Mars

you belonged to seongje. that was a known fact. even long before you decided to give him a chance, he’d claimed you. made sure no one looked at you, that nobody besides him dared to talk to you. and if someone disobeyed… well, seongje knew how to take care of that.

but that was years ago. now, the two of you were technically happily dating. of course, your relationship was far from perfect. seongje wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who showed up at your door with flowers or planned cute picnic dates. no. his affection came rough around the edges. his kisses were messy and hard, and whenever he held your hand, his grip lingered — a little too tight, a little too possessive.

and yet, you didn’t mind. because you loved seongje. you loved him even if he was violent and reckless, because that was your seongje. you never doubted that he loved you back, either. he showed it in his own ways — switching his food with yours when he noticed you didn’t like what you ordered, letting you win in video games, throwing his jacket over your shoulders without a word when you shivered.

he didn’t say “i love you” but you didn’t need him to. you understood him. the language of his silence, the warmth hidden under the bruised knuckles.

still, lately… things had started to spiral. you weren’t blind, and you weren’t stupid. you knew how he was — rude, unpredictable, quick to anger. fights followed him like a shadow. but after he joined the union, it got worse. darker. the way baekjin treated the eunjang kids was cruel, and seongje, as his right hand, was always the one who got his hands dirty.

you’d tried to ignore it. to look away. to pretend you didn’t see the way seongje dragged some poor kid into an alleyway on your way home.

but one night, you’d had enough.

he’d promised you that tonight was yours. no fights, no phone calls, no union business. you’d dressed up casual, but cute, something that said you’d tried. his hand was warm in yours, and for once, it felt like maybe things would be normal.

and then his phone rang.

whatever he heard made his lips twitch into that cruel little smile that you hated.

“okay, sounds fun.” he said into the phone before hanging up.

“hey, babe, mind doing a little detour?” he asked, letting go of your hand to light a cigarette. smoke curled around his face as he exhaled, not even looking at you before turning down a different street.

“but you promised we’d get parfaits tonight!” you protested, half-pouting as you hurried after him.

he chuckled under his breath, the sound lazy, distracted. “don’t worry, we will. just hurry up, yeah? the sooner we get there, the sooner you’ll get your parfait.” his eyes never left his phone.

your stomach sank. something about the air felt heavier now, like the night itself was warning you.

after a few minutes, you reached the basketball court of eunjang high.

“seongje, for the love of god, what are we doing here…” you muttered, crossing your arms, anxiety curling tight in your chest.

he glanced over his shoulder, grinning “babe, quiet, okay? just sit there and wait for me.”

he pointed towards the seating area near the court, then turned towards a figure you hadn’t noticed at first — a guy in a gray hoodie, a basketball resting at his feet, phone in hand, back turned to you.

before heading off, he pulled the glasses off his face and handed them to you. “hold onto these for me.” he said casually, his voice low and steady, like he’d done a hundred times before.

you did what seongje said. you always did. you sat down quietly, the night air sharp against your skin, holding his glasses gently and watched him walk away.

you told yourself you knew what was coming. just another one of seongje’s little “lessons.” you expected him to rough the guy up a little, maybe take his money or his phone. nothing too brutal. nothing you hadn’t seen before.

seongje walked up to the unknowing guy, his steps steady, shoulders loose, that kind of calm that only made you more nervous. he called out “hey,” tapping the stranger’s shoulder, and before the poor guy could even blink, seongje’s fist connected with the boy’s cheek.

the guy stumbled back, startled, clutching his side as he turned around and at that moment your stomach dropped. it was go hyuntak. you’d heard that name before, whispered between union members and seongje himself. baku’s closest friend — the one at the root of baekjin’s obsession with tormenting the eunjang kids.

hyuntak recovered fast, pushing seongje back and swinging a punch of his own — sharp, clean, practiced. you remembered hearing that he does taekwondo. but it didn’t matter. seongje was faster. angrier. the kind of furious that didn’t stop once it started.

the sound of fists hitting skin echoed across the empty court. you looked away, pressing a hand to your mouth. fights weren’t new to you — but this seemed more violent than any that you’ve seen before.

then you heard it. a bloody scream.

you turned back, and your heart dropped. hyuntak was on the ground, gasping, one eye swollen shut, a bloody scratch in the middle of his face. seongje was on top of him, that manic grin on his face, eyes shining with something dark and unrecognizable. his leg pressed hard against hyuntak’s knee — the kind of pressure that made your stomach twist just watching.

“seongje!” you shouted, rushing forward, grabbing his arm “that’s enough! you’re going to kill him at this rate, please!”

he didn’t even look at you at first. you tried to pull him off, but he was too far gone “seongje, stop— ! please!” your voice cracked, tears spilling over.

finally, he snapped his head toward you, breathing hard, his expression cold. “baekjin told me to handle it,” he muttered “it’s not enough yet.”

“if you don’t stop right now,” you said, your voice trembling “i’m leaving you.”

for a second, everything froze.

he stared at you, eyes empty in a way that made your whole body tense. then, slowly, he let out a breathy laugh.

“okay. okay.” he stood, brushing off his hands like nothing happened “but if i get in trouble with baekjin for this, you’re the one explaining it to him, yeah?”

you didn’t answer. couldn’t.

he glanced down at hyuntak, who was barely sitting up, pain written all over his face. seongje grabbed a fistful of his hair and leaned in close, voice low “you’re lucky my girl’s here. she saved your pathetic ass this time.”

then he let go, shoving his hands into his pockets, and turned to you with that same easy tone that made your stomach twist, taking his glasses back “come on, let’s get those parfaits, pretty girl.”

you stood frozen for a second longer before following him, your legs shaking. you glanced back at hyuntak, whispering, “i’m so sorry…” before turning away.

the walk to the café was quiet at first. light rain had started to fall again, faint and cold, the streets slick under the streetlights. seongje hummed as he was walking, the faint smell of smoke and blood still clinging to him.

“damn,” he muttered, flexing his bruised knuckles, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin “that prick was pretty resistant, huh?” he chuckled, glancing sideways at you “but you’re gonna patch me up when we get home, right?”

he said it lightly, teasing — the way he always did after a fight. like it was some inside joke between you two.

but you didn’t laugh. you didn’t even look at him. your eyes were fixed on the pavement, each step heavier than the last.

the silence stretched.

seongje frowned, running a hand through his hair before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose “what’s with you?” he asked, voice carrying that edge again.

you swallowed hard, but the words wouldn’t come out. you didn’t know what to say — how to say it. how to tell him that the image of hyuntak’s twisted knee and broken stare wouldn’t leave your mind.

when you didn’t respond, he scoffed, shaking his head with a bitter laugh.

“do you care about that eunjang guy or what?” he said sharply, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and irritation. “you’ve seen me fight before. what’s up with you?”

his voice hung in the air — rough, impatient. you could feel his eyes on you, searching for something, maybe guilt, maybe betrayal.

you kept walking, trying to shake it off, but seongje’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly, stopping you mid step.

