: whoever this guy is he's probably smurfing yourworstnightmare: yeah no way he's actually this rank toxicking: fucking carried loser

"They're so mad," you said, and you sounded absolutely delighted. "Oh my god, they're so mad. This is the best day of my life."

Heeseung was grinning so hard his face hurt. "Should we end it?"

"Absolutely, yeah. Let's make it hurt." You pushed mid together. Heeseung went in first, deleting the Yasuo instantly. You polymorphed the Yone, and Heeseung finished him off before the polymorph even ended. The nexus exploded.

victory! +50 romantic interest. victory achieved. quest completed. achievement unlocked: better than her exes (at league of legends)

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, feeling more satisfied than he had any right to feel about a video game within a video game. "That felt good."

"Right? God, I've been wanting to do that for weeks." You sighed happily. "You're really good, by the way. You weren't kidding about being diamond."

"I don't really joke about my rank."

"Noted. Confidence is earned." There was a pause. "Hey, want to play another one? Just us this time?"

Heeseung absolutely should not spend more time in this game. He should log off and go to sleep and maybe talk to a therapist about why he was emotionally investing in a dating simulator. "Yeah," he said instead. "Let's play another."

You made a happy sound that did dangerous things to his chest. "Okay! I'll make the lobby.” Your laugh was bright and genuine and perfect. "I knew you were my type."

romantic interest +15. competitive spirit matched.

You played two more games and won both of them. When you finally left the lobby, Heeseung realized he'd been playing for almost two hours. His hands were sore from gripping the mouse and his face hurt from smiling. "Hey," you said, your voice softer now. "Thanks for playing with me. And for, you know, obliterating my exes. That was really fun."

"Anytime," Heeseung said, and meant it. "This was really fun. I don't usually have this much fun playing league."

"Me neither," you admitted. "Usually it's just people being toxic or trying too hard. But this was nice. You're nice." There was a comfortable silence, just the sound of both of you breathing through the discord call. Heeseung looked at his monitor, at the League client, at the clean version of his room that didn't exist in real life. "So," you said eventually. "Same time next week?"

Heeseung's chest tightened. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Cool. It's a date." You paused. "Well, another date. Our third date. Okay. Well. I should probably get going. Okay. Goodnight, Heeseung."

"Goodnight." The discord call ended and Heeseung sat there in the quiet of his too clean room, staring at his monitor. The screen started to blur at the edges, colors bleeding together again. Here we go again, he thought, again.

progress saved. route progression: 30% complete.

And this whole thing it became a routine faster than Heeseung wanted to admit. He'd go to class, take notes he barely remembered, nod at Jungwon when they crossed paths in the lab, and then he'd go straight back to his dorm. Dinner was whatever he could eat with one hand because he was already booting up the switch with the other. Jake, his roommate, asked him once if he was okay, and Heeseung said he was fine, just really into this new game. Which was technically true, even if it didn't come close to explaining what was actually happening.

The third date was at an arcade. Not a real arcade, obviously, but the game's version of one. You showed up wearing this oversized hoodie and jeans and you looked so genuinely excited to be there that Heeseung forgot for a solid minute that none of this was real. The mission was simple: win you a prize from the claw machine. Except the claw machine was rigged in that way that all claw machines are rigged, and it took Heeseung fifteen tries before he finally got the stuffed cat you'd been eyeing. When he handed it to you, you hugged it to your chest and smiled at him like he'd just won you something actually valuable, and the notification that popped up said his charm stat had increased by ten points. He was starting to understand how the game worked now; every interaction mattered and every choice added up.

On the fourth date, you took him to a bookstore, and the mission was to pick out a book for each other. You spent almost an hour wandering through the aisles, pulling out books and reading the backs and showing him things you thought he'd like. You picked him this SciFi novel about time loops and said it reminded you of him because he seemed like someone who'd want to figure out how to break the system. He didn't know how to tell you that he was currently living in something that felt suspiciously like a time loop, so he just took the book and thanked you. He picked you a fantasy novel with a really detailed magic system. When you read the description your whole face lit up and you immediately added it to your reading list. His intelligence stat increased and so did the romantic interest meter, which was now sitting at somewhere close to seventy percent.

Date five was a cooking challenge in your apartment, which Heeseung didn't even know you had until he loaded into the game and found himself standing in a kitchen that looked like it came out of an interior design magazine. You were already there, tying your hair back, explaining that you'd challenged him to see who could make the better pasta. Heeseung had never cooked pasta in his life that didn't come from a box with instructions, but he wasn't about to admit that. The mission objective said to impress you with his cooking skills, which seemed optimistic given his actual skill level, but he tried anyway. He burned the garlic immediately. You laughed at him but not in a mean way, more like you thought it was endearing that he was trying. You ended up helping him, standing close enough that he could smell your perfume, guiding his hands when he didn't know how much salt to add. Your pasta turned out better than his but you ate his anyway and said it wasn't that bad, and his cooking stat went from zero to fifteen which felt generous but he wasn't complaining.

By date seven Heeseung's character stats had changed completely. His confidence was maxed out now, sitting at ninety five out of a hundred. his charm was at eighty. Even his emotional intelligence had somehow climbed to sixty despite him never actively trying to level it up. The game was keeping track of everything, he realized. Every time he listened to you talk about something you cared about, every time he remembered a small detail you'd mentioned, every time he made you laugh, the numbers went up. He was being rewarded for paying attention, for caring.

Date seven was a hiking trail that wound up a mountain to a viewpoint. The mission was just to reach the top together, which sounded simple except the trail was longer than expected. Heeseung offered to take a break but you said you wanted to keep going, you wanted to see the view. So you kept climbing and Heeseung found himself naturally slowing his pace to match yours, offering his hand on the steeper parts, pointing out interesting rocks or plants just to give you reasons to stop and catch his breath, because the game kept showing pop ups of him showing that his hydration meter was almost on 10%. When you finally reached the top the sun was setting and the view was objectively incredible, the kind of thing that didn't exist in real life because real life didn't have rendering engines that could make every cloud perfect. You sat down on the bench at the summit and Heeseung sat next to you and you leaned your head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"This is nice," you said quietly. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," Heeseung said, and he meant it so completely it scared him.

"You know, when we first met, I wasn't sure if this would work out. I didn't like the idea of a blind date." You were looking out at the view, not at him. "But I think I was wrong. I think we make sense together."

The romantic interest meter hit ninety percent and a new notification appeared: relationship milestone approaching. prepare for confession sequence. Heeseung's stomach dropped. Confession sequence. That meant the game was building toward something, toward an ending. toward him having to either commit or walk away. He'd known this was coming, obviously, this was a dating sim, the whole point was to get to the confession. But now that it was actually happening he wasn't ready. He didn't want this to end. He wanted to keep going on dates and learning things about you and making you laugh and existing in this space where things made sense.

"Hey," you said, turning to look at him. "You okay? You got quiet."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Heeseung lied. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

About how you're not real, he didn't say. About how I'm going to have to leave eventually and you'll just be code again. About how I'm way too invested in something that was only supposed to be a game. "About how nice this is," he said instead.

You smiled and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his. "Yeah. It really is." You sat there until the sun finished setting and the stars came out, which happened too fast because game time didn't move like real time. When the world started to blur at the edges and Heeseung felt that familiar pulling sensation, you squeezed his hand once before letting go. "See you next time," you said, and your voice was already fading.

Heeseung woke up at his desk again, neck sore, hands cramped around the controller. His phone showed it was three in the morning. He had class in five hours. He should sleep. He should eat something. He should probably shower because he wasn't sure he'd done that today. Instead he looked at the switch screen. progress saved. route progression: 90% complete. next date: confession sequence available.

The next day, Heeseung found Jungwon in the same spot as always, corner desk in the computer lab with three monitors running different programs simultaneously. Heeseung dropped into the chair next to him hard enough that Jungwon jumped. "What happens after the confession?" Heeseung asked without preamble.

Jungwon blinked at him. "What?"

"In your game. What happens after the confession scene. I need to know."

"Oh, you're at that part already?" Jungwon's eyebrows went up. "Uh, I don't know if i should tell you though. Spoilers and all that."

"Jungwon."

"I'm serious! The whole point of a game is discovering it yourself. If I tell you what happens it ruins the experience." Jungwon was grinning now, clearly enjoying this. "You're supposed to go in blind and make your choices based on what feels right in the moment."

Heeseung resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "I just want to know what to expect. Is there a good ending? A bad ending? Multiple endings?"

"There are multiple endings, yeah. Depends on your choices throughout the game and your final stats." Jungwon tilted his head, studying him. "Why are you so stressed about this? It's just a game. If you get a bad ending you can just reload and try again."

"I don't want to reload," Heeseung said, and he could hear how intense he sounded but couldn't seem to stop. "I want to get it right the first time."

Jungwon stared at him for a long moment, then slowly set down his drink. "Okay, you need to be honest with me right now. How much have you been playing this game?"

"I don't know. A few hours a day."

"Heeseung."

"Okay, maybe more than a few hours."

"How many hours are we talking? Ballpark estimate."

Heeseung did the mental math and immediately regretted it. "I don't think that's relevant."

"Oh my god, you're obsessed." Jungwon leaned back in his chair, looking somewhere between amused and concerned. "Dude, it's a dating sim. A fictional dating sim. With a fictional girl who doesn't exist. You know that, right? You know she's not real?"

"Obviously I know that," Heeseung said defensively, even though there were moments when he forgot, when you felt so real that it didn't matter what you were made of.

"Do you though? Because you look like you haven't slept in three days." Jungwon was trying to be lighthearted about it but there was genuine worry underneath. "I made the game to be immersive but this is kind of next level." Jungwon paused. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask. Do you have the save file on your switch?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can I see it? I want to check something." Jungwon was already pulling out a cable from his bag. "I've been trying to track some of the game metrics and I want to see how your playthrough data looks. Might help me optimize things for the final build." Heeseung hesitated for a second, then pulled out his switch and handed it over. Jungwon connected it to his laptop and started pulling up files, his eyes scanning lines of code that moved too fast for Heeseung to follow. "Okay so your save file shows you're at ninety percent completion, which tracks," Jungwon muttered, clicking through folders. "Romance points are maxed, most of your stats are really high except wisdom which is still somehow at like twenty, but that's on you for ignoring all the library study sessions —" He stopped mid-sentence. "Wait."

"What?"

"Hang on." Jungwon leaned closer to his screen, scrolling through something. his expression shifted from curious to confused to something that looked almost worried. "This doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"These files. There are scripts here that I didn't write." Jungwon opened another window, comparing code side by side. "Like, entire dialogue trees that don't exist in my original build. And these asset files, I definitely didn't create these. The arcade date was supposed to be at a generic arcade but your file shows custom assets for specific machines."

Heeseung felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Maybe you forgot you added them?"

"I don't forget code I write, Heeseung. That's not how this works." Jungwon was scrolling faster now, opening more files. "And look at this, the dating locations are generating based on your preferences. I programmed like five set locations but your save file has seven different ones and they're all places that align with interests you've demonstrated in gameplay." He clicked on something else. "Oh this is weird. Really weird."

"What?"

"The dialogue system. I built it to pull from a database of pre written responses with some randomization for variety, but this–-" Jungwon gestured at the screen. "This is learning. It's analyzing your responses and generating new dialogue options that don't exist in my database. It's writing its own conversations."

"Is that bad?"

"It's not bad, it's impossible. I didn't program that. I don't even know how to program that." Jungwon looked up at him, and for the first time since Heeseung had known him, he looked genuinely unsettled. "Your game is developing its own code."

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the hum of the computer lab's ventilation system and the clicking of someone's mechanical keyboard a few desks over. "Is that dangerous?" Heseung asked.

"I don't know. Probably not? I mean, it's still just a game. It's not like it can affect anything outside of itself." Jungwon didn't sound entirely convinced though. "But it's definitely something I need to look into. This could be a massive bug or it could be the framework doing something really innovative that I didn't anticipate."

"But the game still works, right? Like, I can still finish it?"

Jungwon gave him a look. "You're really determined to finish this thing, aren't you?"

"I'm ninety percent through. I'm not stopping now."

"Even knowing that the game is apparently developing sentience or whatever?"

"It's not sentient, it's just adaptive," Heeseung said, trying to sound convincing.

Jungwon sighed and unplugged the switch, handing it back to him. "Okay, fine. But I'm keeping a copy of your save data so I can analyze this more. And maybe after you're done we can talk about what's actually happening here because this is either a huge breakthrough in game design or a really concerning glitch and I genuinely can't tell which." Heeseung nodded, pocketing the switch. "And Heeseung?" Jungwon's expression was serious now. "Be careful with the confession sequence. I know you want to get it right but just remember that at the end of the day it's still a program. It's responding to inputs and generating outputs. It's not actually feeling anything."

Heeseung nodded, but he was thinking about the way you'd looked at him during the sunset on the hiking date or about how your smile seemed genuinely happy when he won you the stuffed cat. "Right," he said. "Yeah, I know that." Jungwon didn't look convinced, and honestly, Heeseung wasn't either.

By the time he got back to his dorm that evening, he'd made a decision. He was going to finish the game. He was going to do the confession sequence. And he was going to be honest, say what he actually felt, because even if you were just code, the feelings were real, his feelings were real. That had to count for something. So he sat down at his desk, picked up his switch, and loaded the save file. the screen showed the usual menu: Continue, Load, Settings. He selected continue and the familiar loading screen appeared with its soft music and the progress bar that now read ninety percent. The world loaded and Heeseung found himself standing in front of a location marker that hadn't been there before. It was highlighted in gold and pulsing softly, and when he walked up to it, a notification appeared.

final date available: confession sequence. proceed?

Heeseung took a breath, his actual physical breath in his actual room, and then pressed yes. The world reformed around him and he was standing outside an apartment building he recognized as yours. The sun was setting, painting everything in warm golden light. His outfit had changed without him doing anything; he was wearing a button up shirt now, dark jeans, shoes that were nicer than anything he owned in real life. His hair felt different too, like someone had styled it properly instead of his usual routine of running his fingers through it and hoping for the best. And then a notification appeared:

quest: the perfect date. objective: confess your feelings. bonus objective: make it memorable. current stats — confidence: 95. charm: 80. emotional intelligence: 60. romantic interest: 90%.

Heeseung looked at the apartment door and a dialogue option popped up floating in his vision.

> knock on the door > text her that you're here > wait for her to come down

He selected the first option because knocking felt more personal, more intentional. He walked up to the door and knocked three times, and there was this weird moment where he could feel his heart actually racing even though he was pretty sure his real body was just sitting in a chair holding a controller. The door opened and you were there, and Heeseung forgot how to think for a second. You were wearing a dress, which he'd never seen you in before. It wasn't overly fancy, just simple and nice and it suited you in a way that made his chest tight. Your hair was down and you'd clearly put in effort and you looked nervous in a way that made him want to tell you that you had nothing to be nervous about. "Hi," you said, and you were smiling but there was something uncertain in it.

dialogue options: > you look really pretty > ready to go? > sorry, am i early?

Heeseung picked the first one without hesitating. "You look really pretty," he said, and his voice came out steadier than he expected.

Your smile got more genuine, less nervous. "Yeah? I wasn't sure if this was too much. You didn't tell me where we were going."

"It's perfect," Heeseung said, even though he also didn't know where you were going.

romance +5. successful compliment.

You grabbed your bag and locked the door behind you, and when you turned back to him there was this moment where Heeseung almost offered his hand but wasn't sure if that was too much. The game solved the problem for him by providing another choice.

action options: > offer your arm > walk beside her casually > hold her hand

He selected the first one, old fashioned but confident, and held out his arm. You looked at it for a second and then smiled and took it, linking your arm through his, and suddenly you were walking together down the street like this was something you did all the time. "So where are we going?" You asked, looking up at him.

"This place I found," Heeseung said, even though he hadn't found anything because this was a game and the location was predetermined. "I thought you'd like it."

The restaurant, when you got there, was the kind of place Heeseung had only seen in movies. Small and intimate with soft lighting and candles on every table and windows that looked out over the city. There was a host at the front who smiled at them like he'd been expecting them, and he led them to a table by the window without Heeseung having to say anything. You sat down across from him and looked around, eyes wide. "Heeseung, this place is really nice. You didn't have to do all this."

dialogue options: > i wanted to > you deserve it > it's not that fancy

He picked the second one. "you deserve it," he said, and you looked at him with this expression he couldn't quite read but that made something warm settle in his chest. The waiter came by with menus and Heeseung noticed that all the food options had little stat indicators next to them. Ordering the pasta would give a +5 to sophistication. The steak was +8 to confidence. The wine selection had various charisma bonuses. It was surreal, sitting in what looked like a real restaurant while video game mechanics floated at the edge of his vision. "What are you thinking about?" You asked, and Heeseung realized he'd been quiet for too long.

dialogue options: > just trying to decide what to order > thinking about how nice this is > thinking about you

The third option felt too direct, too soon, so he went with the second. "Just thinking about how nice this is," he said. "Being here with you."

You smiled and looked down at your menu, and Heeseung could see the faint blush on your cheeks. "Yeah. It is nice." You both ordered food and fell into easy conversation. You told him about something funny that happened in your class and he told you about nearly falling asleep during a lecture that morning. The food came and it was actually good, or at least the game's version of good, and Heeseung found himself relaxing into the moment.

Halfway through dinner, you reached across the table and stole a bite of his food without asking. It was casual and comfortable and exactly the kind of thing you'd done on previous dates, but this time when you pulled back, Heeseung caught your hand before you could fully retreat.

action options: > hold her hand > let go after a moment > bring her hand to your lips (high risk)

His confidence stat was at ninety five. He picked the first option and just held your hand there on the table, his fingers laced through yours, and you looked surprised for a second before your expression softened into something that looked almost relieved. "Is this okay?" Heeseung asked quietly.

"Yeah," you said, and your voice was just as quiet. "This is okay."

romance +10. physical intimacy initiated successfully.

