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Being the group’s leader wasn’t your choice.

But you were their choice. You were the oldest. The trainee with the longest training period. The ace, all-rounder — you name it. You’re that mysterious trainee who had garnered quite a popularity during your pre-debut days. Appearing in your senior’s music video and modelling for brands gave you exposure. It made everyone anticipate your debut and you actually have been preparing for a debut — they just needed the right members for you. 

As soon as you debuted in a six-member group, you immediately carried the weight of being the leader and center of the group. It was a responsibility that was given to you without a second thought.

There was pressure, of course. You have to guide your members in music shows, interviews, and variety shows, give them advice and such, and be that someone who they can lean on. The good thing was, the adjustment felt natural, given that you’ve been taking care of them during your trainee days.

Your members looked up to you. You’re the eldest member. Their loving and caring sister who listened to their worries. The one who gives them advice whether it be improving their skills or just something small or irrational, you’re there to listen to them. You assure them that you’ll be there for them, no matter what happens.

Well, except for one thing.

You have boundaries too. You didn’t mind going out late-night for some snack run or listening to their worries despite the lack of sleep — but becoming one’s babysitter when it comes to unnecessary side quests that could ruin the  group’s image? That’s where you draw the line.

But here you are, parking your manager’s car (which you borrowed and hopefully don’t get recognized by your fans) in the underground parking of a dormitory building. You could feel your hands cold and sweaty, nervous about what you’re about to do — actually, what your member is about to do.

The youngest, whose smile was wide, giggled as she removed the seatbelt of her seat. She looked at you like you hung the stars in the skies and you’re internally cursing yourself why her cuteness is your weakness.

“Thank you so much, unnie! I’ll be back before twelve I promise —”

“What do you mean? I am coming with you,” you cut off, which made her excited expression turn into something horrified.

“But you didn’t need to!” she exclaimed, ears red in embarrassment, but you rolled your eyes.

“I agreed on one condition, and that is I am coming with you inside their dorm, there’s no way I am letting you walk into a boy group’s dorm alone,” you explained.

“But they’re nice! You’ve met them!” she defended and yes, you did meet them, numerous times, at music show hallways and show festivals but those were just a few seconds greeting and bowing to each other. 

In that scale, you barely know them at all.

“They’re still boys,” you pointed out before removing your seatbelt and glancing at her once again. “What? Are you going to sit there or do you want to go up?”

“This is embarrassing,” she mumbled under her breath as she opened the door of the car and left.

“Just be thankful that I had agreed to this,” you snarled at her and although your tone was filled with irritation, you’re not mad at her, of course, you could never be mad at your members. The situation was just annoying and too surreal for you.

Your group’s youngest is finally now an adult and the next thing you knew, she wanted to experience sex — with a boy group member of all the people out there, of course, why are you even surprised? It’s a common event in the industry. The hidden romance, one-night stands, and hookups within idols. 

It shouldn’t surprise you at all. After all, you had that same experience too, during your rookie days with a senior who’s two years older than you. Let’s just say that the experience was disappointing enough that you never did it again and at the same time, you had to warn your members about boy group members. 

Despite that, you’re not in total control of them and their bodily desires. Mistakes happen and experiences differ, giving them a heads-up and advice should suffice. If ever their first time would be a failure, that’s not your problem at all, at least you told them so.

The other members had gone through the same thing too, results differed from each of them but now, it’s the youngest member’s turn to do so. You couldn’t fathom the thought but she’s already twenty! Things like this are pretty normal and yet, your leader instincts convinced you to be more protective of her compared to the rest.

Maybe, you just couldn’t accept the fact that the youngest is not your baby anymore. It seems like yesterday you’re helping her with her homework during trainee days but now she’s going to have sex with a male idol. It’s like putting a gun on your head.

Oh well. You convinced yourself that this is bound to happen either way. The only thing you should worry about is for her to not be caught, hence why you insist on accompanying her…all the way to the dorm. It was a reach but you’re not going to let her enter a boy group’s dormitory alone too. A boy group’s dormitory feels like a den of lions in reality.

You watched as she pressed the ringbell of the door, shaking on her feet like a child filled with sugar rush. She was giddy and excited, her smile was wide and bright that it reminded you of the first time you went to your ex-boyfriend’s dormitory.

You just wished that she doesn’t end up like you.

The door opened a minute later. Revealing to you a tall man wearing a casual loose shirt and sweatpants. His eyes landed on your co-member and you saw how his smile brightened as he greeted her. 

“Come in,” he said, opening the door wider, letting the two of you in, wherein he greeted you for formality and you reciprocated it immediately.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought her with me,” your youngest shared, her voice high-pitched and sweet, obviously, sweetening her way to her boyfriend.

“Oh, it’s okay — please, make yourself at home,” Riki said to you before he guided you towards the couch. You sat there, the leather creaking against your weight.

You watched as Riki went to the kitchen area, and returned with a bottle of water, some sweet pastries and a fruit cup. He told you that he had bought it for you, which you find sweet. Thanking halfway, Riki told you that you’re free to watch movies or maybe play games on their tv — just feel at home. He repeated.

“We'll be in Riki's room now,” your fellow member said, excited and jumpy as she held her boyfriend’s hand, and just like her, Riki seemed giddy about what they’re going to do. 

God, looking at them, you feel like a parent whose daughter is going out on her first date, except she’s going to do something worse. The image probably’s going to scar you for life.

“Okay, be safe,” was the only thing you said, before you watched them go to the first door in the left hallway which you assumed was Riki’s room. 

Silence immediately follows through. You were accompanied by the stillness that devoured you in just a minute. The only thing you could do was grab the fruit cup and eat it. Hoping it’ll ease your tense body that’s nervous for your youngest. She said they’d be done around twelve — which means you have four hours to kill time.

Your peaceful moment was cut-off when you heard the door open. You freezed when footsteps became louder and louder until from the other hallway, a man stepped out, confused and surprised to see you.

The first thing you did was stand up, bow and greet him, since he was your senior. He seemed surprised by you but immediately greeted you and gave you a bow too.

“Heeseung, from Enhypen,” he introduced, exiting out of the hallway and going within your proximity. 

“I know, I’m y/n from Krave,” you introduced back, and his eyes widened.

“Oh! You sang ‘more’ right? That song’s been in my playlist since then,” Heeseung shared with a smile.

You smiled at the thought. “Thank you for listening to our songs sunbae.”

“Please, drop the sunbae, we’re in our dorm — also you can talk to me casually, we’re same-aged right?” the man replied casually.

You nodded, “right. Okay.” 

“You wanted something to eat? I’m going to make ramen, do you want some?” he offered and you shook your head.

“It’s okay, I already had a fruit cup, and I’m on a diet too,” you told him. 

He eyed the food on the table for a second before he remembered. “So I supposed the girl Riki’s with, is your member?”

You chuckled before nodding, “Yeah, I couldn’t let her go here alone, it kinda scares me.”

“I understand your sentiments, but Riki’s a good kid,” he pointed out.

“I know, I was just being careful, she’s our maknae, that’s why I’m too protective towards her,” you explained.

“Of course you are.” he smiled before going towards the kitchen. That made you sit on the couch and focus on your cup but minutes later Heeseung showed up once again.

“I felt lazy cooking tonight, so might as well accompany you,” he sat casually next to you like you two were friends. You were startled, but Heeseung didn’t seem to notice your flustered self as he opened the pack of gummy bears that he grabbed instead, then offered you some which you declined. 

You took the water bottle and took a few sips on it. The living room was quiet and serene, a deep contrast to whatever the hell was happening inside Riki’s room. You couldn’t help but to look at your watch, it’s barely an hour passed — why is time slow here suddenly?

“You alright?” Heeseung asked, and you only smiled bitterly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you lied before taking another few sips and then placing it back on the table. You focused on the fruit cup while Heeseung’s halfway with his candy. The two of you fell into an awkward silence once again.

“Can I ask why you are here?” you asked out of nowhere, curiosity lingering in your mind. “Are you and Riki, dormmates?” 

“Well, I’m on babysitting duty too,” Heeseung said with a chuckle. “Everyone else is in the other dorm but Riki insisted that I stay in case of…emergencies, I don’t know what he meant but maybe he felt more at ease if I’m around.”

“That’s kinda sweet, he looks up to you,” you pointed out but Heeseung laughed at your words.

“It feels surreal that he’s going to do the deed. It seems like yesterday, he’s this small duckling who sleeps on my bed because he couldn’t sleep in his bed alone.” Heeseung shared, and you nodded, sharing the same sentiments that he does.

“I feel the same way,” you agreed. “They’re growing up aren’t they? It’s kinda scary. Growing in this industry isn’t helpful either.”

“I get you, that’s why it’s better to guide them and be always there right?”

“Right,” you nodded, ending the talk with you shoving another slice of apple into your mouth. Heeseung shoved a few jellies in his mouth, letting both of you settle with the dead air that came suddenly.

“So…do you do this with your other members?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere, and you shook your head as an answer.

“Only to her, you could see how protective I am, right? How about you? I’m sure your other members have brought girls in your dorm,” you asked him back and just like you, he shook his head in response.

“Numerous times, but this is the first time I did babysitting duty, which is weird since I thought Riki would like some privacy like the others, so I’m surprised that he asked me to stay,” he explained.

“His first time right?” Heeseung nodded at your question and you were a bit relieved since that means they’ll be each other’s first. The thought was kinda cute for you.

“Well, it’s her first time too, I guess they’re still scared…but determined,” you stated, earning a short laugh from Heeseung.

“I like how you described it that way,” he pointed out, making you chuckle.

But your conversation halted when a bunch of lewd, sinful noises came out of Riki’s room. Your eyes widened as the filthy sound slid inside your ears. 

“Oh my god,” that was the only thing you could say, while Heeseung laughed at your reaction.

“Here, this should help us cover up the noise,” Heeseung opened the television and clicked whatever channel’s available. He turned on the volume louder, hoping that it’ll muffle the noise.

But it was still too loud. Their dirty talks, the incoherent sounds, and how the bed banged against the wall. It made you extremely uncomfortable that you were frozen in your place. 

“Why are they so loud!?” you huffed in annoyance. “Oh my god! I couldn’t bear to hear it.”

“I guess Riki got some game,” Heeseung chuckled and you scoffed.

“That is such a boy respond of you.” you told him and he looked at you, offended.

“Woah hey, that hurts you know?”

“You seemed not offended by it.”

“A little, but I do admit it’s kinda gross hearing them do ‘it’” Heeseung answered.

You didn’t say anything but instead, turn on the volume louder but still, the sounds wouldn’t leave your ears, making you groan in annoyance again.

“I wanted to tell them to lower it down but that’s too much,” you complained once again before rubbing your face in hopes to remove all of the sinful sounds your ears had heard. 

Heeseung’s eyes never left you. He noticed how inaudibly uncomfortable you were. He couldn’t help but to look for a solution to it.

That is if you’re willing to agree to it.

“I know this might sound like a sketchy suggestion, but do you want to come to my room?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere.

You turned your head towards him, surprised. “What?”

“My room? It’s on the opposite side, so the sound would be muffled but we can just turn on some music so that it’ll bury the noise further.” Heeseung pointed to the other hallway that contained a few doors. It was far from Riki’s room but you hesitated to answer.

It’s a fucking trap. You insist. Heeseung may look all-innocent with his soft voice and bambi-like eyes but you have to constantly remind yourself that he is still a guy at the end of the day. God knows what he’d do to you in his room.

But for desperate measures? Maybe it’s not that bad at all, he did say that it’s a sketchy suggestion, Heeseung knows that his offer sounded weird to you. But would you rather listen to your co-member get dicked for the following hours? No fucking way.

“Fine,” you answered and you noticed how Heeseung’s eyes widened.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, but just so you know, I know hapkido,” you told him that it made him stop, stared at you, and nodded slowly.

“Thank you for the heads up.”

You stood up first before he did. You followed him towards the opposite hallway, away from Riki’s room, and fortunately, his room is at the end of the hallway.

“It’s not that cool, just giving you a heads up,” Heeseung shared before opening the door and letting you inside.

It was huge yet minimalist. The typical room setup — a bed, closet, drawer cabinet, and of course, a pc setup complete with a computer chair. There weren’t any decorations, the only odd thing about his room was the stack of gaming keyboards on his floor.

“Nice…room,” you commented. It smelled like his perfume along with some fabric conditioner which you didn’t mind at all. You stood at the corner awkwardly before Heeseung closed the door then proceeded towards his pc.

“I’ll play some music, see? You could barely hear them,” Heeseung said as he opened a music browser and looked for some songs. That’s when you noticed the noise was barely audible — it was almost mute which made you relax for a moment.

“Any suggestions?” he asked as he scrolled through Spotify.

“...Maybe some pop music?” you answered.

“I’ll just play some The Weeknd,” he clicked one of his playlist, and a familiar song from the said artist filled the whole room, completely burying the obscenity that’s happening a few rooms away.

“You listen to him?” you asked.

Heeseung nodded with a smile. “Huge fan — oh, you could sit on my bed, I don’t mind,”

“Only if you don’t sit beside me,” you said as you made your way towards his bed. It was soft and clean, Heeseung looked like he didn’t mind that you were in your outside clothes too.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll just relax here,” he insisted, sitting on the gaming chair. He made himself relaxed, with his legs criss-cross on the seat while he leaned against the backrest.

Silence devoured you two. The only noise you could hear was the song playing from his speaker. You two stared at each other, not moving nor talking, which you found relaxing and yet, you couldn’t help but to notice how Heeseung stared at you way too long than he should.

“You seem guarded,” he observed and that made you let out a nervous chuckle.

“Why should I not? I am in a boy group member’s room,” you shared.

“First time?”

“No, of course not, just reminds me of my first time though,” you answered honestly.

“Care to share?”

You pondered for a moment. “You won’t laugh?”

“I promise, scouts’ honor,” Heeseung said, even crossing his heart which made you laugh.

“Are you even one?”

Heeseung faintly shrugged, “Well, we did an en-o’clock episode about it, does that count?”

“Whatever but long story short, I dated a senior of ours, been going out for months and then decided to just let him be my first…but it was so fucking bad then he dumped me three days later.” you shared. 

“What the fuck?” it was the only thing that came out of Heeseung’s lips. Disbelief written on his face.

You nodded at his reaction, “after that I cursed every boy group member and their ability to charm girls but underperformed when it comes to sex.”

“...You didn’t get to cum, I assume,” you nodded at his words.

“Aside from that, it didn’t feel intimate to me, it’s like, he’s just using me to get off,” you added.

“Wow, and he had the audacity to dump you?”

“Yeah, it was so bad that it didn’t even last an hour, no foreplays, just a short makeout — he was just eager to get his dick wet!”

Heeseung laughed at your story but you didn’t feel embarrassed nor offended by his laugh, he seemed amused by how you detailed your experience. That’s when he finally understood why you’re so protective over your co-member, you just didn’t want them to experience the same thing that happened to you. 

“You didn’t meet anyone after that?” Heeseung asked.

You shook your head as answer. “Well, obviously, he broke my heart. So I rejected any idols who asked for my number, plus with the continuous tours and comebacks, I didn’t have any time at all, my focus was on my group.”

“So, that was the last time you had sex, I’m assuming,” Heeseung pointed out.

“Yup.”

“Never thought about it again?” he asked.

“You heard my story, if I’d do it, I’d do it with…I guess someone who’s not an idol?” you said with uncertainty.

“His dick game was really that bad?” 

That’s when you agreed. “So fucking bad, I’d like to think that all male idols are that bad.”

“Not me though.” Heeseung casually replied.

His words made you scoff in disbelief. “Of course you’d say that,”

“Well, you wouldn’t know unless you actually tried it,” he pointed out.

You halted for a minute. Eyebrows furrowed at him. “What?”

Heeseung looked at the clock, “we have a lot of time to spare before midnight, I was suggesting that you might want to, relax for a bit,”

You stared at him appalled while Heeseung seemed so casual about what he just said. 

“Are you asking me to have sex with you?”

“You could say no if you want to, but the offer’s open,” Heeseung answered and you rolled your eyes before another scoff escaped your lips.

“You’re just like any other male idol,” you stated.

“Have you slept with other boy group members?” Heeseung asked tauntingly that it made you quiet for a moment. He smirked, infuriatingly and yet, you remained seated.

“Right, so why would you stick with that one experience? Come on, not attached to this one, unless you’re the type to have emotional attachment when it comes to sex, I’ll let you off the hook,” Heeseung convinced.

Has the room always felt warm? You don’t know why there’s chills on your nape and your hands clamming with sweat. Why is there a sudden shift in the air and your heart’s racing rapidly, that in a blink, you felt convinced.

“What’s in for me?” you muttered.

“Like I told you, maybe you should relax for a moment, you’re tense and guarded,” Heeseung pointed out.

“I should be tense, my youngest’s having sex with her boyfriend, I’m in Enhypen’s dormitory — specifically inside your room, who knows your sasaengs are lurking around your place and caught us sneaking,” you explained.

“You’re safe here, don't worry, and right now, just think of yourself, just for four hours, think of yourself not the eldest and leader of Krave, just you,” he insisted and something about the way he talked almost made you fold for him.

“I’m starting to wonder how many girls have you persuaded and slept with by just how you convince me,” you said. 

The smirk on his lips widened, teasing. “Oh, so you’re convinced? Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re the second girl I’ve ever slept with.," 

You stared at him for a moment. Heeseung tilted his head sideways, observing you and yet his stare didn’t have any weight on it. He looked at you like you’re the brightest moon tonight — not just a girl he seemed to eager to fuck.

That thought made you spin. He looked so alluring that you’re lost for words. Then he gestured to you to come to him. You don’t know why but you stood up, went to him and your hands intertwined with his. 

“I’m not gonna push you if you don’t want it, you could take a rest on my bed and I’ll wake you up after they’re done, but you know, I could make you release stress in some other ways too,” he explained, tone filled with genuinity that your heart betrayed you that moment because sleeping with him is just an option. 

You can say no to him. He’s giving you a choice to say no, but he’s also offering you to relax, let yourself melt and remove all the tense feeling in your shoulders. Just you. Heeseung said. Not the eldest member of your group, not the leader who’s on babysitting duty tonight.

“Are you sure about that?”

“A hundred percent, I won’t ask you if I am not sure,” he smiled. “And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

“You better give me a good reason to trust you Lee Heeseung.” you whispered to him.

“And if I told you that once you got a taste of me, there’s no turning back now?”

You hummed and he pulled you close, losing your balance and hoisting you up to straddle on his lap. You gasp at his boldness and yet, you didn’t move nor struggle.

Because a part of you was dying to feel what good sex feels like. Hearing your fellow member’s sex life and stable, healthy relationships with their significant others, you wonder when you will experience that same kind of bliss again.

If Heeseung, one of the popular k-idols in the industry, is offering you good sex especially with that body and face, who are you to say no?

“You’re with me?” he asked, brushing the stray hairs away from your face. You nodded, staring at him made you bite your lip and he seemed amused by how you’re still maintaining your composure.

“I need words sweetheart, do you want this?” he repeated.

“I…do, please,” you muttered, almost mute, and yet, you felt determined.

With your words, Heeseung’s smile turned into a smirk, hands brushing your cheek as his stare lingered for too long. “Good, let’s take it slow baby.”

Heeseung closed the gap first. Your breath halted the moment his lips landed on yours. It was soft, thick, tasting sweet and citrus like the gummy bears he was eating earlier. His arms wrapped around yours tighter as he pushed himself deeper against you, earning a choked sound from you.

He broke out of the kiss, worried as he looked at you to find any discomfort. “Too fast?”

“No, just surprised,” you answered, giving him a smile, in which he sighed and chuckled.

“Good, that’s good, just follow my lead, alright?” With that, he kissed you once again, same as the pace earlier, giving you time to adjust and sink everything that you’re here, on Heeseung’s lap, making out with him.

That’s when you moved, hands finding security on his shoulder as you moved your lips to respond to his. You could feel him smirking against you, but you pay no attention to it but instead, let your lips move along the rhythm he made.

Suddenly, the room felt hot and you became more hyperaware of Heeseung. It wasn’t just his mouth that’s moving around, you could feel his arms that used to be around your waist, slowly caressing every skin it could trail, making you flinch when his cold hands went underneath your shirt, just around your back then returning to the soft plush of your waist.

Your heart was racing at what would come next, especially when you could feel something rigid and hard underneath. The sudden awareness made you shift your position, earning a groan from Heeseung. 

“Sorry —” he shuts you off with a kiss before darting his attention towards your jawline, wet, loud kisses planted over your neck where you were most sensitive. You whine at his action, hands gripping his shoulder hard and still, you didn’t push him but instead, you let yourself fall under his touch.

“No marks please,” you whispered to him as you felt him sucking the skin near your collarbones. You felt him laughing against it before he lifted up his head towards you.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t cause you any trouble,” he winked at you after his words and you could swear you felt your cheeks flush.

“It’s getting hotter here isn’t it?” Heeseung teased as he played with the hem of your shirt. “Would it be nice for us to loosen up, right?”

“Right,” you croaked before slowly, your shaky hands found the end of your shirt and without any thought, you stripped it off, leaving you in your bra.

You noticed how Heeseung’s eyes stayed on your chest for a good minute, clearing your throat, he shifted his look towards you before a chuckle left his lips.

Heeseung did the same, throwing his shirt somewhere, baring to you his lean, naked torso and defined muscles that seem well-cared by him. You’re not new to male idols and their tendency to expose their body, but seeing Heeseung’s naked body this close made you flustered all of the sudden.

“Can I?” he asked as his hands played with the strap of your bra. You didn’t answer him but instead unclasped the clothing all by yourself. Your heart was loudly pounding and tightening as you shrugged off your bra before letting it fall on the ground. 

Heeseung captured your lips once again, and this time he was more impatient — there was a sudden strike of hunger in the way he kissed you. Torrid, reckless but still, it ignited the heat pooling inside you, hence, you battled against his lips. It felt more dangerously addictive that you couldn’t help but to lean downwards on him, hands cupping his cheeks to get a better taste.

Heeseung seemed pleased with your hunger, letting you dominate him as he busied himself with your breasts. Playing with the right side, he felt how you mewl on his lips, giving him a more plea to play with it. Heeseung flickered the hardened buds with his thumb, making you gasp as you felt the shock traveling towards your body.

The sensation slowly turned you into a needy collection of nerves. Everything’s burning and painful, especially on your core, that you couldn’t help but to buck your hips against Heeseung’s thighs. The sudden thrust halted Heeseung — and so did you.

“Shit,” you cursed, embarrassment washed all over you because of the act. “Did I — sorry, I couldn’t —”

“Hey, it’s okay, just surprise,” he assured, biting his lips because your eagerness actually felt wondrous for him. He could feel his sweats tightening, and there’s that urge for him to free his cock from its strain, but with you, he wanted to take things slow and messy.

“Do that again for me, pretty, can you?” he asked, hands on your waist as if he was guiding you to move your hips once again.

You rolled your hips slowly this time. A loud gasp left your lips as your core grinded directly on his hard cock. Your clit was getting rubbed against your wet panty that you couldn’t help but to move once again, finding friction despite the clothed barrier between you two.

“Fuck — more, harder baby, feel how hard cock against you right?” Heeseung moaned, making you move harder and deeper, too lost in the sensation that you never felt before.

“It’ll be better if we take off our clothes baby, is that okay?” Heeseung suggested, making you stop.

“Oh…if that’s okay with you,” you told him.

“Whatever you want, baby, I’d like that too,” he answered and you found yourself getting off his lap.

You unbutton your shorts and push it down in an awkward manner, kicking it off along with your socks while Heeseung stood up from his seat and untied the drawstrings of his sweats. He left himself in his playboy boxer and your eyes wouldn’t leave the sight.

The print indicated that he was big. His cock was already standing tall, hard and straining against the cloth but it seemed like Heeseung didn’t care about it, not when he pulled you towards his bed and made you sit on his lap again. Now, in a more thinner barrier of both undergarments, you could feel him further — the length, its hardness, and how warm it is against your clothed cunt.

“Have you ever tried this one?” he asked, making you burst out in a fit of laughter.

“Did you say that on purpose?” you raised an eyebrow, hands brushing his messy blonde hair.

“You looked nervous, hope it’ll lessen the tension,” Heeseung observed and your lips thinned into a small smile.

“Well maybe I am slowly starting to be convinced,” you whispered to him, you felt him shift underneath, hands tightening on your waist while your hands caressed his face.

He smirked, “Convinced what?”

“That your dick game is good,” you teased before closing the gap. Heeseung reciprocated it immediately, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow as you started to move your hips in a slow, precise motion where your cunt grinds through his thick shaft.

“Can I?” he asked in between your kisses, his hands trailing around the curve of your ass, and you nodded eagerly, letting him squeeze the soft flesh as he guided you to hump further on him.

The anticipation heated in your body further. There’s that weird churn that slowly rises from your stomach that you could no longer ignore. Moving on your own, you humped on Heeseung’s lap like a rabbit in heat, while simultaneously capturing his lips in a more torrid and passionate manner.

You could feel it, your body getting sticky with sweat, Heeseung’s deep groans every time your cunt brushed on his shaft. He felt you on the edge that his hands found its way towards your waist and helped you move more precisely on his lap. 

“Want to see you get off just from humping on my cock,” Heeseung stated in between your kisses. He stopped and looked up to you, and you observed how starstruck he was. The thought made you whine as your hips never stop, chasing after that broiling heat on your core.

“Shit! — H-heeseung,” you whimper, already a mess as your eyes turned glassy while your body’s becoming too sensitive. You shifted yourself higher, nudging his head with your clit, making both of you moan in unison.

“Right there baby — fuck! Look at your panties, all wet and ruined for me.” Heeseung taunted as he kissed the shell of your ear, the act felt sweet and fluttering against the obscene act you two were doing.

“O-oh! oh my god — I —”

“Go on baby, come for me,” his words felt like a command because in just a second, something snapped inside your stomach and a never-felt sensation took over your body. You freezed at the sudden feeling, holding tightly on Heeseung’s shoulder while he watched you fall apart on top of him. 

“Great?” he asked while you were sinking in what just happened. 

“I — wait…wow,” you muttered, catching your breath while your body tense around him. Slurring mindlessly as you still haven't processed your orgasm while Heeseung watched you patiently.

“You alright? Do you want to rest for a bit?”

“What about you?” you asked, seeing that he’s still hard and aching.

“Oh me? Don’t worry, I’m just giving you time to rest and process everything,” from there, his gaze sharpened, something on him shifted. “We were just getting started after all.”

“I should get you off too,” you convinced but he shook his head.

“Y/n, this is all about you alright? Don’t worry about me,” he insisted.

“That sounds unfair.”

“We have hours for me to get off sweetheart, but for now, let’s just help you relax,” he didn’t let you rebut more. The next thing you knew, your back thud against his bed’s mattress before he hovered over you.

Your heart stopped for a moment, gazing at him who’s naked, sweaty, yet insanely, godlike as he stared at you as if you’re his meal tonight.

“Just lay there and be pretty for me,” he smirked and your heart was beating at the thought of what he was about to do. 

You watched as he gazed upon you for a second before rolling out his tongue, and started flickering your nipples while his other hand rolled the other side — all while maintaining eye contact with you.