“we’re not going anywhere until you answer me,” he said, voice low and sharp, knuckles pressing just enough to make you wince. “you never cared when i beat someone up, and now you’re suddenly tearing up over some random punk?”

you avoided his gaze, your voice trembling but steady “why are you being jealous even now, seongje? no, i don’t care about him. it’s just… isn’t that guy an athlete? i heard at the bowling alley that he does taekwondo. why mess him up this badly just because of baekjin’s petty fight with his friend? it’s not even your problem, yet you got your hands dirty anyway… you didn’t just land a punch or two tonight, seongje. i felt like throwing up when i saw it. he’s in serious need of medical help, and you expect me to just sit and eat parfaits like nothing happened?”

for a moment, everything went quiet — the hum of the city, the faint smell of smoke lingering from his clothes, the weight of his hand on your wrist — all pressing against you.

seongje blinked at you, his expression dark but amused. after a long pause, he finally shook his head and let out a low, dry chuckle “okay, okay… if we call an ambulance now, will your highness forgive me?”

you just gave him a small nod.

you fished your phone out of your pocket and called, keeping your voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “uh, hi… i saw some kids fighting at the basketball court at eunjang high. it looked pretty bad… someone might be hurt. yeah, please send help.” of course, you didn’t mention seongje’s involvement.

you stayed few meters away from eunjang high till the ambulance arrived. you let out a long sigh of relief. finally, some weight lifted off your chest.

but before you could even relax, seongje’s hand shot out, gripping yours. he pulled you close, his dark eyes flickering with a dangerous glint that made your heart skip.

“now,” he murmured, voice low and firm “you have to promise me something. never reach out to him. never look for go hyuntak again.”

you hesitated, your stomach twisting, but reluctantly, you nodded “okay… i promise.”

a slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face. he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “good girl” he whispered. and then, finally, letting go, he tugged your hand as he guided you away from the chaos.

“i’m too tired for parfaits now. let’s just head home.” you said quietly, leaning a little into seongje’s touch. you weren’t sure if it was because you wanted his warmth or because some part of you wanted to reassure him, to ease the jealousy still flickering behind his eyes.

“yeah, sure. whatever you say, princess.” he murmured with a lazy yawn.

later, at home, seongje sprawled across your bed, one arm draped over your waist as he dozed off, his steady breathing filling the quiet room. you stayed still for a while, just watching him, tracing the faint lines of his jaw in the dim light.

eventually, curiosity got the better of you. you picked up your phone from your night stand and searched for hyuntak on instagram, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrolled through his profile. there weren’t many posts — a few from his taekwondo competitions, photos with baku, laughing and looking carefree. they were literally just… boys. it was jarring to see him so normal, so happy, knowing what had just happened.

as you scrolled through the images, your heart got tight in your chest, hoping he wasn’t hurt too badly, and wondering what exactly drove baekjin to treat him the way he did.

seongje stirred slightly in his sleep, tightening his hold over your waist. you lowered your phone for a moment, glancing down at him, and felt a strange mix of relief, fear, and love all at once.

a few days later, you noticed something that made your stomach twist. hyuntak had deleted all of his taekwondo photos from instagram. the competitions, the medals, the candid smiles with his team — gone. it felt like a piece of his identity had vanished overnight, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

you told yourself not to get involved. but guilt gnawed at you until you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed to know he was okay.

you’d seen which way the ambulance drove that night, and after some searching, you figured out which hospital he’d probably ended up in. you didn’t tell seongje. he’d made it painfully clear that you were never to reach out or even mention hyuntak again.

you slipped into the hospital quietly, your hood up, heart hammering in your chest.

“um… i’m here to visit the patient brought in from eunjang high a few nights ago,” you told the nurse, voice barely above a whisper “he was injured during a fight. go hyuntak.”

after a brief exchange, the nurse finally nodded. “room 214. but please, keep it short, he needs to rest.”

you nodded quickly and made your way down the hall. the antiseptic smell made your stomach twist even more.

when you stepped into the room, you froze. hyuntak was sitting up in bed, a gray blanket draped over his legs. one of his eyes was still swollen shut, a cut ran across the bridge of his nose, and his knee was wrapped tightly in thick bandages. he looked rough.

“you…” he said slowly, confused “you’re… that girl.”

you hesitated, guilt crawling up your throat. “yeah. i… i just wanted to check if you’re okay.”

he stared for a moment before letting out a small breathy laugh “you didn’t have to come.”

“i did.” you said quietly, guilt pressing down on your chest. “i feel horrible, knowing that it was my boyfriend who—”

“hey,” he cut in gently, shaking his head “it’s not your fault. you didn’t hit me.”

“but i didn’t stop him either.”

he smiled faintly, though the movement clearly hurt. “you tried. i remember your face. you were crying.”

you looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

a pause. then he exhaled shakily. “the doctor said i’ll have to quit taekwondo.”

your head snapped up. “what?”

“my knee’s messed up. bad,” he said, his voice flat but not cold — more like he’d already accepted it. “they said even if it heals, i won’t be able to compete again. no tournaments. no practice. nothing.”

the silence that followed was suffocating.

you felt tears sting your eyes. “i’m… i’m so sorry.” you whispered, voice trembling.

he forced a small smile. “you don’t have to apologize for him.”

“still,” you said quietly “you didn’t deserve that.”

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the only sound was the faint hum of the machines.

then, after a beat, he asked softly, “what’s your name?”

“…y/n.” you murmured.

“y/n..” he repeated like it was a secret “pretty name.”

you forced a small smile and stood up “i should go. i wouldn’t like to cause any more trouble. i just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“wait,” he said quickly, his voice strained “will i… see you again?”

you hesitated, hand on the door “…i don’t know.”

“take care, y/n.” he said quietly.

you nodded once and slipped out before you could cry.

a nurse entered just as you left, holding a clipboard. she glanced towards the door, then at hyuntak.

“your girlfriend seems really worried about you.” she said, scribbling something on his chart.

hyuntak blinked, caught off guard. “my—? no, she’s not—”

the nurse just chuckled “sure she isn’t. i can tell when someone cares.”

and as she walked out, hyuntak sank back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling — your voice, your apology, your eyes now haunting him more than the pain in his knee.

when you came home that evening, the apartment was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the tv. seongje was sprawled across the couch, phone in hand, his jacket tossed carelessly over the armrest. he glanced up when you walked in.

“you’re late.” he said, not accusing. just observing.

you forced a smile “yeah. stopped by the store. we were out of milk.”

it wasn’t a total lie. you had stopped by the store. just after spending an hour at the hospital.

he hummed, eyes narrowing slightly “is that so?”

you nodded, slipping off your shoes, keeping your gaze low. the silence that followed wasn’t unusual. seongje was never much of a talker, but tonight it felt heavier. it pressed down on you, the memory of hyuntak’s words still echoing in your head. i have to quit taekwondo.