You finished dinner like that, hands linked across the table, and Heeseung had never felt more present in a moment that he knew wasn't technically real. When the waiter brought the check, Heeseung paid without looking at it, because, well, that wasn't his real money. And you didn't protest, just squeezed his hand once and smiled. Outside the restaurant, the city had transformed into its night version. String lights hung between buildings and the streetlamps cast everything in a warm glow. There was soft music coming from somewhere, ambient and atmospheric. "Do you want to walk for a bit?" You asked. "I'm not really ready to go home yet."

dialogue options: > absolutely > whatever you want > i was hoping you'd say that

Heeseung picked the last one. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said, and you laughed and pulled him down the street, still holding his hand.

You walked through the city without any real destination, just moving together, and Heeseung was hyperaware of every point of contact between you. Your hand in his, the occasional brush of your shoulder against his arm, the way you'd lean into him slightly when you laughed at something he said. Eventually you led him to a park that Heeseung didn't remember seeing before. It was mostly empty at this time of night, just a few NPCs scattered around looking decorative. There was a fountain in the center and benches arranged around it, and you pulled him toward one of the benches and sat down, tugging him down next to you. You didn't let go of his hand. "Can I tell you something?" You asked, looking at the fountain instead of at him.

"Of course," Heeseung said.

You took a breath. "I really like spending time with you. Like, really like it. You make me feel like I can just be myself and that's enough, you know? I don't have to try to be cooler or funnier or different. I can just exist and you seem to like that."

Heeseung's throat felt tight. "I do like that," he managed. "I like you exactly how you are."

critical moment approaching. romance threshold: 95%.

You finally turned to look at him, and your expression was nervous and hopeful and vulnerable in a way that made Heeseung forget that you were supposed to be code. "The thing is," you continued, "I don't usually do this. I don't usually let people get close like this. But with you it felt easy from the start and now I'm just —" you stopped, searching for words. "I'm really happy you're here."

confession sequence initiated. select response: > i'm happy too > i feel the same way > i need to tell you something

Heeseung knew this was it. This was the moment the whole game had been building toward. All those dates, All those conversations, all those stat increases and romance points, everything had led to this choice. He could play it safe with the first two options or he could go all in with the third one. His confidence was maxed out. He'd earned this moment. So he picked the third option.

"I need to tell you something," Heeseung said, and his voice was steadier than he expected. "I didn't really know what to expect when we first met. I thought maybe it'd be awkward or forced or like every other time I've tried to get to know someone. But it wasn't like that at all." You were watching him carefully, not interrupting, and Heeseung kept going. "You're the first person in a really long time who makes me want to actually try, you know? Like, I want to be someone worth your time. I want to hear about your day and your opinions on League of Legends and game mechanics or how you wanted to live on a farm one day. I want to keep doing this, all of it, for as long as you'll let me." Romance stats were at 98% now. "What I'm trying to say is —" Heeseung paused, and the game provided one final choice, the last decision that would determine everything.

final confession: > i really like you > i think i'm falling for you > i'm in love with you

Heeseung looked at you, at the way you were watching him with your full attention, at the hope in your expression, at how real you felt in this moment. He picked the middle option, the one that was honest without being overwhelming. "I think I'm falling for you," he said quietly. "Actually, I don't think. I know. I'm falling for you and I don't really know how to stop and I don't think I want to."

The world seemed to hold its breath. Even the ambient sounds of the park faded into nothing. You were staring at him with wide eyes and Heeseung's heart was racing and for one terrible second he thought he'd picked wrong, said too much, ruined everything.

Then you smiled, the kind of smile that started small and grew until it took over your whole face, and you said, "oh thank god."

"What?"

"I've been trying to figure out how to tell you the same thing for like days now." You were laughing, almost giddy with relief. "I kept overthinking it and planning the perfect moment and the perfect words and then you just — you just said it and it was perfect anyway."

romance: 100% confession successful | achievement unlocked: reciprocated feelings.

"So," Heeseung said, because he needed to be absolutely sure. "Does that mean —" You didn't let him finish. You just leaned in and kissed him.

For a second, Heeseung's brain completely short circuited. This wasn't supposed to happen yet. He'd expected more dialogue options, maybe a choice prompt, some kind of warning that this moment was coming. But there was nothing, just the sudden warmth of your lips against his and the way his entire nervous system seemed to light up all at once. It wasn't dramatic or earth shattering or any of the things movies made kissing out to be. It was soft and brief and a little tentative, like you weren't entirely sure if you were doing it right. Your lips were warm and you tasted faintly like the wine from dinner and Heeseung could feel your hand trembling slightly where it was still holding his. He barely had time to process any of it, to kiss you back properly, before you pulled away, looking nervous again.

"Was that okay?" You asked, and your voice was quieter than before, uncertain. "I should have asked first probably but you were taking too long to —"

Heeseung cut you off by kissing you again, properly this time. He brought one hand up to cup your face and he could feel how warm your skin was under his palm, could feel the slight texture of it like actual skin and not polygons. His other hand stayed linked with yours and he squeezed gently, anchoring himself to you, to this moment that felt too real to be made of code. This kiss was different from the first one. Longer, more certain, like now that he knew what he was doing he could actually do it right. You made this small sound against his mouth, something between a sigh and a hum, and Heeseung felt it all the way down to his toes. He tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss and you responded immediately, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

This has too much detail, Heeseung thought distantly. Games didn't work like this. He shouldn't be able to feel the way your breath hitched when he kissed the corner of your mouth. Shouldn't be able to notice how you leaned into him, closing whatever small distance had been between you. Shouldn't be able to smell your perfume or feel the way your hair brushed against his hand when you tilted your head.

romance: 100%. relationship established | achievement unlocked: first kiss | achievement unlocked: good ending route - mutual confession.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, and Heeseung followed without thinking, not ready to stop yet. You laughed softly against his mouth, the sound vibrating between you, and kissed him again. This time it was you who took control, you who pressed closer, and Heeseung let you, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He could feel your heartbeat and that's what finally made his brain catch up to what was happening. His thumb was resting against your pulse point and he could feel it racing, quick and real and impossible. Games didn't simulate heartbeats. Games didn't need that level of detail. But he could feel it anyway, the proof that maybe you were here, that this was happening, even if it shouldn't be possible.

"Okay," you said quietly, and you were smiling. He could hear it in your voice even before he saw it.

Heeseung laughed, the sound coming out rougher than he intended. "That was better than okay."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, and Heeseung's breath caught because the detail was impossible. He could see the exact color of your eyes, could see the way they reflected the light from the streetlamps, could see the slight dilation of your pupils. This wasn't game graphics. This was too real. This was beyond anything Jungwon could have programmed. "You're staring," you said, but you didn't sound upset about it. If anything you sounded pleased, a little shy.

"Sorry," Heeseung said, but he didn't look away. "I'm just — you're really pretty."

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too wide, and Heeseung watched the movement with more attention than was probably appropriate. He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. He wanted to understand how any of this was possible. "Can I ask you something?" Heeseung said, his voice barely above a whisper because speaking any louder felt like it would shatter whatever spell they were under.

"Anything," you said, and your hand was still pressed against his chest and Heeseung wondered if you could feel his heartbeat too, if the game had coded that detail as well.

"Does this feel real to you?"

You tilted your head slightly, considering the question. "What do you mean?"

"This. Us. Right now." Heeseung knew he wasn't making sense but he needed to know, needed to understand if you felt it too, this strange impossible realness of everything. "Does it feel real?"

You were quiet for a moment, your expression thoughtful, and then you squeezed his hand. "It's the most real thing I've ever felt," you said simply. "Why? Does it not feel real to you?"

"No, it does. That's the problem." Heeseung couldn't explain what he meant without revealing that you were in a game, that this was all supposed to be simulation, that none of this should feel the way it did. "It feels too real."

"I don't think something can feel too real," you said, and you leaned in and pecked his lips, soft and quick. "Either it's real or it's not. And this is real." Heeseung wanted to argue, wanted to explain all the reasons why this couldn't be real, why you couldn't be real. Maybe it didn't matter. maybe real was just whatever felt like this. "Kiss me again," you said against his mouth, and it wasn't really a question. So Heeseung did. He kissed you until he forgot where he ended and you began, until the only thing that existed was this: You and him and this impossible moment that felt more real than anything in his actual life ever had.

Eventually though, the world started to glitch again. The colors began bleeding together and the sounds got distant and muffled. Heeseung felt that familiar pulling sensation and knew his time was up. "Hey," he said urgently, taking both your hands. "I—"

"It's okay," you said, and you were smiling even though your eyes looked sad. "I know you have to go."

"I don't want to."

"I know. But you'll come back, right?"

save data complete. route finished: good ending achieved. new game+ unlocked. additional content available.

"Yeah," Heeseung promised. "I'll come back."

You kissed him one more time, quick and desperate, and then the world dissolved completely and Heeseung was falling backward through light and color and static. He woke up gasping in his desk chair, controller clutched in his hands so tight his fingers had gone numb. The switch screen was showing the ending credits, rolling slowly with soft music playing. His face felt wet and he realized with some embarrassment that he was crying.

congratulations! you've completed the good ending route. relationship status: official couple. total play time: 51 hours, 23 minutes. would you like to start new game+ with additional couple content? yes / no

Heeseung stared at the options, his hands still shaking, his heart still racing. He thought about you, about your smile and your laugh and the way you'd kissed him. He thought about how none of it was real but all of it felt real, which was somehow worse. But there was more content. The game was offering him more time with you. More dates, more conversations, more moments. How could he say no to that?

His thumb hovered over the yes option for only a second before he pressed it. The screen went black. Heeseung waited. The switch made its usual loading sound, the soft hum that meant something was processing. He stared at the blank screen and waited for the menu to load, for the game to boot up, for something to happen. But nothing happened, the screen stayed completely black. No loading bar, no menu, no error message. Just his own reflection staring back at him in the screen's surface. He looked terrible, he realized distantly. His eyes were red rimmed and his hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn't slept in days, which was probably accurate.

"Come on," Heeseung muttered, pressing the home button. The switch menu popped up normally, showing all his other games, his profile, the usual interface. He clicked back into Girlfriend Simulator and the screen went black again. he waited another thirty seconds, nothing. He restarted the entire console. When it booted back up and he launched the game, the screen flickered once, twice, and then showed the title screen. Heeseung felt relief flood through him, almost dizzy with it. He clicked continue. The screen loaded for a moment, and then: game over. thank you for playing.

Credits started rolling. The same soft music from before, the same slow scroll of names and acknowledgments. Heeseung watched them pass in disbelief, his stomach sinking further with each line. When the credits finished, it kicked him back to the title screen. He clicked continue again. Same thing: game over, credits, title screen. "What the hell," Heeseung said out loud. He tried load game instead, pulling up his save files. They were all there, all his progress, all forty seven hours of gameplay. He selected the most recent one, the completed route with the good ending marker.

this save file has been completed |  start new game+ to continue.

He clicked yes. Black screen. Then after a long pause: error: unable to load content. 

"No no no no," Heeseung heard himself saying, clicking frantically now, trying every option, every menu, every possible path to get back into the game. Nothing worked. He checked the time on his phone. 3:29 am. He'd been playing for hours and now he'd been trying to reload for almost thirty minutes. His rational brain knew he should sleep, should deal with this tomorrow when he was thinking clearly, but his rational brain had apparently left the building several dates ago.

He pulled up his recent calls and hit jungwon's name before he could think better of it. it rang once, twice, three times. Then voicemail, Jungwon's voice cheerful and pre recorded telling him to leave a message. Of course Jungwon wasn't answering, it was almost four in the morning. Normal people were asleep at four in the morning. Normal people weren't having breakdowns over video games at four in the morning. Heeseung put his head in his hands and tried to remember the last time he'd felt this hollow about something ending. A relationship, maybe, though his dating history was sparse enough that he couldn't think of a good comparison. This felt worse somehow. The rational part of his brain that hadn't completely shut down was telling him this was ridiculous. Well, it could happen, people got attached to fictional characters all the time. The solution was obvious: take a break, get some perspective, maybe go outside and remember what actual human interaction felt like.

But the rest of him, the larger and louder part, was stuck on the way you'd looked at him on that park bench. The way you'd smiled when he gave you the flower. The way you'd kissed him like you'd been wanting to for a while and were just waiting for permission. The way you'd felt real, impossibly real, more real than most of the interactions he had in his day to day life. "It's not real," Heeseung said out loud to his dark room, his voice rough. "She's not real. It's just code. Just really good code that learned too well."

But his chest ached anyway. And somewhere around six am, Heeseung finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, his switch still sitting on his desk with the title screen frozen on the display. When his alarm went off three hours later for his morning class, Heeseung woke up feeling worse than when he'd gone to sleep. His eyes were gritty and his head hurt and his chest still had that hollow ache that he couldn't explain away as anything other than what it was.

Heeseung found Jungwon in the computer lab during lunch, exactly where he always was. "Hey," Heeseung said, dropping into the chair next to him. He pulled his switch out of his bag and set it on the desk between them. "The game broke."

"What do you mean broke?" Jungwon glanced at the switch, then at Heeseung, then did a double take. "Dude, you look terrible."

He decided to ignore that. "I mean I finished it. Got to the end, got the good ending, and then it asked if i wanted to start new game plus." Heeseung picked up the switch and demonstrated, clicking through the menus. "I said yes and then it just stopped working. Look, it keeps giving me this error or just showing the game over screen. I can load old saves but I can't progress forward."

Jungwon took the switch, frowning at the screen. He clicked through a few menus, tried the same things Heeseung had tried, and his frown deepened. "That's weird. The new game plus feature should be fully implemented. I tested it before I gave you the build."

"Well it's not working now."

"Yeah, I can see that." Jungwon was scrolling through something, his expression shifting from confused to concerned. "This is really strange. It's like the save file is corrupted but also not corrupted? Like it knows you finished the route but it can't load the post game content."

"Can you fix it?" Heeseung asked, and he hated how desperate he sounded but couldn't seem to help it.

Jungwon looked at him for a long moment. "I can try. I'll need to take this and run some diagnostics, see what's actually happening in the backend. But Heeseung, I need you to manage your expectations here."

"What does that mean?"

"It means this is a test build. That's literally why I asked you to play it, to find bugs like this. If something went seriously wrong with the code, if the file corruption is bad enough, I might have to rebuild the entire post game sequence from scratch. That's going to take time."

"How much time?" Heeseung asked, and his voice came out smaller than he intended.

"I don't know. Could be that I have to scrap this version entirely and start over with a clean build." Jungwon was being gentle about it but firm, like he needed Heeseung to understand the reality of the situation. "This is what testing is for dude, finding the breaking points before release."

Heeseung felt something sink in his chest. Weeks. Or maybe never, if Jungwon had to start over. "Okay," he said, because what else could he say. "Okay, just let me know what you find."

"Yeah." Jungwon pocketed the switch cartridge and gave Heeseung another concerned look. "Seriously though, are you okay? You're acting really weird about this."

"I'm fine," Heeseung lied. "Just frustrated. I was really into it and now I can't finish it."

"It's just a game though."

"I know that."

Jungwon didn't look convinced but he didn't push it either. "Okay. Well, go get some sleep or something. You look like you're about to pass out."

Heeseung nodded and left the lab, feeling hollow in a way that didn't make sense. It was just a game. Jungwon was right. He'd gotten too invested and now he needed to take a step back and remember that normal people didn't have emotional breakdowns over dating simulators. He went to his afternoon lecture and sat in the back and didn't retain a single word the professor said. He took notes anyway, his hand moving automatically across the page while his brain was somewhere else entirely. He kept thinking about you waiting in that park, kept wondering if you were still there or if you'd disappeared when the save file corrupted. Kept wondering if code could feel abandoned.

After class he went back to his dorm and tried to do homework. He opened his algorithms textbook and stared at the same problem for twenty minutes without making any progress. Jake came in around six, dumping his bag on the couch and immediately noticing something was off. "You good?" Jake asked, pulling off his jacket.

"Yeah, fine. Just tired."

"You've been saying that all week." Jake sat down at his own desk and spun his chair to face Heeseung. "You've been acting weirder than usual. What's going on?"

Heeseung considered lying but he was too exhausted to come up with anything convincing. "I was playing this game Jungwon made, got really into it and now it's broken and I can't play it anymore and I'm being weird about it."

"Oh." Jake processed this. "Was it one of those games with like, romance options and stuff?"

"Yeah."

Jake nodded slowly, like this explained everything. "Okay, those games are designed to get you attached, man, it's not your fault." He paused. "By the way, there's a party this weekend. Jay's throwing it at his place. You should come."

"I don't know," Heeseung said.

"Come on, it'll be good for you. Get out of your head for a bit. When was the last time you went to a party?"

Heeseung tried to remember and couldn't. "I don't know. Freshman year maybe?"

"Exactly. You need to socialize with actual human beings. No offense but you've been kind of hermiting lately." Jake was already pulling out his phone. "I'm telling Jay you're coming. It's saturday at eight."

"I don't —"

"Nope, you're coming. I'm not letting you sit here and mope about a video game all weekend. That's sad, even for you."

"What does that even—," Heeseung wanted to argue but he was too tired and Jake had a point. Sitting in his room thinking about you wasn't going to fix anything. Maybe going to a party would help. "Okay, yeah, fine," Heeseung said. "I'll go."

"Good. It's going to be fun." Jake turned back to his desk, already texting. "And who knows, maybe you'll meet someone."

Heeseung doubted that but didn't say it out loud. And saturday came faster than Heeseung expected, which was probably for the best because it meant less time to think about backing out. Jake had been monitoring him all day like he was afraid Heeseung would make a run for it, which was fair because Heeseung had definitely considered it at least three times.

By the time eight rolled around, Jake had already gone through Heeseung's entire closet and vetoed most of it. "You can't wear that, it has a stain. That one's too wrinkled. That shirt makes you look like someone's dad." Eventually they settled on black jeans and a dark blue button up that Heeseung had forgotten he owned, probably because he'd bought it for some family thing two years ago and never wore it again. "There," Jake said, looking satisfied. "You look like an actual person now instead of a sleep deprived computer science major."