“Hee —” you weren’t able to finish your sentence when he latched his mouth on the right mould of your breast. Sucking the nipples hard and needy before releasing it with a loud pop.

Heeseung abandoned your breast that moment. Leaving a lighthearted kiss in the middle before he started kissing your underboobs, then darting towards your stomach, until his mouth reached your navel — and then he stopped, eyeing on your panty before looking at you as if he was asking for permission.

Oh. 

“You’re gonna go down on me?” you asked, flustered.

“Do you not want me to?” he asked you back.

“No, just — fine, I trust you,” you answered, nervous and yet, curious at the feeling of someone going down on you.

“If it’s too overwhelming just tug my hair twice or thrice,” Heeseung instructed and that made you let out a chuckle.

“Why does it sound like you want your hair getting pulled?”

But Heeseung quickly hushed you, “that’s between you and me sweetheart.”

Without a word, his hands trailed on the waistline of your panty, tugging it down in one swift movement, leaving you completely naked. Instantly, you closed your legs but Heeseung casually grabbed your thighs, pushing it open for him. 

He stared at your puffy, still sensitive pussy, twitching at nothing before glance at you, looking naive and innocent as you lay gorgeously in his bed. Heeseung swore he almost cum at the sight. He could feel his hard cock aching to be released, twitching harder due to its sensitivity, but he chose to ignore it as he lay down flat on his stomach.

You weren’t able to do anything when he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to him. His fingers found their way to your entrance, sliding on its lips up to its clit where he felt your legs shudder at the sudden contact.

Heeseung didn’t say anything — the next thing you felt was his tongue swiping upright on your cunt. The sudden action made you moan so loud that it echoed inside the room. You slapped your mouth hard in embarrassment while Heeseung chuckled faintly before giving your core another fat stripe.

“Don’t cover those sounds pretty, let me hear it,” Heeseung ordered, looking up to you with his eyes sharper than earlier. Your heart started to pound as you quickly nodded to his words. Heeseung seemed satisfied, lowering his head once again to devour your cunt with much devotion — leaving you breathless and spewing a series of breathy moans.

The sensation felt new to you, more intimidating yet hot to the core. It didn’t help that you could hear how lewd and loud Heeseung fucks your cunt using his tongue. The wet, slurping sound should’ve disgusted you but the feeling was undeniably heavenly that it made your toes curled. 

“Holy shit, Heeseung!” you screamed, too loud and whiny as you grabbed a fistful of his hair before tugging it once. The action made the man groan against your pussy, sending shockwaves on his cock — feeling it more needy and aching against the flat surface of his bed, Heeseung could help but to grind his cock against it. It was begging for release that his hips started to move on its own. 

The two of you are too lost in chasing one’s pleasure. Heeseung’s tongue never left your pussy not once, burying his face further as he focused on flickering that little bundle of nerves, and at the same time, his hips continued rocking back and forth chasing his own high. It didn’t help that you’re pulling his hair harder than before, the sensation only made his cock throb harder as everything’s becoming too much on his side.

You came first, in a soft high-pitched whine as Heeseung removed his tongue and instead, sucked your clit hard. His tongue rolled around the bud as his lips drank every juice your cunt released. He didn’t stop, not even when you’re tugging his hair too tight that his scalp’s burning, it just edges him off, grunting against your cunt as his hips continue rocking against his bed.

Just in a snap, his orgasm came unexpectedly and he visibly shook, cum staining his boxers as he released nonstop after all that painful edging. His grunts were held back as Heeseung held on to your thighs tight enough that it’ll leave a bruise. You didn’t even notice that he had come, so immersed in your own pleasure that the next thing that only occurred in your almost sane mind was how Heeseung sat up on his bed, messy yet satisfied.

“Can you take more, pretty?” he asked, smirking as he moved to take off his soiled boxers, not even giving you a warning about his next move.

Your eyes went wide that it might pop out of its socket.

To say that he’s big is an understatement. Heeseung’s huge — hung, fucking hung that you froze at its sheer size. You barely remember your ex-boyfriend’s cock but suddenly, he doesn’t matter anymore, not when this one night stand had given you more than one orgasm compared to him.

“You look scared,” he teased and you didn’t react immediately.

“Will that fit?” you said, stuttering.

“We’ll make it fit,” he said as he sat next to you and before you could complain, Heeseung placed you in between his legs, his hard cock poking your back that you’re very hyperaware of. 

“Think you could give me more pretty? Let’s relax that silly head of yours, alright?” he whispered to yours as his hands trailed on your breasts, cupping it lightly while the other one stretched its way towards your pussy.

Heeseung didn’t ask for any permission at all, using his hind legs, he pushed your legs open for him, trapping your still shaking legs along with your sensitive pussy.

The first touch was light, featherlike, ticklish that a contented moan escaped your lips. Heeseung’s hands traveled on your clit, rubbing circles around it — not too rough nor too fast, just the right amount of tease that you resisted against it.

“Don’t struggle baby, just relax, are you still sensitive?” he asked softly, cooing as he rested his cheeks on your temples.

You nodded, and yet, your pussy’s still throbbing. It still hurts, gaping for something big enough that it’ll fill you completely.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I want it inside,” you answered.

“My fingers?” he asked, his delicate digits gathering slick around your pussy, protruding your entrance, almost teasing that you sighed in annoyance.

“Your cock…Heeseung, please,” you told him.

“Oh baby, as much as I want to, we got to prep you pretty girl,” he gives you a kiss on the temples before plunging one finger inside — completely contrasting the action earlier.

“We have to make sure it’ll fit your tight pussy, don’t we?” he teased, chuckling dark and low, as his finger thrusts in and out of your cunt, before sliding another one, catching you off-guard as his slender digits did scissoring actions to open your walls more.

With your cunt still sensitive from the previous orgasms, every move and curl gave nothing but continuous spasms on your body. You were squirming like a worm around Heeseung, breathing heavily as your hold on his arms tightened.

“Heeseung please,” you cried, not knowing what your plea was until he poked a specific area that made you arch your back naturally — that’s when he knew, chuckling like a tease he was before he hushed you by kissing the tears rolling down on your eyes.

“Is it too good pretty?” Heeseung asked and you don’t know what to say other than to cry louder. Whining like a kicked-out puppy as your nails dig on his skin deeper.

“You’re still tense baby, I could feel you clamping on my fingers,” he said with a gentle tone and yet his fingers were curling that area nonstop, faster and hastily that it’s bringing another intense feeling inside your cunt.

“I don’t think I could do it anymore,” you whispered to him before another moan knocked out of your lips.

“You can,” he said with confidence. “You’d do it for me, right?”

“Heeseung —”

“You’ll do it for me,” he ordered and his words did nothing but to push something out of you.

That’s when Heeseung felt it. The warm gush of liquid that your cunt released, completely messing his fingers.

“Fuck,” he said in disbelief as the smile on his face became wider.

“Oh my god, I’m really sorry, I didn’t know — god —” you weren’t able to finish your words when Heeseung kissed you hungrily, teeth clashing and tongue tasting every skin his lips could feel, making you whine at his intensity.

And as he broke out, he could see how red and swollen your lips were, making him satisfied as he leaned down for more, that’s when you held onto his shoulders, reciprocating his hunger while his fingers continued thrusting inside your cunt.

“Make a mess for me pretty, keep fucking doing that,” he commanded, curling that spot that made you squirt nonstop. He continued abusing that spot until his bed’s completely wet and your thighs were nothing but a mess, mixed with every slick and juice your pussy had released.

Without any words, you’ve reached your orgasm. A high-pitched scream echoed inside his room as your legs shook at the intensity. Heeseung didn’t stop even when your eyes were turning white, in fact, he was humming teasingly as he saw you all worn-out and melting under his touch.

“Don’t sleep on me pretty,” Heeseung said as he pulled out his fingers out of your sensitive pussy, making you cry at the sudden loss. He gently lays you down as he lets you rest for a moment, giving you ample time to breathe and relax before the real deal.

Heeseung reached out on his side table, opening the second drawer, he pulled out a strip of condoms and with much precision, snapped one and ripped the wrapper open.

He rolled the condom around his length, moaning in satisfaction as he began stroking his hard shaft, preparing himself as he crawled back to you who seemed to be still in the high of your previous orgasm.

Heeseung relaxed you for a moment, leaving soft, short kisses on your jawline and downwards your neck, giving off a ticklish sensation that made you moan quietly.

“Ready pretty?” he whispered while continuing to leave kisses on your sensitive skin.

“Hmm,” you hummed unknowingly but Heeseung didn’t stop at all.

“Words pretty, come on,” he gestured and the only thing you did was hold onto his shoulders as another whine left your lips.

“Ruin me Heeseung,” you said to him and something about what you said shifted something in Heeseung’s mind.

“Baby, you don’t know what you’re asking,” he said with a smirk. “You’re already ruined, look at you.” 

He didn’t let you say another word. Heeseung pulled you into his grasp, his hard length, standing tall and proud, poking your inner thighs that you were suddenly jolted into reality.

“You don’t know that I’m just holding back from ruining you further,” Heeseung taunted, stroking his cock on your entrance. The fat tip slides teasingly on your entrance. It was warm and fuck — does it feel wondrous yet dangerously teasing. It didn’t help that Heeseung’s rubbing it at your clit at any chance he could have, making you whimper at his actions.

“Put it inside please, please Heeseung,” you whimpered, almost a cry as your hands tightly held onto his bed’s sheets.

“Relax for me first,” he ordered, spreading your legs further before gently nudging the blunt head of his dick on your entrance. He almost cursed. He could feel how his tip’s barely inside and yet, your cunt’s already hugging it tight.

Heeseung pushed it in, slow and careful, stretching your cunt open for his cock. He slides slowly, letting you adjust to its girth while your hands had crumpled the sheets hard, absolutely clueless that his fat cock’s going to rip your walls apart.

He went all the way, completely filling your pussy all the way to the end. The thought of it gave nothing but severe chills on you, and yet, you never felt this level of bliss before. 

“You with me?” he asked and you nodded feverishly.

“You’re big,” you babbled, and Heeseung only stared before letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ll start moving, alright?” he said.

“Hmm, please move,” you told him.

Heeseung slowly moved his hips. You could feel him thrusting inside you slow and gentle, careful not to hurt you as slowly, the pain inside your core was being replaced with the pleasure of how his cock penetrated your walls all the way in. 

“More please,” you blurted out. 

“More?” Heeseung teased as he grabbed your legs, placed the right one on his shoulder and the other one wrapped around his waist. The new position gave him more leverage to pound inside your tight pussy, and this time, Heeseung’s not holding back anymore.

The room’s hotter than before, and everything smelled like perfume, and body fluids. Everything’s becoming too much for you as your moans and the lustful sounds coming from Heeseung’s mouth mixed along with the way his thighs slapped on your cunt hard — additional to that, The Weeknd’s still playing in the background. 

You don’t know that you’d be able to reach this level of high. Suddenly, you couldn’t think of anything other than how Heeseung pounded on you senselessly like an animal in heat, and yet, it feels so damn heavenly. You could feel your body melting on the bed, grip on his sheet loosened and your eyes were getting drowsy, drowned in the ecstasy of the act, while Heeseung didn’t say a word as he kept on ramming his cock inside your tight cunt.

Christ. Your head’s spinning and you’re slowly levitating with the way Heeseung’s cock slides in and out of your tight pussy. Heeseung noticed it quickly, how light you feel now, only soft moans and whines escaping your lips. You were getting numbed and that only made his cock twitch in satisfaction as he pounded inside you harder than before. 

“Feels good angel? Look at you drunk on my cock, you’re barely even moving,” Heeseung taunted. Seeing you unmoving, eyes turning white as your body shakes, his mind is slowly getting into him. He thrusted harder, more precise at a certain spot that had you moaning unknowingly. 

Heeseung’s fucking you into oblivion. You don’t have total control of yourself anymore. You just placed every single amount of yourself into him while he continued to plunge his cock all the way. Both of you were already messy. Sweat mixing, and obscenity could be heard with how his cock squelched as he pounded on your dripping pussy.

If that wasn’t enough, Heeseung reached for your clit, stroking it lightly that you jolted at the pleasure. You screamed hard and loud, shouting his name as the churn in your stomach became too hard to deny at all.

“Going to come now angel?” Heeseung asked, hovering at you, almost folding the leg on his shoulder. His thrust never stopped, pounding inside you at that sharp yet precise movement that it’s the only thing you could sense despite being overstimulated.

A whimper was your answer and that was his only cue, he focused on ramming your cunt. Bruising your cervix at every brush it makes. Your walls became more tighter and warmer, clamping around his cock that Heeseung could feel his orgasm brewing too. 

“Fuck pretty —” a mixture of groan and whimper escaped his lips as he bites his lips hard, wounding it as his cock twitch sensitively. 

“Heeseung —”

“Gonna come too baby, you with me?”

You nodded, eager and greedy to chase your high. Heeseung’s hands grabbed your waist and without any thought, lifted your torso as he pounded inside you nonstop as if you were just a fleshlight to him.

The coil snapped and in just a second, both your orgasms came. Echoes of moans and cries filled the room, as your body shook feverishly at the intensity. Your legs had lost its strength, falling on the side while Heeseung gripped on your waist tight, releasing his cum inside the condom before pulling out without any thought.

He stroked his cock messily, rubbing his slit to release more of his cum, completely staining his hands and your stomach while you catch your breath. You didn’t complain further as you felt his warm cum mark you completely. 

Seconds turned, minutes passed and Heeseung laid on his back next to you. Both of you were totally ruined. Hair disheveled, bed wet with the mixture of fluids, as the high remained in your body and mind. 

“You with me?” Heeseung asked out of nowhere.

You hummed as an answer. “I don’t want to move.”

That’s when Heeseung sat up from his place, glancing at you whose eyes were drowsy.

“Go take a rest, I’ll just get you some water,” Heeseung said, brushing your hair so lightly that you couldn’t help but to lean onto it.

Slowly, your eyes closed and as Heeseung watched you fall in your deep slumber, he gave you a short kiss on the cheeks before standing up to clean himself. 

-

You don’t know what time you woke up.

All you know is that you’re clothed now, the sheets were already cleaned and replaced, and there’s even a blanket thrown over you.

You tried to sinked-in where you are right now, recalling everything that happened earlier as you glance at the person who’s sitting on his computer chair, mixing some tunes on his pc — that’s when it hit you.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, and yet, that’s enough for Heeseung to turn around and look at you.

“You’re awake,” he said, relieved.

“What time is it?” you asked, looking around his room for a clock.

“It’s two-thirty,” Heeseung casually replied and yet, your eyes widened.

“What!?” 

“Well, you were knocked-out dead after we…and Riki also let his girlfriend rest, so we didn’t want to bother waking you up.” Heeseung nonchalantly explained.

“Shit, my manager’s going to kill me,” you said before standing up but almost stumbled because your legs were numb and your pussy’s sore. If it wasn’t for Heeseung who caught you immediately, you were probably on the floor now.

His arms were on your waist, helping you stand carefully while you muttered curses under your breath.

“Huh, I guess the sex didn’t help you relax at all,” Heeseung observed, seeing how agitated you were.

You stopped, remembering why you ended up oversleeping. The two of you stared at each other for a second, and that’s when you felt your heart beating fast again as the rush of blood flushed on your cheeks.

Then you remembered how he was earlier. The sex, his dick — and how he took care of you after the act. You couldn’t believe that Heeseung’s real, and you just had sex with him earlier. He really didn’t lie when he said his dick game was good.

“Sorry, I overreacted again, where is she?” you asked, guilt washing on you.

His hand loosened on your waist. He hummed, “She’s still asleep, Riki said if you woke up, we could wake her up now, would you like that?”

“Of course, thank you.”

“No problem, let’s wait outside, alright?” he suggested and you nodded. Immediately, you two went outside, returning to the living room where it’s audibly quiet now.

“Heeseung,” you called out, almost stuttering. Heeseung turned around and looked at you.

“Thank you, the sex did help me, I slept like a baby afterwards, thank you,” you said softly, almost embarrassed and yet, Heeseung smiled sweetly.

“Dick game that good?” he teased and you only chuckled.

“Yeah, fortunately,” you admitted and Heeseung laughed at your answer.

Not a few minutes later, Heeseung returned to the living room with your co-member and Riki. your worries fade out when she looks happy and satisfied that you didn’t pry further. She bid goodbye to her boyfriend, hugging him as if it’ll be the last time they’ll see each other.

Young love. You thought, watching them, that you didn’t notice Heeseung standing beside you.

“Hey,” he said, making you glance at him.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Here,” he handed you a folded paper and you looked at it confused.

“What’s this for?” you asked, opening it and seeing a number and Heeseung’s name on it.

“Just in case you have babysitting duty again,” he winked. “Or not, you know where you’ll contact me.”

You stared at him and he gave you a smile, you returned it immediately as you placed the paper in your short’s pocket, because who knows, maybe you’ll do another babysitting duty again, so might as well inform him beforehand, right?

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

You pulled into the decently large parking lot of the Hybe gym. The exterior was boxy and large windows adorned the grey walls. Those same windows made it incredibly clear that the gym was emptied out of all its patrons. It would’ve been easy to shift into reverse and tease Jungwon for lying to you about his whereabouts but something about the way that the fluorescent lights remained on had you killing the engine instead. 

Your eyes moved to the reception desk as you walked in — surely, there would be someone waiting there to scan your card or check your gym membership — no one sat in the black spinning chair. An uncanny feeling fell over you as you walked deeper into the gym, viewing the various large machines, the racks of weights, and the letters that you’d seen in his pictures just a few minutes before. You faced the mirror out of curiosity for what he sees when he sends you his selfies, your last look before exiting the strangely abandoned gym, until a familiar dark blue water bottle caught your eye. 

If it were a Hydroflask or an Owala, you’d disregard it entirely, but this wasn’t a normal trendy water bottle — it was the dingy, plastic one every freshman received as a welcome package into the baccalaureate program. And unless there was another Decelis University student in the graduating class of 2027 that happened to go to an insanely modernized gym, Jungwon was telling the truth. He was here. Somewhere.

Fumbling in your purse for your phone, you called Jungwon’s number, hoping that he was just in the doorway marked “Men’s Locker Room”. And when you heard the faint ringing on the other side of the door, you were certain that he was there. Only ignoring your call. Brows pinched together in confusion, why would he not pick up your call?

The persistent feeling of uncanniness crawling up your spine and the prodding of school deadline anxiety in the back of your skull had you losing patience quickly. You ended the call and knocked on the locker room door. 

“Jungwon?” You called out, “Are you in there?”

You gave him a generous three seconds to respond.

“Jungwon? Hello?”

After another short moment you pushed the door ajar and asked, “Is anyone even in here?”

You were met with nothing but silence. You closed your eyes and exhaled exasperatedly. Peeking around in the gym and finding it as vacant as you found it, you called out:

“Jungwon, if you don’t come out, I’m going in.” 

At first, it was an empty threat — why would you willingly walk into the men’s locker room — but the lack of response fueled the strange feeling swarming the place. And maybe, a part of you wanted to prove that Jungwon wouldn’t lie to you. You didn’t care if he had a secret girlfriend or had an unquenchable love for frat parties but you wanted to know if and why he would keep it from you. 

So, you took slow small steps into the locker room, making sure to put more force into them than necessary — just to make sure he would stop you before you committed fully and turned to see half a dozen nigh naked men. But as you rounded the small corridor, it was blatantly clear you had been talking to yourself for the past five minutes. 

The locker room was shrouded in darkness, grey lockers lined the walls, and one long bench ran in the middle til it met the section of showers. You turned on the flashlight on your phone and looked closer. The lockers were labeled with numbers but some had small plaques with initials on them. Locker 5 caught your eye: partly because it was slightly ajar, partly because it had the initials “YJW” on a small metal plaque. 

Flipping the locker door open, you saw Jungwon’s worn-in blue backpack shoved into the small space — obviously in a rush, since he didn’t see the strap of the bag sticking out of his locker and preventing it from being shut. His phone also sat in the locker, at an awkward angle as well, contributing to the theory that he rushed to put his stuff down. But if the rest of his stuff is here, why is his water bottle in the main part of the gym?

And where was Jungwon? 

Your eyes glanced at the only part of the gym you hadn’t gone to yet — besides the girl’s locker room but you had more faith in Jungwon than that, which is ironic considering the room you were in currently — the showers. Although, you considered, no one seemed to be in here anyway. With the small encouragement, you walked over to the shower section: seven uniform showers lined the walls, all but one with the curtains left open. 

Upon seeing the drawn shower curtain, you should have left. You shouldn’t have gotten closer. But you did. And with the way that the curtain sat, with one side over-drawn, leaving a sliver of space slightly open to view — you could imagine the events that occurred to have left the scene like that. Someone rushed into the shower, but if the lack of running water and indication that someone — anyone at all — was in this locker room, no one was in the shower anymore. So, with small steps, shaky hands, and held breath, you peeked past the shower curtain to find that your suspicions were right. No one was there. But something strange was. 

The tile on the side with the shower head and knobs was tilted and coming off the wall in one piece. You would’ve supposed that that was why the shower curtain was closed. The shower was broken, it was under construction, it needed to be fixed, so they closed it off. But you couldn’t accept that to be true when just beyond the tilted back wall, muffled yelling emitted through the crack. 

Stepping into the shower and taking a closer look at the wall, you realized that the titled tiles were not broken or falling apart, they were attached to a door disguised as the back of a shower. Someone forgot to ensure the secret door remained secret. As you stood with the door swung open, looking into a corridor with a staircase that ran down into a lower level, you contemplated counting your blessings, driving back to your apartment, and worrying about your homework in the morning. 

But this is what you lived for, right? The drama, the thrill, the investigation. Now the opportunity to explore was right in front of your face — who were you to deny yourself of that adventure? And Jungwon was probably down there. It’s probably just some rich frat house’s party venue because they don’t want to piss their parents off. 

You shook your head in disbelief, no way Yang “I get my work done two weeks in advance” Jungwon was a party animal. 

You shut the door behind you and trod down the stairs in a liminal space between caution and confidence. 

The staircase turned right and climbed down a few more steps before the room came into view. It was shaped like a stadium — bleachers around the walls with every seat filled with cheering fans. The lights were dimmed all around except for the center where everyone’s eyes were glued. And for good reason. The center showcased an elevated boxing ring that was adorned with visible wear and tear. An announcer’s voice boomed the play by play happening in the ring, taking care to note the names of the fighters as they threw their punches. 

It was useless. You’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. 

You’d also recognize that mess of floppy blond-dyed hair, that enviously tiny waist, dark cat-like eyes, and toned biceps anywhere — which is why it was a little strange that it took you a good seven seconds to compute the scene unfolding before you. 

Yang Jungwon, shifting and keeping light on his feet in the middle of that elevated boxing ring. Yang Jungwon, with bloodied bandages wrapped around his fists, throwing a clean jab into the jaw of his opponent. Yang Jungwon, continuing to advance and throw punches that didn’t quite make an impact before putting all his force in one that did. 

“And Jakah lands his attack knocking his opponent to the floor! Yikes! That puts BigHit in a real tight spot!”

Your head filled with a million questions: who is Jakah? What is BigHit? What is happening? 

The two fighters went back to their corners, their coaches handing them water bottles and wiping the sweat off their brows. From this angle, you could see Jungwon more clearly. His flushed skin, his big muscles, and the inception of a bruise on the left side of his jaw. 

“Jakah continues to show his ferocity and tenacity in the ring.” The announcer informed.

“Maybe he’s trying to compensate for his performance last week?” Another announcer theorized.

“I don’t know but what I can say is that he is relentless tonight. It seems like we might be getting our beloved champion back, what do you say folks?”

The crowd erupted in roars. It was hard to make out at first, everyone yelling out of unison but half the crowd boo’d like their life depended on it and the rest cheered with every ounce of breath in their lungs. You watched Jungwon shake his head and push his water bottle away, shaking his right wrist, and waiting patiently before he could lunge at the other guy again.

This was a side of Jungwon you’d never seen before; he was so sweet, and gentle, and caring, it was hard to think of him as someone who spent his Friday nights beating the daylight out of other people. You recalled what the announcers had said just a few moments before. If Jungwon is this “Jakah” guy then what happened last week? And what did they mean by “champion”?

Jungwon turned to scan his eyes over the stands and an awareness fell on you like an avalanche. You were the only person standing in this entire underground stadium. Crouching immediately, you hoped that he hadn’t caught sight of you yet. What would happen if he did? Would he get nervous and be thrown off? That would likely cost him his victory and part of his physical condition. Your heart started aching at the mere sight of a bruise under his jaw, you couldn’t stomach watching him get pummeled. You also hadn’t decided what to say to him or how to say it. You couldn’t even grasp your emotions under the dazedness of shock — it’d be better to talk to him later when you could think clearly.

A loud buzzer blared and the fighters took to the center of the ring. Their hands fisted up to their face — their guards up — and their feet inching increasingly closer to one another. Jungwon’s opponent started with a barrage of light jabs, causing Jungwon to pull his guard higher up. It took about five seconds to realize why this useless move was continuing on: he was pursuing Jungwon toward the edges of the ring. But Jungwon quickly found his footing and dropped into a crouch before sending a hard punch to his assailant's ribs. The crowd erupted in a collective grimace but Jungwon didn’t stop, instead he cracked his fist against the guys jaw with so much force that the sound traveled toward the stands. 

His opponent fell limp on the floor, blood dripping from his face, and a referee running up to check his condition. The stadium didn’t wait in bated breath, no it roared in controversy — even as the referee stood up and held Jungwon’s hand high in victory.

It was hard to catch the crowds sentiment when they all had something to say:

“There goes my 75K won!” Someone grumbled.

“75? I put down a clean 150!”

“And that 225K is all mine now boys.” A person from the row behind them gloated.

“Yeah right, I bet 60% of the stadium also put their money down on Goldilocks.”

“60%? Not after last week.”

Your brows furrowed in deeply, what do they mean “put their money down”? Is Jungwon the prospect of illegal gambling?

Your head swam in a million different directions before you realized that the stands were being vacated deeper into the basement. Suddenly, the shock seemed to dissipate and the temperature in the room felt utterly too warm. You stood back up, legs as strong as under-chilled jello, and saw the stands slowly become deserted. Your eyes glanced toward the center-ring where Jungwon had been only moments before but had vacated as well. It was time you left too. 

Before someone found you here.

You ran up the steps and out of the shower, through the thankfully still empty locker room, out of the overly modern gym. You passed through rows of equipment, spotting Jungwon’s abandoned water bottle and picking it up off the ground. You didn’t even know why you picked it up, you just did it on instinct and rushed out to your car. 

And all you could think about on the drive to your apartment was: is Jungwon okay?

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The screen of your phone on the darkest setting was still too bright as it shone in your face. The cursor blinked in its home on the message bar. A bar devoid of text. 

You didn’t know what to tell him. What to say. What to ask. It was all amiss to you. You’d known Jungwon since freshman year and never in those three years did you think of him as a guy that would knock a guy out so hard that blood pooled out of his mouth. So, what on Earth were you supposed to text him?