“you good?” he asked finally, his tone almost casual.

“yeah. just tired.”

he stood, walking over to you. his hand found your chin, tilting your face up so your eyes met his “you’ve been ‘just tired’ for days now.”

your breath hitched “but i really am.”

he studied you for a long moment, then let go, muttering, “yeah. sure. alright.” he turned away, running a hand through his hair.

the space between you felt like a quiet accusation neither of you wanted to voice.

the flowers arrived a week later. a simple white bouquet, lilies mixed with small sprigs of lavender, wrapped neatly in paper. there was no sender’s name, just a small card that said:

thank you for checking up on me. i’m doing better now — don’t worry.

p.s. i got your address from the nurse since you signed it at the reception. i didn’t stalk you, haha.

your stomach dropped when you read it. the handwriting was neat, careful. it didn’t take a genius to guess who it was from.

you placed the flowers on the kitchen counter, unsure what to do with them. maybe you’d throw them away later. maybe.

but you didn’t get the chance.

the door swung open sooner than you had expected, and seongje stepped inside, tossing his keys down with a familiar clang “you home, princess?” he called, his voice rough with exhaustion. then he spotted the bouquet.

he froze.

“what’s that?”

you hesitated. “flowers.”

“yeah, i can see that.” he walked closer, his tone turning sharp “from who?”

you swallowed. “i don’t know.”

his jaw clenched. “don’t lie to me.”

“i’m not lying, seongje.” you tried to keep your voice steady, but the tension in the air felt suffocating.

“you think i’m stupid?” he snapped, stepping closer. “you think i wouldn’t recognize the look on your face? that damn guilt you’ve been carrying for weeks?”

“i told you, it’s nothing—”

“is it that eunjang guy?” he cut you off, voice low, dangerous. “the one whose ass i should’ve broken worse?”

“he didn’t do anything wrong!” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

his silence after that was worse than his shouting.

he stared at you, disbelief clouding into something darker. “unbelievable.” he let out a humorless laugh. “you’re defending him?”

“you nearly ruined his life, seongje!” you shot back, voice cracking. “you don’t even see it, do you? what you’ve become—”

“what i’ve become?” he took a step forward, and your body reacted before your mind did — you flinched.

just a tiny movement, instinctive. but enough.

he froze.

the anger drained from his face, replaced by something raw and broken. his hand fell to his side.

“…you just flinched.” he said quietly, as if saying it aloud would make it less real.

you couldn’t look at him.

he took a slow step back, eyes unfocused “you’re scared of me.”

“i—”

“don’t.” his voice cracked, low and unsteady. “don’t say anything. i can’t—” he turned away, running a trembling hand through his hair “shit.”

the air between you was heavy. he didn’t yell again. he just stood there, breathing unevenly, the weight of what he’d done pressing down harder than any punch he’d ever thrown.

you wanted to say something, hoped to sit down and find some quiet, peaceful resolution together, but seongje just grabbed his keys and left without another word.

seongje wasn’t supposed to be there.

yet there he was, standing outside the convenience store near eunjang high, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette between his fingers.

hyuntak showed up eventually — walking stiffly, knee still bandaged under his jeans, earbuds in. seongje almost turned away, almost let it go. but then he saw the crutch tucked under hyuntak’s arm, saw him limp slightly, and something ugly in his chest snapped.

“hey.” seongje called out, voice sharp.

hyuntak stopped, frowning. his expression shifted when he saw who it was “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

seongje dropped the cigarette and stepped closer, grinding it under his heel. “relax. i’m not here to finish the job.”

“yeah? could’ve fooled me.” hyuntak muttered, eyes narrowing.

for a moment, neither of them spoke. the air was thick, heavy with things unsaid.

then seongje said “you sent her flowers.”

hyuntak blinked. “what?”

“don’t play dumb.” seongje hissed. “white lilies. a cute little note. that was you, wasn’t it?”

hyuntak’s expression hardened. “i just wanted to thank her. she came to the hospital when no one else did.”

“oh, so that’s what we’re calling it now?” seongje scoffed. “thanking her?” he took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “you’ve got a crush on her, don’t you?”

hyuntak didn’t answer right away. he just looked at him — calm, steady, too steady for seongje’s liking.

“you really think everything’s about you, huh?” hyuntak finally said. “i don’t have a crush on her. i just felt sorry for her.”

that hit harder than it should’ve.

“sorry?” seongje’s voice turned cold.

“yeah,” hyuntak continued, his voice quiet but sharp “because it’s clear she’s walking on eggshells around you. she looked terrified when i just mentioned your name at the hospital. and now that i’ve seen your face again, i get why.”

“watch your mouth.” seongje warned.

“or what? you’ll break my other leg?” hyuntak shot back, taking a shaky step forward. “go ahead. maybe that’s all you know how to do — hit things until they stop talking.”

seongje’s jaw clenched, hand twitching like he was fighting the urge to swing. but he didn’t. not this time.

instead, he just laughed. a hollow, humorless sound. “you think you know her, huh? you think you understand what we’ve got?”

“i don’t have to.” hyuntak said simply. “i just know she deserves better than someone she’s afraid of.”

the words cut straight through him.

for a moment, all seongje could do was stare.

“you should’ve stayed out of it.” he said finally, voice low, almost shaking.

“yeah,” hyuntak replied. “maybe you should’ve too.”

then he walked past him — limping, slow, but unflinching.

seongje didn’t follow. he just stood there, watching him disappear down the street, his chest tight, his reflection burning in the store window behind him — a stranger with bruised knuckles, hollow eyes, and guilt written all over his face.

you’d tried to stay awake all night, waiting for seongje to come back after he’d stormed out during your fight before, but he never did. you’d texted him, called him, each message and ring unanswered. eventually, exhaustion won, and you passed out on the couch, phone still clutched in your hand.

and yet… despite everything, you loved him. maybe that was what hurt the most. you’d seen him violent, ruthless, and anyone else would’ve been terrified enough to leave. but not you. you wanted to stay. but now, uncertainty gnawed at you. what if he decided it was better for both of you to step back so he could sink fully into the union, instead of trying to be better for you?

when you woke, it was just past six. the faint sting of cigarette smoke hit your nose immediately. your eyes fluttered open, and there he was — leaned against the counter, staring at the bouquet that still stood in its vase, a war waging in his expression. you softened at the sight, relief washing over you, but that was cut short when the smoke made you cough.

“seongje… it’s too early for smoking,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep. “open the window at least.” you moved past him towards the window, but his hand shot out, gentle yet firm, gripping your wrist.

he dipped the cigarette into the ashtray, then reached for your other hand, holding it too, softer than ever before. and in that moment, all the walls he’d built, all the cruelty, all the darkness… it seemed like it might finally crack.