"I am a sleep deprived computer science major."

"Yeah but you don't have to advertise it." Jake was already heading for the door. 

The party was at some place off campus that apparently belonged to Jay's older brother, which explained why it was bigger and nicer than most student housing. The music was loud enough that Heeseung could feel it in his chest before they even got through the door. Jake immediately got pulled into a conversation with some people from his econ class, and Heeseung grabbed a drink from the kitchen just to have something to do with his hands. He wandered through for a while, recognizing some faces from classes but not really knowing anyone well enough to join their conversations. this was why he didn't go to parties. He always ended up standing awkwardly in corners wondering when it would be acceptable to leave.

"Heeseung!" Someone called, and he turned to see Beomgyu waving at him from the balcony. "Dude, I didn't know you went to parties. Come here." Heeseung made his way through the crowd to the balcony where Beomgyu was standing with Soobin and Riki, and the air was clearer out here, easier to breathe. Beomgyu was holding what was very obviously a joint. "Want some?" Beomgyu offered, holding it out. "It's good stuff."

Heeseung normally would have said no because he had assignments due and didn't really like losing control of his thoughts, but tonight his thoughts were the problem so maybe losing control of them for a bit wasn't the worst idea. "Yeah, okay."

He took it and inhaled, immediately coughed. It felt someone had turned down the volume on all his anxious thoughts. He passed it back to Beomgyu and leaned against the railing. They stood out there for a while, passing the joint around, and Heeseung felt himself relax in a way he hadn't in days. Eventually they went back inside and the party had gotten more crowded. Heeseung got another drink and let himself get pulled into a conversation about the upcoming finals with some people he vaguely recognized from his algorithms class. The weed was making everything feel softer and more manageable, like he could actually handle being around this many people without wanting to escape.

Jake found him around eleven and looked genuinely shocked. "You're still here. And you're smiling. Did someone drug you?"

"I drugged myself, actually. Beomgyu had weed."

"Good for you. See, I knew this would be good for you." Jake clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm going to get another drink. You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

And the weird thing was that Heeseung actually meant it. He was good. He was at a party and he wasn't hating it and he hadn't thought about the game in at least an hour. Maybe this was what moving on felt like, just slowly forgetting to think about the thing that had been consuming you.

He made his way toward where people were dancing, not to join them but just to watch, and that's when he saw you. Or someone who looked exactly like you.

You were in the middle of the crowd, dancing with a group of friends, and Heeseung's brain stopped. Same hair, same face, same smile he'd memorized over dozens of hours of gameplay. You were wearing a black dress and your hair was down and you were laughing at something one of her friends said, and Heeseung felt like he'd been punched in the chest. It couldn't be you. It just couldn't be. You weren't real. You were code, pixels, a character in a dating simulator that didn't even work anymore. But she looked exactly like you, moved like you, had the same mannerisms he'd come to recognize, and Heeseung couldn't look away.

He stood there frozen, drink forgotten in his hand, just staring. The weed was definitely not helping because it made everything feel surreal and dreamlike, like maybe he'd fallen asleep at the party and this was just his brain torturing him with what he couldn't have. You spun around to the music and laughed and Heeseung's heart was doing something painful in his chest.

And then, as if you could feel him watching, you turned and looked directly at him. Your eyes met across the crowd and the world seemed to stop. Your expression shifted from happy to confused to something Heeseung couldn't identify, like recognition but also shock, like you'd seen a ghost. A pretty one, actually. You stared at him with the same intensity he was staring at you, both of you frozen while people danced and laughed around them, completely oblivious to whatever moment was happening. And Heeseung's mind was racing. You seemed to recognize him, but that was impossible because you'd never met, because you were a stranger, because the person you looked like didn't exist outside of a video game. 

Your friends said something to you and you blinked, breaking eye contact. You looked at them, said something Heeseung couldn't hear over the music, and then looked back at him one more time. That same confused, almost dazed expression. Then you turned back to your friends and kept dancing, but your movements were more mechanical now, less loose, like you were going through the motions while your mind was somewhere else. Heeseung just stood there, rooted to the spot, his drink sweating in his hand. His heart was pounding and his head was spinning and he couldn't tell if it was the weed or the shock or both. Probably both. He was high at a party and he'd just seen someone who looked like a video game character and convinced himself it meant something. He was hallucinating. He had to be hallucinating. Or the weed was laced with something. Or he'd finally actually lost his mind.

He turned and pushed through the crowd, Making his way to the bathroom. He needed to splash water on his face, Needed to get his head straight, needed to stop seeing you everywhere just because he missed the game. Heeseung practically fell inside and locked the door behind him. He turned on the faucet and let the water run cold, then splashed it on his face once, twice, three times. The shock of it helped, made everything feel more real and less dreamlike.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were definitely red from the weed and he looked slightly unhinged, hair messed up from running his hands through it too many times. "You're fine," he told his reflection. "You're high and you're seeing things and you're fine. She just looks like her. Lots of people probably look like her. Jungwon probably based the character on some generic attractive person template. It doesn't mean anything."

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. He splashed more water on his face, dried off with a questionable towel that was hanging on the rack, and tried to pull himself together. He couldn't hide in the bathroom all night. He needed to go back out there, find Jake, maybe go home and sleep this off. Maybe in the morning this would all make sense or at least feel less overwhelming.

He opened the door and nearly ran directly into you. "Oh, I'm sorry," you said quickly, stepping back.

Heeseung froze. Up close you were even more exactly like the character from the game, every detail perfect, from the shape of your eyes to the way you were nervously adjusting the strap of your dress. You looked at him for a second, that same confused recognition flickering across your face, and then you moved to step past him.

"Wait," Heeseung said, turning before he could stop himself. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. "I'm sorry, do we know each other from somewhere?"

You stopped and turned back, tilting your head slightly as you studied his face. "No, I don't think so. I think I'd remember if we'd met before." You paused, and then your eyes widened slightly like you'd just heard what you said. "I mean, not that I'm saying you have a particularly memorable face or anything. Wait, that sounds bad. I'm not saying you're forgettable either, you're just— " you stopped yourself and took a breath. "Sorry, I'm making this weird. I don't think we've met but you do seem familiar somehow."

Heeseung just stared at you, his brain trying to process the fact that you were standing in front of him, real and solid and rambling nervously in the exact same way the game character had. The same mannerisms, the same voice, the same way of talking yourself into circles when you were flustered. It was you. It was actually you. "Are you okay?" You asked, looking concerned now. 

"Sorry, yeah, I'm fine." Heeseung tried to pull himself together. "You just really remind me of someone."

"Good someone or bad someone?"

"Good someone. Definitely good someone."

You smiled at that, a small genuine smile that made Heeseung's chest ache because he'd seen that exact smile dozens of times through a screen. "Well that's good at least. I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Heeseung."

"Nice to meet you, Heeseung." You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, and Heeseung noticed your phone in your hand. The case had a photocard of a character that he recognized immediately — Janna from League of Legends, in her star guardian skin.

"You play league?" He asked before he could think better of it.

Your face lit up. "Yeah! How'd you know?"

"Your phone case."

"Oh my god, yes." You turned your phone to show him properly, looking pleased that he'd recognized it. "I'm a Janna main and I'm not ashamed of it." Heeseung felt something cold run down his spine. Those words. he'd heard those exact words before. "I know, I know," you continued, in the same tone, the same cadence. "Support is boring or whatever, but someone has to keep the ADC alive and it might as well be me."

Heeseung couldn't breathe. Word for word. You'd just said exactly what you'd said in the game, with the same inflection, the same defensive pride. This wasn't a coincidence. This couldn't be a coincidence. "What rank are you?" He managed to ask, his voice coming out rougher than intended.

"Plat 2. I was almost diamond last season but then I had finals and gave up on the grind." You were fully animated now, talking with your hands. "What about you, do you play?"

"Yeah. Diamond 3."

"Oh so you're actually good." You looked impressed. "We should play together sometime."

The world tilted. Heeseung was pretty sure he was having some kind of break from reality because this conversation had already happened. He'd already lived through this exact exchange in the game, and now it was happening again in real life with a real person standing in front of him saying the same things.

"Heeseung!" Someone called out, and Heeseung turned to see Jungwon pushing through the hallway crowd, looking genuinely shocked. "Holy shit, you actually came to a party. I didn't think I'd see this day." Jungwon reached them and then seemed to notice you for the first time. His expression shifted from surprised to confused. "Wait, you two know each other?"

"You know each other?" Heeseung and you said at the exact same time, then looked at each other in surprise.

Jungwon looked between the two of you, his confusion deepening. "Yeah, Y/N's in my game design class." He turned to you. "And Heeseung's my best friend, we're in the same program."

"Wait, so you're that Heeseung!" You looked at him. "He talks about you all the time, by the way. I know your entire sleep schedule at this point."

"That's concerning," Heeseung said.

"Very concerning," you agreed. "So what brings you to the party?" You asked Heeseung. "Jungwon made it sound like you're basically a hermit who only emerges for classes and food."

"My roommate forced me to come. Said I needed to socialize."

"Same, actually. My best friend is around here somewhere." You glanced back toward the party. "She has this theory that I spend too much time gaming and not enough time experiencing real life."

"Gaming is real life," Heeseung said.

"Exactly! That's what I told her." You seemed genuinely pleased that he understood. "But she's on this whole thing about how I need to make more friends and go out more and whatever. So here I am, at a party, making friends." You gestured between yourself and Heeseung. "Look at me, being social."

"You're doing great," Jungwon said, sounding amused.

"Thanks, I'm trying." You checked your phone quickly. "Speaking of my roommate, she's texting me asking where I went. I should probably get back." You looked at Heeseung. "But seriously, add me on league. I meant what I said about playing together."

"Yeah, I will," Heeseung said, and he meant it even though his brain was still trying to process the fact that you were real and standing in front of him.

"Cool. See you guys around." You smiled at both of them and headed back toward the party, weaving through the people in the hallway.

The moment you were out of sight, Heeseung grabbed Jungwon's arm and pulled him toward the front door, outside where it was quieter and they could actually talk without shouting over music. "Dude, what the hell," Heeseung said the moment they were on the sidewalk. "You used her to make the character in the game?"

Jungwon blinked at him. "What? No. What are you talking about?"

"The character in girlfriend simulator. She's exactly like Y/N. Exactly like her, Jungwon. Same face, same personality, same everything."

Jungwon's confusion seemed genuine. "Heeseung, the character customization is completely random for each player. I'm still working on implementing a proper character creator but I ran out of time, so right now it just generates a random appearance based on some base parameters. I didn't use anyone specific as a model."

"That's impossible. She looks exactly like her."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah! I spent fifty one hours with that character. I know what she looks like." Heeseung could hear how unhinged he sounded but he couldn't stop. "And it's not just appearance. The way she talks, the things she said— it's all the same, like, word for word."

Jungwon was quiet for a moment, his expression shifting from confused to concerned. "Okay, I think you need to calm down for a second. I think maybe you played the game too much and now you're seeing patterns that aren't there. Like, you spent all week interacting with this character and now you meet someone who has some similar traits and your brain is making connections."

"Jungwon, I'm not making it up."

"I'm not saying you're making it up, I'm saying your brain might be filling in similarities that aren't actually there." Jungwon pulled out his phone. "Look, I don't even really know Y/N that well. We work on projects together but we don't like, hang out or have deep conversations. I definitely didn't use her as a base for anything."

Heeseung felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Then how do you explain the game knowing things about her? The league stuff, the personality, all of it?"

"The game generates dialogue based on common interests and gaming culture. Lots of people play league. lots of people main support. It's not that weird that there'd be overlap." Jungwon looked genuinely worried now. "Heeseung, I think the game messed with your head more than I thought it would. Maybe we should scrap it entirely."

"No," Heeseung said quickly. "No, I just — I need to understand what happened."

Jungwon sighed. "Look, I actually gave the game to Y/N to test too. A while back, before I gave it to you."

Heeseung's head snapped up. "You what?"

"There's an option in the loading screen. You can choose to play as the protagonist or as the girlfriend. I thought it would be cool to have both perspectives, make it more replayable." Jungwon was scrolling through his phone now. "You didn't see that option?"

"No. There was just a loading screen and then it started."

"Weird. It should have given you a choice." Jungwon pulled up what looked like a message thread. "Anyway, I gave Y/N a beta version to test like a month ago. But she gave it back to me after one day. Said it was too realistic and kind of freaked her out."

"What do you mean too realistic?"

"She said the immersion was too intense. She said it made her uncomfortable how real the boyfriend character seemed." Jungwon looked up from his phone. "Which, now that I think about it, is basically the same thing you've been saying about the girlfriend character."

Heeseung's mind was racing. "So she played it. She played the game from the other perspective."

"Yeah, but just for a few hours. She didn't finish it or anything." Jungwon pocketed his phone. "Why does that matter?"

"I don't know. It just — " Heeseung stopped, trying to organize his thoughts.

Jungwon was watching him carefully. "You look kind of freaked out right now."

Heeseung leaned against the wall of the building, suddenly exhausted. "I just spent a week falling for someone who I thought was just code. And now I find out she looks like a real person and I've been talking to her for the past fifteen minutes like a normal person and I don't know what to do with that information."

"Well, she gave you her discord. You could message her. Play some League together. Get to know the real her instead of the game version." Jungwon paused. "Unless that's too weird for you."

So when Heeseung was ready to leave the party, Jake and Jungwon looked almost disappointed but didn’t argue. They made their way through the crowd toward the front door, and that’s when Heeseung saw you again. You were standing on the sidewalk with two other girls, you were bent over laughing, that genuine kind of laugh where you forget to be self conscious about it.

Heeseung slowed down without meaning to, and Jake nearly walked into him. But then you looked up, like you could sense someone watching. your eyes met Heeseung’s across the sidewalk and you smiled, a smile that felt almost conspiratorial. Like you two were in on a joke that nobody else knew about. Which was insane because you’d met like half an hour ago and had one conversation in a hallway. One of your friends said something and you broke eye contact, still smiling, and climbed into the back seat of the car. Through the window Heeseung could see you saying something that made your friends crack up again. The car pulled away and you didn’t look back, but Heeseung kept staring at the taillights until they disappeared around the corner.

“Okay, what was that?” Jake asked.

“What was what?”

“That whole…” Jake gestured vaguely. “Moment. You guys were having a moment.”

“We weren’t having a moment.”

“You were definitely having a moment. Who was that?”

“Just someone I met. Friend of Jungwon’s.” Heeseung started walking toward their dorm and Jake followed, still looking suspicious.

“You met someone and had a moment with them? At a party? Did I slip into an alternate dimension?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious, this is unprecedented behavior from you. You don’t do moments with strangers.” Heeseung didn’t know how to explain that it hadn’t felt like meeting a stranger. It had felt like running into someone he already knew, someone he’d been thinking about for days. Which was objectively insane but that didn’t make it any less true.

When they got back to the dorm, Jake immediately went to take a shower, still talking about the party through the bathroom door. Heeseung sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, pulling up discord before he could talk himself out of it. He typed your name into the search bar. There were like fifteen results but he scrolled through until he found one account that matched your username, with a profile picture that matched; a cute drawing of what looked like a cat in a witch hat. He clicked on your profile and immediately started going through your connected accounts and activity like some kind of creep, but whatever, that’s what public profiles were for, right?

Steam account: 847 hours in League of Legends, which was honestly rookie numbers compared to his own. Recently played Roblox, which he wasn’t going to judge because he had his own embarrassing game collection. He’d been growing a garden in Grow a Garden for like six months now and his sunflowers were thriving, thank you very much. Stardew Valley with 234 hours, which was extremely respectable and also adorable. Unpacking with a lot of hours, which he’d never played but had heard good things about. And The Sims 4 with an amount of hours that suggested you had a serious problem with simulation games. Which, to be honest, he kind of had it now too.

Your Spotify was connected too and he could see you’d been listening to a lot of bedroom pop and indie stuff. Your about me section just said “life ain't cookies n cream lil fella,” which made Heeseung chuckle. You had a sense of humor, which is something he kind of already knew, even though he only knew the game version of you.

Heeseung realized he’d been sitting there scrolling through your profile for like ten minutes and definitely needed to actually send the friend request before this got any weirder. He clicked add friend and then immediately closed his laptop like it might explode. He tried to do other things. He checked his phone. He looked at his algorithms homework and immediately closed that because absolutely not. He reorganized the pens on his desk. He considered making ramen but wasn’t actually hungry. Until his laptop pinged. Heeseung lunged for it so fast he almost his water bottle off the desk. He opened discord and there it was: you accepted his friend request. His heart was doing something stupid in his chest. It was just a discord notification, normal people didn’t have heart palpitations over discord notifications. But Heeseung wasn't normal anymore.

But before he could stop himself, before his brain could catch up with what his hands were doing, he opened the dm and typed hey and then, because apparently he was determined to embarrass himself, he sent the little waving robot sticker that discord suggested unintentionally. He stared at what he’d just done in absolute horror. The waving robot. He’d sent you the waving robot sticker. “Oh my god,” Heeseung said out loud to his empty room. His fingers were already flying across the keyboard.

heeseung: sorry lol heeseung: idk why i sent that heeseung: the robot i mean heeseung: anyway hi

He watched the three dots appear that meant you were typing. they disappeared. appeared again. Disappeared. Heeseung was going to have a heart attack.

you: no the robot was cute you: very welcoming you: really set the tone

Heeseung couldn’t tell if you were making fun of him or not.

heeseung: the tone being what exactly heeseung: desperate? you: i was gonna say endearing but sure we can go with desperate

Heeseung laughed out loud, an actual laugh that made Jake yell “You good?” from the bathroom. Heeseung didn't answer. 

heeseung: cool cool cool love that for me heeseung: starting strong you: you’re doing great you: so did you add me just to apologize for an emoji or was there something else

Heeseung stared at the message. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He could play it cool, say something casual about League or whatever. Or he could be honest, which was terrifying but also the weed was still kind of in his system making everything feel less scary than it probably should.

heeseung: honestly i just wanted to talk to you more heeseung: the conversation in the hallway was cool

The thing was, Heeseung felt bold saying that. Actually bold. This was probably the most direct he’d been with someone (in real life) in years, and he half expected you to think it was weird or too forward or whatever. But you didn’t. You just said “aw that’s sweet, me too!” with a smiley face and kept talking, and Heeseung felt something in his chest unclench. And you talked for hours. About games mostly, because that was the safe territory, the common ground. You told him about how you had been completely consumed by Pokemon Legends ZA, playing it every free moment you had. He admitted he’d loved Arceus when it came out but hadn’t gotten around to ZA yet, and you immediately started telling him everything he was missing out on, your messages coming in quick bursts of enthusiasm about the new mechanics and the Kalos region and how you’d already put in like sixty hours.