“Hi I followed you to the gym and saw you turn some guy into a pulp! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hi do you know that fighting people, especially in an underground fighting ring where people bid on your success/failure, is super dangerous in multiple ways??”

You sighed and threw your phone to the other side of the bed. He’d probably text you tomorrow, you’d figure out what to say. Hopefully. 

Because if Jungwon was involved in illegal gambling and fighting — he was putting himself in so much risk. You couldn’t freak out, couldn’t go around accusing him. You needed to stay level headed. 

Jungwon didn’t text you the next day but he did text you the day after. Sometime around noon your phone pinged and Jungwon’s name lit up on your screen. 

wonie: Hey wyd rn?

You hesitated at first. You tried to convince yourself that you just needed more time to think about what to say to him but you knew that you were just dreading a conversation that was inevitable. 

You: not much, u?

wonie: Bored

wonie: And my roommate brought his friends over and they’re loud asf

You: LOL

You: just come over! we can watch a movie or smth

wonie: Want me to pick up snacks?

You: nah i have some from last time!!

He wasn’t what you expected when you opened the door. Maybe it was because the Jungwon you’d seen that night was stuck in your head: the way his sweaty muscles reflected the light, the way his chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, the way the ends of his hair were slightly wet, the blooming bruise under his clenched jaw — it wouldn’t leave your mind. 

But now he stood in front of you in his classic GAP grey hoodie, wispy bangs falling into his eyes, bright smile on his lips, and a jaw devoid of any discoloration. 

“Hey,” His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you and he wasted no time at the door. Just strutted in like he was your roommate, taking his shoes off and walking to the kitchen, “Do you still have that apple flavored green tea?”

You raised your brow at him, “Bro, do you know how hard it was to find those again? I had to go to a Chinese grocery store just to find them.”

Jungwon held up the last bottle, the red and gold label almost completely hidden in his large hand. He shook it slightly as he spoke:

“Wanna split it with me?” 

You looked at him with a flat face and crossed arms, “Fine.” How were you supposed to say no to that charming smile he shot you?

That charming smile turned into a victorious one that he didn’t even try to hide. It stayed plastered on his face as his hand reached up to your cabinet, grabbed too small glasses, filled them with ice, and then poured the tea equally into each glass. Your body slid past his as you reached up into the cabinet as well, picking up a bowl and pour out some chili-lime rolled tortilla chips. He took the empty packet from your hands and tossed it in the trash. 

“So, what movie do you wanna watch?” He asked, making his way over to your couch. 

“Mm,” You hummed in thought, “I’m not sure, what are you in the mood for?” 

“Not a rom-com. So, don’t ask.”

“Yeesh, what’s wrong with rom-coms?”

“They’re cringey, predictable, and boring.”

“I thought you loved Your Eyes Only!”

He gave you an intentionally nervous smile. 

“Wow. Okay.”

“Sorry,” He laughed softly and curled up on your couch, shoving the decorative pillow away with his leg. 

You sat next to him, taking the glass he handed you and setting it on the coffee table. Jungwon never used the coffee table. He’d just hold the drink in his hand, taking big sips of his drink and finishing it within the first ten minutes. He’d also pick up your drink and set it on a coaster because he knew you wouldn’t finish it before the condensation began to drip onto the table. 

“Hey, I think that new short series came out on Netflix.”

“Which series?” You clicked on the Netflix account and picked your profile. 

“It’s called ‘Manifesto: Day 1’.”

“Oh the alien one?” 

“Yeah!” He watched you search it up, “The fighting in it looks sick.” 

Jungwon’s brow raised slightly as he watched your body stiffen at the word “fighting”. The sip he took from the glass was audible but he laid his suspicion to rest as you fumblingly turned on the show. The list of episodes appeared, including Walk the Line the first episode which was an hour and 12 minutes long. 

“Each episode is an hour?!” You exclaimed only for Jungwon to laugh in return. 

“It’ll be good, don't worry.”

“Yeah okay.” You leaned back into the couch as the show began to play. 

The episode was apparently over an hour long but it didn’t feel that way — and not for any good reason. The show in its violence and action drew your focus on sweatstained memories and whims of concern. 

One of the characters had strapped someone to a chair and proceeded to yell at him with all the grace of a grizzly bear. Upon not receiving the answer he was looking for, he gave the tied man a swift punch across the face. It hit you hard — metaphorically — the memory of Jungwon’s bandaged fist pounding across his opponent’s face so hard that it left a sound reverberating in the small stadium. 

You weren’t sure if you’d flinched or not but Jungwon’s hand had instinctively moved closer to you. Perhaps in comfort. But you just stared at those knuckles — those slightly reddened knuckles — knowing exactly what they were used for just a couple nights ago. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

The bruises the characters wore, the ones they tried to hide, filled your mind with potent worry of all the injuries Jungwon had had to hide. Did he have his ribs wrapped under his big hoodies? Did he buy concealer to hide the bruising to his jaw? Has he ever gone to the ER not knowing how to explain his injuries? Has he laid awake at night in pain and had no one to talk to?

Your shoulders tensed involuntarily but unnoticeably — unnoticeably to anyone but Jungwon that is. 

Unfortunately, that very man was sitting next to you, dragging his eyes across your tense body. 

“Y/N.”

You jumped at the sound of your name falling from his lips. The flinch had him sitting up and staring at you intensely, eyebrows furrowed and all. Your shaky gaze met his steady one and it incited you with the most gnawing anxiety you’d ever experienced. You begged him in your mind not to ask. Of course, he did. 

“Did something happen?” 

Your heart stuttered out of beat and your voice was a bit too sanitized as you spoke, “What? No! Nothing happened!”

Jungwon’s face fell into an incredulous expression. His hand grabbed the remote and paused the episode before looking back at you. Staring as if the answer would appear on your forehead if he waited long enough. 

“Y/N, I’ve known you for long enough to know when you’re lying to me.”

Your voice filled with bittersweet laughter, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“What doesn’t mean anything.” His brows creased impossibly more. 

“I mean, it doesn’t matter how long you know someone. You never really know if they’re lying to you or not.”

Jungwon straightened and sharpened his gaze, “What does that mean?” He pressed. 

You wracked your brain for an answer it didn’t have.

“Nothing. It means nothing, forget about it.”

“No, tell me. It’s obviously bothering you.”

“No. I don’t want to talk about it, Wonie.”

“Woah, hey,” He held up his hands in surrender, “I’m just trying to communicate with you. I want to know what’s wrong because I care about you.”

“You should worry more about yourself, don’t you think?” You laughed as if it would lighten the thick tension building between you.

“What do you mean by that?” He had this half smile on his face as if he was prepared to turn sweet or sour depending on your response. 

A cold sweat ran across your forehead, “I mean you should really care more about yourself.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

“Yeah… right. Sure.”

“What is wrong with you? You’re acting weird? You know I can tell when something’s wrong, we’ve been best friends long enough for that.”

“No, you can’t.” You argued, your voice starting to rise along with your body as you stood up, “I just told you it doesn’t matter how long you know someone. One day you can wake up and find out that they’ve been lying to you for years before you even close your eyes for the night!”

Something about the way he stayed completely silent with his dark eyes boring into your own had your heart falling to the floor.

“What did you find out?” He asked carefully, standing up slowly.

It was in this silence that you realized that he was waiting for your answer with a held breath, you were waiting for your answer with shallow rapid ones. Seeing him from this angle — him standing right in front of you with his broad shoulders and his big hoodie hiding his disciplined body — being hyper-aware of how aggressive Jungwon could be if he wanted to, it was a sobering thought. One that incited more fear than necessary. Jungwon was your sweet and selfless best friend: he’d never hurt you.

You swallowed thickly despite the fact.

“Nothi–”

“Tell me.”

“Jungwon…” The name was shrouded in tones of concern, fear, and disappointment.

You could see it in the gleam of his eye: the last bit of hope that you hadn’t found out dimming. You took such a deep breath your lungs stretched to its fullest capacity. You were annoyed at Jungwon for not telling you his Friday itinerary, you can’t be hypocritical and refuse to tell him you know. So, you released your breath of air and braced for impact.

“Jungwon, I followed you to the gym on Friday,” You watched his face pale and his eyes widen, “And I know that’s weird and kind of stalker-ish and part of me felt bad at first. But we have bigger fish to fry because why are you in some sort of secret, underground, WWE, fight club? And if that wasn’t illegal enough, why are there people betting on your victory?”

None of your questions were answered, “How did you get down there?” His hands came to rest on your upper arms. His touch stiffened your body into a board.

“What?” You spoke again before he could repeat the question: “How else? I went in through the shower.” 

“You went into the men’s locker room?” His face conveyed just how appalled he felt.

“Ok, if we’re counting cardinal sins, I think being a part of an illegal underground boxing ring and enabling illegal gambling takes the cake here.”

Jungwon closed his eyes and sighed, attempting to push your response from his mind.

“Did anybody see you?”

“Uh,” You shrunk from the intensity of his gaze, “Well, I mean I’m sure someone did but like I couldn’t name someone off the top of my head.”

Jungwon moved his hands to drag them against his face.

“Y/N, what were you doing there?! Why did you follow me?!”

“To see if you were telling the truth about going to the gym! I mean, Jungwon you’re always unavailable on Fridays and you left our study session so fast you might qualify as having superspeed! God forbid I’m a little curious to see where you go on Fridays!” 

“And?” He threw his hands up in the air, “I was at the gym. Like I said.”

Your brows furrowed in offense, “No, you weren’t? The gym is the upper floor, you were playing Rocky down in the basement with some poor guy — that you absolutely smoked, by the way — but that is not the gym!”

Jungwon looked at you as if you’d grown three heads. You felt like maybe you had. 

Jungwon licked his lips once he’d arranged his thoughts, “Okay, first of all: it's not wrestling and it's not boxing. Which means WWE and Rocky do not work as analogies.” You shook your head and rolled your eyes, “Second of all, I don’t really give a damn, Y/N. You put yourself in so much danger just by being at that gym and you have no idea.”

He ran a hand through his blond hair and you caught the way he winced when he tightened his jaw.

“Jungwon,” You spoke in a grave tone.

“No, you listen to me.” He demanded in seriousness you’d never heard from him before, “You are so lucky that nobody saw you. I don’t want to see you there, I don’t want to hear about you being there, ever again. The people there are dangerous—”

“What like you?” You asked before you could stop yourself and the question hit him like a truck, “You go there. I saw what you did— What you can do.” Pure, unadulterated fear flashed in those deep browns. “It’s literally a fight club, Jungwon. Obviously it's dangerous. There are people beating up others for fun… and money.”

Jungwon huffed out a disbelieving smile, “You have no idea.”

“Then how about you tell me instead of being cryptic. But that’s what you do, isn’t it?” The words were pulled from somewhere deep in your heart, “You make a life-threatening decision and then you don’t tell anyone because you don’t think it's that big of a deal. Or am I the only one who doesn’t know?”

“Y/N, the fight club is run by crime syndicates.”

You looked like the image of stupid with the way your eyes widened and mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He spoke overwhelmingly calmly, “So, when I tell you that it’s dangerous and you should never go there again, you will listen to me.” His voice left no room for negotiation.

“And what about you? Why are you going to a fight club run by the South Korean mafia? I can’t let you go back there either.”

“I have to.”

“Oh, what a load of bull,” You rolled your eyes, “You have free will, Jungwon. Please use it to value your life.”

“Y/N, I can’t.” You knew what he would say before he said it, “I’m contracted under one of the syndicates as a fighter.”

“And you can’t get out?”

“The only way is if I bought myself out.”

“Okay,” You spoke like it was the simplest thing in the world, “Then buy yourself out.”

It only made him laugh.

Like really laugh. An uncontrollable, unceasing laugh that was tinged with something akin to bitterness.

“Why are you laughing?” You asked exhausted and beyond annoyed.

“Do you seriously think it's that easy?”

“I don’t know, Jungwon.” You were finally yelling. Your voice had been rising throughout the argument but seeing Jungwon’s lack of self-preservation sent you over the edge. “Maybe I’d understand if you actually responded to me instead of tossing me bread crumbs and hoping I’ve had my fill.”

Jungwon’s expression was so flat that it was difficult to imagine that he was laughing mere moments ago.

“You want the truth?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, “God, yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to get for the past ten minutes.”

“I can’t buy myself out because I can’t afford to.” His eyes had never looked as dark as they did now, “I have too large of a debt to buy myself out.”

“How much?” You sighed.

Jungwon looked at something — nothing in specific — just so he wouldn’t have to look you in the eyes.

“Well, the whole reason I joined is because they said that they’d pay my tuition if I joined their fight club team.”

“Who?” Eyebrows creased as you pressed for information.

“Belift.” He took your silence as a cue to keep going. “You know I’m a black belt in taekwondo, right? When I was searching for scholarships to pay for tuition, I saw one that required a black belt in a martial art. The scholarship said that if you could prove it with pictures of your accolades or with videos then you’d receive at least five-million South Korean Won.”

“Five-million? Just for proving you had a black belt?”

“No.” Jungwon answered, his tone wrapping the word in gravity, “The scholarship was something that had to be continuously earned. The scholarship is employment-based.” He sighed and closed his eyes, when they opened they were filled with newfound focus, “Okay, basically, the scholarship functions as a job. Once you’re accepted, you join their ‘staff’ or their ‘team’ and you compete against other candidates who received scholarships. You get five-million if you win the mini tournament they have. Then you get an opportunity to fight against another opponent for seven-hundred-fifty-thousand. And it keeps going on: you fight, you win, you get paid. They pay your monthly installment for tuition using your balance and you keep fighting for them.”

Your mind stalled as you tried to wrap your head around the specifics of the deal. As you were processing, a memory washed itself to the surface of your brain. The announcers talking about Jakah’s performance last week.

“Wait so then, what happens if you lose?”

He took a deep breath, “Then the amount of money you would have won from the fight is subtracted from your balance.”

You nodded. You expected that.

“So, let me get this straight,” You began to clarify, “You joined this fight club. You won the beginning tournament against other scholarship applicants and won five-million. Then you were offered to fight again with a bag of seven-hundred-fifty-thousand each win. But if you’re in debt with the syndicate — Belift — then how many times did you lose? Because if it's just a couple million then I have some savings.” His eyes filled with a poisonous mix of adoration and shame. “I can buy you out, Wonie.”

“Seventy.”

“Pardon?”

“My debt is seventy-million.”

The air felt too thin to stay in your lungs. Your brain felt too small to carry all your thoughts.

“God, Jungwon, how many times did you lose?!”

Jungwon’s eyes became unfocused — as if he suddenly became detached from the conversation, or perhaps the topic of conversation.

“After you win five times, you enter into a different level and the price of victory becomes higher. I won five times so the victory pay-out became one-and-a-half-million. Then after you win another ten times, the pay-out is two-million. And of course, as you progress to higher levels, you fight stronger opponents.”

“Ok so at what level did you start losing?”

“Seven-million.” He informed but was quick to add, “I lost a lot but not as much as you think.”

“You lost ten times?”

“No.”

You raised a brow, encouraging him to continue.

“I lost more than that but I’ve won some back,” He ran a hand through his hair, “Then lost it again, then won it back.” His his locked onto yours, “But it’s not because I’m a bad fighter.”

You furrowed your brows, “Jungwon, I was there on Friday night. I know you’re not a bad fighter.”

“No, no, listen to me,” He placed his strong hands on your upper arms again, “Before I made it into the seven-million bracket, I was undefeated. I was on track to winning against everyone on every syndicate's roster. After I made it into that final bracket, I started losing.”

“Because your opponents got stronger?”

“No,” Jungwon’s head fell but his hands remained steady on your arms, “Every Friday it’s something new. This Friday wasn’t so bad… but it still sucked.”

“What are you talking about?”

He pulled his head up to look you in the eye, “Someone filled my water bottle with vinegar.”

“What?!”

“I found out after the first round after chugging it.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“That’s why I went so hard yesterday. I needed to end the match quickly because I was getting dehydrated.”

Your lips downturned in concern. 

He paused for a moment before continuing, “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t mad. Last week it was laxatives.”

“It was what?!” Your hand flew to your mouth to hold back your laugh.

Jungwon sighed, “Yes. My only options were to run out of the ring like a sissy or crap my pants in front of a thousand or more people.”

Your eyes stared at him wide but blank — unassuming.

“Obviously, I ran out of the ring, Y/N.” He tried to school his face into annoyance amid your outburst of laughter. “Yeah well, there have been other things too: stealing my mouth guard, blaring noises in my ears to throw off my balance, sanding the soles of my shoes flat, stealing my clothes. Everything you could think of.”

He took in the soft expression you gave him: eyebrows pulled, lips marked downward, eyes glimmering in empathy. He hated seeing it. He didn’t want you to feel pity for him or think of him as weak. That’s the last thing he wanted.

“Yeah well, I’ll let you know what happens next week.”

“No, what? Jungwon, who is doing this?” You asked him, “The sabotage is literally so unfair, get them to stop.”

“I would if I could. But I don’t know who’s doing it and I don’t think the staff would do anything about it.”

“Why not?”

“One of the rules is: in the ring anything goes. That's why I said that it’s neither wrestling or boxing. You can use any fight style, you can do anything, as long as you don’t bring a weapon and you look out for the tap-outs.”

“So, you can pretty much beat the demons out of a man until he taps-out? That’s so stupid… you’re gonna get yourself killed, Wonie.”

“Yeah but I haven’t yet.”

“Wait, but I have a question.” You watched Jungwon give you a nod with expectant eyes, “If the rule is that anything goes in the ring then all of the sabotage that happens outside of the ring is punishable, right?”

He cracked his knuckles absentmindedly, “Honestly, I don’t know. My manager and the rest of the fighters for Belift know about the sabotage but no one knows who’s doing it or how to stop it. They usually don’t target the same thing twice. I think they stole my water bottle twice because the laxatives worked so well.”

He spoke in a joking manner but his words tinged the air with salt. It caused your heart to ache for him — he wasn’t safe, he was being sabotaged, and he couldn’t escape. Before you could overthink it, you wrapped your arms around his middle and held him tightly. As if your arms were strong enough to keep him safe. As if your head pressed against his chest did anything to alleviate the ache in his heart. 

His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he dipped his head to rest on yours, “I’m sorry I kept this from you but you have to understand. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get wrapped up in this mess…” He paused, his chest rose and fell as his heart picked up, “I wanted to protect you. I want to keep you safe. So please, don’t go to the gym again.” 

A wave of helplessness washed you onto the shore of reality. You wanted to help Jungwon but what could you do? You can’t fight. You can’t pay his debt. 

“Wait here.” You commanded before running into your room and grabbing that dark blue plastic bottle. “Here,” You held the water bottle out to him, “I grabbed this on the way out of the gym last night.”

Jungwon furrowed his brows before walking to your door and grabbing his blue backpack. Zipping it open, he pulled out the same blue water bottle: Decilis University Class of 2027. 

Your faces mirrored each other — eyebrows creased and eyes full of suspicion. Jungwon flipped the bottle to see the bottom of it, he turned it toward you so you could see. You mirrored his actions and showed him the bottom of the bottle you held. 

Even though the rest of the bottles were identical, only the bottom of one of them claimed in plain letters: Yang Jungwon.

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“I’ve never used a different water bottle.” He glanced down at you with your eyes glued to the bottles.

“I know you haven’t. Which is why I wanna know how you suddenly acquired a second one.”

“I really don’t know. I took my water bottle downstairs.”

You turned to stare at him, “Wonie, if you didn’t leave this water bottle upstairs and you know for a fact that you brought it down to the basement then that means someone switched the water bottles.”

Jungwon furrowed his brows and then sat next to you on the couch, “Wait, what do you mean?”

“The water bottle I took home on Friday is Water Bottle A and the bottle that you took home on Friday is Water Bottle B.” Jungwon nodded his head, “You took Water Bottle A from the cafe, to the gym, and to the basement, but when you drank from it there was no longer water in it it but vinegar. And you came home with Water Bottle B and I found Water Bottle A on the floor of the gym. That means that somewhere between your arrival in the basement and the moment you drank from it in your fight, someone switched the bottles.”

Jungwon paused to compute the theory, “Okay, but that’s assuming I had Water Bottle A when I walked into the gym. And assuming someone bought our university’s water bottle just to trick me.”

“True…” You frowned, “But how would you even get a second water bottle? And how would you not realize that you were using two?”

Jungwon shrugged.

“Also, if they did switch your bottles on Friday, they probably did it last Friday too. Just, you know, with laxatives instead of vinegar.”

“Can we please not talk about that?” Jungwon dropped his head, his reddened ears hidden behind tuffs of blond hair.

You giggled at his embarrassment which caused his face to get even redder — just not for the reason you thought.

With his elbows on his knees, he turned his head to look at you, “So, how do we prove that they’ve been switching my water bottle?”

“Easy,” You smiled cunningly. “Go to the gym and make sure to leave Water Bottle B there and keep Water Bottle A with you. Then on Friday, take Water Bottle A with you to the basement, then when you go home that night see if you have Water Bottle A or B.”

He nodded, “But that won’t tell us who’s switching the bottles.”

“No, it won’t, unless…” You refrained from finishing the thought.

“No.” 

“Jungwon—”

“I said ‘no’.”

“It’d be the easiest way to see who’s sabotaging you!”

“It’d also be the easiest way to put you in danger.” His gaze held you in a firm grip, “We don’t know when this person is switching the bottles and if the other fighters see that you’re coming in with me?” He let out a huff, “You were never safe there to begin with but if you come in with me then you’ll have a bright red target painted on your back.”

“You’re being dramatic, Jungwon.”

For a moment he just stared at you like you as if you’d started speaking another language. It made you feel dumb, like you were missing something.

“Y/N, there are people that owe these crime syndicates more money than I do. Some of them get off to beating up other people, some get off to watching others get their ass handed to them. Most of the people there lost in fights to me. Most of them hate me.” He paused and his gaze softened, “They will use any opportunity to get at me including hurting those I care about… I will not let you get hurt.”

You nodded because you did understand him, but he wasn’t seeing things from your perspective.

“Jungwon, I get that. I get that you want to keep me safe but I also want to keep you safe. I don’t want you to be stuck in this cycle of fighting for these syndicates and getting deeper in debt while they keep exploiting you for money.” You hoped your eyes conveyed all your desperation, in case your words failed you, “I don’t want to lay in bed every Friday night not knowing whether or not you’ll be going home to your seven centimeter dorm mattress or a hospital bed.”

Jungwon set his hand on the space between your kneecap and thigh — a safe space, close enough to be intimate, far enough to be platonic — his thumb stoked your skin only once but it was enough for a shiver to run up your spine. His eyes were filled with the pain you only get from restraint.

“I know you’re worried, but please let me handle this.”

His hand felt heavy on your knee, like he was grounding you — or maybe himself — before he took the bottles and shoved them in his backpack. Stepping into his shoes and turning to look at you for a breath of a moment. Then he stepped out the door, locking it before he left.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

It would be advantageous to say that you and Jungwon acted like nothing happened. Like you went about the next week as you always had: giggling in lectures, eating underwhelming cafeteria food, sending Instagram Reels at stupidly late hours into the night, “wya” and “wyd” texts, impromptu hang outs at your dorm, and cafe study dates at your part-time job. But none of this happened this week albeit for a text or two and one Reel you hadn’t even opened yet. The week was categorized in unsent messages, stolen glances, and hearts full of unspoken words.

Friday wasn’t as mundane as the days before, not with the whirlwind of anxiety trapping itself in your body. Your leg bounced rapidly where you sat before you got up and paced then sat back down again. Restless and repetitive. Your whole body felt unbearably hot though your air conditioner was blowing enough cold air to give goosebumps. Your mind shuffled through thoughts, theories, and hypotheticals like the flash cards you helped Jungwon study for economics. Your car keys glimmered at you like a precious diamond at the feet of a burglar.

It was only natural that you’d find yourself parked on the side of the street by the gym.

Close enough to get there quickly, far enough to not attract suspicion. You’d seen enough movies.

You dressed in a pair of jeans, a plain shirt, a baseball cap, and a black face mask. Something simple and inconspicuous — something forgettable. You peeked into the windows of the gym which framed the empty gym. The attendant at the desk got up spinned in his chair absent-mindedly with his AirPods in and his thumb scrolling through videos. You took the chance to crack the door open, slide through, and sneak past him and behind the large equipment. He didn’t look over once.

You checked the spot where Water Bottle A had been last week, with the spot being empty, you turned your sight on the locker rooms. Since you were here, three hours earlier than you had been last week, you figured a couple things would be different. 

In fact, there were a lot of factors you were working with that were based off of assumptions. The first being, since Jungwon is in the highest fighting bracket and people started leaving after his match — the other brackets likely had their matches before him. The second being, since he never mentioned the scholarship having a gender requirement, there are likely women fighters as well. Which means the women’s locker room would have a door — or shower — to the basement too.

The only problem was getting down there without being seen. You walked into the locker room seeing it mostly empty and walked up to locker that was available. You glanced at the two girls who were in there, who were busy lacing up their shoes or braiding their hair out of their face. Your eyes glanced at their lockers to see two silver name plates: Huh Yunjin and Kim Chaewon. They were fighters in the basement. 

With your locker door swung out, it hid your face from view and you used the opportunity to removed the jeans and shirt, revealing a workout set underneath — as if you were about to ‘hit the gym’ or whatever Jungwon usually says. You thought this might happen. The girls would be waiting for you to leave so that they could get down to the basement; you needed them to think you were just here to workout so that you could follow them without being on their radar. 

So, you stepped out into the gym, walked to a machine, pretended to look for your headphones, and then walked back into the locker room. To find it perfectly empty. You threw on the jeans and tshirt and rushed to the back. And of course, the seventh shower was closed off only this time you had to figure out how to open it. You twisted and pulled the knobs but neither of them did anything. You grabbed the showerhead, examined it, pulled at it — nothing. You pressed on every tile all the way to the floor — again, nothing. You grabbed the hot handle again and pushed in and then twisted it like a normal doorknob — effectively opening the door. 

A strikingly similar staircase to the one in the men’s locker room opened up and you walked down with all the confidence of familiarity. The stands were packed but they were’t quite full yet. You looked to the direction the betters had gone after Jungwon’s match — on the ground floor there was an opening which led to a long counter with recpetionist and lines of people waiting to place their bets. You walked in and watched what the people did: how and in what order. Then you repeated.

First, stop at the ATM and draw some cash.

Second, check the roster and their percentage of winning:

Bracket 1 Male — KEONHO | 57.84% vs WOONHAK | 42.16% Female — YOONCHAE | 48.61 % vs IROHA | 51.39%

Bracket 2 Male — YUMA | 48.12% vs SUNGHO | 51.88% JUHOON | 47.46% vs RIWOO | 52.54%  MARTIN | 46.88% vs JO | 53.22% Female — EUNCHAE | 63.25% vs HAERIN | 36.75%

Bracket 3 Male — MAKI | 50.00% vs JAMES | 50.00% SUNOO | 78.88% vs TAKI | 21.12% NI-KI | 80.58% vs BAMKYU 20.42% Female — HYEIN | 78.62 vs MINJU | 21.38% MANON | 49.99% vs DANIELLE | 50.01%

Bracket 4 Male — HYUKA | 22.23% vs JAY | 77.77% SUNGHOON 63.25% vs NICHOLAS | 46.75%   EJ | 43.97% vs JAKE | 56.03% Female — YUNJIN | 65.00% vs LARA | 35.00%       HANNI | 67.36% vs MEGAN | 32.74%       KAZUHA | 57.82% vs WONHEE 42.28%

Bracket 5 Male — YEONJUN | 48.33% vs EVAN | 51.77%   SOOBIN | 13.44% vs K | 86.56%   TYUN | 42.98% vs JAKAH | 57.02% Female — SAKURA 79.00% vs DANIELA | 21.00%       CHAEWON | 55.39% vs YUNAH | 44.61%       MINJI | 55.55% vs SOPHIA | 44.45%

Third, place bets at the counter — with the most strategic and thorough consideration in order to make the most money possible.