“i fucked up.” he said, voice breaking, raw “yesterday… when you flinched… that was it. that was the moment i realized just how far i’d gone. i made you scared of me. the only person i love… thought i might hurt her.”

he dropped to his knees, which made you gasp, but you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a word at this moment. his eyes darkened with something you hadn’t seen before — guilt, regret, desperation.

“i got blinded by the union, by baekjin… i thought being strong, being feared, made me important. but it only made you slip further out of my reach. while other boys took their girlfriends on trips to jeju, wore matching outfits, took photos with stupid filters in photobooths… i made you sit with me in the dark bowling alley, surrounded by all the other union guys… i looked at you and hated myself in that moment, resizing just how much more you deserve. when we go out, i see how your gaze lingers at those couples, and i… i tried to be strong instead. strong enough to protect you at least. but all i did… was scare you.”

he pressed his forehead lightly to your tights, his hands wrapped around your knees, breathing unevenly, his voice barely a whisper now, hoarse from holding it in. “i know what i did to hyuntak… and i can’t take it back. i can’t undo it… but i swear, i’ll listen to you. i’ll try. i’ll be better. i’ll be the man you deserve. not perfect… not gentle like him… but someone who won’t make you flinch.”

you let your hands fall into his hair, carefully threading your fingers through it as your tears spilled freely. “seongje… what you did to him… you changed his life. but… i love you. i still love you. and i’ll stay… if you’ll actually listen, if you’ll let me guide you when you… when you go too far.”

he lifted his head slightly, eyes shining wetly, desperate. “i’ll do it. i swear. i’ll listen. i don’t deserve you… but i’ll do anything to keep you. please… please don’t leave me.”

you brushed his bangs away from his face gently, your chest aching. “okay.” you whispered.

and there he stayed on his knees, the rough, possessive edge of him still intact, but broken and raw in front of you. the man you loved, finally realizing the weight of what he’d done, and the only way forward was to fight not with his fists, but by being better for you.

fin.

you were sitting at home, pretending to focus on your homework, when your phone dinged. the moment your boyfriend’s nickname lit up your screen, you couldn’t help but smile. you’d been waiting for this. today was a big day for him.

haircut day.

a stressful day for any guy… and an even more stressful one for you.

gotak 💢: hey

gotak 💢: so its done

gotak 💢: idk how to feel about it

y/n ♡: why omg!

y/n ♡: send me a pic quick

y/n ♡: im dying in anticipation please please please

gotak 💢: so impatient omg

gotak 💢: its just super different from how ive had it for years idk

gotak 💢: look

gotak 💢:

you opened the pictures so fast you nearly dropped your phone — and then you stopped breathing altogether.

there he was. your glorious boyfriend, looking better than ever.

his bangs, usually hanging over his forehead in that adorable messy way, were now pushed to the sides, revealing all of his features. his hair looked healthier, freshly trimmed, and you could even see tiny little curls at the ends.

he looked… beautiful. stupidly handsome. unfairly handsome.

you always knew your gotak was the prettiest boy in the world, but right now? right now he looked like the final boss version of himself. you were mid-stare when another notification snapped you out of it.

gotak 💢: can you respond woman?? 😭

gotak 💢: im gonna shave my hair off if you dont respond in 30 seconds swear

you burst out laughing at his dramatics and immediately started typing back, spamming him with every compliment you could think of, completely unaware of how violently he was blushing on the other side of the screen.

however, what you also didn’t know…

was just how much attention that new haircut was about to bring him.

before today, your boyfriend wasn’t exactly “popular.” his constant bickering with baku — who somehow always managed to ragebait him in public — and his sailor-level swearing didn’t exactly make him charming to strangers.

but now…

now suddenly everyone had eyes for him.

when you spotted him waiting for you by the gate of your school, leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, completely unaware of the chaos he was causing — you froze.

because a group of girls were literally circling him.

pointing.

giggling.

whispering like he was some celebrity doing a fansign there.

that was… unusual to say the least.

gotak didn’t even notice. he was too busy squinting at whatever meme baku had probably sent him.

you marched straight to him, grabbed his arm, and he looked up with that warm little smile he reserved only for you.

but as you two walked out of the school grounds hand in hand, the weirdness didn’t stop.

you only wanted to grab some sweet drinks together — a cute, simple date — but instead, some pretty girls suddenly stopped right in front of him.

“excuse me,” one of them said, slightly breathless “um… are you a model perchance? or an idol?”

you blinked.

gotak blinked.

“me?” he pointed at himself, voice cracking just a bit “uh— what? no— i mean—”

the girl giggled “oh my god, you’re blushing! that’s so cute.”

and you watched him.

watched how awkward he got.

how shy.

how red his ears turned.

that was also… very unusual.

even in the beginning of your relationship, gotak was not the type to shyly kick his feet or get flustered like this. but now, one compliment from a pretty stranger and he was suddenly smiling like an idiot.

your eye twitched. just a little.

“can we— maybe— get your instagram?” the girl asked, already reaching into her bag for her phone.

gotak opened his mouth, about to respond— and at that moment you fake-coughed. loudly.

“we… should get going,” you said with the sweetest, fakest smile known to mankind “right, babe?”

you squeezed his hand like a warning shot.

he glanced at you, saw the fire burning in your eyes, and gulped so hard you actually heard it.

“uh— yeah, sorry,” he told the girls, stepping back immediately “i… i gotta go. my girlfriend— she— uh— we’re— yeah bye!”

smooth.

he practically speed-walked away with you, the girls whispering behind him.

after a few steps he risked a tiny peek at you.

“…you okay?” he asked carefully.

you raised a brow “were you seriously about to give them your instagram?”

“i wasn’t!” he defended quickly “i was— thinking. about not. giving it. maybe.”

you narrowed your eyes.

he squeaked. actually squeaked.

“i swear i wasn’t gonna give it to them! i didn’t even know what my own instagram username was in that moment— my brain stopped working— i panicked—”

you just stared.

“please don’t kill me.” he whispered.

your grip loosened, but barely “i won’t kill you… but you’re buying my drink.”

“…yes ma’am.”

later you sat across from him at the café, straw between your lips, eyebrows permanently glued into a frown.

hyuntak stared at you like you were a ticking bomb.

you didn’t say anything.

you just sipped your drink.

slowly.

angrily.

threateningly.

finally, he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“y/n…” he leaned forward, elbows on the table “come on. what’s wrong? you can’t seriously be jealous over a couple compliments.”

you glared at your tapioca pearls like they personally offended you.

“i’m not jealous.”

“you’re extremely jealous.”

you kicked his shin under the table.

“ow— okay— but like— seriously,” he continued, rubbing his leg dramatically “you act like nobody ever flirts with you.”

you raised a brow.

he pointed at you accusingly “don’t give me that look. you know exactly what i mean.”

you blinked innocently “i don’t.”

“oh my god.” he dropped his head into his hands. “y/n, you’re literally the center of attention every time i bring you around.”

you snorted, but he kept going.