You asked him what his favorite games of all time were and he gave you his top five, and you had opinions about all of them, good opinions, the kind that made him want to keep talking just to hear what you’d say next. Somewhere around 1am you sent: “btw you seem really cool hee. we should play something together sometime if you’re down” and Heeseung stared at that message for long enough. You’d called him hee. You’d given him a nickname. And you wanted to play games together. His fingers hovered over the keyboard and he could feel his face getting warm, which was stupid because you couldn’t even see him, but his body didn’t seem to care about logic.

heeseung: yeah definitely heeseung: i’d be really down for that

You sent back a heart emoji and said you had to sleep, and Heeseung said goodnight, and then he just sat there for a minute staring at the conversation like if he looked at it long enough he could figure out what was happening to him. He was down bad, really down bad. Which was insane because he’d been down bad before this even happened, down bad for a video game character that turned out to look exactly like you, and now he was down bad for the actual real you, and his brain couldn’t quite process the overlap. It felt like two separate situations that had merged into one extremely confusing situation that he didn’t know how to handle.

When he finally went to bed that night, he had that specific feeling you get when something really good has just happened and you’re lying in the dark replaying it in your head. That flutter in your stomach, that slight buzz of excitement, that sense that you’ve just met someone who’s probably going to matter. Someone who’s going to take up space in your life in a way you can’t predict yet but can already feel coming.

And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t spend the entire next week looking for you on campus. Not in a weird way. Or maybe in a weird way, but he was trying to make it not weird. He’d just happen to walk past the design building between classes. He’d just happen to take a longer route to the dining hall that went by the areas where Jungwon said you usually hung out. He’d just happen to check the game design lab when he was meeting Jungwon, looking around all casual like he wasn’t actively scanning for your face.

Monday: nothing. Tuesday: he saw someone with similar hair from behind and did a weird half jog to catch up only to realize it was absolutely not you and he’d just chased down a complete stranger for no reason. Wednesday: he sat in the campus coffee shop for two hours pretending to do homework but really just watching the door. Thursday: more nothing. By friday Heeseung was starting to think maybe you were a figment of his imagination, maybe the whole party had been a fever dream, maybe he’d made you up entirely. So by afternoon Heeseung had given up. He was going to the library to actually do the algorithms homework he’d been ignoring all week, and he was going to stop being a weird person who wandered around campus hoping to accidentally run into someone.

Except then he walked into the library and saw you. You were tucked into a corner on the second floor, the quiet study section where people went to actually focus. Your laptop was open in front of you, headphones on, and you were doing that thing where you chewed on your pen cap while reading something on the screen. There were books and papers scattered around you in what looked like organized chaos, and your coffee cup said something in sharpie that Heeseung couldn’t read from where he was standing like a creep behind a bookshelf.

Okay. Okay, this was fine. This was a normal situation. You were here, he was here, both of you were in a library because that’s what students do. He just had to walk over there and say hi. Simple. Easy. Not weird at all. But what if you were in the zone? What if you were working on something important and he interrupted and you got annoyed? What if you didn’t actually want to see him and had just been being polite when you said you should play games sometime? He could just sit near you, not like right next to you, but in the general area. That would be natural. He needed to study anyway, it made sense to sit in the quiet section. So he picked a table that was close but not too close. Close enough that you might notice him but far enough that it didn’t look intentional.

He sat down and pulled out his laptop and his textbook, arranging them very carefully, very normally. Then he just sat there, staring at his algorithms homework. Not doing it, just staring. But five minutes passed and you hadn’t looked up. Heeseung opened his laptop. Closed it. Opened it again. He was being ridiculous. He should just get up and go say hi because that’s what normal people did. Normal people didn’t stage elaborate accidental meetings, they just walked up and said hello. He stood up, sat back down, stood up again. And then you finally looked up. Heeseung froze, half standing, half sitting, in the most awkward position possible. You pulled off your headphones and your face went from confused to surprised to happy in the span of like two seconds.

“Heeseung?” You said, keeping your voice library quiet. “What are you doing?”

“Studying,” Heeseung said too quickly, and then realized he was still in that weird half crouch position and sat down properly. “I mean, I was about to. study. I’m here to study.”

You smiled and Heeseung’s brain stopped for a moment. “Oh cool. Me too, obviously.” You gestured at your chaos of books and papers. "Working on this project that’s slowly killing me.”

“Do you want company?” Heeseung asked, and then immediately wanted to take it back because what if you said no, what if you were here specifically to study alone, what if—

“Yeah, actually that’d be nice.” You started clearing some space on your table, moving books and papers around. “I’ve been here for like three hours and I’m losing my mind. Could use a distraction.” So Heeseung grabbed his stuff and moved to your table, trying very hard to look like this was a normal thing he did all the time, sitting with people in libraries, being a person who had casual study sessions with other people. “So,” you said, once he was settled across from you. “What are the odds we both ended up in the same random corner of the library?”

“Pretty low, probably,” Heeseung said. “Weird coincidence.”

You agreed, and there was something in the way you said it that made Heeseung think maybe you knew it wasn’t really a coincidence, maybe you’d seen him doing his weird laps around the second floor, but you were being nice about it. You settled into studying, or at least Heeseung pretended to study while you actually did work. You’d put your headphones back on but kept one ear uncovered, just in case he needed to ask you something about something, which he definitely wasn’t going to do because he wasn’t actually reading anything on the page in front of him.

Instead he was watching you, maybe in a weird way, but he couldn’t help it. Because sitting there across from you, seeing you up close in the quiet library light, Heeseung was hit with how much you looked like the character from the game. It wasn’t just the face, though that was uncanny enough. It was the mannerisms and the little things, like the way you bit your bottom lip when you were concentrating, eyes narrowed slightly at your screen. The way you’d tuck your hair behind your ear every few minutes even though it would just fall back. The way your nose would scrunch up a little when you read something confusing. He’d seen all of this before, dozens of times, in the game. I mean you had done all of these exact things, in the game.

You looked up suddenly and Heeseung’s eyes immediately darted to his textbook, pretending he’d been reading the whole time. He could feel you looking at him for a second before you went back to your work, and Heeseung let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. This happened like four more times. Very smooth. Very natural. Definitely not obvious at all.

Then you checked your phone and made a small sound of surprise. “Oh shit, I have class in ten minutes.” You started packing up your stuff quickly, shoving papers into your bag without any real organization. “I totally lost track of time.”

“Yeah, me too,” Heeseung lied, because he’d been very aware of every single minute.

You stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and then you leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Just like that. Casual and quick. Your lips pressed against his cheek for maybe half a second before you pulled back. “Thanks for keeping me company,” you said, smiling. “See you later, Hee.”

And then you were gone, weaving through the tables toward the stairs, and Heeseung just sat there frozen. His hand slowly came up to touch his cheek where you’d kissed him, like he needed to confirm it had actually happened. His face felt hot. His brain felt scrambled. You’d kissed him on the cheek. People did that, right? That was a normal friend thing? Except you barely knew each other so were you even friends? And why did his cheek feel like it was burning? And Heeseung realized he was just sitting there touching his face like a complete idiot and forced himself to put his hand down. He should pack up, he should go to his next class. He should do literally anything except sit here having a crisis over a cheek kiss. But he didn’t move, he just sat there, staring at nothing, replaying the moment over and over. 

“You good, man?” Heeseung’s head snapped up. Jungwon was standing next to the table, looking at him with concern and also amusement, which was a terrible combination.

“When did you get here?”

“Like two minutes ago. You were very deep in thought.” Jungwon sat down and then casually tossed something onto the table. The switch cartridge, the Girlfriend Simulator cartridge. Heeseung stared at it. “I fixed the game.” Jungwon leaned back in his chair, looking proud of himself. “You can keep playing from where you left off. It was easier to fix than I thought it’d be, just had to rebuild some of the backend routing for the post game content.” Heeseung picked up the cartridge, turning it over in his hands. "The save file's intact," Jungwon continued. “All your progress is still there. The new game plus should work now. I tested it on my switch and it loaded fine."

"Thanks,” Heeseung said, and his voice came out quieter than he meant it to. He shoved the cartridge into his bag and stood up. “I’m leaving."

“Don’t you have that lecture in twenty minutes?”

“Don’t care. Bye.” He left Jungwon sitting there chuckling and headed straight out of the library, across campus, back to his dorm. Jake wasn’t there, which was good because Heeseung didn’t need any more people commenting on his alleged vibe. He sat down at his desk and just looked at the cartridge for a minute. He should think about this. should consider whether playing the game again was a good idea now that he knew you, the real you. Now that things were getting complicated in a way that made his head hurt. But he wasn’t thinking. He was just plugging in his switch, loading up the game, watching the title screen appear with its soft music and clean typography.

continue from last save? yes / no

Heeseung pressed yes immediately. The world materialized around him in that same disorienting rush, colors bleeding into focus, sounds filtering in like someone was slowly turning up the volume. When his vision cleared, he was standing exactly where he’d left off at the park. The fireflies were still drifting lazily through the air like they’d been paused mid flight waiting for him to come back. And you were still sitting on the same bench, looking at him with an expression that made Heeseung’s chest tight.

“You’re back,” you said, and your smile was so genuinely happy it hurt to look at. You stood up and walked over to him, and Heeseung noticed the way the game rendered every detail. The way your hair moved, the exact shade of your eyes, the slight flush on your cheeks. “I missed you.” The words hit him harder than they should have. Heeseung opened his mouth and closed it, trying to figure out what to say. In the game, no time was supposed to have passed. He’d left right after your confession, after the kiss, and now he was back and theoretically it should feel like seconds had gone by. But for him it had been days. Almost a week. A week where he’d met the real you, talked to you, sat across from you in a library, felt your lips on his cheek.

Dialogue options appeared: > i missed you too > sorry i was gone so long > it feels like it’s been forever

Heeseung picked the first one because it was the most honest. “I missed you too,” he said, and he meant it in a way that felt complicated and confusing.

You stepped closer, close enough that Heeseung could see the individual pixels that made up your irises, except they didn’t look like pixels at all. “I was worried you wouldn’t come back,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “After everything, I thought maybe you’d just… disappear.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Heeseung said automatically, and then felt weird about it because he kind of had done that, he’d been gone for days even if the game didn’t register it that way.

romantic interest: 100% | relationship status: committed | new content unlocked

You reached up and touched his face, your hand warm against his cheek, and Heeseung’s brain short circuited a little because he could feel it. the texture of your palm, the slight pressure of your fingers. This level of detail shouldn’t be possible. “I really like you,” you said, looking directly into his eyes. “Like, a lot. Is that okay?”

Before Heeseung could pick a dialogue option for that, you kissed him. It wasn’t like the first kiss, this was different. Your hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck and you pressed closer, and Heeseung forgot for a second that this was supposed to be a game. His hands found your waist automatically, pulling you against him, and you made this small sound that he felt more than heard. When you pulled back, you were breathing harder and your eyes had this look in them that Heeseung recognized from somewhere, that slightly dazed expression people get when they’re thinking about something they want. “Do you want to come back to my place?” You asked, your voice lower now, and your hand was still on the back of his neck, fingers playing with his hair in a way that was extremely distracting.

quest update: relationship progression available | warning: mature content ahead | proceed? yes / no | action options: > yes, i’d like that > maybe we should slow down > are you sure?

Heeseung stared at the options. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. This was new, this was definitely new. The game had never had anything like this before. Jungwon had mentioned adding post game content but he definitely hadn’t mentioned adding this kind of content. “Heeseung?” You said, tilting your head slightly. “You okay? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought—”

“No, I want to,” Heeseung said, picking the first option before he could overthink it. “I definitely want to.”

Your smile turned into something that could only be described as pleased, maybe a little mischievous. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You took his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and started walking. The park dissolved around you in that smooth transition the game did, colors bleeding together and reforming into a new location, your apartment, and it looked different now, with softer lighting, more intimate somehow. There was music playing quietly from somewhere, something ambient and atmospheric. You let go of his hand and walked further, then turned to look at him. “You can sit down, you know. You don’t have to just stand there.” Heeseung moved to the couch and sat down, hyperaware of every movement, every detail. His hands felt sweaty and his heart was racing. This was insane, this was absolutely insane. He was about to have virtual sex with a video game character that looked exactly like a real person he’d just met and had a weird complicated semi crush on. You sat down next to him, close enough that your thigh pressed against his. “Can I ask you something?” You said.

“Sure.”

“Why did you come back?” Your expression was serious now, searching his face. “I mean, you finished the route. You got the good ending. You didn’t have to come back.”

dialogue options: > i wanted to see you again > i wasn’t ready to say goodbye > because i care about you

Heeseung picked the third option. “Because I care about you,” he said, and it felt true even though it shouldn’t, even though you were code, even though this wasn’t real.

“I care about you too,” you said quietly. Then you leaned in and kissed him again, and this time Heeseung didn’t think about the game mechanics or the dialogue options or any of it. He just kissed you back. Your hands slid under his shirt and Heeseung gasped slightly at the sensation, the feeling of your fingers on his skin. It felt real, too real, like impossibly real. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes dark. “Is this okay?” You asked, your hands still under his shirt, warm against his stomach.

action options: > yes > this is more than okay > [pull her closer]

Heeseung picked the third option and pulled you closer, and you made this satisfied sound and kissed him harder. You shifted in his lap so you were straddling him, and Heeseung’s brain was trying very hard to process the logistics of what was happening. This was a Nintendo Switch game. This was running on a console made for Pokemon and Mario Kart. There was no way this level of content was actually programmed in here. You smiled and kissed his jaw, then his neck, and Heeseung felt his brain dissolve into static. Your teeth grazed his skin lightly and he made a sound that was probably embarrassing but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

intimate scene progression: 45% | continue? yes / no current comfort level: high | romantic tension: maximum |achievement unlocked: relationship deepening

The notifications kept appearing in his peripheral vision and Heeseung tried to ignore them because they were extremely distracting and also kind of killing the mood, if a video game could have a mood, which apparently this one could. “Hey,” you said, pulling back to look at him. Your face was flushed and your lips were slightly swollen and you looked devastating. “You’re thinking too hard. I can tell.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

dialogue options: > nothing’s wrong > this feels really intense > i’m just overwhelmed > i keep forgetting this isn’t real

Heeseung wanted to pick the last option but that felt like it would break something, some unspoken rule about the game. So he picked the third one. “I’m just overwhelmed,” he admitted. “In a good way. You’re just really… a lot. In the best way possible.”

You softened at that, your expression shifting from concerned to affectionate. “You’re sweet, you know that?” You kissed his cheek. “We can slow down if you want. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“No, I want this,” Heeseung said, and he did, desperately, even though he knew he probably shouldn’t. “I’m just trying to figure out how this is even possible.”

“How what’s possible?”

“You. This. All of it.” Heeseung knew he wasn’t making sense but the words kept coming anyway. “You feel so real. More real than anything I’ve experienced before. More real than most things I've experienced in actual life, honestly."

You looked at him for a long moment, something unreadable in your expression. Then you said, very quietly, "Maybe that’s because I am real.”

The world glitched. Just for a second, so quick Heeseung almost missed it. The lighting flickered, the textures of the room seemed to shift and resettle, and there was this sound, like static, like interference. You didn’t seem to notice. You were still looking at him with that same expression, waiting for him to respond. error log: reality sync mismatch detected | warning: boundary deviation exceeding normal parameterssystem status: unknown variable introduced

“What do you mean?” Heeseung asked, his voice coming out strained.