Of course, you would not be making any bets today. Or ever. Because it’s illegal — then again, being here probably is too, but you’re not really itching to add to your crimes. So you backed out and found a seat high up in the stands, out of view from most of the crowd, near the passage to the women's locker room. And you waited. Through 18 long matches before you saw him. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him like this before, you’d seen him like this a week ago. Dark blue shorts and a simple black tank that hugged his frame deliciously. His thick biceps on full display and his broad shoulder wider with his chest puffed slightly. You watched him set down his water bottle on a stool at the corner that he would enter the ring on. The answer to whether or not that bottle was the one he’d entered with, whether it actually held water, or if someone had yet to tamper with it, could only be answered in time. 

Tyun was the opponent on the other side. He stood at around the same height as Jungwon and looked to be similarly muscular. Your eyes squinted as you watched Jungwon take in the sight of his opponent. He looked stiff and on edge. Had the sabotage already happened? Did it have anything to do with the water bottle at all or had they moved onto a different tactic. Your leg bounced slightly in your seat before you realized that the rapid motion would draw unwanted attention. You sat as inconspicuously as you could and kept your gaze on the dark blue water bottle resting on the stool. The announcers began their opening statements.

“Well, I don’t know about you Dino but I, for one, am beyond excited to see this match play out.”

“You’re not the only one S.Coups. You, me, and the rest of this crowd are ready to see this match between two of the best fighters we have in the club.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Today, in the orange shorts, we have BigHit's TYUN, who specializes in traditional boxing. We expect to see a lot of feints, well-timed strikes, and strong follow through on those punches.”

“He’s also impeccable at blocking, don’t forget S.Coups.”

“Right, of course.”

You took in the information and attempted to cross reference it with Jungwon’s fighting style but it hit you — you don’t know what his fighting style is. The only time you have ever seen Jungwon fight was last week. A fight which he said that he had been intentionally more aggressive in, in order to end the fight quickly. His default fighting style is an enigma to you.

“In the blue shorts we have Belift’s JAKAH, who specializes in taekwondo. Tonight, you’ll see from him more leg work: kicks, dodges, body-locks and things of that sort. The kid is quick on his feet, let me tell you.”

“And aggressive too! Last week was abnormal for JAKAH — throwing mean punches and taking hits head on instead of dodging and assessing how best to attack.”

“That’s true, Dino, we did see a different side to JAKAH last week. Perhaps, we’ll see a different side to him today.”

“You think he’ll recover from his losing streak? Or was last week just a stroke of luck?”

You held back a huff of annoyance. Jungwon didn’t believe in luck. He believed in hard work and maybe the tiniest bit of Fate — but not luck.

“I’m not sure but seeing as TYUN is a reigning champion in the ring… Well, let’s just say I have my money on the safer side.”

Half the group erupted in boastful laughs and presumptuous whoops. You watched Jungwon shake his head before he pointed at a roll of bandages on the ground. A guy around the same age as him handed it to him. It was then that you realized a bit of a crowd had gathered in Jungwon’s corner: some dressed like coaches or managers, some dressed like fighters. Jungwon seemed familiar with all of them or if he wasn’t, it didn’t show. It was his lack of concern that had you not blinking your eye twice at them — until their bodies began to obstruct the view of the water bottle.

“I don’t know about that, Dino, JAKAH has the better odds today with over 57 percent.”

“Yeah, but TYUN has stayed consistent in his wins and losses.” Dino argued and you watched a tall, slightly pale, incredibly buff man with nice brows call Jungwon and say something that looked along the lines of “this announcer can shove it”. “JAKAH was undefeated until about three matches into the fifth bracket. Then he went on this massive losing streak which he had yet to fully recover from.”

“Top ten mysteries of the world, huh?”

Jungwon’s coach began to advise him, using punching and blocking gestures to demonstrate his points. The blond man nodded and began to jump slightly, shuffling his feet and lightening his steps. A woman — manager, maybe — handed him his mouth guard and offered him a towel which he rejected. The crowd, which had entertained itself with side-chatter, had begun to dwindle in volume and shift their attention to the ring in the center. 

You glanced over at Jungwon’s opponent and felt a wave of anxious heat flood through your veins. They did look evenly matched. Too even. But from the sounds of it, their fighting styles seemed contrasting. Like rocks versus water. Your head filled with silent prayers of victory as the buzzer sounded.

Jungwon continued to bounce between feet, keeping himself between groundedness and charge. Tyun seemed entirely more relaxed. He shuffled around Jungwon — the two of them in a dance with their steps on different beats — before Tyun advanced with jabs that were made for nothing but distraction. To pull his focus on his hands. Left. Right. Left Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Right. Right. And then knee up to Jungwon’s abdomen — which thankfully, the blond managed to dodge. Jungwon advanced this time, just as quickly as he dodged, he swept his feet under Tyun’s causing him to jump back. 

You chanced a look toward Jungwon’s team who crowded around his corner, yelling cheers and suggestions that sounded more like commands. Jungwon ignored all of them, bringing his fists up to his face and exchanging them with Tyun. Firsts knock into fists, knuckles digging into forearms, legs in constant limbo between pursuit and retreat. 

“JAKAH throws a steady one! And TYUN takes the opening! His fist just reaches his nose! Another light jab — it looks like he’s stunned! And a full-force punch blocked by JAKAH’s arms!”

“I don’t know S.Coups, that looks like it hurts. Hey, have you ever broken your forearm while blocking?”

“Hah! Not me personally, but there have been stranger things when it comes to JAKAH.”

You exhaled steadily as the crowd roared in laughter. Jungwon was backing up in light bounces and shaking his arms out. You weren’t a fighter but it was a telltale sign that the punch had left bruises that would soon start blooming.

Jungwon rolled his shoulders and took the same stance as before: fists up to his face with his fingers facing him. Tyun had a mirroring stance. Then in the blink of an eye, Jungwon rushed toward him and sent a kick low on the man’s stomach, too fast for him to block completely, which caused his hand to get wedge between his stomach and Jungwon's foot. With the momentum garnered, Jungwon used the foot he had on the ground to jump closer and folded his raised leg back in toward his chest before launching it up at Tyun’s face. Still stunned from the sudden kick to his gut, Tyun fails to dodge the attack fully and is left with a bloody nose. On instinct, Tyun jumps out of Jungwon’s area of attack and keeps his legs bent and his body small and defensive. 

“Whew, that’s the champion I remember! And it seems like the crowd remembers him too if the jeers are any indication, huh, Dino?”

“Yeah, what a flawless double-kick from JAKAH. The change in strategy from a boxing style to his familiar taekwondo was the perfect ruse and surprise to knock Tyun off his balance.”

You released a breath that had caught itself unknowingly in your lungs. The team in Jungwon’s corner was going wild — all nine of them, still there and still cheering. You noticed that six of them were in simple tanks and shorts, much like the outfit Jungwon was wearing to fight in. The other three were in black, one of them with white lettering that read: COACH.

“And he caught him!” The announcer’s voice rang in the room, pulling your gaze from the sidelines to the center ring. “TYUN’s got a hold of JAKAH’s leg, mid-kick. Now pulling him to the mat!”

Your heart raced, pulse pounding so loud in your ears that it drowned the announcer out. You watched Tyun straddle a fallen Jungwon, landing an immediate punch across his jaw. The jaw that had been hit only a week prior. Jungwon moved his hands to push him off but another punch landed across his nose — it had you wondering if that spot was chosen because of convenience or personal vendetta. Jungwon moved his hands to his face, blocking the onslaught of punches but TYUN didn’t let up, instead standing up and readying his elbow to dig into Jungwon’s ribs as he fell on them. 

Your hand flew over your mouth, leg bouncing uncontrollably, as Jungwon rolled over just in time. But as he scrambled to get back up amid the blood rushing out of his nose, Tyun grabbed his left shoulder and his waist and pulled him back before sliding his left hand over Jungwon’s neck and placing him in a headlock. 

“Oh! The tide turns quickly with TYUN in the ring!”

“Oh yeah. I heard some of the betters have started calling him ‘The Magician’.”

Jungwon's hands tugged at Tyun’s arms in a vain attempt to get free. You watched his legs flail to find a grip — anything, any advantage to free himself. His face got redder, his hands more desperate, his legs more erratic. The air felt unbearable. Like you were sitting in a furnace with freshly chopped wood. The sight of him struggling, the sight of his body thrashing in desperation, the sight of his eyes closing and opening erratically, it pulled your stomach in knots and drew sweat onto your brow.

Then his hand tapped repeatedly on the other man’s bicep and without hesitation the vice he had on Jungwon was released. Jungwon coughed so loudly it reached all the way up to your seat in the makeshift stadium. His coughs were scratchy like they came from the depths of his lungs and gasped for air greedily and hungrily. His feet caught on each other as he crawled and stumbled toward his corner. Hand convulsing in a “give me” motion until his blue bottle met his hand. 

His back fell on the ropes of the ring, his whole body weight supported as he leaned on them. His fingers fumbled the open the cap, coughs still falling from his chapped lips, and when he pulled the cap off, those same lips found the mouth of the bottle. He tilted it up and drank ravenously from it. His throat worked around two big gulps before he spat out a fountain of clear liquid. 

“Yikes… didn’t this happen last week? I’m starting to think JAKAH doesn’t wash his water bottles….”

The rage you felt from the crowd's easygoing laughter and gossip nearly overtook the worry swelling in your heart. Your eyes took in the way Jungwon’s face scrunched up, the way his coughs became more frequent, the way the bottle slipped from his hands, and his knees inched closer to the floor. As if he’d already accepted his defeat, he just wasn’t ready to let go yet. 

His team rapped their hands on the floor, yelling at him, trying to get his attention but he didn’t listen. Didn’t spare them a glance. Just swiped a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and tried to find solidity in his body again. You imagined it must have been hard. He had just been choked of all the breath in his lungs and missed out on over a minute of fresh oxygen to his blood. He almost passed out, his limbs must still be recovering, his throat must feel ornamented in glass shards, and his brain must be all fogged up without the oxygen to help him think. Then add on whatever mystery liquid had found itself in his bottle that night.

How come you didn’t see who switched the bottles? 

The buzzer sounded before you could answer that question. This time, Jungwon didn’t bounce between his feet, he barely kept them steady on the ground. He was leaning to his right, like his axis had tilted and his chest rose and fell in a strange pattern. Tyun took the opportunity in stride, a quick feint with his right which Jungwon blocked. A feint with his left, then with his right. Then he grabbed Jungwon’s biceps and slammed his knee into his torso. Then he pushed him back and twisted his hips to send a deathly punch to Jungwon’s face.

Your body begged you to look away, your heart begged you to watch. It was the least you could do. The least to share in his pain. 

Thankfully, he side-stepped out of the way; unluckily, his balance caused him to stumble halfway to the ground. He pushed up, eyes always on his opponent. Tyun rushed him, throwing firm cuts and landing them anywhere he could. Jungwon’s reaction time was a fraction of what it had been before and his strength looked to be significantly minimized as well. After a moment, he held his head completely, suffering through the barrage of punches. He wobbled and fell to his knees, his body teetering like it was about to fall off the edge. Tyun stepped back, confident and in no rush, before sending a kick that tipped Jungwon over and onto his back.

It was like he became a fraction of the fighter he was before. It was easy to see — you didn’t need to be his best friend to see that — not when everyone else was aware of it too. Angry yells and strings of curses protruding from the betters in the stands. People began to stand and scream insults and mockeries at the fallen man below. Jungwon’s head lolled to the side, as if his neck had no strength to support it. His arms twitched and his body tensed but he couldn’t get it to do anything beyond bracing for the incoming impact. 

A kick to the ribs. A strong hand that pulled at the fabric of the black tank. A fist to the eye. Then again to the jaw. And a slam back down onto the mat for good measure. Tyun stepped back, body lax, as the referee counted from one to five in a booming voice. Jungwon’s eyes didn’t flutter open, he didn’t tap into some untouched strength. He just laid there on the ground. Unmoving. Soundless. Bloodied.

The picture of defeat.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Pushing through the crowd was not easy. Not when hundreds of bodies were pushing and shoving in either eagerness or bitterness. You happened to fall in the former as you rushed to follow where the team was taking Jungwon. Unease swam through your mind like a rushing river. Was he okay? What happened? He was doing fine and then suddenly he wasn’t. Was the lack of oxygen too much? Were the hits to his head too hard? Does he have a concussion? Should he go to the doctor? How would he get there? Who will take him home in this condition?

The fear settling right onto your shoulders had you moving faster than before. Rushing past the center ring and to the wall at the back under some bleachers. You pushed through a set of matte black painted doors that you had seen Jungwon and his team go through. It opened into a hallway with slightly yellow, slightly dim overhead lights. 

“Make sure he’s not dying on me, alright? I got other people to worry about, right now.” A man grumbled before opening and walking through another door deeper into the hallway. 

You walked to the door, barely registered the bickering behind the thin wood, until a familiar voice punctured through. 

“I couldn’t breathe, Riki.” Jungwon yelled, his voice scratchy and unusually deep. 

“All I’m saying,” Another deep voice with a slight Japanese accent said slowly, “Is that you know that bottle is a risk and you still chose to drink from it.”

“You’ve never been choked have you?” A softer voice asked, likely directed at the boy with the Japanese accent. 

“Riki,” Jungwon said after a sigh, “There’s nothing I can do to stop the sabotage unless I know who’s behind it. It was a calculated risk.” 

Your brows furrowed in concern. Jungwon’s words were slurring slightly, his intonation was off kilter, and his volume was somewhere between too loud and too mumbly. 

“Yeah, a risk that caused you twenty blows to the head.” A different voice spoke flatly.

“Everclear.” This voice came out in a perfect American accent before returning to Seoul Korean, “They put everclear in your bottle and you chugged it.”

“Genuinely, how can you tell that that’s everclear just by smelling.” An Australian man asked in English. 

“I know my alcohol.” The American responded before returning to Korean, “Anyway, this is ninety-five percent, high proof alcohol, and he chugged it. If he didn’t lose equilibrium from getting choked, he lost it about five minutes after drinking this.”

“Yeah, his reaction time slowed significantly.” A sweet voice spoke next. 

“And there’s no point in talking to him right now because he genuinely looks on the verge of passing out. Great.” The first guy — Riki — said. 

It was at this remark that you opened the door, immediately locking eyes with a red-flushed Jungwon, who stood up straight at the sight of you. 

“Y/N?!”

“Jungwon!” You grabbed his head, ignoring the simmering confusion gracing the room, and checked his eyes for any abnormality. “How’s your head?”

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” His eyes were wide in shock. From the closeness, you could see his face already beginning to swell, the dried blood crusted on the edges of his nostrils, and a split on his bottom lip. 

“Oh God, Jungwon!” You exclaimed, “Do you need to go to the hospital? I’ll drive you. Can you walk? Where are your other injuries?” Your hands fumbled to the hem of his tank top, about to pull it up to assess the injuries to his abdomen, when Jungwon’s firm hand caught your wrists. 

His body swayed unsteadily for a moment, he blinked harshly at you, as if he was forcing his eyes to focus on your face and begging his brain to produce a worthwhile thought. 

“I told you not to come here again.” His voice teetered on the edge of passion and breathlessness, “I thought I made that clear.”

His voice held a harshness he had never before taken with you. 

“Yes, I know that but—”

“But what?!” He nearly yelled, the force behind his voice causing him to shuffle his feet to find his balance. “There’s nothing — nothing! — you can tell me that would convince me that you being here was a good idea!” 

“Not even—”

“Nothing!” He slid his hands to your shoulders but for what reason, it was harder to tell. To maximize the intensity of his words or to keep him balanced via your support. “How long have you been here? Who saw you? Damn it, Y/N.” His fingers squeezed your shoulders as he dropped his head. 

You assumed he did it to hide his face. Too ashamed to grimace in front of you or show any sign of pain, fragility, or weakness. 

“Jungwon, I’m just trying to help you.”

“Helping me would be staying away.” He grumbled, blinking his eyes back in focus to you. “Not intentionally disobeying me when I specifically asked you not to come here. What were you going to do?”

“I couldn’t sit at home knowing that you were going to fight someone and unfairly at that!” You argued back, hands coming up and taking hold of his forearms. Gently, knowing all that they’ve been through tonight alone. “I couldn’t sit back while you were here, alone, facing unknown threats from unknown people.”

“I’ve been doing that for the better part of a year, Y/N, I don’t need you here, risking your safety, attracting unwanted attention, worrying me, and distracting me from my job.”

“This is not a job.”

Jungwon brought a hand to his head and stumbled back slightly. He stood frozen for a moment before shaking his head and turning his tired, fuzzy vision onto you. 

“You’re here because you want to protect me from liabilities?” He asked rhetorically, “You are a liability.” 

You took a deep breath, expecting this outcome but bursting at the seams with annoyance all the same, “You’re saying I’ve made things worse by being here?” 

“Yes!” His voice hit your ears sharply. 

“Fine.” You nodded and turned to leave. Footsteps fast and gaze anywhere but the seven pairs of eyes in the room. Jungwon’s hand grabbed your upper arm sloppily and his gaze met yours flat, exhausted, and disappointed. 

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Back into the arena? Back into the gym? Then out to your car? In the dark? With dozens of fighters pent up from losses or high on victory adrenaline? With hundreds of angry betters and happy ones who think they can double their luck?” He didn’t even stop to laugh, “You think I’m gonna let you go out there and put yourself in more danger than you already are?”

“And what are you going to do?” You asked angrily, the words highlighting the way his eyes blurred in and out of focus, the way his body leaned too far to the right, the way his body was perpetually stiffened — as if the injuries increased in pain when he let loose.

And even with the drunken daze hindering his abilities to stand, talk, see, and think, it was obvious, his desperation. Your shirt clenched slightly in his fist, the furrow in his brows, and the helplessness veiling his dark brown eyes. Desperation was evident in the small details of Jungwon’s being. 

His devotion to keeping you safe was no longer enough. 

You watched the thought conceptualize as his grip tightened fractionally.

“I’ll make sure she gets out,” A tall man placed his strong hand on the blond’s shoulder. He had a small cut on his right cheek and a gaze soft enough to cover the room in confident peace. “There’s nothing you can do in this state, so let me take her home.”

Jungwon’s shoulders released their tension before tensing up again. If he tried to bite back a grimace, he failed. 

“And I,” A man, with angular eyes and the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen, walked toward you, stopping a safe distance away, “Will make sure he’s okay and taken care of.” Something about the way he stared at you as he spoke gave you the impression that he was a man of his word. And you nodded slightly and mumbled a thank you. 

And with one last look at Jungwon — or the wreck of him that Tyun left behind — you walked off with his friend. Hat pulled down and mask pulled up, the other boy dressed in a black hoodie and sweats. He led you down the hallway, around various corners, through an exit door, and up a staircase. 

The night air was cold and crisp as you led him to your car a few streets out, pleading with him to just let you drive yourself home, promising to text him when you did, and thanking him before driving away. The air of your apartment wasn’t any warmer, not even after a mindless shower, not even after you threw your duvet over your body and snuggled into the sheets. 

It was then that you thought: maybe the chill had nothing to do with the temperature in the air but everything to do with the warmth of Jungwon’s words.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

If the week prior had been isolating and strenuous on your relationship with Jungwon, the next week was infinitely worse. You had texted Jungwon’s friend — Heeseung, the one who offered to take you home — that you had gotten there safely. That being his only condition in letting you drive off alone. You had contemplated texting Jungwon too but the cursor blinked on the message bar continuously for minutes. You hadn’t typed a thing.

Instead, you messaged Heeseung. You asked how Jungwon was, if he had any severe injuries, if he had gone to the hospital, if he was at home recovering, and similar things of that nature. Heeseung responded quickly, said he was at Jay’s apartment. Jay, being the man with the sharp jawline. He informed that Jungwon was recovering but he was resting after the harsh beating. Told you that Jungwon wouldn’t be attending any of his lectures this week.

You had swallowed thickly and said thank you. Then went about your week as normally as you possibly could without your twin flame by your side. You attended your own lectures with disinterest but you eagerly met with Jungwon’s professors to get notes for the lectures that he missed. You went to the cafeteria, walking in with no appetite and leaving with even less of one. You skipped out on library study sessions, cafe study sessions, and you picked up extra shifts at the cafe you worked at. Pouring the espresso shot and steaming the milk had been something you’d intentionally been precise with, but you found yourself calling the customer’s name before you even realized you’d finished the drink.

As the days neared closer and closer to Friday, you itched to know. To know if Jungwon had recovered. To know if he was fighting again on Friday. To know if you should tell him what you saw or didn’t see. To know which bottle he had come home with. To know if he was still mad at you.

You: hey heeseung! i was just wondering if there was an update on jungwon’s condition?

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Hey yeah he’s ok

You: is he back at his dorm or is he still at jay’s

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Uhh I think he should be back at his dorm tonight but he’s not rn

You: oh is he at jay’s

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Yes

You: can i come see him?

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Uhhh no I don’t think so

You: why not?

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Because he’s napping rn

You: he’s not there is he? jungwon hates taking naps

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Yeah no he’s not there. Sorry

You: is he at the gym? 

You: will he be there on friday?

The bold “read” timestamp mocked you for a good 15 minutes before you got up. Changing into workout clothes and grabbing your things. Pulling up to the gym, you noted that it didn’t have that uncanny feeling anymore. Perhaps it was because of the time of day, perhaps it was because you were familiar with a different feeling that it brought you: worry. 

You saw him much before he saw you, though it took you a minute to find him. The gym was much larger than you thought and had an annex which led to a room with two small dingy boxing rings and a couple of punching bags. The bruises on his face were turning a sickly yellow, indicating the nearness of a full recovery. The split on his lip was scabbed over and healing nicely — you assumed that was largely due to the immediate dousing of alcohol it got, thanks to the everclear. The rest of his injuries were hidden beneath his clothing. The strength of his punches against the heavy bag and the lightness of his feet as he kept them moving proved the after effects of low oxygen and everclear had long filtered out of his body.

He looked good. Strong. Determined. Healthy. Glowy. Handsome.

It almost drew you into your cowardice. To flee from him before your boldness made you even more of a liability than you already were. But by that point he had already turned his gaze up to see you. And stopped the rocking of the punching bag. His heavy breaths were the only sound that traveled between you two and it made your mind race. What was he thinking? Was he mad? Why wasn’t he saying anything? 

He closed his eyes and released a deep sigh.

“I just came to give you this.” You announced, holding up your duffel bag with two hands.

“Your bag?” He asked with his brows drawn upward. His voice had returned to normal: no longer deep, scratchy, and cold. Just sweet, gentle, and warm. Just Jungwon.

“Well, no,” You unzipped it, “What’s in it.” You clarified and subconsciously registered his slow approach to you. You turned your gaze up to see him fully. He wore a black compression shirt and a pair of black sweats — the dark colors contrasting the lightness of his hair. “Here.”

His face was framed in incredulity as he took the rectangular box from your hand, “What is this?”

“Open it.”

At your command, his fingers made quick work and freed the product from the box. A 40oz, dark blue, steel water bottle — one of the trendy ones. 

“I know you loved your old one,” You started, “But I think this one would be safer.”

He flipped the bottle over to see the bottom and smiled slightly at the neatly written letters of his name. Letters written by you. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You agreed, an ocean of words held behind the floodgates of your sudden anxiety. “I know you probably don’t want to know but I didn’t see it happen.” He raised a brow at your vagueness, “I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

  “The water bottle, I didn’t see anyone take it or change it. So, it must’ve happened before I got there or maybe when I wasn’t paying attention.”

Jungwon twisted the steel bottle in his hands, his mind chewing on the new information, “Yeah, I made sure that I had Water Bottle A before I set it down on that stool.”

You furrowed your brows slightly, “So then, sometime during the match? Someone switched it?”

Jungwon nodded, pressing his lips together, and staring at the bottle in his hands, “Yeah…”

“But the only people in that corner the whole match were…”

“My friends, my coach, and my managers,” He finished for you, “Yeah, I know.”

“And no one saw who did it?”

Jungwon shook his head before setting the bottle down. And stepping closer to you.

“Thank you… for the bottle,” His tone betrayed the next word that would come out of his mouth before he even formed the next sound, “But, you know I can’t have you here.”

You turned your eyes downcast and tried to pretend like dejection wasn’t seeping into skin like a soft but consistent rain. His hand found a vacancy on your shoulder and took it — another liminal space between intimacy and platonicity — which caused you to shift your gaze to him.

“These past two weeks… I’ve felt more estranged from you than I ever have and I’ve hated every minute of it.” He sighed as if it would alleviate any of the ache in his heart, “I care about you too much to keep going like that.” This thumb brushed softly on your shoulder, “I want us to go back to normal. The way we were before you found out about all of this.”

You knew exactly what that meant, exactly what he was asking you to do. Forget all you ever saw, all he ever told you. Pretend none of it happened. Tell your heart to not care so much.

“I’ll handle it, alright?” His voice warm enough to smooth the wrinkles on your forehead, “Don’t worry about me.”

“You know I can’t do that.” You whispered. 

His eyes shifted between yours and his finger traced the strap of your workout tank top, “Yeah but I’d like it if you’d try.”

As you took in his pleading eyes and felt the worry of his fidgeting hand, you supposed, it was the least you could do. For him. To pretend like everything was normal. To not add to his stress. To not make things worse for him. 

You broke eye contact, “Only if you come over and finish watching Manifesto: Day 1 with me.”

His soft laugh drew a smile to your lips. 

“Want me to bring snacks?”

You shook your head, “No, me and the apple green tea will be waiting for you Saturday night.” You told him, choosing Saturday since you knew he wouldn’t be able to attend on Friday. You hesitated to step back — to leave the warmth that his nearness radiated.

“Good.” He returned, his eyes had never left your face, fingers never stopped fiddling with your top, and his voice gave the impression that his mind wasn’t thinking about the current conversation at all. Not with a sight so beautiful in front of him. 

But all things must come to an end, as you stepped away from his touch and pulled your gaze from him. Increasing the distance between your bodies but somehow feeling less estranged than you had in weeks. You passed through the front door and into the parking lot, driving off with more of a day in mind than a destination.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

It would be a lie to say that you were calm on Friday. No, you were anything but. You knew you’d be jittery and anxious from the start so you called the White Fang Cafe, asked if you could take another shift, desperate to distract yourself. You even pulled a double but your hopes fell flat as you found your mind embracing the thought of him only seconds after you’d promised not to think of him again.