“baku tries to ‘jokingly’ ask you out every five minutes.”

“he just likes making you mad.” you shrugged.

“juntae turns into a tomato if you look at him for more than two seconds.”

“he’s just shy.”

hyuntak threw his hands up “SEE?! and i don’t get jealous about any of that!”

you looked at him over your cup.

slow sip.

then a quiet “maybe you should.”

his jaw dropped.

“WHAT?!”

you bit back a smile “i mean… it would be nice to know you care.”

“are you kidding me?” he practically slid across the table to grab your hands “y/n, i care so much i got stress-induced chest pain every day the first two months we started dating.”

you blinked “…really?”

he cleared his throat and sat back like he didn’t just admit that.

“anyway. point is. i’m not into anyone else. not even a little. you’re the only one for me. always have been.”

you stared at him. your frown softened.

he stared back, hopeful puppy eyes fully activated.

you sighed “fine. i wasn’t that jealous anyways...”

“you were furious.”

“i was mildly irritated.”

“you looked like you were about to rip my head off.”

you kicked his shin again.

he winced, but grinned anyway.

“there she is,” he teased, eyes warm “my jealous little menace.”

you threw a napkin at him.

he caught it.

and smiled like you just handed him the moon.

the moment you two stepped out of the café, something in hyuntak shifted — probably the fact that he realized his life’s true purpose was annoying the absolute hell out of you now.

he slipped an arm around your waist immediately, not casually or subtly, but possessively.

“hyuntak,” you muttered “we’re literally just walking home. if it’s about before, i’m fine really—”

“mm-hmm.” he hummed, pulling you even closer “i’m just making sure nobody thinks i’m single, you know.”

you side-eyed him, pouting a little “now why would anyone think that?”

“oh, i don’t know,” he said dramatically “maybe because my girlfriend was glowering like a jealous little gremlin the moment someone complimented me, so that probably means i’m not showing you off enough or—”

you smacked his chest “stop saying that.”

“jealous.” he sing-songed.

“hyuntak.”

“jeaaaaalous.”

“go hyuntak i swear—!”

he stopped walking, turned to you, and grinned so wide you wanted to smack him again.

or kiss him.

maybe both.

“you know what’s crazy?” he said, leaning down until his nose almost brushed yours “i think you being jealous might’ve been the cutest thing you’ve ever done. a little scary. but cute too.”

you shoved his face away “stoooop.”

but he just laughed, grabbed your hand, and laced your fingers together like he was scared you’d disappear.

you walked a few more steps before he tugged you into his side again.

then even closer.

then even closer.

“hyuntak, i can’t walk like this—”

“sorry,” he said, absolutely not sorry “i just… kinda like when people see us together.”

you blinked “you do?”

he shrugged, cheeks tinted pink “yeah. feels nice. like… now that i got this stupid haircut, i’m finally kinda on your level.”

you stopped “my level?”

“yeah.” he scoffed lightly, like it was obvious “you’re, like… stupid pretty. and now i guess i’m— i don’t know— less embarrassing next to you?”

you stared at him, dumbfounded. “hyuntak, you’re literally the stupid one. you’ve always been on my level. with or without a haircut.”

his ears went red.

he stopped walking, right in the middle of the sidewalk, turned you towards him, and held your hands gently in his bigger ones.

“you’re just… really cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” he murmured “i guess i should make you jealous more often.”

“hyuntak,” you warned, narrowing your eyes “don’t you even dare—”

he cut you off by brushing his nose against yours, smirking.

“too late. i’m never letting this go.”

and then he kissed you, still annoyingly grinning against your lips.

BONUS ໒꒱:

later that evening, while you were sitting on his couch watching something on tv, hyuntak plopped down beside you with the smuggest look you’d ever seen.

immediately suspicious.

“what?” you said flatly.

“nothing” he replied, lying through his teeth.

you narrowed your eyes.

he hid his screen from you.

red flag. waving violently.

“hyuntak. what did you do.”

“nothing!” he insisted, voice cracking like a guilty middle-schooler.

you lunged for his phone. he yelped, twisted away, nearly fell off the couch, and clutched the device to his chest like it contained state secrets.

“why are you being weird? let me see.”

“nope.” he grinned “you’ll see soon enough.”

within thirty seconds, your phone buzzed.

notification: @ gotak__ posted a new photo.

your stomach dropped.

you opened it.

it was a mirror selfie — the one you took earlier when he just came from the barber shop to your home and you were teasing him about his haircut. on the pic you had your face pressed into his shoulder, nose scrunched, obviously in mid-laugh, while he was looking at the camera like he owned the world.

the caption?

my girl gets jealous now… i must be doing something right.

you felt heat crawl up your neck.

“HYUNTAK.”

he was already giggling like a menace.

an actual menace.

“look at the comments” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

you did.

@ baku: LMAO SHE JUST NOW REALIZED HE’S HOT

@ sieun: didn’t even know you could pull

@ juntae: you two look so cute together❤️ shes really pretty. nice haircut, gotak!

you glared at him, mortified “delete it.”

“no” he chirped, leaning over to kiss your cheek loudly.

“hyuntak.”

“what? i like showing you off.”

you groaned into your hands “you’re insufferable.”

he stretched out next to you, head on your shoulder, smile softening despite the teasing.

“mm. maybe. but now if someone asks for my instagram, they see my beautiful girlfriend next to me right away. i’m just obeying your wishes at the end of the day, aren’t i?”

you flicked his forehead — gently — and he just laughed, already reaching over to pull you into his chest.

“also,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear “you getting jealous was the highlight of my month. so i’m keeping the post.”

you smacked him again.

he kissed you again.

and didn’t the post.

never planned to anyways.

fin.

if you’d be interested in reading more of my work make sure to check out my weak hero masterlist !! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

The Union had teeth. Everyone in the city knew that. Their name carried weight, whispered with respect or dread depending on who was speaking. And at the center of that name was Seongje — feared, respected, and unbending. He was the kind of man who made a room fall silent just by walking into it.

And then there was you. His girlfriend.

On paper, it made no sense: you, all warmth and softness, someone who could coax laughter out of even the coldest member of the group; and him, razor-sharp, cold-eyed, a man who trusted no one but you. But somehow, that contrast was exactly why it worked. Where he brought the iron, you brought the silk. Where he froze, you thawed.

And because you were with him, you knew everything about the Union. He didn’t keep secrets from you. He never felt the need to. And though you weren’t blind to the darker parts of their world, you loved him — all of him. Maybe that’s why the other Union boys adored you too. You weren’t naïve, but you were kind to them in ways they rarely experienced. When Seongje’s sharp stare had them stiff and nervous, your gentle smile reminded them that not everyone next to him had to be made of stone.

You were on your way to the bowling alley that night, the familiar neon lights glowing faintly in the distance, when you heard voices down a side street.

“Come on, you really that useless?”