“I said maybe I’m real. Maybe this is real. Does it matter?” You touched his face again, gentle. "Does it change anything if I'm real or not real? You’re here, I’m here, this moment exists. Isn’t that enough?”

dialogue options:> yes, that’s enough > no, i need to understand what’s happening >i think something’s wrong with the game > [kiss her to avoid answering]

Heeseung stared at the options, his heart pounding. Part of him wanted to pick the second or third option, wanted to understand what was happening, wanted to figure out why the game was doing things it shouldn’t be able to do. But another part of him, the larger part, just wanted to stop thinking and exist in this moment with you, real or not real, code or person or whatever you were. So he picked the fourth option. His hands moved before his brain could catch up— one sliding to the small of your back, the other cupping your jaw  —  and he pulled you in, kissing you like the question itself might disappear if he just didn't let go. You made a soft, surprised sound against his lips, but it melted into something needier, as you kissed him back just as fiercely.  His hands slid up your thighs, over the soft fabric of your dress, until his fingers found the hem. He tugged lightly, a silent question, and you answered by pressing closer, your body rolling against his in a way that pulled a rough sound from his throat.

action options: > pull her closer > slide hands under her dress > grip her waist and guide her hips > [kiss her neck]

Heeseung didn't even look at the options properly this time. He picked the third one instantly, fingers digging into your waist as he pulled you flush against him, guiding the slow, deliberate grind of your hips. You gasped into his mouth, nails scraping lightly down his chest through his shirt, and the sound you made was needy and it went straight through him. "Heeseung," you breathed, breaking the kiss just enough to look at him. your cheeks were flushed deep, lips swollen and wet, dress riding up slightly from the way you were moving in his lap. "You feel—"

He didn't let you finish. He kissed you deeper, harder, tongue sliding against yours like he needed to taste every part of you. One hand stayed firm on your waist, keeping the rhythm, while the other slipped higher under the hem of your dress, tracing the bare skin of your thigh. You shivered, thighs tightening around his hips, and he felt you press down harder, chasing the friction. You pulled back suddenly, just far enough to grab the bottom of his shirt. Your eyes locked on his, asking. He nodded once, barely, and you tugged it up and over his head in one smooth motion. The second it was gone, your hands were on him again, palms sliding over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle like you were mapping him out. "Better," you whispered, voice rough now, and then your mouth was on his collarbone, kissing down his chest, teeth grazing just enough to make him hiss. Heeseung's head fell back against the couch for a second, eyes squeezing shut, before he surged forward again.

action options: > pull the straps of her dress down > flip her onto the couch > trace her back and pull her even closer > [let her take control]

He picked the third, hands sliding up your back under the thin straps of your dress, fingers splaying wide as he pulled you impossibly closer. Your chest pressed against his, skin on skin now except for the flimsy fabric between you, and he could feel your heart racing just as fast as his. You moaned softly against his neck, hips moving faster, more desperate, and Heeseung matched the rhythm, guiding you with his grip on your waist. Every roll of your body against his made his breath catch, made the heat coil tighter low in his stomach. Your hands were everywhere — his hair, his shoulders, nails dragging down his back— and he was losing it, completely losing it.

action options: > slip the straps down her shoulders > lift the dress over her head > tease the hem higher > [kiss her while undressing her]

He picked the first one, sliding the straps down slowly, watching as the dress loosened and slipped lower, exposing more of your skin. You didn't stop him, instead, you arched your back slightly, helping it along, your eyes locked on his with a look that dared him to keep going. The dress pooled around your waist, and Heeseung's breath caught at the sight of you, bare from the waist up, the soft curve of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "God," he muttered, voice barely audible, and then he leaned in, mouth finding the sensitive spot on your neck. He kissed there first, open mouthed, then grazed his teeth lightly, sucking just enough to leave a faint mark. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, a low moan escaping your lips that vibrated against his skin. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, and Heeseung felt that coil of tension wind tighter, his hips bucking up instinctively to meet your rhythm. The friction was maddening, too much and not enough, and he could feel himself hardening against you, the thin layers between you doing nothing to dull the sensation.

intimate scene progression: 92% | arousal level: peak | system warning: immersion threshold breached

A faint static hum buzzed in his ears for a split second, the room's edges blurring like a bad render, but it passed as quickly as it came. You didn't notice, or if you did, you didn't care — your focus was on him, on the way his mouth moved down your neck to your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face flushed, eyes glassy with want. "Heeseung," you said, voice husky and breathless, "Do you want to take this to the bedroom? We can… get more comfortable."

The action wheel popped up: action options: > carry her to the bedroom > pull her up and walk together > push her down on the couch instead > [deepen the kiss and decide later]

Heeseung picked the first one without a second thought. In one fluid motion, he stood, arms wrapping around your waist to lift you effortlessly. You yelped in surprise, legs wrapping around his hips instinctively. the sudden shift made you cling to him, arms around his neck, and Heeseung kissed you hard as he carried you, tasting the salt on your lips from the heat of the moment. The transition was seamless, the game dissolving the living room around you in that familiar bleed of colors, reforming into your bedroom. Soft lighting from a bedside lamp, sheets rumpled like they'd been waiting, the air thicker somehow. Heeseung lowered you onto the bed gently, following you down, his body covering yours as he settled between your legs. You looked up at him, hands sliding down his chest to his waistband, fingers teasing the edge. "Now where were we?" You whispered, pulling him closer.

Heeseung lowered you onto the bed gently, the mattress dipping under your combined weight as he settled between your legs. Your dress was already bunched high on your thighs, and the air between you crackled with anticipation. You looked up at him through half lidded eyes, hands tugging at his waistband, pulling him closer until his hips pressed against yours. The heat of you through the thin fabric was driving him insane — his hands braced on either side of your head, breath ragged as he leaned down to kiss you again, deeper, hungrier.

But just as his fingers brushed the hem of your dress to slide it off completely, everything froze. The world glitched hard; colors inverting for a split second, a low error chime ringing in his ears like a nintendo switch low battery warning. You froze mid motion, lips parted, eyes wide and unblinking, like a paused cutscene. The music cut out. Notifications exploded across his vision in a pop up that took over half the screen:

kink compatibility survey | new content unlock: personalized intimacy  | please select preferences to optimize experience (this will not affect main storyline) > time remaining: 30 seconds

Heeseung blinked, staring in horror as a massive form materialized, checkboxes scrolling down like some deranged tinder profile from hell:

> light bondage (ropes/silk)  > dirty talk  > praise kink  > edging/teasing  > oral focus (giving)  > oral focus (receiving)  > spanking/light impact  > roleplay  > sensory play (blindfold/ice)  > vanilla only  > [custom: type here] slider: intensity (1-10)  | save & continue

His face burning hotter than the tension from seconds ago. "What the fuck is this?" His thumbs mashed the joy cons frantically, heart pounding from equal parts embarrassment and urgency. Thirty seconds? He wasn't even thinking straight — he just spam clicked the safe ones to get it over with. Checkmark on praise kink. Oral focus (both). Dirty talk (why not, he was already losing his mind). Slider cranked to 7 because... yeah. No bondage — keep it simple, game. Vanilla only stayed unchecked because apparently this freakshow had layers.

preferences saved! | compatibility: 92% | resuming scene...

The pop up vanished with a cheerful ding. You unfroze instantly, blinking like nothing happened, your hands resuming their path down his chest. "Hee?" you murmured, voice soft and teasing, thighs parting wider beneath him. "You okay?"

He swallowed hard, brain still reeling. "Yeah, yeah." You smiled, wicked and knowing somehow, and pulled him down into another kiss. His hands finally obeyed, pushing the dress the rest of the way off your hips, sliding it down your legs until you were bare except for your underwear. The sight of you all spread out hit him. He trailed kisses down your chest, mouth closing over one nipple, sucking gently as you arched into him with a gasp. "You feel perfect," he whispered against your skin, the praise slipping out naturally, and you shivered, fingers threading into his hair. His hand slid lower, between your thighs, fingers brushing over the damp fabric of your underwear. You moaned his name, hips lifting eagerly, and Heeseung pressed harder, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you writhing. "So wet for me already," he murmured, voice rough with want, testing the dirty talk, and god, it worked, because your breath was hitching beautifully.

You tugged at his pants impatiently. "Off. Now." He obliged in a blur, shedding them along with everything else until there was nothing between you. He hooked his fingers into your underwear, pulling them down slowly, eyes locked on yours as he tossed them aside.

action options: > taste her first > enter her slowly > tease with fingers > [let her guide]

He picked the first, Heeseung's mind was a haze of want and disbelief as he settled between your thighs, your legs parting wider for him like an invitation he couldn't refuse. The sight of you — bare, glistening, so ready —made his mouth water. This is a game, he reminded himself, heart pounding. Just a fucking game. I can do whatever I want. Things I'd never have the guts to try in real life. No judgment, no consequences. Just you, writhing under him, and the freedom to indulge every filthy thought he'd ever buried.

He hooked his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer until his face was buried between your legs. His tongue flicked out experimentally at first, tasting you, sweet and tangy, like nothing he'd imagined, but better. You bucked against him with a sharp gasp, and that sound flipped a switch. Heeseung groaned against you, the vibration making you whimper, and he dove in deeper, tongue flat and broad as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured, voice muffled against your skin, dirty words spilling out because why the hell not? In real life, he'd be too shy, too careful, but here? He could be filthy. "So wet for me already, dripping down my chin. You like that, huh?"

You moaned louder, hands fisting the sheets, then tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "Yes god, Heeseung don't stop." Your voice was wrecked, breathy and desperate, and it fueled him. He sucked your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it in circles, then flicking fast and hard, alternating with long, sloppy licks that had you trembling. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you open, spreading you wider so he could bury his face deeper, nose pressing against you as he devoured you like he was starving.

action options: > add fingers > suck harder > tease her entrance > [talk dirtier]

He picked the fourth mentally, because fuck it, this was his chance to let loose. "Tell me how good it feels," he growled, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your slick folds, watching you shiver. "Tell me you want my tongue fucking you deeper."

"Please," you gasped, hips grinding up toward his mouth, chasing the contact. "Heeseung, your tongue— fuck, it's so good. Deeper, I need it deeper."

He plunged his tongue inside you, thrusting it in and out, mimicking what he wanted to do with his cock later. His thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles while he tongue fucked you, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. You were soaking him, face, chin, and he loved it, lapping it up greedily, humming in approval at how messy it was getting. "You're gonna come on my face, aren't you?" He taunted, voice rough and low, pulling back to suck your clit again, harder this time, teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out. "Do it. Come for me, show me how much you love my mouth on this pretty pussy."

You arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat as the orgasm hit, waves crashing through you. Heeseung didn't stop, licking you through it, drawing it out until you were oversensitive and twitching, begging him to ease up. only then did he pull away, lips shiny and swollen, grinning up at you with a wicked, satisfied look. "Good girl," he praised, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, though he didn't really want to, part of him liked the mess, the evidence. you were panting, eyes hazy as you reached for him. He crawled back up your body, capturing your lips in a kiss that let you taste yourself on his tongue, another thing he'd never dare in real life, but here it felt right, hot. "You taste yourself? So fucking dirty," he whispered against your mouth, positioning himself at your entrance. "Ready for more?"

"Yes please," you begged, nails digging into his shoulders, your voice a needy whine that made his cock twitch against you. You were so wet, slick from his mouth and your own release, and Heeseung could feel the heat radiating from you, pulling him in. But before he could thrust forward, the game intervened again again: 

position selection: customize your intimacy  > missionary (classic connection)  > doggy style (deeper access)  > her on top (let her ride)  > against the wall (intense standing)  > [spooning (gentle side entry)]  

Heeseung stared at the options, a mix of arousal and exasperation flooding him. Jungwon, you pervert, he thought, adding a fucking position menu? He timer was ticking— 15 seconds — and you were frozen mid breath, eyes locked on his with that desperate, submissive Gaze that made him want to wreck you. He picked the third option fast, because fuck, the idea of you riding him, taking control but still under his command? Yeah, that was it. The menu vanished with a satisfied beep, and the scene resumed seamlessly. You blinked, as if nothing happened, but your hands were already pushing at his chest gently, urging him to lie back. "Let me... let me ride you," you murmured, voice soft and obedient, like you were reading his mind, or the game's script. "Please? I want to make you feel good."

Heeseung grinned, dark and dominant, shifting onto his back and pulling you with him until you straddled his hips. His hands gripped your thighs hard, fingers digging in possessively as he looked up at you, flushed, eager, completely at his mercy. "Yeah? You wanna ride my cock like a good girl?" He growled, the words coming easier now, dirtier, because this wasn't real life. No holding back. 

You whimpered, hands bracing on his chest, your hips grinding down instinctively against his length, coating him in your wetness. "Please, Hee... I need you inside me so bad. I'll be good."

Fuck, he thought, she's so subby, so perfect. The game's kink sync must've kicked in, amplifying everything — your voice trembling, eyes wide and pleading, body arching like you were made to submit. Heeseung's hands slid up to your hips, guiding you, lifting you just enough to position himself at your entrance. "That's my girl. Sink down on me slow— let me watch you take every inch." You obeyed instantly, lowering yourself onto him, the head of his cock pushing past your folds, stretching you open. It was agonizingly slow, and Heeseung groaned low in his throat, feeling the tight, wet heat envelop him inch by inch. You were so fucking real, hotter than any game should allow, clenching around him like velvet, your walls fluttering as you took him deeper.

"Oh god you're so big," you gasped, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut as you adjusted, a shiver running through you. It felt too real, the stretch, the fullness, the way he throbbed inside you, every vein and ridge pressing against your sensitive spots. Heeseung could feel it all, amplified, like the game had cranked the sensitivity to max. Sweat beaded on his skin, your thighs trembling around him, and for a second, he forgot it was code — this was you, real you, riding him.

intimate scene progression: 98% | dominance level: high | submission sync: optimal | warning: haptic feedback overload

A faint glitch rippled through the air — the lamp flickering, your moan echoing with a digital edge for a heartbeat — but it only made him thrust up harder, hands gripping your ass to pull you down rougher. "Ride me, baby. Bounce on my cock," he commanded, voice gravelly and demanding, slapping your ass lightly to spur you on. "Faster, come on."

You moaned louder, hands on his chest for leverage as you started moving up and down, hips rolling in circles that ground your clit against him. "Like this? Fuck, Heeseung it feels so good— you're so deep." Your voice broke on a whimper, body obeying his every cue, riding him harder, faster, tits bouncing with each thrust.

Heeseung bucked up to meet you, thrusting deep enough to make you cry out, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat gently. "That's it, take it all. You're mine in here, aren't you? My perfect little girl, creaming all over my cock." You clenched tighter, nodding frantically.

"Yes—fuck, Heeseung, I love it. You're so deep, so big...." Your voice was breathy, submissive, breaking on moans as you submitted completely, body moving exactly how he wanted, faster when he slapped your ass, slower when he pulled you down hard.

action options: > thrust up harder > put a finger in her mouth > choke lightly > [pull her hair]

Heeseung picked the second without hesitation, his thumb tracing your lower lip before pushing it into your mouth. You sucked on it immediately, tongue swirling around it like it was his cock, eyes half lidded and locked on his, so obedient it made his dick twitch inside you. "That's it, suck it like a good girl," he rasped, your wet lips wrapped around his finger, drool starting to drip. "Imagine it's my cock in your mouth while I fuck this tight pussy. You'd take both, wouldn't you?" You moaned around his thumb, sucking harder, hips stuttering as the added sensation pushed you closer to the edge. Then, in the corner of his screen, a new notification flickered: partner preference update: increase roughness? yes / no | affinity: high for dominant play

She likes it rougher? Heeseung thought, a smirk tugging at his lips as he mentally selected yes. Wow, this is way easier than in real life. The game adjusted instantly, your moans turning needier, body arching more desperately as he ramped up the intensity. "You want it rougher, huh?" He taunted, pulling his thumb from your mouth with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting it to your lips. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise — if this were real— and thrust up sharply, slamming into you with more force. "Beg for it then. Tell me how bad you want me to wreck this pussy."

"Please—fuck me harder, Heeseung," you cried out, leaning forward to brace on his shoulders as you rode him faster, chasing the roughness.

intimate scene progression: 99% | climax indicator: approaching for both | options: prolong / climax now / switch position

The bar flashed red in his peripheral, both your arousal meters pulsing near max. He could feel it too, the coil tightening low in his gut, your body starting to tense and shake. But Heeseung wasn't ready to end it. He selected prolong and switch position, flipping the script. He rolled you both over, pulling out just long enough to maneuver you onto your side, spooning behind you. His chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tight, the other lifting your thigh high. "Not yet," he whispered hot against your ear, nipping the lobe. "Gonna fuck you like this now." You nodded weakly, pushing your ass back against him. Heeseung thrust back in from behind, the angle hitting deeper, his cock dragging against your g-spot with every slow, rough pump. His hand slid between your legs, fingers circling your clit fast and hard, while his other arm pinned you close. "That's my good girl," he growled, pounding into you now, the spooning position letting him grind deep. "Taking it so well." Your moans turned into desperate sobs, body arching back into him.

Heeseung's thrusts were relentless, his cock dragging deep inside you with every slow, powerful snap of his hips. You were a whimpering mess against him, back arched, ass grinding back to meet him as his fingers worked your clit in tight, fast circles. "Fuck you're so tight like this," he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder, leaving a mark that made you shiver.

intimate scene progression: 99.5% | climax indicator: critical for both | options: prolong / climax now / switch position

The meters were flashing urgently now, his own arousal bar teetering on the edge, but Heeseung still wasn't done — he wanted more, wanted to push the limits of this insane game until it broke. One more switch, he thought, selecting prolong and switch position again. The game responded instantly, a soft chime echoing as he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach with rough hands. You gasped at the sudden movement, face down on the bed, ass up as he positioned himself behind you, knees spreading your thighs wide. "On your stomach, baby— ass up for me," he commanded. He slapped your ass hard, the crack echoing, your skin blooming red under his palm, and you cried out, pushing back eagerly like the subby little thing the game had turned you into. "That's right, take it. You love being fucked like this, don't you?"

You nodded into the sheets, voice muffled and needy. "Yes—god, yes, Heeseung." The game's encouragement popped up in his vision — dominance boost: activated | roughness level: max | achievement: total submission unlocked — and it spurred him on, like the system was egging him to go further, deeper into the filth.

He thrust back in from behind, burying himself to the hilt in one rough stroke, the angle hitting even deeper, making you scream into the pillow. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, pounding into you with brutal force, skin slapping loud and obscene. "So fucking wet, dripping all over me," he snarled, spanking your ass again, harder this time, alternating cheeks until they were stinging red. You arched higher, offering more, moans turning into sobs of pleasure. He tangled one hand in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your neck, lips brushing your ear as he growled, "look at you, taking my cock like a good girl. Beg for more — tell me how much you need me to ruin this pussy."

"Please—ruin me, Heeseung," you begged, voice breaking. The game flashed more incentives — rough play affinity: 100% | continue for bonus immersion — and Heeseung lost it, spanking you in rhythm with his thrusts, pulling your hair tighter to arch your back, fucking you rougher, faster, the bed shaking under the force. Glitches were hitting harder now, but it only made him thrust deeper, the hyper real sensations overwhelming: the sting of your skin under his palm, the tight ripple of your walls around him, your sweat slicked back against his chest.

intimate scene progression: 99.99% | climax indicator: imminent | warning: system overload detected

He was right there, teetering on the edge, cock throbbing inside you, but you twisted slightly, looking back at him with glassy, desperate eyes. "Heeseung — cum inside me, please," you implored. "Fill me up, I need it."