Everything brought your thoughts back to him. The iced americano you made for a customer named Harua reminded you of the cafe study dates that Jungwon and you would always do — ones where he’d always get an iced americano even if he said he’d try something new. The chocolate croissant you warmed up reminded you of the time he had argued that a chocolate strawberry croissant should be invented and not taking your word for it that it definitely already had been. The order of a lemon, ginger, honey tea reminded you of when he showed up to your apartment the week you caught a bad cold — you riddled off the recipe from the cafe and watched him follow your words perfectly from the domestic lighting of your kitchen.

For twelve long hours, your thoughts branched in every direction and yet they were all rooted in one thing: Jungwon. Not even the comfort of your bed could dispel your mind from thoughts of Jungwon. Not when your mind depicted his strong arms wrapped around you and the warmth of his body sheltering you from every threat — even the cold. You only wished you could’ve done the same for him.

As promised, a little after five, you heard a few soft knocks emanating from the front door. Your feet rushed there like a kid to a tree on Christmas morning. You swung the door open excitedly, nearly knocking a picture frame off the wall as it slammed slightly into it. Just beyond the threshold of your apartment stood your best friend in all his glory. Freshly washed hair, a black shirt that clung to his chest and arms as if it were slightly too small, and a pair of grey sweatpants that you forced your eyes to look away from.

You were expecting a face slightly more beaten than what he had. His jaw was starting to paint on the purple of a bruise and his lip definitely tore open again but other than that. He seemed fine. Perhaps his fight with Tyun was uncharacteristically brutal. Or maybe Jungwon had won his last fight.

“Hi,” He licked his dried lips, taking in your appearance as if it were something to admire. Though you were only in a tank top and simple pajama shorts.

“Hi,” You returned the greeting and stepped out of his way. 

His eyes swept across your apartment, taking in the coffee table which was arranged with chili lime chips, buttered popcorn, and his favorite jelly candies. Alongside two bottles of apple green tea and two cups with ice. The TV displayed the next episode on the screen, titled TFW (That Feeling When). 

“That eager to see me, huh?” He teased as he kicked off his shoes and took his seat on your couch. The same spot he always sat in. Grabbing his bottle of apple green tea and pouring it into the glass. 

Your laugh came out slightly unnaturally. Any normal person wouldn’t be able to tell but Jungwon was not just any normal person. You curled up on your side of the small couch and pressed play. Reaching over and grabbing the tea bottle, struggling slightly to break the seal. You switched hands and tried to recover your pride but before you could give a second attempt, Jungwon held his hand open, offering his help. You placed the bottle in his hands and watched them make quick work of the seal before pouring the golden liquid into your cup and twisting the cap back on. 

Wordlessly, he sat back and returned his attention to the show. Yet your eyes stayed glued to him. Him and the small curve of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the glimmer of his blond strands as the setting sun hit them, the light reflecting his dark brown eyes, and the dimple forming on his cheek as he fought back a sly smile. 

Manifesto: Day 1 was primarily an action show — it’s why Jungwon chose it — but the episode you were on had quite a large subplot of romance. The main characters out on the sands of a beach, the summer sun setting sipping behind the waves. It was ideal. Serene. Perfect, almost. An image of peace amid chaos. It was these scenes that had Jungwon pulling his brows together and letting the edges of his lips downturn.

The end credits of the episode began to roll and the soft music did nothing to hide the tension that had suddenly grown. You took a small sip of your drink and then turned to blond only to find him staring out into space. The second to last episode began to play, dark and action-packed, and fitting for the mood that had settled in the room like a thick autumn fog.

The sun dipped behind the horizon and the frames of the show flashed by before you could register that you had made it to the final episode. Vaguely, you remembered the scenes but they felt more like apparitions than anything real — or as real as a television show could feel — and while the final words were spoken by the characters, their voices were drowned out by the weight of Jungwon’s stare. 

His eyes seemed darker than usual, they seemed to carry more pain than they ever had before. The way his eyes bore into yours told a thousand words, ones you weren’t quite ready to see fall from his pretty lips. 

Jungwon wasn’t the type of person to give you the outline and have you color it in. He doesn’t like small talk, or beating around the bush, or making someone read between the lines. He doesn’t speak with fine print in the footnotes of his sentences and he hated peeling bandaids off. 

“Y/N, I think we need to talk.”

Avoiding it was pointless. When Jungwon made his mind up about something, that was it. There was no negotiation. And yet somehow, you found yourself shaking your head. 

“No…” You stood up, shaking your head as you looked down at him. 

He averted his eyes from you and released a deep sigh, “I got a message last night. A picture of you and I at the gym.” He paused, “There was no caption, no number attached, but the message was clear.” He turned to look into your eyes. “You aren’t safe.” 

Your brows creased, “Okay but that’s fine, right? We agreed that I’d never go to the gym again.” Your heart thumped erratically as if it knew something your brain hadn’t found out yet. 

Jungwon bowed his head and then shook it slightly, standing up from his spot on the couch and turning to pour every emotion held within his dark eyes into yours. You could barely hear him over the rush of blood in your veins.

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long.” He whispered, placing his hands on your biceps. “I’ve put you in more and more danger and I was careless.” His thumbs brushed your skin. He swallowed painfully, eyebrows creasing as he desperately searched for the right words. “I know I told you that staying away from the gym was enough, but it’s far too late for that now.” Hesitance chased the path of his eyes as he looked back at yours, “Your life has been put at risk because of me and I—” He ripped his head to the side, pressing his lips together. 

He slid his hands across your shoulders and up your neck, before cupping your cheeks — entirely intimate, barely if at all platonic — and holding your gaze all the same. There was no room for argument in his words. The hot press of fear crawled up the back of your neck: everpresent, ever-unwelcome.

“Y/N, I love you more than I could ever express. Which is why I refuse to put you in danger any longer.” His voice was gruff and his eyes shone glossy. “Please don’t misunderstand me when I tell you that I would give everything just to have you… but I can’t — I won’t — be the reason that someone hurts you.”

You shook your head and swallowed, eyes stinging and filling with bitter tears, “So what does that mean? What are you saying?” His eyebrows furrowed deeper at the way your voice restrained the emotion bursting within your heart. A biohazardous concoction of emotions: fear, sadness, frustration, disappointment, embarrassment, longing, dread, love. All in a vile poison seeping through your veins.

Jungwon licked his drying lips, “I’m saying this is it for us. Being around me puts you in too much danger. I’m not willing to risk your life just because I love you.” His voice faltered at the end of his sentence. 

“But that’s not your choice to make, Jungwon!” Your voice was brittle and you tried to ignore how comforting his hands felt as he swiped your tears away. “You don’t get to decide whether I can stop being around you or not.”

“This is the only way to protect you. This is the only solution. There’s no other choice.” 

He chewed slightly on his bottom lip. Your lips shivered as you tried to form words but your voice had been robbed from you. There was everything to say and no way to put it — not in a way that Jungwon would ever agree with. He cared for you too dearly to stand idle in the face of what could hurt you. Even if the thing that could hurt you is himself.

Jungwon’s dark eyes dragged from your equally intensive gaze, down your tear stained cheeks, and landed on your quivering lips. He stared at them with the utmost of longing, as if he was grieving something within reach that was never to be had. Your eyes followed suit. 

Breaths mixed with essays of unspoken words amid love confession tainted with dreadful farewells. You almost despised how easy it was for him to cause butterflies to invade your stomach despite the ever-growing pit. 

He was utterly selfish. At least that’s what he told himself as he closed the distance between the two of you. Stopping only centimeters away from your face. 

“God, I love you more than you will ever know.” He whispered, waiting for a rebuttal or a rejection. The silence encouraged his eyes to close and his lips to brush yours like a feather. Like you were delicate. Like he wasn’t allowing himself to commit. 

He heaved a breath onto your lips and pressed your foreheads together. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see the tears flowing from your eyes or the way your face contorted as you spoke. 

“You’re saying that you’re leaving me because you love me…” You paused to renew your fading voice, “If that’s true then… I really wish you loved me less.” 

Your vision took in the way his screwed shut — big tears dropping from the sides of his pretty eyes. And as if he couldn’t endure the sight of your grief caused at his hand, he moved his lips up to your forehead and pressed a soft kiss.

Then he ripped his hands from you as if he knew that if he kept holding onto you, he would never let you go. 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“Okay,” You breathed out and set down the iced vanilla latte on the table, “I’m really glad you agreed to come see me.” You slid into the seat across from your guest. He looked much different in the lighting of the cafe — not necessarily because of the lighting but because he forwent the boxing shorts and compression shirts.

“Yeah, no problem.” He gave you a small smile, “And thanks for the free latte.”

“Of course! It’s the least I could do to repay this favor.” He nodded and took a sip of the latte, “Also technically, I got it for free too, since I work here.”

At his nod, you felt maybe you had invalidated his gratefulness at your gesture. You frowned slightly and pulled out your notebook and pen before you began to speak.

“Alright, so, like I said on the phone, I had a few questions about the whole uh… gym thing,” You introduced, “And I was wondering if you’d be able to give me some answers.”

“Yeah, I actually had a question about that.” He continued at your nod, “Why don’t you just ask Jungwon?”

It was incredibly difficult to ignore the way your heart ached at the sound of his name, “Oh, you know him. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” After a sip of your own drink, you asked your first question. “So, let’s start with the basics: how does the betting system actually work?”

Heeseung sighed as he gathered his thoughts, “Well, I’ve never actually placed a bet there but I know the basic procedure. You first draw cash from the ATM.” He paused, considering what he just said, before adding to it, “All bets must be paid in cash because they want the littlest paper or digital trail possible. After they draw the money, they check the scoreboard and the percentage chance of winning that each fighter has in their respective matches. After they decide who to vote for, they bring their bets to the front desks, fill out a piece of paper with their betting information, and give it to the attendants.”

You nodded. Everything that he informed you of was what you had already seen when you were last there. You saw the ATMs, you saw the scoreboard, you saw the three attendants at their desks handing slips of betting information. Since he wasn’t offering information beyond that, you had to pry it out yourself.

“So, what happens to the betting money and how do people get paid?”

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat, “The attendants collect the money into pools: one for each fighter. The pools’ amount is based on the amount collected from those voting for them. The pool of whoever wins the fight, keeps its money and adds on the pool from the loser. The money is then distributed from the joined pool but it's all based on percentages.”

Both yours and Heeseung’s attention was drawn at the booming voice from behind the counter. Your heart dropped to the floor as your coworker called some customer’s name to pick up their drink. It was unfortunate that the name “Jungyeon” sounded a bit too much like “Jungwon”. You shook your head to rid your body of the sudden adrenaline and to regain focus. “Uh… wait I’m confused, what do you mean?” You asked him to clarify.

Heeseung sighed, “You should really just get Jungwon to tell you, he’s a business major and knows how to talk about money in a way that’s more… understandable.”

“No, no,” You waved your hands, “You’re doing just fine! Maybe just an example would help me understand it more!”

He took a moment to consider before nodding his head, “Alright, let’s say Jungwon and I are in a match together. The odds of me winning are higher than Jungwon by a sixty-eight percent to thirty-two percent split… don’t look at me like that.”

You dropped your raised brow and stifled a laugh, “Sorry, continue.”

“More people are willing to bet on me than Jungwon because I’m more likely to win. However their payout is smaller. For example, if you were to bet fifteen-thousand on me then you’d only receive eighteen-thousand if I won. But if you put fifteen-thousand on Jungwon then you’d get twenty-two-thousand if he won, because he had worse odds.”

“Oh,” You dragged the sound out, “Okay, I get it. The reward you get from betting is bigger when you bet on the underdog because it's more risky!”

“Yeah, exactly. But that’s just one layer of many. The next thing you have to understand is what happens to the money after one of us wins. If my betting pool is one-million and Jungwon’s is five-hundred-thousand, the pool of the loser is allocated to the pool of the winner. Meaning, if I won, then that five-hundred-thousand from Jungwon’s pool would be allocated to mine.”

“Got it. The winner gets all the money.”

“Well, not really.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink, his furrowed brows a clear sign of his deliberation in how to explain, “That one-point-five-million would then be distributed among the betters and to the syndicate of the champion. The syndicate always places a bet on their fighter, so if their fighter wins then they receive their payout. But normal betters also receive theirs.”

“Wait, so the winner of the fight doesn’t get any money?”

“Uh…” He thought for a moment, looking off to the other side of the cafe and then back toward you, “I’m not sure how other syndicates do it but in BE:LIFT, they give a set price per match. At the level Jungwon and I fight at, we receive seven-million per win. Jungwon, I believe, has his winnings deposited directly toward his tuition but I have mine deposited to my bank account.”

You nodded, scribbling down a note that was just out of Heeseung’s view, “Alright so just to recap: the more the odds are in favor of a person, the less the payout will be if you bet on that fighter and both pools of bets are collected to be distributed to the betters of the champion?”

“Correct.”

“Okay, great.” You furrowed your brows and began bouncing your leg. You were unsure how Heeseung would take the next topic and if he’d refuse to answer. You needed to broach the subject very carefully in order to get the information you wanted. 

Where Jungwon was a guy that struggled to beat around the bush, you could do it all day long. Jungwon was direct, straightforward, and blunt to a fault, but you could play between the lines, skid along the edge, and walk gracefully across eggshells — getting the answer you wanted without having the person know that they’d given it to you.

“Actually, Heeseung, I was wondering,” You took a sip of your drink to feign nonchalance, “Jungwon mentioned that anything goes in the ring but how does that pertain to sabotage?”

Heeseung sat back in his seat, visually and literally taken aback, “Wow, um… I guess, sabotage isn’t really allowed. I mean, Jungwon is really the first person that I’ve seen get sabotaged but even then, I only know he gets sabotaged because I’m his friend. I don’t think others know.”

“Okay…” Your heart began to speed up a little at the prospect of having to prod for more information, “But I thought the sabotage had been going on for a while? You’re saying that no one but you, Jungwon, and the other five have noticed?”

The man chewed slightly on the straw of his drink, “I guess it has been a while hasn’t it? Jungwon doesn’t like to talk about it much.” He took a breath before continuing, “The sabotage that they put Jungwon through has been pretty undercover. Not only how they pull it off but the actual things themselves. Like, one time they stole Jungwon’s mouthguard, which meant the whole game he had to be extra careful not to get hit in the face. Which slows you down more than you’d realize.”

“Yeah, I bet…” You frowned. You’d seen Jungwon get hit in the face more times than you liked, but you never realized how much worse it could have been if he didn’t have something as simple as a mouthguard. 

Snapshots of Jungwon flashed through your mind: one where leaned against the bars of the boxing ring, skin glistening with sweat, and his eyes glancing toward the crowd; one where he sat in your living room, face petrified with fear, and his voice tense in worry; another where his body convulsed, his feet scrambled to purchase solid ground, and his hands clawing desperately at another man's arm around his neck; another where he brings his lips so close to yours they barely brush, and you know he wants more, you know you want more, but he rips his hands away and calls it noble, even as he leaves with two bloodied hearts in his wake.

You pressed your eyes together to rid yourself of the thoughts — the memories — and instead bring your attention to the task at hand.

You knew what you wanted to ask — you’d been wanting to ask it since Jungwon told you that the people who could have sabotaged him on the night you were there were the nine people in his corner. You figured that it wasn’t the other six fighters because they had no reason to sabotage Jungwon who was, not only their friend, but also not their opponent. Fighters from the syndicates did not fight each other. Therefore, the only other suspects are the managers and the coach. Who almost equally didn’t have a reason to sabotage Jungwon. 

You tread carefully with your next question, “Aren’t the managers or the coach supposed to make sure that you guys have all the things you need to fight, though?”

“Yeah, and they usually do.” Heeseung sighed, “I don’t know, maybe… no, that can’t be it.”

“What?”

“Well, our managers are relatively new.” He shrugged, “One of them was hired four months ago and the other was hired maybe two weeks later? I was gonna say that it might be that they forgot to make sure he had his mouthguard because they were new. But they had been working for about two months at the time of this incident.”

You nodded, the scratch of your pen against paper drowning in the sound of the collective chatter in the cafe. “Is anyone figuring it out?” You asked next, your eyes glancing at him while you continued to write, “Shouldn’t the coach or someone do something about this ongoing sabotage?”

Heeseung scratched his forehead, “He really should be but… I’m not sure if he is.” Heesueng tapped his fingers rhythmically on the surface of the table, “I think he mentioned it to Kim Taeho once but nothing has happened to stop it.” “Who’s Kim Taeho?”

“The big boss…” He said with his eyes pointed, “The man at the top.” “Right, so shouldn’t he want Jungwon to win all of his fights? Isn’t he forced to bet on all his fighters? Why hasn’t he done anything to stop this?”

“I’m not sure,” His face was downcast, “And yeah, he is forced to bet for all his fighters. It's a rule all the syndicates have. Even if the odds aren’t in their favor at all, they still have to put an equal wager on their fighter.”

“An equal wager to the other syndic—”

“Y/N.” A voice next to you spoke flatly. You turned to see your manager's unamused face, “Your shift started ten minutes ago.”

Both you and Heeseung stared at her like deers in headlights.

“Oh.”

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

You had officially met all the prerequisites to be instated in a mental asylum. On the blank part of your wall, next to your window and parallel to your bed, you had sticky notes and thin red washi-tape to mimic those detective boards in all the movies. Among an array of sticky notes were three that were all in a row, they read: The Coach, Manager 1, and Manager 2. Both managers had been crossed out leaving just the coach, you had asked Heeseung for the coach’s name before you had left for your shift. His name, in fine print on the sticky note, was Park Hyun. 

Your conversation with Heeseung had turned out to be more fruitful than you had ever anticipated it to be. You were able to remove the two managers from your small list of suspects based on two conversations you had: one with Jungwon and one with Heeseung. From your conversation with Jungwon, a few weeks ago, you had learnt that the sabotage had been happening for the better part of a year. In your conversation with Heeseung, you had learnt that the managers had only been working there for about four months — making it impossible for them to have been pulling off the sabotage. This left only one suspect: the coach.

The next thing to do was to answer why the coach was sabotaging his own fighter. Though the answer was obvious, right? You would only sabotage someone if you were betting for the other side. The coach must be sabotaging Jungwon to ensure that he loses in order to win his bets every time, instead of helping him become an unbeatable opponent. Therefore, the only thing you had left to do was prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the coach was sabotaging Jungwon because he was betting against him. Once you did that, you could send off your evidence to this Kim Taeho guy and get Jungwon fair chances to dig himself out of his own grave.

The only issue was: how were you going to prove the coach was sabotaging and betting against Jungwon? And how would you get the leader of a crime syndicate to look or care about the evidence — if you could even get his contact information in the first place. You ripped your gaze from the mess of sticky notes and red washi-tape, pacing around your room, and fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. 

Your eyes glanced at the phone tossed haphazardly on your bed. A slightly worn polaroid of you and Jungwon, with big smiles and frosting smeared over your faces at Jungwon’s birthday last year, laid sandwiched between your phone and its clear case. Your eyes stung at the sight and a panging pain entered your wounded heart. You hadn’t spoken to him in days and you had discovered that the absence of his words hurt more than his goodbye ever did. 

Under normal circumstances, you could have asked Jungwon for help and he would’ve been at your side before you could even finish the ask. Because that was Jungwon. He stole your bottle straight from your hands, wordlessly, to help you open the cap. He walked into your apartment like he owned it and he took care of it like he lived there. Dinners where he’d do all your dishes, not just the ones he dirtied. Without asking, he’d take your trash out, giving you a small smile when he’d come back to find the bag already replaced. Like teamwork came just as naturally to the two of you as acts of service came to him. 

You wondered whether he’d even pick up if you called. This was Jungwon, he’d always pick up as soon as he saw the flash of your face and name light up his screen. Then again, this was Jungwon, who would do anything and everything in his power to keep you safe, even if it cost him everything. 

Taking a deep breath, you opted for the next best solution to get the evidence you needed. Coming to terms with the fact that if Jungwon ever found out, he would blow a fuse. But the mission was to not be caught, anyway.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you stepped off the bus and walked the two blocks to the parking lot of the HYBE gym. Cap securely over the wig that you had purchased just a few days before; glasses pushed up over your eyes and mask pulled over your nose. You’d seen many girls wearing the same set of leggings and a tight fit jacket in their gym vlogs, taking inspiration, you had purchased them as well. 

The gym was in a weird limbo between busy and empty. At five on a Wednesday morning, only the true early birds and unfortunate employees were gracing the walls with their presence. And you, of course, as you deliberately chose to come in right as the doors opened, when the sleep deprived teenage employees would be too busy fighting to stay awake than pay attention to whoever was walking through the doors. 

You entered as the employee turned around in his chair and headed toward the women’s locker room. Thankfully, you traversed the labyrinth of gym machines without being stopped and walked into the locker room uninterrupted. The room was a ghost town, silent except for the rapid beating of your heart. This being the second time you’d done this, you opened the secret shower door with ease and shut it softly behind you. Your steps against the stairs were feather-light, ensuring that if anyone was in the basement, they wouldn’t be notified of your presence.

 The basement looked completely different than it did on Friday nights. The lights were off, albeit for a few that stayed lit no matter what per safety policies. You stopped on the end of the staircase, listening for any sounds of life, searching for any movement. Upon finding none, you moved lightly and quickly toward the stairs that run down the bleachers. Only two steps in and you realized that the bleachers squeak as you move. You ducked down, hiding in case someone were around, before slowly crawling to the edge of the bleachers. Grabbing a hold of the railing, you climbed down the support beams at the back and landed softly on the concrete ground below. Flushed between the wall and the bleachers, you slid through the small alleyway and made your way toward the reception desks. Glancing all the while, conscious of the danger with the hairs on your arm standing up and the erratic thumping in your ribcage. 

As you rounded the desk to sit before the computer screen, you realized that the brightness of the screen would attract too much attention — as well as any sounds. The need for the password was also prevalent in your mind. You made quick work of your black jacket, covering the monitor with it after you pressed the mute button on the keyboard. The screen was dulled by the jacket before you got the brightness to turn down completely. 

Remembering the password problem, you put to use the hours of hacking practice you’d picked up solely for this moment. It was one thing practicing on your own laptop when if all went wrong, you knew the password. Even though you’d hacked into your own computer at least seven times and had watched a plethora of different hacking tutorials on YouTube for hours beforehand. There was an itching thought in your head of: what if it didn’t work. 

The bright green letters against the black background did nothing to quell your anxiety but as the log in page was overridden and you were let into the HYBE USER’s desktop, you thanked the you of the past for burning her eyes out with hacking videos for days on end. If only you would let yourself do this to fix your grades over the past few weeks.

Your eyes scanned quickly over the desk top when you spotted a flash of light out of your peripheral. Light in a concentrated beam that could only be a flashlight. Faintly, you could hear footsteps from the flashlight’s owner — far enough to be distant, close enough to compromise you — and that flew you into faster action. You pulled the thumb drive from your pocket and quietly shoved it into the monitor's USB port. You clicked on an Excel sheet titled “POBs 2026” and saw a list of names and numbers. Downloading the file to the thumb drive, you glanced for any other documents that might have been worthy of your attention. Conscious of the ever-growing footsteps. 

“Huegh!” 

Your head whipped toward the sound. 

“Heugh, Heugh!” 

Your eyes took in the beam of light and sudden movements, as if the hand that held it was sending jabs. With a closer ear, you listen to the sounds of his footsteps amid the array of “heughs” he was heaving. The sound of his shoes on the ground was not indicative of hard concrete but something lighter. Something that only the boxing ring would have been able to produce.

Thankful for the extra time, you pulled the thumb drive out.

“Man what are you doing?” Another voice rang out in the basement. 

“Oh c’mon,” The heugh guy responded, “We got nothing to do and there's a boxing ring in the middle of the room.” 

You clicked the “log out” button on the computer and turned the monitor off as the men conversed. Carefully sliding out of the seat since the speaking had ceased, you were waiting and listening for any clue of what the men were to do next. Then the fan in computer began to whir. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s coming from over there.”

As swiftly as you could, you ducked under the desk and tucked your body as small as possible. You heard their footsteps approach amid the whirring of the fan and the steady beams of the flashlights. Your lungs begged for you to breathe and the back of your neck began to overheat. 

“Oh, y’know what?” One of the men let his arm fall to his side, “It’s probably just the computers.”

“Have they ever done that before?”

“Uh… yeah, I’m sure they have.” Said the one and you were sure that he had some Know It All complex.

“Alright then,” The sound of a hand hitting a person’s back emitted from behind the desk, “What do you say we have a little spar in the ring, huh?”

The other man made a sound of indecision, “Ah, sure, why not?”

You waited until they invaded the ring and the sounds of their fists knocking into the other’s palms filled the room before you evacuated. Out from under the desk, carefully stepping under the row of bleachers and heading for the opposite end of the locker room entrance. You took measured steps until you got close to the door and gathered all your bravery. 

Only twenty feet to your left was the ring, and eight feet in front of you was the door to the back hallways where you had argued with Jungwon after his match. You had the cover of darkness on your side and the attention drawn away from you — you just had to commit. You’d come so far already. But the heat at the back of your neck, sweat on your brow, and chill in your bones had you rethinking. 

What would happen if you got caught? Your need for adventure, need for a story, need for a mystery, is what got you in this situation in the first place. But now, you’re face to face with circumstances that you’re not fully certain of the consequences for. 

What if they caught you down here? What if they found the flash drive in the pocket of your black leggings? These aren’t mall cops, these are people who are hired by South Korean crime syndicates whether they know it or not. Would they drag you to their bosses? Would they take their anger out on you? Would they pull off your disguise and recognize your face and punish Jungwon for your trespassing and burglary? 

What would Jungwon say if he found out? Was this exactly what he was afraid of? That you’d do something stupid and reckless and get yourself killed? 

You shook your head. Barely registering the “coaching” that the one man was giving his other but fully aware that it sounded like the blind leading the blind. You took a deep, steady breath and then peeked toward the ring. With their attention diverted you moved quickly — not enough to be running — and quietly toward the door, pulling it open and entering a pitch black hallway. 

You attempted to create a map in your mind of what the hallway had looked like when you had walked through it last. The edges of your memory recalled the turns, just barely. Whether to take a right or a left, how many doors you’d pass before the next turn. Though all your mind could focus on was the after. When you reached the black doors at the end of the hallway and pulled them open. The doors to this basement kept an illegal fight club and an even more illegal betting operation from the eyes of the general public. Which means, the doors most likely have an alarm system. You have no clearance, no alibi, no voucher, just a full disguise and pair of sneakers you hoped would take you all the way to the bus stop a couple blocks off. 

With a deep breath and a starting pace, you push the back doors open and ran out at your fullest speed. The wind rushing through the air almost covered the sound of the alarm system you set off but there was nothing that would distract you. Nothing to make you turn back or slow you down. You sped past passersby on the sidewalk and watched the bus approach the stop. Boarding the bus, you swiped the bus-card you had just purchased that morning in cash and sat down next to an old man.