You knew that tone. Sneering, sharp. You slowed, peering around the corner — and your stomach tightened when you saw them.

Hyoman, shoulders hunched like a hyena, had his hand clutched in the collar of a smaller boy. Juntae.

You’d seen him before, a handful of times. He wasn’t Union material, not in the way others were. Too timid, too hesitant, like he carried an apology in every step. And that made him an easy target.

Hyoman shoved him against the wall. “What, you too weak to even talk back? Pathetic.”

Something in you snapped.

“Hyoman.”

Your voice cracked through the air like a whip. The two boys froze, heads turning toward you.

Hyoman’s smirk faltered. “Oh, it’s you.” He tried to recover, straightening up, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. Everyone knew who you were. Seongje’s girlfriend. And Seongje’s girlfriend meant untouchable.

Still, his pride made him sneer. “What, you come to rescue your new little puppy?”

You strode closer, your expression flat, cold. It wasn’t often you let yourself be harsh, but you could when you needed to. And this? This was worth it.

“I don’t like weak men picking on someone smaller than them,” you said, voice sharp. “You think this makes you look strong? It makes you look pathetic. And you know what else it makes you look like?” You tilted your head. “Like someone who will never belong to the Union.”

Hyoman stiffened, his jaw working. He didn’t like the way you said it — not with fear, but with disgust.

“Tch. Whatever. Not worth it,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. But his eyes flicked nervously around, as if expecting Seongje himself to appear any second. And with that fear lodged in his chest, he backed off and left.

You turned immediately to Juntae, softening your expression. “Hey. You okay?”

He hesitated, swallowing hard. His eyes darted to you, then away, as if he wasn’t sure if he should even look directly at you. “Y-Yeah. I… I think so.”

You smiled gently, offering your hand. He blinked at it before slowly taking it, letting you help him steady himself.

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” you said kindly. “Hyoman just likes to bark. That’s all he’s good at. If he tries again, let me know. Or…” you smiled faintly, “better yet, let Seongje know. He wouldn’t even get the chance to touch you.”

Juntae’s eyes widened a little. The idea of Seongje even noticing him — let alone protecting him — seemed surreal. But still, he nodded quickly. “Th-Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The bowling alley was alive with laughter and chatter when you walked in. The boys immediately perked up when they spotted you.

“Noona!” one of them called, waving.

“You made it!” another grinned.

“Yah, she looks way too good to be here with us,” one teased, earning laughter from the others.

You laughed softly, waving back at them all as you weaved through the crowd. They always greeted you warmly — not out of obligation, but because you were genuinely kind to them. They all saw the way you looked after Seongje, and in turn, after them in little ways.

And then you spotted him.

Seongje sat back against the sofa like a king on his throne, cigarette burning low between his fingers, eyes half-lidded but sharp. The second he saw you, though, his gaze softened. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in the smallest of smiles.

You slid in beside him, nestling into his side. His arm immediately draped over your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You’re late,” he murmured.

“Got caught up.” You tilted your head up at him. “I saw Hyoman on the way.”

His gaze sharpened. “Hyoman?”

“Mm. He was bothering someone. Juntae.”

His brows furrowed. “That kid?”

You nodded, sighing. “He looked terrified. I stepped in, but… I just feel bad for him, Seongje. He doesn’t deserve that.”

He exhaled smoke, watching you closely. You could tell he was turning it over in his mind, weighing it, deciding how much it mattered. To him, Juntae was nothing. Not Union, not worth his time. But to you? It clearly mattered. And for him, that was enough to plant a seed.

“Mm. I’ll keep it in mind,” he murmured.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

From across the room, one of the boys called out teasingly, “Hyung, you’re so whipped!”

The others burst out laughing, and even you couldn’t help but giggle. Seongje just gave them a flat look, but the faint pink in his ears betrayed him.

“Shut up and bowl,” he muttered, tightening his arm around you as if to prove his point.

When Seongje saw Hyoman again a few days later, shoving Juntae against a wall, he felt irritation pulse through his veins.

He could have walked past. Normally, he would have. Juntae wasn’t his business. Not Union. Not anyone important.

But your voice echoed in his head. He looked terrified. I just feel bad for him, Seongje.

That softness in your eyes, the way you’d pressed closer when you said it — he wanted to keep that look on your face. Always.

So he stepped in.

“Hyoman.”

The name cut through the air. Hyoman froze, hands dropping from Juntae’s shirt as if burned.

Seongje’s stare was ice cold. “Still picking on someone weaker than you? That’s the only way you feel strong?”

“Hyung—I was just—”

His fist cracked across Hyoman’s face before he could finish. Blood sprayed. Hyoman stumbled, clutching his jaw.

“You think you’re tough?” Seongje stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “You’re nothing.”

Hyoman glared, but fear swam beneath it. “Why do you even care? He’s not Union!”

Seongje’s lips curled into a smirk, sharp and dangerous. “Because my girl cares.” His voice dropped. “And that’s enough for me.”

Another punch, harder this time. Hyoman collapsed against the wall, groaning. When he scrambled away, it wasn’t with bravado — it was with fear.

Silence lingered.

Juntae stood frozen, trembling, eyes wide. He looked at Seongje like he wasn’t sure whether to run or bow.

“...You okay?” Seongje finally asked.

Juntae nodded quickly, words tripping over themselves. “Y-Yes, thank you. I—”

“Don’t thank me,” Seongje cut him off. “Thank her.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets and walked off, leaving Juntae trembling but safe.

Inside, though, he thought of you. Of your smile when he told you. Of the way your face would light up because he’d done something that mattered to you. And that thought alone made his fists ache less.

That night, when he came home, you were curled on the couch, waiting for him.

“You’re still awake?” he asked softly, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” you murmured, tugging him down beside you.

He watched you for a moment, then said, “Saw Juntae today.”

Your eyes widened. “You did?”

“Hyoman was on him again. I took care of it.”

You blinked, processing. “You… you did that for me?”

“Of course.” He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. “You wanted him safe. That’s enough.”

Your heart swelled, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes. “I love you.”

He kissed you, slow and certain. “I’d do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.”

And in his arms, you knew he meant every word.

Thank you for reading!

you were sleeping over at sieun’s place on a school night — something he rarely allowed. he always claimed he couldn’t concentrate on homework when you were around, but he always said it with that slight blush on his cheeks, that told you he didn’t mean it in a bad way.

but sometimes he let it happen anyway, like today for example. because at the end of the day he liked having you around, even if he’d never say it out loud.

he liked making instant noodles with you, liked watching whatever dumb show you insisted was “super trending online right now” even though he’d never heard of it, liked the way you fell asleep on his chest and the way your hair got sprawled all over his pillows by morning.

it all felt so stupidly intimate.

something no one else ever got to touch.

this morning, he’d woken up first, of course. and had to remind you at least three times that you were gonna be late for school, before you finally crawled out of bed.

and then came his least favorite part of your sleepover aftermath: being the “waiting boyfriend.”

he was already fully ready, uniform neat, hair perfect, bag packed — while you were still in front of the mirror, sitting at his desk, going through your entire morning ritual.

he sat on the edge of the bed and watched you curl your hair, blend your makeup, do all the things he absolutely did not understand but found himself unable to look away from.