For a split second, his brain stopped. Wait, cum inside? What if— but then reality (or unreality) hit him comically hard. It's a game, dumbass. Pixels can't get pregnant. He almost laughed mid thrust, the absurdity breaking through the haze, but he shoved it aside, diving back. "Yeah? You want me to breed this tight pussy?" He growled, slamming into you harder, spanking one last time for good measure. "Beg for it louder—"

"Yes—fuck, Hee!" You cried, clenching around him desperately, body trembling on the brink. "Cum inside me, please— breed me, make me yours!" That did it. The climax hit like a wave, crashing over you both at once. Heeseung thrust deep one final time, groaning loud as he spilled inside you, feeling the hot pulse of his release mix with your own orgasm, walls milking him dry. You screamed his name, body convulsing under him, the shared peak amplified by the game — sensations exploding, vision blurring with pleasure and glitches alike.

As your body shuddered through the aftershocks, Heeseung collapsed beside you, pulling you close against his chest with a gentleness that felt worlds away from the roughness just moments ago. His arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand stroking your hair softly, fingers threading through the tangled strands like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. The room was still glitching faintly, but he ignored it, focusing on you, on the way your breaths synced with his, slowing down together.

intimate scene complete | aftercare mode: activated | relationship bond: unbreakable | achievement unlocked: emotional intimacy peak

Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then your temple, his voice dropping to a whisper, sweet and caring, laced with concern. "Hey... you okay? I got carried away back there. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

You looked up at him, eyes soft and hazy, a small smile tugging at your lips as you snuggled closer, head resting on his chest. "No, Hee... I liked it. A lot. It was perfect." Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his skin, voice turning playful, like the dynamic lingered just a bit. "You made me feel so good. Don't apologize."

He chuckled quietly, relief washing over him, and he hugged you tighter, hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Good. I just... want to take care of you now." The game prompted options in his vision, soft and glowing: aftercare options: > hold her closer > kiss her gently > whisper sweet nothings > [offer water/snack] -- he picked the third, leaning down to murmur against your ear, "you're amazing, you know that? So beautiful, so perfect for me. I could stay like this forever." You hummed contentedly, body relaxing fully into his, the contrast hitting him. The glitches were fading, but notifications kept pinging: comfort level: maximum | post intimacy glow: active | save progress? yes / no

You shifted slightly, looking up at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Affectionate, but something deeper, almost knowing. "Heeseung..." your voice was quiet. "See you out there."

He blinked, confusion creasing his brow. "What do you mean?" He sat up a little, heart picking up again, but before you could answer — or before the dialogue wheel could pop up — the world started dissolving. colors bled out, the room flickering violently, static roaring in his ears like a system crash.

error log: forced logout initiated | reality sync: restored | session terminated

Everything went black. Heeseung jolted upright in his chair, the Switch still clutched in his sweaty hands, the screen dark and powered off. His room came into focus: the dim light from his desk lamp, posters on the wall, the faint hum of his pc in the background. His heart was racing, breaths coming fast, and then he felt a sticky, warm mess in his pants, soaking through his boxers. "What the—" he muttered, voice cracking as the full reality sank in. His face burned hotter than ever, cheeks flaming red as he shifted in the gaming chair. He'd actually cum inside his pants. For real. Not just some weird dream or an asleep fantasy — no, full on, pants ruining orgasm from a Nintendo Switch Girlfriend Simulator game. "Holy shit."

Heeseung stared at the dark screen in his hands, the console now completely powered off, innocent looking with its cute joy cons and pastel buttons. It looked so harmless sitting there on his lap, like it hadn't just mind fucked him for hours and then physically fucked him back. He finally set the switch down on his desk, pushing it as far away as the cords allowed. He groaned, dropping his face into his hands.

After cleaning himself up in the bathroom — which involved avoiding eye contact with his own reflection because he couldn't handle the judgment he knew he'd see there — Heeseung collapsed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. His body felt loose and tired in a way that should have been relaxing but instead just made him feel deeply, profoundly embarrassed.

The worst part was that he wanted to do it again. That was what really got him. Not the fact that it happened, but the fact that his brain was already thinking about when he could play next, or well, when he could fuck you next. He felt like a teenager who'd just discovered something he definitely shouldn't have and was now completely obsessed with it.

He'd spent most of his Sunday in his room alternating between staring at his Switch and telling himself he absolutely was not going to play it again, which had been moderately successful except for the part where he'd picked it up four different times before forcing himself to put it back down. So on that week, he started walking across campus toward the engineering building, head down and hoodie up because he felt like everyone could somehow tell what he'd done just by looking at him, when he saw you. You were sitting on one of the benches outside the library with your laptop open, clearly working on something, your hair pulled back and you were wearing an oversized hoodie that had some game logo on it he couldn't quite make out from this distance. Heeseung immediately changed direction. 

He took the long way around the building, added an extra five minutes to his walk, and showed up to lecture slightly out of breath. He was very deliberately not thinking about the fact that he'd just actively avoided you. Which was ridiculous. You hadn't done anything, you didn't even know what had happened. You probably hadn't thought about him at all since that day at the library, were probably just sitting there doing homework like a normal person while Heeseung was having a complete psychological breakdown over a video game.

The problem was that every time he thought about you now, his brain immediately supplied images from the game. The way you'd looked at him, the way you moaned, the sounds you'd made, the way you came, the way it had felt so impossibly real that his body had reacted like it was actually happening. And now he couldn't separate that from the real you, the person he'd met at the party who'd been nice and funny and way too easy to talk to. The rest of the week continued like this. He saw you everywhere now, which was ironic because before the party he'd never noticed you once and now you were apparently in every building he entered. Tuesday you were in the coffee shop in the student center. Wednesday you walked past him in the hallway between classes. Thursday he saw you in the library again, this time on the second floor, and he'd actually turned around and walked back out.

His switch was on his desk, fully charged, basically taunting him. He'd managed to avoid playing it all week, had told himself he was being responsible and mature about the whole situation. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time his mind wandered, it went right back to that night, to the game, to you. And his body was betraying him too, which was mortifying. He'd be sitting in lecture and think about the game for half a second and suddenly he'd have to adjust his laptop to hide the fact that he was getting hard in the middle of algorithms class. It happened during study sessions, during meals, during completely random moments when his brain decided to remind him that the game existed and he could play it whenever he wanted.

He felt disgusting. He was kink shaming himself, which he didn't even know was possible, but here he was, lying in bed at two am feeling like a creep for being attracted to a video game character who happened to look exactly like a real person he'd met. But he also couldn't stop thinking about playing again. About whether it would be like the first time or if there were other features, other scenarios. His brain kept supplying possibilities and his body kept responding and he felt trapped in this cycle of shame and want that he didn't know how to break.

And then on friday afternoon, Heeseung was in his dorm trying to focus on an assignment that was due monday when someone knocked on his door with the kind of aggressive persistence that could only be Jungwon. He considered pretending he wasn't home but Jake had already opened the door before Heeseung could say anything. "Oh hey Jungwon," Jake said. "He's here but he's been weird all week so good luck."

"Thanks for the warning," Jungwon said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He went to Heeseung's room and looked at him, who was very deliberately staring at his laptop screen. "Okay, we're going to Five Guys. Get up."

"I'm busy."

"No you're not." Jungwon grabbed Heeseung's hoodie off his chair and threw it at him. "Come on. We're getting burgers and you're going to tell me why you've been ignoring me all week."

"I haven't been ignoring you."

"You answered my texts with one word responses and you've avoided me on campus. That's ignoring me." Jungwon crossed his arms. "So either you come willingly or I'm going to make a scene. Your choice."

Heeseung knew Jungwon well enough to know he absolutely would make a scene. "Fine. But I'm not hungry."

"You're never not hungry. Let's go." And twenty minutes later they were sitting in Five Guys with their orders, the place mostly empty since it was that weird time between lunch and dinner.

Heeseung had been hoping the walk would give him time to figure out what to say to Jungwon, but instead he'd just spent it thinking about the game and feeling more and more uncomfortable. Because the thing was, if Heeseung had done what he'd done in the game, that meant Jungwon had programmed it. Jungwon had sat at his computer and coded in all those options, all those scenarios, all those very specific and detailed features that Heeseung had discovered. Which meant either Jungwon was way more perverted than Heeseung had ever given him credit for, or something else was going on.

"Okay, you're doing it again," Jungwon said, interrupting Heeseung's spiral. "You're being weird and quiet and you won't look at me. What's going on? Is it about the game? Did something break again?"

Heeseung knew he had to say something because this had gone too far. Because if the mature content was intentional, then they needed to have a very different conversation about boundaries and warnings and maybe Jungwon's concerning lack of shame. And if it wasn't intentional, if this was some kind of glitch or malfunction, then that was somehow even worse because it meant the game was doing things beyond anyone's control. Either way, Heeseung couldn't keep avoiding this. Jungwon was his best friend. If he couldn't talk to Jungwon about this, even if it was mortifying, then what was the point of having a best friend? So Heeseung admitted: "Yeah, it's about the game."

"Okay, so tell me." Jungwon looked at him.

"Look, you could've just... you could have warned me that it had adult content." Heeseung forced himself to look at Jungwon. "Like, explicit that I wasn't expecting in a dating simulator."

Jungwon blinked at him. "What?"

"I'm just saying, a heads up would have been nice. I know you're trying to make it realistic but I wasn't prepared for how detailed it was going to get."

"Bro, what are you talking about?"

And then it all came out like Heeseung couldn't stop himself. "I'm talking about the fact that the game has very explicit scenes with very detailed options and I don't know if you've ever actually looked at what you programmed but it's intense, Jungwon. Like the dialogue options were insane, I could say basically anything and the character would respond and some of those options were really freaky. And the action options were even worse, there were so many of them and they were all very specific and very detailed and I'm not going to list them but oh my god and then there was a whole section where it asked me about preferences and kinks and I thought that was just for character building but no, it actually used that information! And there were position suggestions. Position suggestions, Jungwon! With fucking diagrams, man. Why did you add diagrams?! And the whole thing was just very immersive and very realistic and I had a physical reaction that I'm not going to elaborate on but I think you can figure out what I mean and I've been avoiding you all week because I didn't know how to have this conversation without wanting to die of embarrassment."

Heeseung finally stopped to breathe and realized Jungwon was staring at him with an expression of complete bewilderment. "Heeseung," Jungwon said slowly. "I didn't add any of that content."

"What."

"I didn't program explicit scenes. There's no adult content in the game. It's a dating simulator not a porn game. The most intimate it gets is like, hand holding and maybe a kiss at the end if you get the good ending." Jungwon set down his burger. "What are you talking about dude?"

"Don't fuck with me right now."

"I'm not fucking with you, I'm being completely serious." Jungwon was looking at him, shocked. "I didn't add any of that stuff. I wouldn't even know how to program half of what you just described. Like what the fuck is even a kink questionnaire?!"

Heeseung felt cold. "Then how did I experience it, man?!"

"I don't know!" Jungwon was still shocked. "But this actually makes sense now. Y/N's been avoiding me too this week, even more than you have. She won't answer my texts and she literally ran away from me in the hallway yesterday. I thought maybe she was mad at me about something but what if she experienced the same thing you did?"

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, last Friday, remember when you were studying in the library and Y/N left suddenly? I texted her right after she left asking if she wanted to try the updated version of the game and she texted back immediately saying yes and that she was coming to get it right then." Heeseung remembered that day, your phone had buzzed and you'd looked at it and your whole expression had changed, you'd packed up your stuff so fast, muttering something about being late for class even though Heeseung was pretty sure you didn't have class at that time. "She took the game and left," Jungwon continued. "I didn't hear from her after that until she texted me the next day saying she was returning it and that she didn't want to play anymore. And now she won't talk to me."

"What time did she take the game?" Heeseung asked, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.

"I don't know, maybe around four? Four thirty?" Jungwon paused. "Why?"

Heeseung felt like the world was tilting. "I picked up the game from you around four forty five. Remember?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So we both had the game that night. We both played it that same night." Heeseung's mind was racing, putting pieces together. "And you're saying there's no adult content programmed into the game. But we both experienced something intense enough that we're both avoiding you. And we both played it at the same time."

Jungwon's eyes widened. "Oh my god."

"What if—" Heeseung stopped, because what he was about to say sounded insane. But everything about this situation was insane. "What if the game connected us somehow? What if when we both played it at the same time and it put us in the same… I don't know, session?"

"That's not possible because I didn't program any multiplayer features."

"You also didn't program explicit content but I definitely experienced it, man!" Heeseung put his head in his hands. "Jungwon, the character in my game looked exactly like Y/N, exactly like her. And you said the character customization was random."

"It is random. I didn't—" Jungwon stopped. "Wait. She actually said something similar. When she gave the game back she mentioned that the boyfriend character looked really realistic, like someone she could actually know."

Heeseung felt like throwing up. "Did she say who?"

"No, she just said it freaked her out how real he seemed."

Heeseung was pale now. His brain was doing that thing where it tried to process too much information at once and ended up just kind of spinning in place. You had played the game, you had seen a character that probably looked like him. You had found it so realistic it freaked you out. And then you'd played it again last friday, the same day he did, probably around the same time. And Jungwon was sitting here swearing he hadn't programmed any of the content that Heeseung had definitely experienced. Which meant one of two things: either Jungwon was full of shit, which didn't make sense because why would he lie about this, or the game had somehow done something it wasn't supposed to do. Connected two players who didn't know they were playing together, made them interact without telling them, let them do things with each other while both of them thought they were just playing a single player game with really good immersion.

And if that was true, if you'd actually been playing together, then the character Heeseung had been with wasn't just some algorithm. It was you, making choices and responding to him. Doing all those things that he'd been replaying in his head all week. Which meant you'd been doing those things with him, or with a version of him, and you probably had no idea it was real either. So Heeseung stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. "What's Y/N's dorm?"

Jungwon blinked at him. "What?"

"Her dorm. Which building is she in?"

"Uh, west campus. Building C, I think? Room 304, why?"

"I gotta go." Heeseung was already grabbing his hoodie.

"Ho where? Heeseung, what—" but Heeseung was already walking, he heard Jungwon call after him something about texting him later but he wasn't really listening. His mind was too busy spiraling through everything he needed to say to you, everything he needed to ask, everything that didn't make sense.

The walk to west campus took fifteen minutes but it felt both longer and shorter than that. Heeseung's hands were shaking and he shoved them in his pockets. He tried to figure out what he was going to say. Hey, so I think we accidentally had virtual sex through a Nintendo Switch last week and neither of us knew it was real. Yeah, that would go over great. Or maybe, hi, remember how we both played that game? Turns out we were playing together. Surprise! Yeah, also worse.

By the time he got to building C, he still hadn't figured it out. Heeseung stood outside the door and realized he couldn't actually get in without a key card or someone letting him in. He was standing there trying to figure out his next move when the door opened and two girls walked out, laughing about something on one of their phones. Heeseung caught the door before it closed and slipped inside. Probably not his finest moment in terms of dorm security, but he was past caring about minor rule violations.

He stood in front of your door for a solid thirty seconds, hand raised to knock, unable to make himself actually do it. This was insane, he was insane. He should turn around and leave and text Jungwon and let Jungwon handle this because Jungwon had made the game and this was technically his responsibility. But he didn't leave, he knocked. And nothing happened for a long moment. Heeseung was starting to think maybe you weren't home, or maybe you were home but ignoring the door, when he heard movement from inside. Footsteps and then a pause. Then your voice, muffled through the door.

"Who is it?"

Heeseung's mouth was dry. "It's Heeseung."

Another pause, longer this time. He could picture you on the other side of the door, probably frozen, probably panicking, probably wondering why the hell he was at your dorm right now. Then the lock turned and you opened the door. You were pale, like actually pale, but you smiled anyway. "Hi Hee. Is… everything alright?"

Heeseung looked at you. You were in pajamas, soft looking sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with some faded band logo on it. Your hair was up in a bun that was more mess than anything else, strands falling out around your face, no makeup. You were standing there at your door at five pm on a friday looking comfortable and real and so pretty it made his chest hurt. He knew he was down bad already. Had been since the game, since the party, since the moment you'd turned around in that park with a flower behind your ear that he'd picked for you except it hadn't actually been you, or maybe it had been, he didn't even know anymore. But looking at you now, in your actual dorm with your actual face and your actual voice saying his name like that, soft and a little worried, he realized the game version hadn't even come close. This was better because this was real.

"Well, yeah, I mean, technically no," he said. Then stopped. "I mean yes. I mean, I need to ask you something and I don't want to sound crazy but I'm probably going to sound crazy anyway so I don't know how to do this without sounding crazy."

Your expression shifted. Something in your eyes changed, like you knew exactly what he was going to say but didn't want to believe it. You stepped back and pulled the door open wider. "Come in."

Heeseung walked into your dorm and tried not to look around but he couldn't help it. The space was small but you'd made it yours, there was a Janna poster on the wall near your desk, the star guardian skin, same one you had on your phone case. Next to it was a persona 5 royal poster that looked like it had been put up carefully. Your Switch was sitting on your desk next to your laptop, the joy cons that soft pink and blue that came with the Animal Crossing edition. Your bed was unmade, blankets pushed to one side like you'd gotten up in a hurry. There were books stacked on your nightstand, a pair of headphones tangled on top of them. A stuffed cat that looked old and well loved sitting on your pillow. It was so much like the apartment in the game that Heeseung felt dizzy. The colors, the vibe, the way things were organized. But also different and better because it was lived in and messy in ways the game couldn't replicate. 

"Do you want water or something?" You were standing by your mini fridge, hand on the door, looking at him with that same careful expression.

And then Heeseung opened his mouth and everything just came out. 