The doors to the bus shut, having welcomed only normal civilians, but you were too smart — or paranoid — to end the chase there. The syndicates had money and the city had CCTV everywhere. You needed to get lost in it. Which is why you pushed into the 6am train station in Seoul, and got off in Cheongju. Took a bus to a different entrance to the station at Cheongju and boarded during the 7:30am rush toward Daejeon. From Daejon you walked into a department store, paid and changed outfits, then walked to the train station again. From Daejon all the way to Daegu. Waiting and pretending to shop in a mall near the train station. Then you boarded toward Busan, changed outfits again in the back of a store in the streetmarket, before boarding the two-and-a-half hour train from Busan to Seoul during the work commute rush. 

You pushed your apartment door open as the time rounded to 9pm. Kicking off your shoes and shrugging off your new jacket. You pulled the thumb drive from your pocket — the only thing that you had kept since that morning, besides the straight black wig that you’d been wearing all day. Double checking that your door was locked and your windows were shut, you walked into your room where your laptop and phone had sat all day. Naively, you checked your phone for messages from Jungwon. Heart crushing when you scrolled through all your notifications to find nothing from Jungwon. Just the same message you’d received the day he walked out. 

wonie: I’m otw so make sure you have that green tea

You: can you just focus on not crashing your car please?

wonie: Lmao

A sorrowful smile rose onto your lips before tears sprung in your eyes. 

All you wanted was for him to be free from his never ending cycle of exploitation.

All he wanted was to keep you away from his mess in order to keep you safe.

It felt like neither of you were getting what you wanted. 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

You shoved the thumb drive into your laptop out of necessity — a need to make all the work you did feel like it was worth it — rather than an actual desire to see what was on that excel sheet. You risked your safety more than you ever had for some document that you hoped would provide you with incriminating evidence but really, you had no idea. 

The file popped up on your desktop and with a double-click, the entire year’s receipts for the betting opened before your eyes. The columns held all the necessary information: the bettor’s name; the time they placed the bet, the odds of the fighters at the time the bet was placed, the name of the fighter they chose to bet on, their bet amount, their calculated pay out, their bank account number, and their contact information. All the information one would need to calculate and distribute the winnings of their bet.

You scrolled through the list — taking it all in — before your focus zeroed in. Hitting control F, you searched Park Hyun’s name and found 27 matching results. 27 bets placed under Jungwon’s coach’s name and not a single one was placed in favor of Jungwon’s victory. He had voted against Jungwon every single time. 

Despite the odds — wait, no, the odds were split. 

Your brows furrowed as you took in the percentages of the bets. Every bet he placed was when the odds evened out: 50-50, 49-51, 52-48, 51-48, 47-53, 55-45, 46-54. Every bet fell within even odds. From experience, you knew that Jungwon’s fights always started at 9pm. But all of these bets were made at various times. 9:13pm, 9:21pm, 9:09pm, 9:17pm, no consistency other than that the best were placed after the fights had started. 

You recalled what Heeseung had told you in the cafe. The more even the odds are, the more pay that you get. But the odds aren't always even when the fighting starts. The odds of Jungwon winning in his fight against Tyun were well in his favor: 57.02%. Yet, looking at the document now, the coach had placed his bet halfway through the fight, likely after a timeout was called after the chokehold. The odds had fallen from 57.02% to 49.89% and it was at this moment that the coach had placed the bet. When the odds had evened out in his favor. 

Though, it didn’t seem like he thought Tyun would pull that chokehold move because after he did, the odds had evened out and the sabotage hadn’t occurred yet. After Jungwon had drank the everclear, his odds had plummeted to 36% and the payout was a fraction of what it was when the odds were split. The coach must have realized how badly the odds would fall and placed his bet just before Jungwon had drank from his bottle. 

It was strange. It was almost unbelievable that a man who was supposed to support and help Jungwon had been the one orchestrating his downfall the entire time. Your cursor hovered over the exit button of the excel sheet, having seen enough and wanting to rest from the eventful day. But a name kept scratching in the back of your mind like nails on a chalkboard: Kim Taeho. The syndicate boss who should have been voting in favor of Jungwon the whole time. Had he been? Or was he just like the coach? 

Kim Taeho’s name appeared dozens more times than the coach’s. He had seven male fighters and five female fighters and all of which — you checked thoroughly — he had been voting in favor of. Even down to the last fight. 

Kim Taeho | 21:00 |  JAKAH 37.33% vs SOOBIN 63.66% | SOOBIN | $1000 | $148 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *********@gmail.com

At 21:00 sharp, every fight, he placed his bet in favor of Jungwon — regardless of the odds. You nodded your head as if you’d made up your mind. You would send Kim Taeho all the fights that the coach voted against Jungwon in. You’d note that there was foul play involved and that he should check the integrity of his staff. And maybe, if you were lucky, he’d fire the coach and Jungwon would have a fair chance at crawling out of his debt. And maybe, if you were extremely lucky, he’d find his way back to you after he was safe again. 

With the motivation electrifying through your veins, you began to highlight the cells of Park Hyun’s voting information:

Park Hyun | 21:01 | JAKAH 78.12% vs BAMKYU 22.98% | BAMKYU | $1000 | $2340 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

Park Hyun | 21:13 | JAKAH 53.01% vs JO 47.99% | JO | $1000 | $1780 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

Park Hyun | 21:27 | JAKAH 57.02% vs TYUN 43.98% | TYUN | $1000 | $1570 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

Park Hyun | 21:18 | JAKAH 48.00% vs SOOBIN 52.00% | SOOBIN | $100 | $148 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

As you highlighted the last four rows, you recalled the events for each of these fights — except for the most recent one with a fighter named Soobin, which Jungwon had told you nothing about — and each of their respective sabotages. In the fight against a guy named Bamkyu, Jungwon’s water bottle had been filled with laxatives, which caused him to run from the fight even though the odds were fully in his favor. In his fight with Jo, he was given vinegar in place of the water, which caused him to fight more brutally in order to prevent over-dehydration. His fight against Tyun seemed to go off the rails. The everclear would have pushed the odds to even out, but the coach had not anticipated Tyun’s own intellect to even out the stakes all by himself. The everclear pushed the odds to fall too far into the margins of Tyun’s success which capped the amount of the payout. 

You brows furrowed as you cross referenced the starting odds with the odds of when the coach placed his bets. The day the laxatives were used, Jungwon had over 70% chance of winning. The day the vinegar was used, he had a 59% chance of winning. The fight against Tyun had him at a 63% chance of winning. And the most recent fight, which you knew nothing of other than that he came home relatively unscathed, had placed his odds at 37%. The split between the odds and severity of the sabotage was a pattern too loud to miss. 

The more the odds were in favor of Jungwon, the harsher the sabotage became. This realization left a bitter tongue and a deep ache in your heart. Involuntarily, you imagined Jungwon checking the scoreboard and noting his favor in odds. Had he found peace in that? Had he found comfort in the prospect of his probable victory? Or had it put him on edge? Had it brought his guard up at the expectation of a harsh attack coming from one of his blind spots? 

Just as you were about to save the document, your eyes caught on the number that falls at the very end of the columns: Midnight Bank 20180917. The coach’s bank account number. 

With shaky fingers, you scrolled up to the nearest row with Kim Taeho’s name, scanning past the information to reach the final column and reading it off in the silence of your held breath and still heart. Midnight Bank 20180917.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The air in the room felt sticky. Too warm, too stuffy, as it clung to every millimeter of skin. The crowd was too talkative. Too joyous, too carefree, as they swirled their lavishly bartended drinks. The sight was too tense. Too terrifying, too uncanny, as he wrapped his fists in white bandages and bit down in the black mouthguard. 

Like a familiar friend, that anxious heat crawled its way onto the back of your neck — resting there. Your breath was entirely uneven despite the deep inhales and long exhales you’d been doing to train it back to consistency. Your leg bounced uncontrollably and you were certain one of the bettors would say something in just a moment, but their thoughts and their preferences were the least of your concerns. Not when Jungwon stood with his shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed on his all-too-familiar foe.

Your phone buzzed and you drew your attention to it at lightning speed. An email was left with no subject line, just PDF and a caption: For your sake, I hope he wins. With shaky fingers, you tapped the screen and the PDF came into full view. A contract. 

A contract that put everything on the line.

Since the night that you had reviewed the Excel sheet, you’d taken risks that not only would have sent Jungwon into a coma but also could have gotten you killed. After a couple nights of rest and planning. You had opened your laptop once again, clicking open the Decelis University website and typing in Jungwon’s username and password instead of yours. Because of course, you knew his log in. 

You’d used it before to submit his assignments when he couldn’t or when he needed to check his grades. You’d never used it to check his financial statements.That was always private — too private — a boundary you couldn’t overstep. Somehow, that boundary seemed like nothing when it came in the way of securing a better future for him. 

You scrolled and opened the PDF of his statements. Monthly payments toward the total of Jungwon’s tuition, room and board, downpayments, parking passes, and a section called “allowance” which gets filtered straight to Jungwon’s bank account. The receipt of these payments noted the bank of the payer to be: Midnight Bank ****0917, corresponding with the bank account both Kim Taeho and Park Hyun were filtering their winnings to. The contact information for the payer was noted to be Kim Taeho himself. You scrolled to the end of the receipt to see the fine print which read: All payments are final. No refunds are allowed.

With these words, you set your plan into action. 

Immediately, you purchased a subscription to the strongest VPN on the market and created a burner email address. You bussed to the busiest public library in Seoul and drafted a very carefully worded email along with an attachment to the Excel sheet. The Excel sheet being highlighted with the necessary and incriminating information.

To whom it may concern,

Attached in the file below are the betting records of the 2026 year so far. As noted by the highlighting, Kim Taeho has been betting in favor of his fighter JAKAH and sending his winnings to a bank account number 20180917 at Midnight Bank. JAKAH’s coach and employee of Kim Taeho, Park Hyun, has been betting against JAKAH, his own fighter, and yet sending it to the same bank account: Midnight Bank 20180917. 

Upon further research, the bank account was found to be in Kim Taeho’s name. Is this not grounds for double betting? I’m certain that this kind of fraud would not be tolerated among the syndicates gathered that make events like these possible. Should they find out, would your syndicate not face immense repercussions for this fraud?

I have no interest in exposing you to the people you work with nor am I interested in extorting you for money. What I want, in exchange for the hard drive of this information and the access to this email account to prevent the scheduled emails to every contact on this Excel sheet from being sent, is the complete forgiveness of JAKAH (Yang Jungwon)’s debt. 

The emails are scheduled to be sent on Friday at 23:59. If I do not have confirmation that JAKAH (Yang Jungwon) has been forgiven of any debt that he has with you and is released from any obligation he has with you by 23:59, the emails will be sent. If I have confirmation before then that my requests have been fulfilled in good faith with evidence to prove it, then I will send an email with the log in, in order for you to manually close the emails yourself. I will also ship the hard drive to the front office of the HYBE gym. 

Thank you for your understanding.

You left no signature. Just the attachment of the spreadsheet and a quick glance at your VPN which changed your location every three seconds. South Korea one moment, Brazil the next, then onto Turkey, before heading to Milawe. You hit send on the email and walked out of the library toward the busiest tourist street in the city.

You weren’t expecting a response within the first 72 hours. Which kept you running the VPN all hours of the day. You had known they’d consider your threat a bluff, then they’d realize that you had everything you needed in order to out them. Then they’d devise a plan. You had known some sort of trickery was coming, you just hadn’t known what. 

As the days ticked by, a consistent anxiety welcomed itself into your heart. You hadn’t emailed back, dedicated to keeping communication as minimal as possible. When you woke up that Friday morning with no response, you prepared yourself to cut your losses. Once you send the emails and expose Belift, things might get more complicated for Jungwon, or everything would fizzle out. You’d assess the damage and move onto plan B. 

Until then, you kept hope in your heart. Even as you entered the gym with your new gym membership, under a different name and paid in cash, thanks to the new increased security. You slipped into the locker room and down the stairs just before the 21:00 match started. Emboldened by the leverage you had over Belift, you had taken a seat right in the front — looking straight ahead to the reason you had even started doing this in the first place. Yang Jungwon. 

It was in this ante period that you received the response email from Belift. And the PDF which sent a chill to the marrow of your bones. You knew the trick was coming. You just didn’t know that it’d threaten everything you’d worked for. 

The PDF was a photocopy of a contract that had recently been drawn and signed. A contract that stated:

As decided by the executives of Belift Lab, the debt of Yang Jungwon will be wholly and completely forgiven should he win his next upcoming fight. As per Yang Jungwon’s request, upon his victory, Belift Lab or any of its affiliates will never attempt to contact or engage with Yang Jungwon and his loved ones. 

Alternatively, in the case of Yang Jungwon’s defeat, he will carry on as a fighter of Belift Lab to eliminate his debt through his labor. Upon his defeat, Jungwon shall be legally required to pay off any accumulated debt to Belift Lab regardless of circumstances. 

Jungwon was now contractually bound to his freedom or his exploitation. If he won the fight, you would send Belift your evidence and Jungwon would be forgiven of his debt. If he lost, you would still have to send your evidence, but Jungwon would be legally obligated to pay off his debt. 

The loud buzzer swept over the makeshift arena. 

“Welcome back to another round in the men’s fifth bracket!” The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, “Listen Dino, I don’t know about you but I have been anticipating this fight all night.”

“Me too, S.Coups. I’m sure the audience is well aware but these two fighters have recently butt heads which ended in a brutal victory.” The crowd uproared, “Yes, that’s right folks. Welcome to the rematch between Jakah of Belift and BigHit’s Tyun.”

Suddenly, Jungwon’s abnormally tensed shoulders made sense. Your breath was stolen straight from your lungs and the entire room fell into white noise. Jungwon began to switch his weight between his feet — lightening his step — though it seemed that his legs were stiffer than they’d ever been before. The image of his face turning purple-ish red as he clawed as the arm preventing him from breathing was seared into your mind. And you were only a bystander. You couldn’t imagine the way Jungwon must have felt as his mind begged his body to forget what happened last time and to focus on not repeating history. 

“And Jakah takes the offensive!”

Jungwon lunged at Tyun, aiming a clean strike to the ribs. Tyun twisted out of the way but not fast enough for the speed that Jungwon was going. His first two knuckles clipped Tyun’s side, causing Jungwon to shift his feet closer and send another strike to the man’s face. Tyun’s bandaged hands blocked the strike and he jumped away from Jungwon.

“Man, it seems like Jakah has a bit of pent up rage… I haven’t seen him this aggressive in a fight for a while.” 

Your eyes chanced a glance toward Jungwon’s corner where the coach and managers stood waiting in bated breath. Jay and Heeseung stood there as well, Jay’s arms wrapped around the water bottle you’d gifted Jungwon, as if he was guarding it with his life. 

By the time you looked back over, Jungwon and Tyun had given up on dancing around each other and the latter was sending a barrage of feints with occasional strikes. Jungwon’s forearms were getting battered but he kept his guard up. He stayed like that for a while before he caught one of Tyun’s arms, pulled it, and twisted it behind the man’s back before shoving him face first onto the floor of the ring.

“Ohhh, ouch!”

“Man, that has got to hurt!”

The crowd echoed the announcers in various synonymous sentiments as the buzzer announced the end of the first round. Jungwon released his hold on his opponent and walked over to his corner, beckoning Jay for his water bottle and taking a test sip before chugging it. With your eyes tunneled onto him — the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the imprint of his hard abs on his white tank — you could barely hear the announcers informing the crowd of Jungwon’s increase in odds. 

Before you could fully register it, the match began again. Shifting feet and tiny grunts was all that filled the room as passed strikes between each other. Jungwon pursued Tyun to the edge of the ring, his opponent’s feet only a meter away from the rails before suddenly, he pushed himself back onto the rail, held the bars, and pushed his feet square into Jungwon’s abdomen. Jungwon stumbled back, nearly losing his balance, and failed to block the punch that landed straight onto his nose. 

“Oh, that’s definitely broken.”

“Speaking from experience, huh?”

Tyun grabbed Jungwon’s arm and threw him to his knees while he was still stunned. His hand grabbing one of his shoulders and sliding his arm across the plain of his neck. The everpresent heat on the back of your neck seemed to replicate Tyun’s actions, as if it knew this was what you had been most afraid of since the fight began.

Without warning or indication, Jungwon pulled Tyun’s left arm forward and reached back to grab ahold of the back of his right knee, standing up and bringing his opponent with him. With his feet off the ground, Tyun could do nothing to stop or brace himself as Jungwon jumped backward, sending them both to the floor, only with Tyun’s body as a cushion to break Jungwon’s fall.

“Jakah is on fire today!”

“He escaped out of that chokehold, picked Tyun up from behind, slammed him into the ground, and held him down for over five seconds, meaning: the second round is over!”

Your face had become sweaty like it was you that had been in that ring. But from the sight of Jungwon pushing his sweaty hair back and having it stay in a swept position, you assumed that he must be perspiring more than you could ever know. Of course, he would be. Everything was on the line for him. His freedom to leave the fighting and his freedom to pursue you. 

Without needing to be asked, Jungwon’s manager handed him a face cloth, which he took gratefully. He shoved his face into the fabric and rubbed the sticky sweat and grime off of his skin. Your heart dropped to the craters of the Earth when Jungwon ripped the cloth away from his face and began to cough. He tossed the cloth over the rails of the ring and shook his head, placing a hand over his chest and taking deep breaths. 

Before he was fully prepared, the buzzer signaled the start of the third round and Tyun sprung into action. He sent a jab that Jungwon barely dodged, causing him to stumble off to the side. Another jab, a feint, right, left, right, right, left, all blocked or dodged sloppily. Until Tyun dropped down low and sent a punch to his gut, leaving Jungwon in a fit of coughs. Another knee to his gut — his abdomen having already been targeted multiple times. Tyun’s strong hands pushed Jungwon backwards before sending three clean strikes. One to his left jaw, one under his chin, and another across his left jaw. 

Jungwon fell backwards, immediately scrambling to get back up before Tyun kicked his stomach, forcing the blond to curl up into a centipede. Whatever was on that cloth had thrown Jungwon into a state of distraction that he struggled to free himself from. And as he was on the ground, trying to ignore the pounding of Tyun foot as it slammed into his back, trying to ignore the blaring “five, four, three” of the announcers, trying to ignore the burn in his lungs, he peeled his eyes open to look at the crowd. His hopeless eyes met your worried ones. As if Fate had directed your gazes to align. As if Fate had given him a guiding hand in his most crucial moment. 

Memories of the last time he’d seen you crept up at the edges of his mind. Your tear-tracked face held in his hands. His lips brushing yours, careful to not press too hard that he might stay there with you in his arms forever. The sound of your voice as you pleaded him not to go in words cut open the chambers of his heart. 

All it took was one small victory and everything he’s ever wanted would rest at his feet. 

With renewed strength, Jungwon rolled over and out of the way of Tyun’s foot, just before the announcers made it to “one”. With the momentum and the opportunity of one of Tyun’s legs raised, Jungwon swept his feet out and knocked him to the floor. Without hesitation, Jungwon straddled the man’s waist, gripped his shirt, and swung punch after punch toward the man’s face. Every blow was blocked by expert hands. 

As Jungwon drew back for another punch, Tyun grabbed his hips and attempted to twist their positions, but Jungwon was quick to slide away from getting pinned to the floor. The two exchanged blows, knocked fists, and blocked strikes, all while shuffling around each other. Jungwon increased the speed of his feet, sent a feint directly into Tyun’s line of sight, before twisting around him and leaving his view completely. As the other man turned to keep his eyes on Jungwon, the blond sent a brutal kick to the other man’s gut. With Tyun’s hands lowering to protect his abdomen, Jungwon slammed his foot into his opponent's face and sent him stumbling back. Without mercy, Jungwon shuffled his left foot toward the right and twisted his body, sending a roundhouse kick that dug into the cheekbone of the other fighter. 

Tyun dropped to his knees, breath heavy and shallow, eyes closed and body tipping toward the floor. Jungwon shoved his foot in the other’s chest and held him down. The adrenaline drowned out the countdown from five.

“Five…” He couldn’t look at you.

“Four…” Not until he knew he had won.

“Three…” Until he knew you were safe.

“Two…” Until he knew he could—

“One!” 

The referee raised Jungwon’s arm up and blew his whistle, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Cheering, jeering, and booing. Standing, clapping, and fist pumping. And all he saw was you. With tears in your eyes and the biggest smile he thinks he’s ever seen you wear. 

And before he even knew it, he was hopping over the railing of the ring. Blood rushing and pounding in his ears as he ran toward you. You followed suit, hopping over the small guard rail and running just a few steps to where he had already gotten over to you. 

His left hand found your waist and his right found your cheek and he turned the both of you to the side so that he wouldn’t crash into you at full force. Well at least with his body, for his lips were all but graceful as they crashed onto yours, his hand at your waist immediately moving to your left cheek to angle your face to fit his perfectly. He kissed hungrily and greedily like he couldn’t get enough. He didn’t stop to breathe, he just moved his lips against yours as if it was the only thing he needed to stay alive. 

As soon as you brought your hands to his hard chest, he slid his hands down to hold your waist, pulling your body flush against his and never removing his lips from your own. How could he when you kissed him back with a mirroring fervor and slid your hands up to card through his hair.

Jungwon had fought for every South Korean Won he had made in the ring. Millions of won had been added to his name. But there — with you in his arms, clinging to him, and exchanging dozens of heated kisses like you were making up for lost time — that was the richest Jungwon had ever been. 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“And when someone asks for a caramel macchiato, what they’re really asking for is a caramel latte.”

His dark brows furrowed under his recently dyed brown hair, “Why wouldn’t they just ask for a caramel latte then?” 

“Well, because they’re going off of the menu from Starbucks.”

His dark brown eyes held thinly veiled confusion before he nodded and leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his toned arms as the black work shirt stretched over his muscles. You glanced over to him, a different — more bashful — heat crawling up your neck as he stared at you.

“Don’t worry,” You told him, “You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“Why were there?” He narrowed his eyes, “At the fight.”

Your throat worked around a swallow, “Oh, uh I was just…” 

A million reasons flashed through your mind — none of them even bordering on the truth — and it brought all of your thoughts to a halt. This entire situation: you finding out about Jungwon’s secret life, it all started from a lie. Now that you had Jungwon, you couldn’t lose him again. So you took a deep breath and began the long explanation.

“You told me that in order to keep me safe, you had to leave my life completely. And to be honest? I’d rather fear for my life everyday than say goodbye to you forever.” You eyes poured into his steady, deep, brown ones, “I talked to Heeseung, found out who was sabotaging you, broke into the Hybe gym basement to get proof—”

“I’m sorry, you what?!”

“And then, I found out that Kim Taeho was double betting and tampering with the odds by sabotaging you, in order to get an even split and make the most amount of money possible while winning every time.”

“How the he—”

“And then I essentially blackmailed him into forgiving your debt,”

He straightened, “Tell me you’re joking…”

“But don’t worry I stayed anonymous and used a VPN.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“And then drew up a contract that would forgive your debt as long as you won the fight — which you did — and here we are!”

Jungwon grabbed your upper shoulders, “Y/N… Please tell me this is a joke.”

You could see the worry laced into every feature: his creased brows, his wide eyes, his downturned lips.

“Jungwon, you always talk about keeping me safe. I wanted to find a way to make sure you were safe.” You hesitated to keep going, “Even when you signed the contract, you were thinking about me. That if you won the fight and were forgiven, you requested that they stayed away from you.”

“I wouldn’t sign the contract unless that was added.” He confessed, “What good would getting rid of my debt be if they took something — someone — else from me in its place.” His hands slid to the hem of your sleeves, playing with the fabric. “And it’s the best decision I ever made because now, I’m finding out that you blackmailed a crime syndicate that most definitely has a grudge against both you and I.”

You tried not to look too horrified by the logistics of your impulsive decisions. 

“And if I didn’t make them sign a contract to stay away from you,” His eyes dropped down, unable to look you in the eye, “Who would’ve gotten me an actual job to start chipping away at my tuition?”

“With or without me, you would have found a way to pay for college and keep on living a good life.” You rolled your eyes.

“‘With or without you’?” He repeated incredulously, “Without you I would still be spending Friday nights drinking laxatives, vinegar, and everclear or shoving my face into a chloroform face towel and getting my ass handed to me. Without you I’d have spent my entire life saving pennies to pay off an impossible debt.” His cat-like eyes took upon every frame of seriousness, “My life doesn’t exist without you, Y/N.”

A shy smile rose onto your lips. Because you may know Yang Jungwon inside and out as your best friend. But Yang Jungwon, your boyfriend, was still uncharted territory. Regardless of if this was the 50th time he’d pulled you in by your waist and pressed gentle, loving kisses against your lips. 

“Jungwon,” You pressed against his chest, “This was the one condition my manager had!” You argued through the sweet pecks he placed in between words, “No PDA!”

He giggled before placing another kiss onto your forehead, “Fine, but once we’re off the clock, I’m never letting you go.”

His hands fell from you and the warmth he left behind lingered like a promise. 

“I might need you to sign a contract for that.”

“What for?” He asked, picking up a dish to rinse off, “You’ll just blackmail me anyway.”

© jjongbat 2026 — all works are without ai and belong solely to jjongbat unless otherwise specified. please do not steal, repost, or re-upload without credit.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t let yourself get any closer. From your point of view, keeping your distance was the best , the only thing you could do. If you stayed near him, your feelings would only grow stronger, and that would only put him at greater risk. You couldn’t let your heart get in the way of his future. You couldn’t let your love become the reason his career and everything he had worked so hard for got destroyed. Bambi deserved a father with a bright future, not one whose dreams were ruined because of you.

You hugged your knees tighter to your chest, phone still clutched in your hand, the decision settling over you like a heavy, painful blanket. It hurt, it hurt more than you expected. But it was the right thing, the safe thing and the only way to protect him.Just then, another notification popped up.

heeseung : thank you so much for standing up for me tonight , tomorrow we go out somewhere ?

Your thumb hovered over the screen. The message was simple, sweet, and full of the quiet care you had come to expect from him. Your heart ached fiercely. You wanted to reply, you wanted to tell him yes, that you’d see him in the morning, that you’d face the day together like you had been doing. You wanted to hear his voice, feel his hand in yours, let him make you breakfast and hold you when the world felt too heavy.

But you didn't, you ignored the message.You turned your phone face down on the floor and hugged your knees closer, fresh tears silently sliding down your cheeks. If you didn’t draw a line right now, your feelings might get out of hand. And that would only hurt him and his career even more.You sat there in the dark for a long time, tears flowing freely now, one hand still protectively over your belly. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty. The love you had just realized was now tangled with guilt, fear, and a painful resolve.

You didn’t know what the future held but you knew one thing for certain ,you didn’t want to hurt him, especially not his career.The realization that you were in love with Heeseung and that you wanted a family with him suddenly felt both precious and terrifyingly vulnerable.You stayed on the cold floor until your legs went numb, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a stone. You stayed on the cold floor for what felt like hours, knees hugged tightly to your chest, tears drying on your cheeks. The weight of the threatening message, the realization of your feelings, and the painful decision you had just made pressed down on you until your body felt too heavy to move.