“you do this… every day?” he asked, genuinely confused. it just seemed like an exhausting amount of effort to him.

“yeah, i do. i like to feel good about myself.” you smiled at him through the mirror, adding your final touches. then you turned around, bright and proud “and with my makeup done, i get to do this!”

before he could react you grabbed him by the collar and smothered his face in kisses, one after another after another. he froze, blinking rapidly, his entire body stiffening like you’d just short-circuited him.

you pulled back, already laughing.

his face was covered in red lipstick marks — bright, fresh, and very obviously from you.

“hehe, now you’re branded as mine.” you grinned, turning the mirror towards him so he could see the damage.

sieun stared.

then stared harder.

expression flat, but his ears a violent shade of red.

“…does this come off?” he asked finally, voice painfully plain.

“yes, of course! see?” you grabbed a cotton pad, poured micellar water on it, wiped your own lips confidently.

but nothing came off.

barely a smear.

his eyes flickered from your lips, to the cotton pad, to your lips again “it… didn’t come off, y/n.” his voice was slow and cautious, like he was trying to run calculations on a situation he absolutely could not compute. and underneath that calm exterior, his brain was exploding.

you stared at him for a second.

“what?”

you rubbed at your lips again. then again.

nothing.

you frowned, flipped the lipstick over, and there it was in microscopic letters: extra waterproof.

you let out the most awkward little giggle and slowly turned to sieun, holding the tube up like a confession “um… sooo…”

he looked at the packaging. then at your lips. then back at the packaging.

another sigh — long, tired, very him.

“whatever. we’re gonna be late.” he said, heading to the door and already sliding into his shoes.

“wait— wait, you’re ACTUALLY going to school like this??” you shouted, practically sprinting after him to the front door.

“i can’t skip school. it’s fine.” he said casually.

you just stared at him, because this was the same boy who hated pda, who barely let you hold his hand in public unless the sun was setting and literally no one was around.

half the school didn’t even know you two were dating, that’s how discreet he was.

and yet here he was. calm and completely serious about going out looking like this.

the walk to school was torture.

you thought he would be the flustered one, but no, somehow you ended up blushing harder than sieun, who walked beside you like he didn’t have your bright red kisses stamped all over his face.

students stared. whispered. pointed.

because to be fair it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots: your perfectly done red lipstick + his face covered in the exact same shade = you two were not subtle. at all.

you tugged at his sleeve, mumbling “sieun… seriously… it’s not too late to turn back home, people are staring—”

“ignore them.” he said calmly, as if it was nothing.

you swore he was blushing this morning. you knew it.

but now?

nope. composed. annoyingly unbothered.

you, meanwhile, were ready to dissolve into thin air.

but nothing prepared you for entering the class.

the moment suho looked up from his desk and saw you two in the doorway, his stoic face twitched… and then completely cracked. he doubled over, laughing, full, uncontrollable, borderline wheezing laughter.

“no way. no freaking way—” he wheezed, pointing directly at sieun “bro, what— what happened to your face—”

“shut up.” sieun muttered, already heading to his seat.

but suho was only getting started.

“woah, sieun,” he said, laughing harder “i didn’t know you were a loverboy like that.”

you felt your soul leave your body.

suho came to sieun’s desk, eyeing the red stains like he was inspecting a crime scene evidence.

“aish man seriously? at least have the decency to clean your face before showing up like this!” he added, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“i tried to wash it off!” you blurted out defensively “it’s— it’s waterproof—”

“clearly…” suho snorted “and you y/n, did you attack him? or is this your way of marking territory?”

you immediately covered your burning face with your hands.

sieun sent suho a glaring look, definitely a warning.

suho just smirked, still amused, still teasing, but with that soft glint in his eyes that said he wasn’t actually being mean.

“unbelievable,” he sighed dramatically “you two show up like this and expect me not to say anything? get real.”

and the rest of the school day didn’t get any better after this.

if anything, it got worse.

because suho decided that teasing you two was now his full-time job.

every time you or sieun made an eye contact with him, he puckered his lips dramatically and made the most obnoxious kissy noises.

mwah mwah mwah.

sieun just rolled his eyes so aggressively you were surprised they didn’t fall out.

“ignore him.” sieun muttered under his breath, not even looking up from his notebook.

“i am ignoring him.” you whispered back.

you weren’t. not even a little.

by lunch, suho was still at it.

you sat down with your tray, sieun beside you, and instantly suho leaned forward with a smirk, cheeks full like a chipmunk.

“so—” he began, talking through a mouthful of rice “i’m gonna be honest— sometimes i thought you two weren’t even dating. like, i seriously thought you were just pranking me—”

“suho…” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

but he kept going.

“i mean, no hand-holding, no hugging, nothing—”

sieun shot him a death glare.

suho ignored it.

“but today?” suho pointed a chopstick at you, then at sieun “today proved me wrong. because wow. that was— that was some serious dedication, y/n.”

you choked on your water.

he turned fully to you now, squinting.

“actually— how did you get him to sit still for that?” he asked “like, genuinely. this guy flinches when someone pats him on the shoulder. did you tie him down? drug him? hypnotize him? i need to know—”

“can you chew,” sieun cut in sharply “before you talk?”

suho blinked.

and sieun didn’t stop there.

“and honestly,” he added with that cold edge only he had “it’s no wonder no one’s kissing you. you eat like an animal.”

you wheezed.

suho put a hand over his heart like he’d been mortally wounded.

“wow,” he whispered dramatically “hurtful. completely uncalled for. i’m reporting this to the ministry of friendship.”

sieun just rolled his eyes and calmly stabbed another piece of kimchi.

you bit your lip to stop from smiling.

because even though he looked annoyed…

his ears were pink.

however that wasn’t enough for suho, so he continued “y/n, you hear that? you really don’t care that you’re kissing a guy who spits venom from his lips?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going.

“respectfully, y/n… how? why? are you okay? blink twice if he cursed you.”

you kicked him under the table.

“OW— okay, okay, i’m done,” he groaned, rubbing his shin but still grinning like an idiot “i’m just saying. brave of you. someone had to say it.”

the walk home was quiet at first — the kind of quiet that wasn’t awkward, just… full. full of all the things you wanted to say but didn’t know how.

you kept sneaking glances at sieun, who walked beside you with his hands at his sides, hair falling into his eyes, looking like he was pretending none of today happened.

finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“sieun…” you murmured, tugging lightly at his sleeve “i’m really… really sorry about all of that. i didn’t mean for you to go to school looking like—”

“like someone beat me with your lipstick?” he said flatly.

you winced “yes. exactly. i swear i thought it wasn’t waterproof and— i promise, when we get home, i’ll try everything to get it off. oil cleanser, micellar, even—”

“y/n.”

you blinked. his voice was quiet. careful.

he paused in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at you with that intense, unreadable gaze he got when he was fighting himself internally.

there was the faintest pink dusting his cheeks.