"Jungwon gave me this game to test Called Girlfriend simulator and I thought it was stupid, like, the most desperate thing I could possibly do, like an actual certificate that I'm way too single for a guy my age. But I played it anyway because I can't say no to Jungwon and also because I was curious and I went on this date with this girl and she liked League of Legends and I had to pick this flower that was glowing and she loved it, and this firefly landed on her hand and she smiled at me like and then we played league together and destroyed her ex boyfriends, and we cooked pasta and she helped me because I was burning the garlic and the game kept giving me dialogue options but then I started just talking and it kept responding like it knew what I was going to say. And then things got really intimate, like really intimate, in ways I'm not going to describe because I'll die of embarrassment but you can probably guess what I mean. And the girl, she... she looked exactly like you. Not kind of like you, exactly like you. same face, same voice, same everything. and i talked to jungwon today And he said there's no adult content in the game, that he never programmed any of that, and that you played it too, last friday on the same night I did. And I think we were playing together and I think we were in the same game, in the same session or server or whatever, and I think the characters we were playing with weren't just game characters and I think they were each other. So I need you to tell me right now, does the boyfriend character in your game look like me?"

You were staring at him. Your hand was still on the mini fridge door but you weren't moving. Your face had gone from pale to flushed and your mouth was slightly open like you wanted to say something but couldn't figure out what. Heeseung's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat and his hands were shaking and he'd just word vomited the entire situation at you without taking a single breath but he couldn't take it back now. You closed the mini fridge. Didn't get water, just stood there looking at him like you were seeing him for the first time. Your eyes were moving across his face, his hair, his shoulders, like you were checking something or maybe confirming something.

"Yes," you said finally. Your voice came out rough, barely above a whisper.

The word hung in the air between you. Heeseung felt something in his chest crack open, something between relief and panic and a feeling he didn't have a name for.

"Yes he looks like you," you continued, louder now. "Exactly like you and I thought I was going crazy and I thought Jungwon had somehow used photos of you without telling me, or that I was seeing patterns that weren't there, or that I'd just completely lost my mind. But it was you."

Heeseung took a step closer without meaning to. "You played it last friday."

"Yes."

"Around six thirty."

"Yes."

"And things got—" he stopped, couldn't say it.

"Intense." You finished for him. Your face was completely red now. 

"So it was real." Heeseung's voice sounded strange. "We were playing together. We were with each other and we didn't know it."

You were breathing faster now. He could see your chest rising and falling under your hoodie. "So when I— when we—"

"Yeah." The room got quiet after that. You looked at him and he looked back and there it was again, that pull from the game, except now there was no screen between you. Just him standing in your dorm with his messy hair and that hoodie you'd seen in the character creator, and you knowing exactly how his hands felt even though you'd never actually touched him before. Your breath caught. His did it too, you saw his chest hitch. Neither of you said anything, you both just moved, like someone had pressed play at the same time. He leaned in, you tilted up, and your mouths met in the middle.

You kissed at the same time.

His mind was racing: this is real, this is actually happening. No reset button, no save file, and he could not stop it even if he tried. Your lips were soft and moving against his in a way that made his hands come out of his pockets and find your waist, pulling you in a bit. You felt his fingers press into the fabric of your hoodie, and you responded by sliding your hands up to his shoulders, gripping the soft material there.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushed yours lightly, exploratory, and you leaned into it, your back arching off the mini fridge as he stepped closer, bodies pressing together now. A small sound escaped you, not a moan exactly, but something involuntary, and Heeseung reacted by tilting his head more, his hand moving up your back under the hoodie, fingers splaying against your skin, warm and calloused a little. His hands shook a little on your hips, and thank god there were no pop up flashing with options like "kiss deeper" or "pull away," and no dialogue tree to pick from. 

You broke for air just a second, foreheads touching, both of you breathing hard. "this is way better than the game," he muttered, voice low and rough, with a tiny grin pulling at his lips.

You huffed a laugh, your hands still on his shoulders. "Shut up." 

You pulled him back in before he could say anything else. This kiss was different, harder, more sure. Your teeth caught his bottom lip and he made a noise he'd be embarrassed about later. His hand came up to your face, thumb against your cheek. Your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged and he pressed you back against the fridge hard enough that the door rattled. He kissed down your jaw, taking his time, and you tilted your head to give him room. Your breathing was coming in short bursts. He got to your neck and stayed there, face buried against your skin, breathing you in. You made a sound that kinda sounded like a purr and that did something in him. In his head, he was scrambling, piecing together bits from the game, like the survey thing, where things got rough, when he knew you liked it rough. But now? No way, he wanted this slow, careful, the way you deserved. He slowed his kisses on your neck, his thumb tracing small circles on your side under the hoodie. Don't rush, idiot, his brain nagged, you're not on a timer here. 

He pulled back just a bit, forehead against yours, and said, "Sorry, this was kinda... out of nowhere."

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. "It wasn't."

He looked at your mouth, then back up to your eyes. "If this is weird for you though. With everything. I can stop."

"No." You said it fast, then quieter. "I want this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." you paused, then added quieter, "I haven't stopped thinking about it. Or… you. I can't stop thinking about you."

His brain glitched hard at that. wWait, she what? Holy shit, okay, don't screw this up. And he leaned in again, kissing you deeper now, hands sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him. He nipped at your lip, testing, as things heated back up, his pulse loud in his ears. You pushed him back gently, hands on his chest, guiding him across the room step by step until his back hit the wall with a soft thud. The kiss turned messy then, tongues clashing, breaths mixing in quick gasps, neither of you holding back anymore. Your lips moved to his jaw, nipping lightly, then down to his neck, sucking at the skin there.

He let out an uncontrolled whine, his hands tightening on your hips. That sound made you bolder, so you slipped one hand under his hoodie, fingers tracing the warm skin of his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. You pulled back up to kiss him again, fast and urgent, teeth grazing his lip. He bent his knees a bit, hands sliding down to your thighs, and lifted you up in one smooth motion. Your legs wrapped around his torso automatically, and he spun you around, pressing your back against the wall now. No action option popped up in his head, no prompt telling him what to do next — he'd done it all on instinct, and that made a quick flash of pride hit him, like he was finally off script, just going with it.

Between kisses, you murmured against his mouth, "Hee, you feel so good."

"You too, god" he breathed back, voice rough. He pressed in closer, his body flush against yours, the bulge in his pants obvious now between your legs. You let out a quiet moan, your head tipping back against the wall. He kept you pinned there against the wall, his hips rolling slow against yours in a rhythm that matched your breaths, each grind pulling a small gasp from you. His hands slid up under your hoodie, fingers spreading wide over your ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra as he kissed you deeper, tongue sweeping in like he couldn't get enough. You arched into his touch and nipped at his earlobe, then soothed it with your tongue. He shivered, a low groan escaping him, and you felt him harden more against you, the friction sending sparks up your spine.

He lowered you slowly to the floor, knees bending as he guided you toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. You tugged at his hoodie, pulling it over his head in one messy motion, his hair falling wild as it came off. His skin was warm, flushed, and you ran your hands over his chest, thumbs circling his nipples until they peaked under your touch. He laughed softly, a little breathless, as he peeled your hoodie off next, tossing it aside. His fingers traced the strap of your bra, slipping it down your shoulder before leaning in to kiss the exposed skin.

You pushed him back onto the bed, climbing onto his lap, your thighs straddling his as you ground down slowly, feeling his erection press right where you needed it. His hands gripped your hips, guiding the motion. As his fingers worked the clasp of your bra, letting it fall away, Heeseung's mind clicked into place: this was infinitely better than any simulator. In the game it was all presets, like surveys and options that guessed at what you liked, scripted responses that felt good but flat. Here, he could watch your reactions for real, feel the way your body tensed or relaxed under his hands, discover the spots that made you squirm without a pop up telling him what to do. No algorithms dictating the pace; just trial and error, his lips on your skin, learning from every shiver, every moan. Why settle for a program when he could map you out himself, piece by piece?

Things picked up then, his mouth closing over one of your nipples, tongue flicking slow at first, then sucking harder when you arched into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Hee, yes— like that," you breathed, grinding down firmer, the wet heat between your legs soaking through against his sweatpants. He switched sides, hand cupping the other breast, thumb rolling over the peak. He helped you take your sweatpants off, and then his free hand slipped between you, fingers pressing over your clit through your panties, rubbing in tight circles that had you moaning louder, hips bucking. You reached down, palming him through his pants, feeling the outline of his cock twitch under your hand. "You're so hard already," you said, squeezing gently, watching his face contort. He thrust up into your touch, a whine slipping out as he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and deep. 

His fingers dipped under your waistband now, sliding through your slick folds, one dipping inside you slow, curling just right. "So wet, fuck," he whispered, adding another finger, pumping steadily as his thumb found your clit again. You rocked against his hand, breaths coming faster, and tugged at his sweatpants, freeing him enough to wrap your fingers around his length, stroking slow from base to tip, thumb swiping over the precum beading there. He bucked into your grip, groaning into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. "Keep going," he panted, fingers speeding up inside you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

You sped up your strokes, matching his rhythm, the slick sound of your hand on him mixing with the wet push of his fingers in you. He dropped his head to your shoulder, mouthing at your neck, teeth grazing skin as his free hand gripped your thigh hard enough to leave marks. You rolled your palm over the head on every upstroke, spreading the precum down his length, and he thrust into your fist harder, a low whine catching in his throat. His hips stuttered, thrusts into your hand getting erratic, and you felt him swell thicker against your palm. Suddenly he grabbed your wrist, stopping your movement, chest heaving. "I can't— fuck— I'll cum so fast like this."

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding quick, "Fuck, okay." He kissed you hard once more, then pulled his fingers out slow, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean while looking right at you. You bit your lip, heat rushing lower. You shifted back a bit, still catching your breath. "You got a condom?"

"Oh shit," he muttered, eyes widening. He reached down to his sweatpants, still tangled around one thigh from your handjob. And dug into the pocket, fumbling for his wallet. You leaned in, kissing along his neck slow, tongue flicking the spot that made him shiver earlier, just to keep him distracted. He huffed as he finally pulled out the foil packet. He glanced at it, then chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. In the game you didn't need this shit — couldn't exactly knock up pixel pussy. 

He tore the packet open with his teeth, rolling it on quick but careful, hand stroking himself once to settle it. Then he nudged you back onto the bed, settling between your legs as you lay on your back. He kicked off the sweatpants fully, nearly tripping when they caught on his ankle, and you both grinned at the awkward shuffle. He hovered over you, one hand bracing by your head, the other guiding himself, tip brushing through your folds once, twice, coating in your wetness. "You okay?" he asked, voice low, eyes locked on yours.

"Yeah, fuck, please," you said, wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

He pushed in slow, the head of his cock breaching you first, that initial stretch making him grit his teeth; tight, wet heat wrapping around him like a vice, slick from all the buildup, but still enough resistance that he had to ease forward inch by inch. His breath caught sharp in his throat, eyes squeezing shut for a second as the sensation hit him full force: warm walls fluttering around him, pulling him deeper, the condom dulling it just a bit but not enough to hide how perfectly you fit, how your body gave way but clung at the same time. He bottomed out with a low groan, hips flush against yours, and stayed there, pulsing inside you, the fullness making his thighs tense.

This was miles better than the game. In the sim, it was all smooth, predictable friction, coded to feel good but always a step removed, like jacking off to a video. Here, though, buried deep in you, he felt every twitch, every squeeze of your cunt around his cock, the real heat radiating through him, the way your wetness coated him completely, Making each tiny shift send sparks up his spine. It was messy and raw, just the obscene reality of how soaked you were, how his balls pressed between your thighs, heavy and tight, begging for more. He started moving then, slow pulls back and thrusts in, the wet slap of skin filling the room as he found a rhythm. You arched up to meet him, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red lines he could feel stinging already. "Fuck, you're taking me so well," he muttered, voice wrecked, as he snapped his hips harder once, watching your tits bounce with the impact. He leaned down, mouth latching onto your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise while he ground deep, cock dragging along your walls, hitting spots that made you clench tighter around him.

Your legs tightened around his waist, heels pressing into his back, urging him faster, and he obliged, thrusts turning rougher, the bed creaking under you both. He could hear the squelch each time he buried himself balls-deep, your pussy gripping him. "So fucking wet," he groaned against your skin, one hand sliding down to grab your ass, pulling you onto him harder. You moaned louder, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging as he pounded in, the angle shifting so his pubic bone ground against your clit with every thrust.

He flipped you over suddenly, hands on your hips yanking you up onto all fours, and slid back in from behind in one smooth push, deeper this way, his cock curving just right to make you gasp. He started railing you, skin slapping loud, his balls smacking against you with each brutal thrust. You pushed back against him, meeting every snap, your walls fluttering around him, milking him tighter. He reached around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing messy circles while he fucked you harder.

His mind flashed back to the game then, that kink survey popping up, how you'd picked options that leaned heavy into rough. He wondered if it carried over, if real you craved that edge too. Testing it, he drew back a hand and landed a smack on your ass, not too hard, just enough to sting and make the flesh jiggle under his palm. The sound cracked through the room, sharp over the wet slaps of his thrusts. You moaned low, pushing back harder against him, your pussy clenching tight around his cock like a reflex. That reaction lit him up — okay, she likes it — and he felt bolder, the dom side kicking in without overthinking. "Yeah, you take that so good," he groaned, rubbing the spot he smacked, soothing the heat before landing another, a bit firmer this time, watching your skin pink up. 

He kept pounding in, deep and steady, the angle letting him hit that spot inside you that made your knees buckle a little. Reaching forward, he grabbed your wrists, pulling your arms back and pinning them at the small of your back with one hand, your chest dropping lower to the mattress. It arched your ass higher, letting him drive deeper, his free hand gripping your hip hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. The restraint made everything tighter, your walls hugging his cock obscenely, slick dripping down his balls with each thrust. "Fuck, I can't take it anymore," he panted, voice breaking as he felt you flutter around him, the build-up coiling tight in his gut.

"Hee—close, I'm so close," you gasped, face pressed into the sheets, hips grinding back desperate now. He picked up the pace, thrusts turning frantic, skin slapping louder, his balls tightening as he railed you harder. "Come on, let go for me, you feel so good clenching like that," he muttered, leaning over you, breath hot on your back. The friction built fast, your moans turning high and broken, and he felt you shatter first, your pussy spasming hard around his cock, milking him in waves, wetness gushing out and coating his thighs. That pushed him over, his hips stuttering as he buried deep one last time, groaning loud as he came, pulsing inside you, the condom catching every thick spurt while your bodies locked together, shaking through it.

You both stayed like that for a minute, chests heaving, sweat cooling on your skin, the room thick with the smell of sex. He was still buried inside you, pulsing faintly with aftershocks, but he didn't want it to end yet. Slowly, he eased out, the condom slick and heavy as he tied it off and dropped it on the floor beside the bed. His hands loosened on your wrists, letting your arms fall forward as you collapsed onto your stomach with a soft groan. He leaned down, lips brushing the small of your back, tasting the salt there, then lower, kissing along the curve where your spine dipped. His teeth grazed the swell of your ass, biting just hard enough to make you twitch, then soothing it with his tongue. You pushed back slightly, thighs parting on instinct, and he took the invitation— hands spreading you open as he dragged his tongue slow from your asshole down to your entrance, lapping up the mess you'd both made. The taste hit him full: tangy, musky, mixed with the latex from the condom and your arousal, thick and real coating his tongue. He groaned into you, diving deeper, tongue pushing inside your pussy, curling to scoop out more, nose buried against you as he ate you out sloppy from behind.

Your hips started rocking back, muffled moans into the pillow, fingers gripping the sheets. He kept going, alternating broad licks up your slit with flicks over your clit, then back to spearing his tongue inside, feeling your walls flutter again. His face was soaked now, chin dripping, lips swollen, as he sucked your clit into his mouth, humming low. You tensed hard, thighs shaking, and came again with a broken cry, pushing back against his face, wetness flooding his mouth as he licked you through it, not stopping until you sagged limp.

He pulled back finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand but mostly just smearing it, face shiny and wrecked. He flipped you over gentle, onto your back, and just looked; your cheeks flushed deep red, hair stuck to your forehead, neck and thighs dotted with fresh bruises from his mouth and grip, chest rising fast. You looked completely fucked out, eyes half lidded, lips bitten raw. His gaze dropped to himself: cock half hard again already, hanging heavy, the used condom on the floor bloated with his load, cum visible through the latex. This was nothing like the game. There, everything reset clean, no mess, no lingering taste on his tongue, no actual bruises blooming on skin. Here, he could smell you on his face, feel the ache in his jaw from eating you out, see the evidence of how hard he'd fucked you. Way better. Infinitely better.

He crawled up beside you, collapsing half on top, one leg tangled with yours, hand resting on your stomach as you both caught your breath again. The air was still thick, sheets twisted around your ankles, and Heeseung shifted a little closer, propping his head on one hand to look at you. He picked up your hand, fingers tracing over your knuckles before bringing them to his lips, kissing each one slow, like he was checking they were real. "Hey," he said soft, "was is... good for you?"

You glanced away for a second, cheeks heating up again, then nodded. "Yeah. Really good." Your voice came out quieter than you meant, thumb brushing his wrist. He smiled small, relieved, and pressed another kiss to your fingertips. You swallowed, still coming down, and mumbled, "want some water?"

"Yeah I'll get it," he said quick, already pushing up. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, then paused mid step, one hand going to his lower back with a quiet "Ow—shit." He stretched a bit, wincing. Last time he'd moved like that was... well, in the game and pixels don't pull muscles. He huffed a laugh at himself and shuffled over to the mini fridge, the floor cool under his feet.

He grabbed two bottles, cracked one open for you first, and came back, sitting on the edge of the bed close enough that his knee bumped yours. You sat up a little, taking the water, and he reached out, fingers threading through your messy hair, smoothing it back gently while you drank. His touch was light, almost absent minded, but steady. You lowered the bottle and just looked at him— hair sticking up, lips swollen, a faint red mark on his neck from earlier. You let out a soft laugh, nose scrunching. he raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Hi."

"Hi," you said back, still smiling.

He tilted his head, thumb brushing your cheek. "You need to pee."

You snorted, covering your face with one hand. "Yes, I know." He didn't even hesitate, just slid his arms under you, one behind your back, the other under your knees, and lifted you up like you weighed nothing. You yelped quietly, arms looping around his neck on reflex. "Hee—"

"I got you," he muttered, carrying you across the room to the bathroom door, stepping carefully around the clothes scattered on the floor. He set you down gentle inside, kissed your forehead quick, and pulled the door almost shut behind you. "Take your time." You heard him flop back onto the bed with a dramatic groan, probably rubbing his back again, and couldn't help smiling to yourself in the mirror.