Eventually, you forced yourself up. Your legs were numb, your eyes swollen. You moved through your nightly routine on autopilot washing your face with cold water, brushing your teeth, changing into an oversized tshirt. Every motion felt mechanical, like you were watching yourself from outside your body. When you finally crawled into bed, you pulled the covers over your head and curled up on your side, one hand resting protectively over your belly.

The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come. It took a long time, but exhaustion eventually won. You drifted off with Heeseung’s face in your mind his gentle smile, the way he had held you earlier, the way he had kissed your forehead like you mattered.

The next morning, you woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains. Your body felt heavy, your eyes still puffy from the night before. The decision to keep your distance sat like a stone in your chest, but you knew it was the right thing. You reached for your phone on the nightstand and opened your messages to Heeseung. Your fingers hovered for a moment before you typed

you : hey, I’m going to my parents’ place for the weekend since we have holidays now

you : i’ll be back on monday morning, sorry that I can’t go out with you.

You stared at the message for a long time, thumb hovering over the send button. It felt cold and distant but it was necessary. You couldn’t let your feelings get out of hand, you couldn't risk hurting him — or his career. you hit send and then you turned your phone face down, got out of bed, and started getting ready for the trip to your parents’ house. The weekend away felt like a necessary escape, a chance to breathe, to think, to put some space between you and the complicated feelings that were growing too fast.

But even as you packed your bag, a small, quiet part of you already missed him.The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on it.You moved quickly, almost frantically, through your apartment. You pulled out a small suitcase and started packing as fast as you could clothes for the weekend, your laptop for capstone work, toiletries, and a few comfort items. Every motion felt mechanical, like you were trying to outrun the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. The threatening message still burned in your mind, but you pushed it down, focusing instead on the practical steps in front of you.

Once your bag was packed, you grabbed your keys and left the apartment without looking back. The hallway felt too quiet, too empty. You didn’t glance at Heeseung’s door as you passed it fuck you couldn’t. On the way to the bus stop, you pulled out your phone and called your parents. The line connected after a couple of rings, and your mom’s cheerful voice filled your ear. “Sweetheart! Is everything okay?”

You forced a smile into your voice. “Hi mom im coming home for thanksgiving break. The university has a short break, so I thought I’d surprise you guys and spend the long weekend with you.”Your mom gasped happily. “Oh! That’s wonderful! We’ll prepare your favorite room and make all your favorite dishes. Is Heeseung coming with you? We’d love to see him again and celebrate Thanksgiving together as a family.”You swallowed hard, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “No, he’s busy with basketball practice. He couldn’t make it this time.”

Your dad’s voice joined in the background, sounding a little disappointed. “Ah, that’s too bad we really liked him. But we’re so happy you’re coming home, honey. We’ll see you soon!”They sounded a little sad about Heeseung not joining, but their excitement to see you won out. You ended the call with a promise to text when you reached the bus station, then quickly messaged Yunjin and Soobin to let them know you’d be away until monday morning.

you : hey guys, im heading to my parents’ town for the weekend since there’s a short break i’ll be back on monday morning and take care!

you : also happy early thanksgiving !

Yunjin replied almost immediately with a string of heart emojis and a promise to catch up when you returned. Soobin sent a simple, caring message wishing you a safe trip.You reached the bus stop just in time for the earliest bus to your hometown. You climbed aboard, found a window seat near the back, and settled in with your bag on your lap. The bus pulled away from the stop, the familiar streets of campus slowly fading behind you.As the scenery changed to highways and open fields, your mind wandered back to Heeseung.

You thought about him and Bambi. About the quiet mornings when he brought you breakfast. About the way he held you when you cried. About the gentle way he spoke to your belly, calling the baby by the nickname you both loved. About how safe you felt in his arms. About how much you wanted to build a real family with him but nothing could be done now.His career was important. He had worked so hard to get where he was — the captain of the team, the one with real NBA potential. According to whoever sent that message, you looked like a threat. You couldn’t be the reason his dreams crumbled. You couldn’t be the reason his future was ruined.

You hugged your bag tighter to your chest, staring out the window as the bus rumbled along the highway. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was the right thing this was the only thing you could do to protect him.The bus continued its journey, carrying you away from him, away from the complicated feelings that had grown too strong, too fast.You leaned your head against the window, watching the world blur past, heart heavy with love and sacrifice.

The bus finally pulled into your hometown station by early afternoon. The familiar sight of the small, quiet terminal and the surrounding streets brought a strange mix of comfort and nostalgia. You stepped off the bus with your bag, scanning the area, and spotted your dad waiting near the entrance.The moment he saw you, his face lit up with the warmest smile. He rushed forward and pulled you into a big, tight hug, holding you like he hadn’t seen you in years.“My girl,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You look beautiful come here, let me see you properly.”

He pulled back slightly, then gently placed both hands on your shoulders before lowering them to rest lightly on your belly. His eyes softened with pure joy as he leaned down a little. “Hey there, little Bambi,” he whispered to your belly, his voice full of wonder. “How is my little grandbaby doing today? Grandpa can’t wait to meet you.” You felt tears prick your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. Your dad straightened up and hugged you again, kissing the top of your head.

“Let’s get you home, your mom has been cooking up a storm since you called.”You climbed into his car, the familiar smell of leather and faint bakery scent ( from years of him driving to and from work ) wrapping around you like a hug. As he started the engine and pulled out of the station, your dad began chatting happily. “The bakery has been so busy lately,” he said, smiling. “Thanksgiving orders are pouring in and we're fully booked for the next few days. Oh, and guess what? Sangwon started working with us three months ago.”You turned to him, shocked. “Sangwon? When did he come back from pastry school?”

Your dad chuckled. “About three months ago he finished his program early and wanted to come back home. He’s been a huge help at the bakery and the customers love his new recipes. He’s really grown into a fine young man.”Sangwon your first love, your first and only boyfriend. The two of you had dated in high school a sweet, normal relationship filled with study dates, walks home, and innocent kisses. The breakup had been mutual and gentle. The distance during university had simply made things too hard, so you both decided to part ways before starting separate schools.

You had stayed friends, occasionally checking in on each other’s lives through social media, but it had been years since you last saw him in person.

Hearing his name now felt surreal. A wave of nostalgia washed over you, but it was soft, not painful. You wondered how he was doing, how life had treated him since then. Your dad continued chatting warmly about the bakery, your mom’s excitement to see you, and how they had prepared your old room with fresh sheets and your favorite snacks. You listened, smiling softly, letting his voice fill the car and ease some of the heaviness you had carried from the city.

But in the back of your mind, Heeseung’s face kept appearing his gentle smile, the way he had held you last night, the way he had kissed your forehead before leaving.You pushed the thoughts down this weekend was for your parents for some distance and for some clarity. Even if your heart was still back in the city with him, Heeseung woke up slowly around 10 a.m., the sunlight filtering through the curtains of his bedroom. For a moment, the events of the previous day felt distant the loss at the game, the painful dinner with his parents, the comforting way you had hugged him and kissed him before he went to sleep alone then reality settled in.

He sat up, rubbing his face with both hands, and reached for his phone on the nightstand. He had planned to take you out today to a quiet movie or a walk, just the two of you, something normal after the chaos of yesterday. He had been looking forward to it. But when he opened his messages, there was no new reply from you.He frowned slightly, you must have been exhausted and fallen asleep, he thought. The day had been long and emotional for both of you. He scrolled up to check the conversation again, hoping he had missed something. There it was your message from last night.

you : hey, im going to my parents’ place for the thanksgiving break since there’s a short break. i’ll be back on Monday morning. sorry that I can’t go out with you

The words felt… off too polite, too distant. Nothing like the way you had been opening up to him lately the soft smiles, the way you leaned into his touch, the quiet conversations in the dark. This message sounded careful and guarded like you were putting space between you both again. Heeseung stared at the screen for a long time, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Did something happen yesterday? The thought gnawed at him. The dinner with his parents had been rough. His father’s words had cut deep, and he had seen how you had stood up for him. Maybe it had been too much, maybe you were pulling away because of that or maybe… you were just tired.

He didn’t want to pry he couldn’t. You two weren’t actually dating. This was all supposed to be for show for the baby, for appearances. He was the one who had developed real feelings. He was the one who lay awake at night thinking about you and Bambi, imagining a future that felt real. He couldn’t push you he wouldn’t.So he typed a simple, careful reply.

heeseung : did you reach safely?

He sent it and set the phone down, running a hand through his messy hair. The apartment felt too quiet without you. He got up, made himself a quick breakfast, and tried to focus on the day ahead. But his mind kept drifting back to you wondering if you were okay, if the trip was a good escape for you, if you were thinking about him at all. He told himself it was fine if you needed space. You needed time with your family.

But the quiet ache in his chest told him it wasn’t fine he missed you already.Thanksgiving Day started quietly for Heeseung.He woke up early, the apartment feeling too empty without the soft sound of your breathing or the faint scent of your shampoo on the pillow next to him. He spent the first half of the day trying to keep busy. He went to the gym for a long, intense workout pushing himself harder than usual, lifting heavier weights, running longer on the treadmill. The physical exertion helped quiet the restless thoughts in his head.

After showering, he settled on the couch with one of the parenting books he had ordered. He read about the second trimester, about how the baby was developing, about ways to support a partner through mood swings and fatigue. Every page made him think of you how you had been feeling lately, how your belly was starting to show more, how you tried to hide your exhaustion behind a brave smile. He highlighted passages and made mental notes of things he wanted to ask you about or prepare for.

Later, he cleaned his apartment thoroughly, wiping down surfaces, organizing the kitchen, folding the blanket you had used the last time you fell asleep on his couch. The small tasks kept his hands busy, but his mind kept drifting back to you. He wondered if you had reached your parents’ house safely, if you were resting, if you were thinking about him at all.By late evening, he still hadn’t heard from you.He checked his phone again as he got ready to head out for Thanksgiving dinner with his teammates. No new messages. The silence felt heavier than he expected.

Fuck I miss you so much

The thought hit him as he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He wanted to take you along with him tonight. He wanted to show you off to everyone to walk into the restaurant with your hand in his, to introduce you as his girlfriend ( even if it was still fake to you ), to let his teammates see the girl who had changed everything for him. He imagined how proud he would feel, how complete the night would feel with you by his side. Instead, he would be going alone. Most of his teammates would be there with their girlfriends. Jake had mentioned bringing his girl. Jay was bringing someone too.

The thought of sitting there, watching everyone else paired up while he sat by himself, made the loneliness feel sharper. He grabbed his keys and headed out, the cool evening air doing little to ease the ache in his chest. The restaurant was lively when he arrived. Laughter, clinking glasses, the smell of roasted turkey and warm pies filled the air. His teammates greeted him warmly, clapping him on the back and teasing him about the game. But the moment he sat down at the long table, the emptiness beside him felt glaringly obvious.

He smiled and laughed at the right times, joining in the conversation about the season and holiday plans. But his mind kept drifting back to you wondering if you were having a good time with your parents, if you had eaten something gentle on your stomach, if you were thinking about him even a little. He missed you more than he had expected to. He missed the way you leaned into him when you were tired. He missed the soft way you said his name when you were half asleep. He missed the quiet moments where you let him talk to Bambi, your hand resting over his on your belly.

He took a sip of water, forcing another smile as his teammates joked around him. The loneliness sat heavy in his chest, but he pushed it down. He had chosen this to be there for you, even if it meant sitting through a holiday dinner feeling like something was missing. He pulled out his phone under the table and checked it one more time, still no reply from you.He put the phone away and tried to focus on the conversation, but his thoughts kept circling back to the same quiet hope

Come back soon.

Come back to me.

Heeseung sat at the long dinner table with his teammates, the restaurant buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the rich smell of roasted turkey and warm pies. The Thanksgiving dinner was lively, exactly the kind of celebration the team usually loved after a tough season. But tonight, Heeseung felt detached from it all. Ten minutes into the main course, Beomgyu walked up to him with that signature mischievous grin, slinging an arm around his shoulders.“Yo, captain,” Beomgyu teased loudly enough for the whole table to hear. “You look like a loser in love sitting here all by yourself. Where’s your girl?

The table erupted in laughter. Jake, Jay, and a few others joined in with playful jabs. Heeseung forced a small smile, trying to play along, but the words landed heavier than they should have. Jake, who knew the full truth along with Coach, Jay, and Beomgyu, shot him a sympathetic look but didn’t say anything. Heeseung shrugged, keeping his tone light. “She’s at her parents’ place for Thanksgiving family stuff couldn’t make it.” Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Is she avoiding the team dinner because she knows how chaotic we are?” The teasing continued, but Heeseung’s mind wasn’t fully there.

He laughed at the right moments, contributed a few comments about the lost game and holiday plans, but the loneliness from earlier still sat heavy in his chest. Most of his teammates had come with their girlfriends. The empty seat beside him felt glaringly obvious. He pulled out his phone under the table and started scrolling through Instagram to distract himself. Stories popped up one after another. Then he saw it ,you had reposted a story.

It was a picture of you smiling brightly next to a guy — tall, good looking, holding a freshly baked pie. The two of you looked comfortable together, arms casually close, the background clearly a warm home setting. Heeseung stared at the photo something sharp twisted in his chest. Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be, it was just a picture. You were allowed to have friends. You were allowed to spend time with people from your past. You had the time to repost that, but not to reply to his message?

He told himself it was nothing. You two were just faking it anyway. But to him, it had started to feel real. The way you had hugged him two nights ago, the peck on his cheek, the way you had defended him in front of his father — it had started to feel real from your side too or maybe he was just being delusional. The thought stung more than he wanted to admit.He slipped his phone back into his pocket, the food on his plate suddenly tasting like nothing. The laughter around the table felt distant. “I’m tired,” he told Coach a few minutes later, standing up. “I’m gonna head out enjoy the rest of the night, guys.”

Coach gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. “Get some rest, Lee, see you at practice.” Heeseung drove straight to the basketball court instead of going home. The arena was empty and dark, but he had a key. He turned on the lights in the practice gym, the familiar smell of polished wood and sweat hitting him as he stepped inside. He changed into practice clothes he kept in his bag and started doing drills dribbling, shooting, defensive slides, anything to clear his head. The ball echoed loudly in the empty gym, each bounce and swish a small release of the frustration and jealousy he didn’t want to name.

Every shot he took, he thought of you every time he caught the ball, he remembered the way you had looked at him after the game, the way you had hugged him, the way you had stood up for him in front of his father.He kept playing until his muscles burned and his mind felt a little quieter.But even then, the image of you smiling next to that guy lingered.

He didn’t know what this was between you two anymore. But he knew one thing for certain he missed you and he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend he didn’t.

Heeseung sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at the dark screen. The apartment felt too quiet after the team dinner. The loneliness from earlier had only grown heavier on the drive home. He had tried to distract himself with a quick shower and some stretches, but nothing worked. He opened his messages and typed a simple text to you.

heeseung : happy thanksgiving looks like you’re busy with family hope you’re having a good time

heeseumg : take care of yourself and bambi

He stared at the message for a long moment before sending it. No reply came. He waited a few minutes, refreshing the chat, but the screen stayed silent.He sighed, setting the phone on the nightstand.You’re probably busy with your parents, he told himself. It’s fine she needs time with her family.But the silence stung more than he wanted to admit. He missed the little replies you usually sent even the short ones that made his day feel a little brighter. He missed the way you had started opening up to him, the quiet conversations, the way you let him hold you.

He changed into comfortable clothes and lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The room felt too empty without you. No soft breathing beside him. No warm body curled against his chest. No gentle hand resting on his stomach while you slept. He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. She’s not mine, he reminded himself this is all fake she’s doing this for the baby not for me.But the lie felt thinner every day. He turned on his side, pulling the blanket higher, and tried to sleep.

The last thing he thought about before drifting off was you smiling in that Instagram story, looking happy and carefree with someone else. And how much he wished he had been the one standing next to you instead.You were sitting on the edge of your old bed in your parents’ house when your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Heeseung’s message.

heeseung : happy thanksgiving looks like you’re busy with family hope you’re having a good time

heeseung : take care of yourself and bambi

Reading his words made something twist painfully in your chest. Guilt flooded through you, heavy and sharp. You could almost hear his voice saying it soft, caring, the same tone he used when he brought you food or held you through a bad night. You felt like the worst person in the world for ignoring him earlier, for pulling away when he had been nothing but good to you. But you had no choice , you typed back quickly, keeping it short and neutral.

you : happy thanksgiving to you too, good night

you : yes, I was hanging out with my family

You hit send and immediately turned your phone face down on the nightstand. You couldn’t let yourself think about him right now. Not when you were trying so hard to keep your distance. You had spent the day helping out at your parents’ bakery. The place was busy with Thanksgiving orders, the warm smell of fresh bread, pies, and cookies filling the air. You had tied on an apron and worked alongside your mom and dad packing orders, decorating cakes, and chatting with regular customers. It felt good to be useful, to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of the bakery. Your mom kept fussing over you the whole time, reminding you to sit down, to drink water, to take care of yourself and the baby.

“You’re growing a little person in there,” she had said, gently patting your belly. “Don’t overdo it, sweetheart we’re so happy you’re home.” You had smiled and nodded, letting her worry over you. It was comforting in its own way.

You had also run into Sangwon earlier that day.He was working behind the counter at your parents’ bakery, focused and efficient as he helped customers with their orders. When he looked up and saw you standing there, his eyes widened in genuine surprise, then lit up with that familiar, warm smile you remembered so clearly from high school. The same smile that used to make your teenage heart flutter.

“Wow,” he said, stepping around the counter to pull you into a quick, friendly hug. “It’s really you you look different in a good way.”The two of you had talked for a while during a quiet moment between customers. You had found a small table in the back corner of the bakery, away from prying ears. You told him everything the pregnancy, that Heeseung was the father, and that the two of you were in a pretend relationship for now, mostly for the sake of the baby and to keep things stable.

Sangwon had been really shocked. His eyes went wide, and he leaned back in his chair, processing the news in silence for a few seconds. He asked a few careful, gentle questions how you were feeling, how far along you were, if you were okay emotionally.

Then he promised to keep it all to himself. “You know I won’t say anything to your parents,” he had said seriously, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “But… are you okay? Do you need anything? Money, a place to stay, someone to talk to anything at all.” You had hesitated before answering his next question.“Do you like him?” Sangwon had asked gently, his voice full of understanding. You had paused for a long moment, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue.

“I love him,” you had admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it just wouldn’t work out we’re from two different worlds his career, his family expectations, the pressure he’s under… it’s too complicated. I can’t drag him down with me.”Sangwon had looked at you with deep understanding, then pulled you into a gentle, comforting hug right there in the back of the bakery. “Whatever happens, you can come to me,” he had said softly. “I’m always here, never hesitate to call me day or night.”

You had smiled, grateful beyond words. It felt good to have someone who had your back, someone who didn’t judge, someone who remembered the girl you used to be before everything became so complicated.

Now, back in your old room, you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, your parents already asleep after a long day at the bakery. The realization that you were in love with Heeseung still sat heavy in your chest, warm and terrifying at the same time. You wanted him. You wanted the quiet mornings, the late night talks, the way he held you like you were something precious. You wanted to build a real family with him and Bambi.

But the threatening message from earlier made your decision feel even more necessary. You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but Heeseung’s face kept appearing in your mind his gentle smile, the way he held you when you cried, the way he spoke to Bambi like the baby was already the most important thing in the world. You turned onto your side, hugging a pillow to your chest, and whispered to the quiet room “I’m sorry…” But you knew you had to stay away — for him for Bambi for both of you.

The weekend went by quickly you spent most of your time with your family, helping out at the bakery whenever you could. The familiar rhythm of packing orders, decorating cakes, and chatting with regular customers felt grounding. Your mom fussed over you constantly making sure you ate small, frequent meals, reminding you to rest, and gently patting your belly while whispering sweet words to Bambi. Your dad was over the moon, constantly talking about future plans for the baby and how excited he was to be a grandfather. The warmth of their love helped ease some of the heaviness you had carried from the city.

You also spent time with Sangwon. The two of you talked a lot during quiet moments at the bakery or while walking home in the evenings. It was easy and nostalgic reminiscing about high school, laughing about old memories, and catching up on life since then. He was supportive without being pushy, and his presence felt like a safe, familiar anchor.But throughout the weekend, you barely texted Heeseung. He had messaged you several times asking how you were doing, how your parents were, if you were resting enough, if the nausea was better.

Each message was caring, thoughtful, and full of the quiet concern you had come to expect from him. You replied briefly, keeping your answers short and neutral. You told yourself it was for the best. Keeping distance was the only way to protect him. On Monday morning, your dad didn’t want you to travel back by bus. He insisted Sangwon drop you back to your apartment. “It’s safer this way,” he said. “And it would have been better if Heeseung was here to pick you up, but I understand he’s busy with practice.” You forced a small smile. “He is busy it’s fine, Dad.”

The drive back with Sangwon was pleasant. The two of you chatted casually about old times funny high school memories, how life had changed since then, and light updates about mutual friends. It was fun talking to him. The conversation flowed easily, and you didn’t realize how fast the time had passed until the car halted right in front of your apartment building. Sangwon helped you carry your bags and all the stuff your parents had sent homemade snacks, some clothes, and a few things for the baby they had already started buying. He carried everything up to your door without complaint.

When you reached your apartment door, Heeseung’s door suddenly opened. He stepped out, looking like he had just come back from somewhere. His eyes landed on you first, then on Sangwon standing beside you with your bags. Something passed through his eyes in a quick flash you couldn’t quite figure out surprise? hurt? jealousy? It was gone too fast to read.“You’re back,” he said quietly, his voice neutral but his gaze lingering on you. You nodded, suddenly feeling awkward with Sangwon still standing there. “Yeah… just got back.”

Sangwon gave a polite nod to Heeseung, then turned to you with a warm smile. “Take care, call me if you need anything, okay?” You thanked him and watched him leave. When you turned back, Heeseung was still standing in his doorway, watching you. The air between you felt heavy and didn't know what to say. You stood in the hallway for a moment, the silence after Sangwon left feeling heavier than it should have. Heeseung was still standing in his doorway, watching you with that unreadable expression. The air between you felt thick, charged with everything that had happened over the weekend and everything that remained unsaid.

You shifted your bag on your shoulder and tried to sound casual. “Do you… want to come inside?” you asked, gesturing toward your apartment door.Heeseung shook his head slowly, his voice gentle but firm. “No, you must be tired from all the traveling. You need to rest.” He paused, eyes flicking to your face as if checking for any sign of exhaustion. “Do you have any classes today?” he asked. You shook your head. “No, the one I had in the evening is cancelled.”

Heeseung nodded once, a small, almost curt movement. He didn’t say anything else no “how was your weekend,” no “I missed you,” no offer to bring you dinner or check on you later. He simply turned and walked back into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a quiet finality.You stood there for a few seconds longer, staring at his closed door. The hallway felt colder now emptier.

You turned and walked into your own apartment, locking the door behind you. You set your bags down and leaned against the door, letting out a long, slow breath. Yes, you thought, closing your eyes. This is how it should be. This is how it should have been from the beginning. Keeping distance was the right thing, the safe thing. The only way to protect him from the threat, from his father’s expectations, from the complications your feelings would bring. You couldn’t let yourself get any closer. You couldn’t let your heart get in the way of his future.

You unpacked your bags slowly, folding clothes and putting away the snacks and gifts your parents had sent. Every motion felt mechanical, like you were trying to outrun the ache in your chest. The apartment felt too quiet without his presence no soft knocks on the door, no warm food waiting on the table, no gentle voice asking how you were feeling. You sat on the edge of your bed, hand resting on your belly, and whispered to the quiet room. “This is better for him and Bambi.”

But even as you said the words, a small, stubborn part of you ached for the way things had been just a few days ago the easy conversations, the forehead kisses, the way he made you feel safe. You pushed the thoughts down, telling yourself again and again that this was the right choice. You had to keep your distance.

The following weeks blurred into a painful routine of deliberate distance you ignored Heeseung. Every morning, when he knocked softly on your door with breakfast, you pretended you were already gone or too busy to answer. You left earlier than usual for campus, taking the side stairs to avoid the hallway. When he texted asking how you were feeling or if you needed anything, you replied with short, polite messages — “I’m fine,” “Thank you,” “No need.” You stopped letting him come inside. You stopped the late night talks. You stopped the quiet moments where you used to watch him cook or let him hold you, it hurt.

Every time you saw his name on your phone, your heart clenched. Every time you heard his door open or close, you pressed your back against your own door and reminded yourself why you were doing this. The threatening message still lingered in your mind like a shadow. You couldn’t risk his career. You couldn’t risk Bambi’s future. Keeping distance was the only way.Soobin and Yunjin noticed something was wrong.

They caught the way you went quiet whenever Heeseung’s name came up. They saw how you avoided the usual routes where you might run into him. They noticed how tired and distant you seemed. But they didn’t dare ask. They simply stayed close Soobin walking you to classes, Yunjin sending funny memes to cheer you up, both of them offering silent support without pushing.

Heeseung still tried.

He kept showing up.

Some mornings he left breakfast containers outside your door with little notes “Eat something for Bambi.”He texted every day asking how you were feeling, if the nausea was better, if you needed anything. When you gave short replies, he still followed up the next day. He waited in the hallway sometimes, hoping to catch you, but you always slipped away before he could say more than a few words. One evening, he knocked on your door with dinner. You opened it just a crack, thanked him politely, and took the container without letting him inside. The hurt in his eyes was impossible to miss, but he didn’t push. He simply nodded and said, “Take care of yourself.”

It broke your heart a little more every time. During this one month, your parents sent Sangwon every single week to bring food they had made for you. Homemade meals, snacks, and little notes from your mom reminding you to rest. Sangwon would drop them off with a warm smile, sometimes staying for a short chat. He never pushed, never asked too many questions. He was just there, a safe, familiar presence.

Every time Sangwon came, Heeseung’s door would open. He would step out, see the two of you in the hallway, and go dead silent. His expression would tighten, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, before he quietly went back inside without a word you noticed it every time.And every time, it made the ache in your chest worse.

You were ignoring him to protect him. But it felt like you were hurting him anyway. You sat alone in your apartment many nights, hand on your belly, whispering to Bambi about how sorry you were, how you were doing this for both of them, how you wished things could be different.But you kept your distance because you loved him too much to let anything happen to him. It was a random Wednesday afternoon. ( like it was a random tuesday march 10 )

You were walking down the familiar hallway toward your next class, bag slung over your shoulder, mind lost in thoughts about your capstone project and the gentle flutter you had started feeling in your belly lately. The campus was busy as usual, students rushing between classes, but something felt off the moment you turned the corner and people were staring. Not the usual quick glances, these were prolonged, deliberate stares. Groups of students huddled together, whispering as you passed. Some gave you disgusted looks, others smirked or shook their heads. A few pulled out their phones, clearly taking photos or sending messages. The air felt thick with judgment, and your steps slowed as unease crept up your spine.

You kept your head down, pulling your hood a little lower, trying to ignore the growing discomfort. It’s nothing, you told yourself. Just rumors from the game or something but then it happened. One of the girls standing with a group near the lockers suddenly shouted loud enough for the entire hallway to hear

“Whore!” You stopped dead in your tracks, heart slamming against your ribcage. “What?” you whispered, turning toward her in disbelief. She crossed her arms, smirking with clear malice. “Aren’t you such a slut for baby trapping Heeseung? Everyone knows it you got pregnant on purpose to trap the basketball captain pathetic.”