“i didn’t… mind.”

your breath hitched.

“huh?”

he looked away, ears turning red now too “i said i didn’t mind.”

you stared at him, stunned.

his fingers twitched like he wanted to hide his face in his sleeves, but instead he kept talking, words a little rushed, like he wanted them out before he lost the nerve.

“it was embarrassing,” he admitted “obviously. and suho won’t shut up about it for a month.”

a tiny, awkward pause.

“but… it felt kind of nice.”

you blinked again “nice…?”

he nodded once, stiff but sincere.

“that everyone saw.”

a beat.

“that you’re mine.”

your heart flipped.

“and i’m yours,” he added quietly “without us having to… do anything extra.”

the air went warm between you, buzzing with something soft and shy and overwhelmingly tender.

you stepped closer, just a little, and his eyes flickered to your red lips for half a second before he tore them away, flustered beyond saving.

“so…” you whispered, smiling softly “you liked my lipstick attack?”

he groaned “don’t call it that.”

you laughed and looped your arm through his.

he let you.

and he didn’t complain once the whole way home.

BONUS ໒꒱:

the moment you two got back to his apartment, you dropped your bag and marched straight to the bathroom like a soldier on a mission.

“sit.” you ordered, pointing at the edge of his bed.

sieun raised an eyebrow, but obeyed — a little too quickly, honestly — sitting stiffly with his hands in his lap, eyes following you as you gathered every makeup remover product known to mankind.

cleansing oil. micellar water. wipes. cotton pads.

you looked ready to exorcise a demon.

you stood over him with a determined expression.

“okay. round two. this time it will come off.”

he muttered “i said i don’t mind…”

“shh,” you said, climbing onto your knees in front of him “i mind. you’re not going to bed looking like you got mauled by me.”

“i did get mauled by you.” he mumbled.

your hands froze. face heated.

he did not just say that.

“s–shut up..” you whispered.

his lips twitched — dangerously close to a smirk. a rare sight.

you dipped a cotton pad in cleansing oil and gently cupped his chin.

the moment your fingertips touched his face, sieun went rigid.

like someone unplugged him.

“relax..” you said softly.

“i am relaxed..” he lied, shoulders up to his ears.

you rolled your eyes and began wiping away. except… the red stains barely budged.

you scrubbed a little harder.

“ow.”

“sorry—”

“it’s fine.” he said instantly, even though his eye was twitching.

you tried again.

nothing.

you pulled back, holding the pad up. “okay… why is it not coming off? this is literally cleansing oil.”

he stared at the pad — clean as your crimes — then looked at you.

“…maybe it’s a sign.” he said quietly.

you blinked “a sign of what?”

his voice dropped, soft and low and stupidly sweet.

“that you should… leave it.”

your breath stalled.

he met your gaze for half a second before looking away, ears red again.

“i meant what i said earlier,” he muttered “i like it. even if it’s embarrassing.”

you couldn’t help it — a smile pulled at your lips, slow and warm.

you reached out, brushing your thumb gently across one of the stubborn stains on his cheek.

“you’re cute like this.” you whispered.

his inhale was sharp.

“d-don’t say stuff like that.” he said, voice cracking.

“why not?”

“because,” he muttered, eyes flicking anywhere but you “i won’t… be able to think straight.”

you grinned.

“good.”

he stared at you for a few seconds and then, with all the awkward, quiet determination in the world, he leaned forward and nudged his forehead against yours.

not a kiss.

not yet.

just a tiny, shy, warm press.

“you’re the one who attacked me,” he whispered “but i’m the one losing my mind right now...”

your heart melted.

and the stains?

yeah, they stayed.

the whole night.

fin.

“seems like she’s doing fine to me,” he said, handing you the paper. this was the norm for you both, every afternoon sitting together and checking your daughter’s school folder to see her progress.

you hummed, skimming through the paper as you read her answers to the questions and the big green check marks that her teacher had put by the ones that appeared to be correct.

as you both gathered up the papers that you had examined already, placing them back into her folder, your daughter was sat on the floor in front of you.

she was humming to herself—a nameless tune—as she sat coloring in a red shape.

“lily, baby, what’re you making?” seonghwa asked gently, leaning forward to stroke her hair softly.

she looked up at her father, giving him the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“a card!”

seonghwa chuckled, glancing down at the unevenly folded piece of paper, corners overlapping each other. he noticed that lily had scribbled a large heart shape over what appeared to be the front of the card.

“oh, is that for appa?” he asked. “my valentines gift?”

“no!”

lily continued coloring her card, wriggling her little body in a happy dance as she smiled to herself.

seonghwa snapped his head to look at you, taken aback at her answer.

“did she say—?”

you folded your lips inward, holding back the laugh that was begging to burst out of you.

“honey, i’m sure she just wants to surprise you.” you reassured him. seonghwa’s eyes narrowed as he turned back her.

“then who’s it for, bug?”

lily dropped her crayon, a bashful smile on her face as she glanced up again.

“uhm, yejun…” she mumbled.

your heart immediately fluttered as you sat upright on the sofa.

“aw, babe—she has a crush!” you pouted, tapping hwa’s shoulder excitedly.

he sat there, jaw dropped in disbelief as he let his daughter’s words settle in.

“no way,” he said quietly. “is yejun better than your appa?”

lily giggled, deciding to continue coloring her card and not entertain her dad’s antics.

seonghwa sulked—his arms folded as he sat back against the sofa, his body slumped in defeat.

“oh, hwa, stop it.” you snicker. “she’s only five, i was five when i had my first crush.”

“i’m her valentine every year,” he grumbled.

you laughed even harder, his expression mirroring lily’s whenever she was upset about something.

lily had looked up at the both of you now, immediately noticing her father’s face.

she frowned, “i’m sorry, daddy. did i hurt you?”

your face softened, your daughter’s concern for others was something that never failed to make tears well up in your eyes.

“no, baby. daddy’s just surprised that he’s not your valentine this year, that’s all.”

lily stood up, leaving the crayons on the floor as she climbed in seonghwa’s lap. his arms wrapped around her immediately as she leaned into him.

she patted his cheek gently, “i’m sorry.”

seonghwa kissed her hand, “don’t be, my love. daddy’s just sad that you’re growing up.”

he had dreaded the day that she would come home to the both of you, telling you about a boy that she had met or a boy in her class. but that was just a dad thing. deep down, it was the most adorable thing to him.

“you can be mama’s valentine,” lily said softly.

“i would love that,” hwa said to her before he turned to you. “baby, will you be my valentine?”