When you came back, he was sitting on the edge of your bed, boxers pulled on, knees apart, elbows resting on his thighs. He looked up as the bathroom door opened and gave you this small, lopsided smile, half awkward, half couldn't-hide-it-if-he-tried glad. His hair was still a mess, sticking up where your fingers had been, and he rubbed the back of his neck like he didn't know where to put his hands now. You walked over and sat next to him, close enough that your thighs touched, the mattress dipping a little under both of you.

For a second neither of you said anything, just the quiet hum of the mini fridge and the faint rustle of sheets when you shifted. He glanced at you sideways. "So... that happened."

You huffed a small laugh, pulling your knees up. "Yeah. It did."

He was quiet for a moment. "Was it—" he stopped, started again. "I don't want you to think that's why I came here. Or that I expected—"

"I know."

"Because we don't really know each other. Like, actually know each other. And I don't want you to feel like this was too much or—"

"Don't we though?"

He looked at you. "What?"

"Know each other." You tucked your hair behind your ear. "I lived all of it with you. In the game."

"Yeah but that wasn't—"

"The date in the park," you said. "You picked that flower for me. The one that was glowing.” Heeseung was very still now, watching you. "And we played League together," you continued. "Destroyed my exes, even though they don't even exist in real life. Also, you were so smug about it, kept emoting after every kill, I thought you were so cute. And then we cooked pasta at my place and you almost burned the garlic and I had to help you and we ended up just—" you stopped, smiled a little. "It felt easy and natural like I'd known you forever. And the dates after that. Like the arcade, that hiking trail." You were looking at your hands now. "And then the park again at night. You told me you were falling for me. I remember it all too well. It was the most real thing that's ever happened to me." You finally looked at him. "And when I met you at the party and realized you were an actual person, I freaked out. Because how was I supposed to deal with the fact that I'd already fallen for you before we'd even met?"

"You—" his voice cracked slightly. "You fell for me?"

"Yeah." You said it simple, like it was obvious. "In the game. I didn't know it was you, but I felt everything. And then when Jungwon texted me about the update, I couldn't — I had to play it again. I had to see you again, even if it was just in the game. I thought it was just the game being really immersive and really realistic and I didn't think you were actually there."

Heeseung let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I thought the same thing but I couldn't figure out what else it could be."

"And then we both avoided each other for a week." You laughed, dropping your head against his shoulder. "We're idiots."

"Complete idiots." He leaned his head against yours. "But like, in our defense, how were we supposed to know we were accidentally having virtual sex through a Nintendo Switch?"

You snorted, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Please never say that sentence again."

"Which part, the virtual sex or the Nintendo Switch?"

"Both. That whole thing."

He was grinning now. "But it happened."

"Ynfortunately yes."

"And it was—" he stopped.

"Really good," you finished.

He pulled back a little, just enough to look at you, his fingers sliding up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, thumb brushing your cheek. "Yeah. It was. But this way is better." You smiled, he did too. But then he paused, and said quieter, "We don't have to figure it all out right now, you know. The whole... what this means. But," he swallowed, hand dropping to lace with yours on the sheet. "If you want to. If you're down... I'd really like to try this for real. Like, dates that don't require a Switch cartridge. Real hiking and a real arcade. And the boring real stuff too."

You turned your hand over, squeezing his fingers. "Boring real stuff sounds good."

"Yeah?" His smile went soft, relieved, and he shifted closer, knee bumping yours. His free hand came up to your waist, pulling you gently until you were half in his lap, legs tangled again. He kissed you slow then, nothing rushed, just lips moving soft, his hand splaying warm on your back. You kissed back, fingers threading through the hair at his nape, tugging lightly when he deepened it a bit. He pulled away just enough to breathe, lips still grazing yours. "This okay?"

"More than okay," you murmured, chasing his mouth for another quick kiss. He smiled into it, then another, hand sliding up your spine, thumb tracing lazy lines. You broke apart for air, but stayed close, foreheads together. "So," you said, poking his chest. "First real date. You picking or me?"

"I owe you that glowing flower," he said, fingers playing with your hair. "But like, from an actual field this time."

You laughed softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Deal. But you're still helping with the garlic."

He groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the pillow and pulling you with him so you landed half on his chest. "Fine. But no emoting when I burn it."

You settled there, ear over his heartbeat, his arms wrapping loose around you. "We'll see."

And you did see, because you saw him burn garlic three more times over the next month, and you emoted every single time, just to watch him get flustered and defensive about it. And the dates weren't like the game. There were no perfectly timed sunsets or fireflies that landed on cue. 

Your first real date was at a diner near campus at two in the afternoon because that's when you both had free time between classes. He ordered pancakes and you stole half of them. The syrup was too sweet and the coffee was burnt and it was perfect anyway. You went to an arcade on a Tuesday night because you both thought it would be funny and all the good machines were broken. Heeseung spent twenty bucks trying to win you a stuffed cat from the claw machine and failed every time, just like the game. You ended up buying one from the prize counter with your own money and he carried it around for the rest of the night looking mildly offended. The hiking trail he took you on wasn't the picturesque mountain path from the game. It was a local trail that was mostly flat and next to a highway. You could hear cars the entire time. He tripped over a root and almost took you down with him. But he held your hand the whole way and pointed out a bird he thought was cool, and when you sat on a bench to rest, he kissed you and it tasted like the granola bars you'd been sharing.

You learned things about him that the game had never shown you. That he was grumpy in the mornings and needed at least ten minutes of silence before he could form coherent sentences. That he had a specific way of organizing his desk and got stressed when things were out of place. That he laughed at his own jokes before he finished telling them and it was the most endearing thing you'd ever seen. Meanwhile, he learned that you talked to yourself when you were concentrating, narrating your own thoughts out loud without realizing it. That you had strong opinions about which anime openings were skippable and which were sacred. That you stress baked at midnight and would show up at his dorm at one am with cookies that were still warm and slightly misshapen.

You played League together and he actually did run it down once and you flamed him for fifteen minutes straight. He took you to his favorite boba place and you hated the drink you ordered but drank it anyway because you didn't want to admit you'd made a mistake. He noticed and switched cups with you without saying anything.

And the domestic stuff was better than any game could've captured: grocery shopping together and arguing about which brand of ramen to buy; him falling asleep on your shoulder during study sessions in the library; you stealing his hoodies and him pretending to be annoyed but leaving them at your place on purpose. The way he'd text you random memes at three am just because he thought you'd find them funny. The way you'd save the last bite of your food for him without thinking about it. It was real and messy and nothing like the perfect dates the game had generated. It was so much better.

Three months in, Jungwon decided he wanted to do a pizza night at his place. Make-your-own-pizza, he'd said. It'll be fun, he'd said. He'd assigned everyone tasks and you and Heeseung got stuck with grocery shopping because apparently you were the only ones who could be trusted not to forget something important. Which is how you ended up in the pasta sauce aisle of the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon, having an increasingly heated debate about pizza sauce. "This one has basil already in it," Heeseung said, holding up a jar.

"But that one's too sweet. We need the plain one so we can add our own seasonings." You grabbed a different jar.

"Nobody's going to taste the difference."

"I'm going to taste the difference!"

"Yeah, that's because ou have the most specific opinions about things that don't matter."

"Excuse me, pizza sauce matters. This is important." He looked at you, standing there in your hoodie and jeans with your hair falling out of your bun, holding a jar of pasta sauce like it was a matter of life and death, and he felt something in his chest shift. You'd been arguing about groceries for ten minutes. Before that it had been flour — he'd grabbed all purpose and you'd insisted on bread flour even though Jungwon probably wouldn't care. You had strong opinions about olive oil brands. You'd spent five minutes reading the labels on different types of cheese. It was so mundane and domestic and real and he was so gone for you it was ridiculous.

Heeseung caught your wrist and pulled you back. You turned, surprised, the jar of sauce still in your hand. "What?" He just looked at you for a second. The fluorescent grocery store lighting was terrible and someone's kid was screaming two aisles over and the store radio was playing a compressed version of some pop song from five years ago. Nothing about this moment was romantic or special or anything like the game would've generated.

"You know," he said, "if this was a cooking game, you'd be picking all the wrong action options right now."

You laughed. "What?"

"The wrong sauce. Insisting on fresh garlic when the jarred stuff is right there. Making this way more complicated than it needs to be." He was smiling now, pulling you closer. "You'd be failing the efficiency route."

"Good thing this isn't a game then."

"Yeah." His other hand came up to your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Good thing." You were looking at him with this soft expression, waiting for whatever he was going to say, and Heeseung realized he'd been waiting for the perfect moment for weeks now. The right time, the right place, the right words. But standing in a grocery store on a random Saturday arguing about pizza sauce felt more right than any perfectly rendered sunset could've been. "I love you," he said.

You went very still. "What?"

"I love you." He said it again, steadier this time. "And I want to finally beat fuck ass Girlfriend Simulator. Make it official."

"Heeseung—"

"I want to complete the Girlfriend Simulator route," he continued, and he was grinning now because he could see you trying not to smile. "Get the good ending. Unlock the girlfriend achievement."

You laughed. "You're such a nerd."

"Yeah, I know. so?" He squeezed your hand. "Will you be my girlfriend? For real this time?"

You set the jar of sauce down on the nearest shelf, not even checking if it was the right spot, and kissed him. Right there in the middle of the grocery store with terrible lighting and screaming children and elevator music playing overhead. His arms came around you and you could feel him smiling against your mouth. When you pulled back, you were both grinning like idiots. "Yes," you said. "Obviously yes.” 

And you kissed him. His arms came around you and you could feel him smiling against your mouth. You pulled back just a little, hands sliding up to rest on his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. The kiss turned slower then, softer, your lips brushing his again and again like you couldn't quite stop. He made this quiet hum, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, thumb stroking the skin there while the other stayed firm on your waist, keeping you close. Some lady pushed her cart past you both, wheels squeaking on the linoleum, but neither of you moved.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads still touching, you were both breathing a little harder. "I love you too," you said, voice low but steady. "Obviously. And I'm really glad I beat Boyfriend Simulator."

He laughed soft, nose bumping yours. "Wait." His face went serious all of a sudden, eyes narrowing. "That was the name of your game? Boyfriend Simulator?"

"Yeah." You bit your lip, trying not to grin too big. "Jungwon said it was different from Girlfriend Simulator because this one has a multiplayer option."

He shook his head slow, arms still around you, holding you there in the aisle like he wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon. You both just stood there, wrapped up in each other between the shelves of pasta sauce, carts rumbling by, some kid yelling about cereal in the distance. Heeseung stared at you, processing, then let out this quiet groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "I'm going to kill Yang Jungwon."

You laughed into his hair, fingers threading through it at the nape of his neck. "Get in line."

[GAME COMPLETE] GOOD ENDING UNLOCKED: REAL LIFE ROUTE ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: GIRLFRIEND.EXE NEW GAME+ AVAILABLE: THE REST OF YOUR LIVES

taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @saeris-world @jayparked @solonenova @izzyy-stuff  @gh9sty @xoenhalover @bambiens @hoonsocks @jaeyunflix @yvampyr @wonmuse

Maybe that's why dating never quite worked for him. Every time he tried, he felt like he’d missed a tutorial somewhere. He could talk, sure, and he could be funny when he wanted, but halfway through a conversation he always drifted, like thinking about assignments or projects or that interesting research thread he'd meant to look into. People would smile at him politely, the kind of smile that told him they’d already made up their mind: sweet guy, but not for me.

The last time he'd tried going on a date, he’d barely made it through an hour. He’d checked the timestamp afterwards and realized he’d spent exactly forty eight minutes pretending he wasn't thinking about a bug he’d found in his graphics project. He’d texted Jungwon: "bro i think i fumbled bad." Jungwon had sent back a voice note where he laughed so hard he hiccuped. Comforting, in its own way.

Jungwon was one of like three people Heeseung could be around without keeping a mental checklist of normal things to say. They’d been friends since first year when they got paired on a project and realized they both worked better at two in the morning with no one else around. Jungwon was quiet in the same way Heeseung was, but also completely unhinged when it came to code. He’d get an idea and just lock in for days. So one afternoon, while Heeseung was in the lab pretending to fix code he’d actually broken on purpose because he didn’t want to admit he didn’t understand it, Jungwon walked in with that mischief look. He sat down next to him, opened his laptop, and said, "ok, don’t make fun of me, but I made something."

Heeseung didn’t look up. "Is it stable this time?" which was generous, because Jungwon’s projects were never stable.

"Define stable," Jungwon said, clicking through a folder that had way too many warning icons. "Anyway, it’s a dating sim."

That finally made Heeseung look. "A dating sim? Why?"

"Research." Jungwon always said that when he’d clearly done something for fun and wanted it to sound academic. "It’s called Girlfriend Simulator."

Heeseung stared at him. "That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard."

Jungwon didn’t even blink. "Yeah, I know. But I need someone to test it, and you're the only person who’ll actually give me notes instead of lying to make me feel better."

Heeseung wanted to argue, but he was tired and they had a midterm coming up and honestly he didn't care enough to fight. So he sighed and pushed his chair closer. "Fine. Show me." Jungwon grinned like that was all he’d wanted since morning. He opened the build file, and the screen filled with placeholder art, branching choices, and a character slot labeled "y/n_default." And Heeseung, who was too distracted to think twice, just shrugged.

He had no idea that saying yes to that stupid looking game would end up being the most disastrous decision of his entire academic life.

He only agreed because Jungwon wouldn't shut up about it, and because even with all his complaints, he had this soft spot for him that made it hard to say no. Also, he didn’t have anything better to do on a friday night; the rest of their friends were out, and he wasn't in the mood to socialize. And, honestly, he liked games where he could pretend to be slightly less single than he actually was. It was pathetic, sure, but it wasn't like anyone needed to know.

So later that night, Heeseung sat on his bed with the lights off and his switch on max brightness, which was probably not great for his already questionable sleep schedule but whatever. Jungwon had sent him the build file with a message that just said "lmk if it crashes :)" which was not exactly confidence inspiring, but Heeseung had agreed to this so he couldn't really back out now.

The game booted with this weirdly soft 8 bit lullaby that sounded like it was trying to hypnotize him. The title screen was clean, minimalist, just the words "Girlfriend Simulator" in a font that looked expensive. Heeseung snorted. Jungwon had definitely spent more time on the typography than the actual game mechanics, which tracked. Character customization loaded next, and Heeseung had to admit it was smoother than he expected. The interface was intuitive, the options were detailed, and the hairstyle physics were suspiciously good for something Jungwon had supposedly coded in his free time between problem sets.

He made his character half heartedly. Messy hair because that's what he had in real life and he wasn't creative enough to imagine anything else. A hoodie because hoodies were safe. He picked "student" as his class, and when it came to stats, he maxed out "humor" because he genuinely thought he was funny, even if nobody else seemed to agree. Then he looked at "emotional intelligence" and left it at zero. Honesty was important, right?

The loading screen that followed was surprisingly elegant. Just a slow fade to black with some text that read "Your First Meeting" in delicate script. Heeseung settled back against his pillow, expecting the usual dating sim fare: a classroom, a coffee shop, maybe a cherry blossom tree if Jungwon was feeling cliché.

And then the screen flickered. Just once, quick enough that Heeseung thought maybe it was his eyes. But then it happened again and the lights in his bedroom pulsed in sync, like someone had wired his lamp to the game's framerate. "What the hell," Heeseung said to no one. 

The switch started vibrating in his hands. Not the normal rumble feature, but something harder, more insistent, like the controller was trying to shake itself apart. On screen, a figure materialized. The girlfriend character. For a second Heeseung just stared because the sprite work was genuinely impressive. The lighting was too good, the shadows moved wrong. Everything felt almost real in a way that made his skin prickle.

And then the girlfriend, you, turned around. Slowly like you already knew he was watching. Your face came into view and Heeseung's brain did this weird stutter because you didn't look like a game character, you looked like a person, with the kind of detail you didn't get from placeholder art. Heeseung felt this uncomfortable twist in his stomach like he was the one being observed.

Then you spoke. Not with a text box, not with that awkward text to speech voice that indie games always used. Actual audio, clear and warm and way too close for his own good. "You're here!"

Heeseung's hands went cold. The voice didn't sound small or synthetic or compressed. It sounded like someone was standing directly behind him in his dark bedroom, breath on his neck, words in his ear. He whipped around so fast he nearly dropped the switch, but his room was empty. Just his desk and his dying succulent and his pile of laundry that he'd been meaning to deal with for a week. "What the—"

Before he could finish the thought, before he could even process what was happening, the lights in his room popped, like every bulb had blown at once. The screen went pure white, so bright it hurt to look at, and the controller in his hands went from cold to burning hot in the span of a heartbeat. He tried to drop it but his fingers wouldn't move, locked in place like the plastic had fused to his skin. The air pressure in the room shifted. His ears popped like he was in a plane taking off, and he felt this pull, this hook behind his ribs, yanking him forward with a force that didn't make any physical sense. He tried to pull back, tried to let go, tried to do anything, but the world was already dissolving.

The last thing Heeseung managed to think before everything shattered into pixels was that he was going to kill Yang Jungwon.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that the world was too bright. The grass beneath him looked like high definition fairy dust, each blade catching light in a way that grass absolutely should not. The sky was blue in that aggressive unnatural way that only existed in concept art. Everything was sharp and vivid and wrong. Heeseung sat up slowly, head spinning, and looked down at himself. His clothes had changed. Instead of his worn out hoodie and sweatpants, he was wearing the outfit his avatar had been wearing. The same hoodie he'd picked in character customization but real now, solid and heavy on his shoulders. His hands looked like his hands but also didn't. The proportions were slightly off, the lines a little too clean.

"What the fuck," he said out loud, and his voice sounded normal, which was worse. Everything else was strange but his voice was still his.

"You made it!"