The words hit like a slap. Your face burned with humiliation as more whispers erupted around you. The hallway seemed to close in, the stares growing sharper, more vicious. Your hand instinctively moved to your belly, protecting the small swell that was starting to show. Before you could even process what to say, Yunjin came running from the other end of the hallway, pushing through the crowd. “Get away from her!” Yunjin snapped at the girl, grabbing your arm and pulling you away. “Come on.”

She dragged you down the hallway and into the nearest empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind you. The room was quiet, the noise from the hallway muffled. Yunjin turned to you, her face flushed with anger and worry. “Are you okay?” she asked, searching your face. You nodded shakily, but your legs felt weak. You leaned against a desk, trying to steady yourself. Yunjin pulled out her phone, scrolling quickly before turning the screen toward you. “Look at this itt’s been circulating all morning.”

It was a post on the anonymous campus page

@decelisconfessions : The only reason Heeseung is with the girl from the arts major is because she baby trapped him. She got pregnant on purpose to lock down the basketball captain disgusting he deserves better.

The post had hundreds of likes and comments already, many agreeing with the accusation, calling you names, speculating about your motives.Your heart dropped. The room spun for a second. You felt sick not from pregnancy, but from the sheer cruelty of it all. The rumors had been bad before, but this was vicious, personally designed to hurt.Yunjin put her phone away and pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “People are idiots, you know that’s not true heeseung knows that’s not true ee know that’s not true.”

You hugged her back, tears stinging your eyes. The weight of the secret, the distance you had been trying to keep, the love you were trying so hard not to feel it all crashed down on you at once.You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine.You didn’t know what to do. The words on Yunjin’s phone screen blurred as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop crying. The accusation“baby trapped him” felt like a knife twisting in your chest. Who would do this to you? Who would spread such a vicious, cruel rumor? Why? What had you ever done to deserve this kind of hatred?

Your shoulders shook with silent sobs as you stood in the empty classroom, the world outside the door feeling too loud, too cruel. Yunjin immediately pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as you cried against her shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay those people are idiots. They don’t know anything they’re just jealous or bored or whatever. This isn’t true you know that i know that and moreover Heeseung knows that too.”

You clung to her, the tears coming harder. The weight of the past few weeks the hormones, the secrecy, the distance you had forced between you and Heeseung, the love you were trying so hard not to feel all of it crashed down on you at once. You felt small exposed and terrified.Yunjin held you until the worst of the sobs eased, then gently pulled back and wiped your tears with her thumbs. “Do you want to go home?” she asked softly. “Skip the rest of the classes today? It’s okay if you do.” You nodded, unable to speak. The thought of walking through the hallways again, facing more stares and whispers, made your stomach churn.

Yunjin nodded understandingly. “Okay, I’ll call Soobin. He can bring his car and pick us up at the side entrance so we can avoid the main crowd.” She quickly dialed Soobin while you tried to steady your breathing. Your hand stayed on your belly, gently rubbing small circles. I shouldn’t stress myself out too much, you thought, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. It isn’t good for Bambi. I have to stay calm for you, little one. Soobin arrived quickly. He didn’t ask questions when he saw your tear streaked face he just gave you a gentle, concerned look and helped guide you out through a quieter side exit. You kept your head down the entire way, hood pulled low, trying to make yourself as small as possible so no one would notice you.

The walk to the car felt endless, every distant whisper or glance making you flinch. Once you were safely in the backseat with Yunjin beside you, Soobin started the car and drove away from campus. The silence in the car was broken only by your occasional sniffles.Yunjin rubbed your arm gently. “Hey… it’s going to be okay those rumors are bullshit people love drama, but it’ll die down. You’re strong, you've got us and you’ve got Heeseung.” Soobin glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his voice soft and reassuring. “Yeah and if anyone says anything to your face, tell me. I’ve got your back.”

They spent the entire car ride trying to cheer you up. Yunjin told funny stories about her latest disastrous date attempt trying to move on sunghoon. Soobin played some of your favorite calm music and cracked a few light jokes about how the three of you should start a secret society to fight campus gossip. Their efforts were sweet, and you managed a few watery smiles, but the ache in your chest didn’t fully go away.When Soobin pulled up in front of your apartment building, Yunjin helped you out of the car and walked you to your door. “Call us if you need anything,” she said, hugging you tightly. “Even if it’s just to cry we’re here.”Soobin gave you a gentle hug too. “Rest up we love you.”

You nodded, thanking them both before stepping inside. The apartment felt too quiet too empty. You locked the door, leaned against it, and let the tears come again. You couldn’t stop thinking about the rumor. About how it could hurt Heeseung’s reputation. About how it could affect Bambi one day. About how you had to keep your distance to protect him even if it broke your heart a little more every day.

You curled up on the couch, hand on your belly, whispering softly to Bambi. “I’m sorry, little one. I’m trying to do the right thing for you and your dad.” The tears kept coming, but you held on to the small comfort that at least you weren’t completely alone.

Only ten minutes had passed since you had curled up on the couch, tears still flowing freely as you hugged a pillow to your chest. The weight of the rumor, the stares, the whispers, and the overwhelming fear of what it could do to Heeseung and Bambi felt crushing. Your phone lay silent on the coffee table, the ignored message from Heeseung still open on the screen. You didn’t have the strength to reply. You didn’t have the strength to face anyone right now.

The doorbell rang and your heart jumped you thought it was Heeseung. He must have heard about the rumor somehow, or maybe he had come to check on you after his practice. You didn’t want to face him right now — not with your eyes swollen from crying, not with the guilt of ignoring him weighing on you, not when you were still trying so hard to keep your distance to protect him.

But the doorbell rang again, soft but persistent.You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, took a shaky breath, and forced yourself to stand up. Your legs felt heavy as you walked to the door. You opened it slowly, expecting to see Heeseung’s concerned face.

It wasn’t him it was Sangwon.He stood there with a small bag in his hand, likely another care package from your parents. His expression was relaxed at first, the familiar warm smile starting to form on his face. But the moment he saw you eyes red and swollen, cheeks streaked with tears, shoulders hunched his smile vanished completely.You broke down the second you saw him.

The tears you had been trying to hold back came rushing out again. A sob tore from your throat as you covered your mouth with one hand, the other gripping the doorframe for support. Your body shook with the force of the crying, the exhaustion of the day, the fear, the guilt, and the overwhelming love you were trying so hard to suppress all crashing down at once.

Sangwon’s eyes widened in alarm. He stepped forward immediately, startled and deeply worried.“Hey, hey — what happened?” he asked, voice full of concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen at campus? Talk to me.”You couldn’t answer right away. The sobs kept coming, your legs feeling weak. Sangwon didn’t hesitate he gently guided you inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. He led you to the couch, making you sit down carefully, and sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

“Take your time,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m here just breathe whatever it is, you can tell me.” You cried harder, leaning into his side as the words finally started spilling out between sobs the rumor on the campus page, the girl shouting “whore” in the hallway, the stares, the whispers, the fear that it would ruin Heeseung’s career and reputation. You told him how you had stood up for Heeseung in front of his father, how you were trying so hard to keep your distance to protect him, how much you loved him but couldn’t let yourself get closer.

Sangwon listened without interrupting, his arm around your shoulders, rubbing gentle circles on your back. He stayed quiet and steady, letting you cry it all out, his presence calm and comforting in the middle of your storm. Sangwon stayed with you on the couch, his arm around your shoulders as you cried out everything that had been weighing on you. He didn’t rush you. He just listened, rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence steady and comforting in the middle of your storm. When your sobs finally quieted into soft sniffles, you pulled back slightly and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. Sangwon looked at you with deep concern, his voice gentle but firm.

“Is there anything else?” he asked. “You look like you’re carrying even more.”You hesitated, then nodded. The threatening message had been burning in your mind since last night. You took a shaky breath and told him everything the anonymous text, the warning to stay away from Heeseung, the threat to both your careers.Sangwon’s expression darkened. He sat up straighter, his hand still on your shoulder.

“Did you discuss this with Heeseung?” he asked.You shook your head, eyes downcast. “No.”Sangwon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why not? Heeseung should be the first person to know all of this he’s the father of your baby. He’s been there for you every step of the way you can’t keep carrying this alone.”

You looked down at your hands, voice small. “I don’t want to ruin his future. If I tell him, he’ll worry, he’ll get involved. And if whoever sent that message finds out… it could hurt his career even more. I can’t do that to him.” Sangwon stared at you for a moment, then gently flicked your forehead. “You’re dumb,” he said, but there was no real bite in his voice, only fond exasperation. “If he didn’t care about you, you would be alone here. Even though you’ve been ignoring him, he still shows up, he still brings you food and he still checks on you that he wants this baby. Do you think some anonymous threat is going to stop him? I think you’re too blind to see that that man is in love with you.”You shook your head quickly, cheeks burning. “No it’s not like that this is all fake it’s just for the baby he’s just being responsible.”

Sangwon gave you a long, knowing look, but he didn’t push further on that point. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder. “I want you to call him up and tell him that you wanna talk to him. This is much needed, he deserves to know. But right now go to sleep, you need that rest. You’ve been through enough today.”

You nodded, too exhausted to argue. Sangwon helped you to your bed, tucking the blanket around you like an older brother ( ex boyfriend turned older brother 🥰). He dimmed the lights and quietly started cleaning up your apartment picking up the scattered snacks from earlier, washing the few dishes in the sink, folding the blanket on the couch.You watched him for a moment, grateful beyond words, before your eyes grew heavy. As you drifted off, the last thing you thought about was Heeseung and how much you wished you could tell him everything.

The entire day had been a blur of motion and focus for Heeseung.He had woken up early, the apartment feeling too quiet without you. The first thing he did was prepare breakfast mild porridge with ginger and some fresh fruit slices, exactly the kind of thing that wouldn’t upset your stomach. He packed it carefully, wrote a short note “Eat something and have a good day”, and quietly left it outside your door before heading to practice. He didn’t knock, he didn't want to wake you if you were still resting. After that, he was completely immersed in basketball.

He arrived at the coaching center and didn’t even glance at his phone. Practice was intense drills, strategy sessions, weight training, and full court scrimmages. He pushed himself harder than usual, channeling every ounce of frustration from the previous night’s loss and the painful dinner with his parents into every sprint, every shot, every defensive slide. Coach noticed his intensity and gave him approving nods, but Heeseung barely registered it. His mind was focused, sharp, and deliberately empty of everything else.

The only breaks he took were for water and quick stretches. He didn’t check his messages. He didn’t think about the unanswered text he had sent you last night. He didn’t let himself wonder why you had suddenly pulled away again. By the time evening practice ended, he was exhausted but satisfied. The team headed to the locker room, the air filled with the usual post practice chatter jokes about the game, plans for the weekend, complaints about sore muscles. Heeseung was changing his shirt when Jay walked over, phone in hand, his expression unusually serious. “Hey, man,” Jay said, lowering his voice. “You should check the university confession page there’s something posted about you and her.”

Heeseung’s stomach dropped. He took the phone from Jay and opened the page. The post was right at the top, already with hundreds of likes and comments.

@decelisconfessions : The only reason Heeseung is with the girl from the arts major is because she baby trapped him. She got pregnant on purpose to lock down the basketball captain disgusting he deserves better.

Heeseung’s blood boiled his grip tightened on the phone, knuckles turning white. The words felt like a personal attack not just on you, but on everything the two of you had been trying to build. The casual cruelty, the assumption that you would do something so manipulative, the way it painted you as some scheming villain it made his jaw clench so hard it hurt.

What do these people think? he thought, anger surging through him. What do they actually think of themselves? Spreading lies like this, ruining someone’s reputation for clicks and gossip? They don’t know anything about her. They don’t know how hard she’s trying, how scared she is, how much she’s already giving up to protect this baby. He handed the phone back to Jay without a word, his mind racing. He wanted to find whoever posted it. He wanted to shut it down. He wanted to protect you from this.But right now, all he could do was breathe through the anger and try to stay calm.

The locker room fell into a stunned silence as the post spread through the team’s phones.Heeseung’s blood was still boiling, his grip on the edge of the bench so tight his knuckles turned white. The words on the screen, the casual cruelty, the baseless accusation that you had “baby trapped” him made his jaw clench so hard it ached. He wanted to find whoever posted it. He wanted to shut it down. He wanted to protect you from this vicious gossip that was clearly spreading like wildfire across campus.Before he could say anything, the door to the locker room burst open.

Coach rushed in, phone in hand, his face a mixture of concern and anger. The rest of the team looked up, the atmosphere shifting from casual post-practice chatter to tense worry.

“I just saw the post,” Coach said, voice low but urgent. “It’s been up for almost 8 hours. The whole campus is talking about it. Heeseung — are you okay? Is she okay?”The guys gathered closer, their expressions shifting from shock to genuine concern. Jake stepped forward first. “Man, this is messed up,” Jake said, voice serious. “If you need anything, if she needs anything we’ve got your back.”Jay nodded. “Yeah this isn’t right people are assholes.”Beomgyu looked furious. “Who the hell posts something like this? We need to find out who runs that page.”Heeseung ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I’m going to find out,” he said. He turned to Jake. “Can you try to find the admin of the page? Anything you can dig up.”

Jake nodded immediately. “On it.”Heeseung didn’t wait for more. He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the door.“I need to check on her,” he said over his shoulder. “She’s not answering my messages, and her calls are going straight to voicemail.”The team called out words of support as he left, but Heeseung barely heard them. His mind was racing. The rumor had been out for almost 8 hours. You must have seen it. You must be hurting. And the fact that you weren’t answering him only made the worry twist sharper in his chest. He drove straight to your apartment building, heart pounding the entire way. The streets blurred past as he pushed the speed limit, his mind replaying every moment of the past few weeks the way you had stood up for him in front of his father, the way you had hugged him after the game, the way you had slowly started opening up to him.

He parked quickly and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached your door, he knocked firmly.No answer he knocked again, louder still nothing. He pulled out his phone and tried calling you straight to voicemail. “Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.He stood there for a moment, worry and frustration mixing with a deep, protective anger. He didn’t know who was behind the post, but he knew one thing for certain he wasn’t going to let this hurt you. Not if he could help it he knocked one more time, calling your name softly through the door.

“Baby… it’s me please open the door if you’re in there.”The silence on the other side only made his chest ache more.Heeseung stood outside your door, heart pounding, worry and frustration mixing in his chest. He had knocked again, called your name softly, and tried your phone one more time. Straight to voicemail.The silence on the other side was deafening.

Just as he was about to knock again, the door finally opened. But it wasn’t you it was another guy — tall, good looking, carrying a small bag. The same guy from the Instagram story you had reposted. The one holding a pie, smiling comfortably next to you. Heeseung’s heart hurt it was a sharp, unexpected twist in his chest. You had relied on another man instead of him. He didn’t even know who this guy was or what his relationship with you was. All he knew was that this same person had been visiting you every single week for the past month, bringing things from your parents. And now he was here, in your apartment, when you weren’t answering Heeseung’s calls.

The jealousy was instant and ugly. He tried to push it down, but it burned.Sangwon looked at him for a second, then offered a polite, slightly awkward nod.

“I think I’ll leave now,” Sangwon said quietly. “I was waiting for you to come back.”Heeseung just nodded, jaw tight, unable to form words. Sangwon grabbed his stuff, gave a small wave, and left down the hallway.Heeseung stepped inside your apartment, closing the door behind him. The place was dimly lit, quiet except for the faint sound of your breathing from the bedroom. He walked in slowly, his eyes adjusting to the low light.You were curled up on the bed, eyes red and swollen from crying, looking small and exhausted. The sight broke something in him. He crossed the room in a few quick steps and knelt beside the bed, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice soft. “I’m here.”You looked up at him, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. Heeseung’s heart twisted again. He climbed onto the bed and pulled you into his arms without another word, holding you close as you cried against his chest.He didn’t ask what happened. He just held you, one hand stroking your back, the other resting protectively over your belly.“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your hair. “I’ve got both of you.”

He stayed like that for a long time, letting you cry it all out, his own worry and jealousy fading into the background. Right now, the only thing that mattered was you.You stayed curled against Heeseung’s chest for a long time, the sobs slowly easing into quiet sniffles. His arms were steady around you, one hand gently stroking your back, the other resting protectively over your belly. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat slowly grounded you.

When you finally felt calm enough to speak, you pulled back just enough to look at him. Your voice was hoarse and shaky. “People are talking shit about me,” you whispered. “On that confession page they’re saying I baby trapped you. Some girl shouted ‘whore’ at me in the hallway today. Called me a slut for trapping you. Everyone was staring… whispering…”Heeseung’s expression darkened, but his touch remained gentle. He brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“That isn’t true,” he said firmly, voice low and steady. “You know it. I know that those people don’t know anything about us they don’t know how hard you’ve been trying, how scared you’ve been, or how much you’ve already given up to protect this baby. They’re just bored and cruel. Their words don’t define you. They don’t define us.”He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, holding it there for a long moment. You took a shaky breath and continued.

“There’s more,” you whispered. “The day we came back from your parents’ place… an anonymous number threatened me. They said to stay away from you or they’d ruin both our careers. I… I got scared I didn’t want to ruin your future. That’s why I started avoiding you. I thought if I kept my distance, it would protect you.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly. He searched your face, then let out a slow, pained breath. “It was probably my dad,” he said quietly, voice tight with frustration. “He’s been like this my whole life always comparing me to Heedo, always putting pressure on me. I should have told you how bad it was. You should have told me about the message. We’re supposed to face this together.” You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “I couldn’t,” you whispered. “I was scared I didn't want to ruin your career you mean a lot to me, Heeseung, more than I ever thought you would.” Heeseung’s eyes filled with tears. He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, thick with emotion. “Don’t ever hide anything from me again,” he whispered. “Not the hard things not the scary things. Not the messages that make you cry. I don’t care how busy I am, or how important the tryouts feel, or how much pressure my dad puts on me. You come first always.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. His own eyes were shining.

“I want to be the first person you come to when something hurts, when you’re scared, when you need something, anything. Even if it’s just to sit in silence and let me hold you. I don’t want you carrying things alone just because you’re trying to protect me. That’s not how this works, we're a team now you and me and Bambi.” His forehead rested against yours as he continued, voice softer but no less certain. “I know I’ve been focused on the NBA stuff. I know I’ve been distant sometimes because of it. But that stops now. If my dad sends another message, if anyone tries to make you feel small or unwanted, you tell me immediately. I will handle it i will protect you. I will never let anyone make you feel like you have to choose between my dreams and your peace.”

He kissed your forehead, lingering there, then pressed another soft kiss to each of your damp eyelids.“Promise me,” he murmured. “Promise you’ll come to me first. No more keeping things inside because you’re afraid of what it might cost me. You’re not a burden, baby you’re the reason any of this matters. You’re the home I want to come back to every single time.” His arms tightened around you again, one hand sliding down to rest protectively over your belly.

He thought to himself it is now or never fuck it “I have to tell you this,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you ever since the first day you walked into this building and banged on my door calling me an entitled asshole. I loved how you never backed down, how you called me out, how you were so real with me. I fell for you long before the baby. I fell for you when you were still miss morals, yelling at me through the wall. I love you. I love Bambi. I want this — us ,to be real. I don’t care how complicated it is i want to build a life with you. I want to be the one who’s there for you every single day i love you.”

His voice cracked on the last words, tears slipping down his cheeks as he held you like you were the most precious thing in his world. You felt your own tears fall faster. You pulled back just enough to look at him, then leaned in and kissed him soft at first, then deeper, pouring everything you had been holding back into it.When you pulled away, your voice was shaky but sure. “I love you too,” you whispered. “I’ve been trying so hard not to admit it, but I do, I love you, Heeseung.” He smiled through his tears and pulled you back into his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

Heeseung’s confession hung in the air between you, raw and honest. His eyes were glassy with tears, but the smile on his face was real soft, vulnerable, full of love. You didn’t have words left, you just leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss started slow and tender, lips brushing gently, tasting the salt of tears that still clung to both of you then it deepened. Heeseung cupped your face with both hands, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he tilted your head and kissed you like he had been starving for this exact moment for months. His tongue traced the soft curve of your lower lip, teasing, asking. You opened for him without hesitation, and the kiss turned hungry desperate in the best way. Your tongues met in a slow, deliberate slide, wet and warm, exploring each other with a thoroughness that made heat pool low in your belly.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, gripping the soft strands at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. He groaned into your mouth, the low, rough sound vibrating straight through your chest. His hands left your face and slid down, roaming over your back with firm, open palms. Fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, finding bare skin. The first touch of his warm hands against your lower back made you shiver. He stroked upward, slow and deliberate, mapping the line of your spine, the soft curves of your waist, the sensitive skin just beneath your shoulder blades.

You pressed closer, shifting until you were straddling his lap fully. The solid heat of his thighs beneath you, the unmistakable hardness growing against the softest part of you, sent a fresh wave of need through your body. He pulled you down against him, rolling his hips once just enough for you to feel how much he wanted you and another deep groan spilled from his throat into the kiss.

The kiss broke only for quick, shared breaths before you found each other again. His lips were swollen, wet, insistent. He sucked gently on your lower lip, then your upper, then kissed you deeper still, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that felt almost indecent. One of his hands slipped higher under your shirt, palm gliding over the side of your ribcage until his fingers brushed the soft underside of your breast. He didn’t rush he just held you there, thumb stroking back and forth in a feather light tease that made your breath catch. The other hand stayed on your thigh, fingers spreading wide, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulled you even tighter against the hard line of his cock.

You rocked against him without thinking, a soft, needy sound escaping into his mouth. He answered by kissing you harder open mouthed, messy, full of heat while both hands moved with purpose. One stayed under your shirt, now fully cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra until it tightened into a sensitive peak. The other hand slid higher up your thigh, fingertips tracing the edge of your underwear, not quite slipping underneath yet, just teasing the sensitive skin there in slow, maddening strokes.

You kissed for what felt like forever slow, then deeper, then almost frantic his tongue stroked yours. Your teeth grazed his lower lip. His hands never stopped moving, squeezing, stroking, mapping every inch of bare skin he could reach. The air between you grew warmer, heavier. Your fingers tightened in his hair, his hips rolled up against you again, deliberate and slow, letting you feel every hard inch of him through the layers of clothing.

When Heeseung finally pulled back just enough to look at you, both of you were breathing hard. His eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide, but underneath the heat there was something softer, almost worshipful. His hands remained on you one still under your shirt, palm curved possessively over your breast, the other resting high on your thigh, fingers still tracing lazy, intimate patterns against your skin.He didn’t speak he only watched you, lips parted and shining, as if the sight of you flushed and breathless in his lap was something he needed to memorize before he kissed you again.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “God, I love you so much. I’ve been losing my mind over you for months. Every time you smiled at me, every time you let me hold you, every time you trusted me with Bambi… I fell harder. I’m such a loser for you i can’t even pretend anymore.” He laid you down gently on the bed, hovering over you. His hands were reverent as he slowly undressed you, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. When you were bare beneath him, he took his time, lips trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and over your swollen, sensitive breasts.

He sucked gently on one nipple, then the other, making you whimper and arch into him.bHis hand slid between your thighs. You were already wet, aching. He teased your folds with his fingers, circling your clit slowly before sliding two fingers inside you. He pumped them deep and steady, curling them just right against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. His thumb rubbed your clit in perfect rhythm, and you whimpered, hips rolling against his hand.

“So good,” he murmured against your breast, voice wrecked. “So wet for me I love you like this I love you so much it hurts.” You moaned loudly, fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked you closer and closer. The pleasure built slowly, deliciously, until you came with a soft cry, clenching around his fingers.

Heeseung kissed you through it, then gently withdrew his hand. He stripped off his own clothes and settled between your legs in missionary. He entered you slowly, inch by inch, filling you completely. You both moaned at the feeling. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in. “I love you,” he whispered as he started moving slow, deep thrusts that made you feel every inch of him. “I love you I love you so much.”

You wrapped your legs around him, hands on his back, matching his rhythm. The pace was sensual, loving, every stroke deliberate. He kissed you the entire time, whispering sweet, adoring words between thrusts how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, how happy he was to have you and Bambi.

After a while, the need to feel even closer overwhelmed you. You gently pushed at Heeseung’s shoulder, and he understood immediately, rolling onto his back without breaking the kiss. You followed, straddling his hips, your hands braced on his chest as you slowly sank down onto him. The new angle made you both moan deeply. He filled you completely, thick and warm, stretching you in the most delicious way. You paused for a moment, adjusting, breathing each other in as your bodies connected fully. Heeseung’s hands found your hips, fingers digging in just enough to ground you, his eyes dark and full of awe as he looked up at you.

You started moving slow, rolling hips that dragged him in and out of you with exquisite friction. Every downward motion made you whimper softly, the angle hitting that perfect spot deep inside. Heeseung’s breath hitched with every roll, his hands guiding your movements, thumbs stroking the skin just above your hips. When you placed your right leg on his chest, bending it so your foot rested near his shoulder, he took it gently in both hands. He kissed your calf tenderly, lips brushing the sensitive skin, then moved to your ankle, pressing open mouthed kisses there as you continued riding him. The contrast between the sweet, reverent kisses on your leg and the way his cock filled you so perfectly made your head spin.

“Look at you,” he groaned, voice wrecked and full of wonder. “Riding me so perfectly you’re so beautiful like this. I’m such a loser for you I can’t even think straight when you’re on top of me I love you I love you so much it hurts.” ( my man is pussy drunk ) His words, combined with the deep, rolling thrusts and the way he kissed your leg like it was something sacred, pushed you over the edge again. You came hard, trembling on top of him, walls clenching rhythmically around his cock as pleasure crashed through you in waves. Your moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained. Heeseung followed right after, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside you, hips jerking up to meet yours. He held you down on him, pulsing inside you, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

Afterward, he gently pulled you down onto his chest, arms wrapping around you tightly. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your lips soft, lingering kisses that spoke more than words ever could. You both stayed like that, naked and tangled together, hearts beating in sync, his hand resting protectively over your belly where Bambi was growing. The room was quiet except for your slowing breaths. Heeseung held you like you were the most precious thing in his world, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as you drifted in the warm afterglow.

The next morning, you woke up slowly to the soft clinking of utensils and the faint, comforting smell of something warm cooking in the kitchen. Sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You were still naked under the blanket, the memory of last night’s intimacy lingering in the pleasant ache of your body and the warmth in your chest. Heeseung wasn’t in bed beside you. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and smiled faintly when you heard him humming quietly in the kitchen.

You slipped on one of his oversized shirts that had been left on the chair and padded barefoot toward the kitchen.

Heeseung stood at the stove, wearing only sweatpants, his back to you as he stirred something in a pot. The sight of his broad shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he cooked, the domestic ease of it all made your heart flutter. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his bare back in a back hug. Heeseung startled for a second, then relaxed into your embrace with a soft chuckle. “Good morning,” he murmured, turning his head slightly to kiss the top of your head. “Did you sleep well?”You nodded against his back, tightening your arms around him. “Better than I have in a while what are you making?”

“ porridge with ginger and some fruit on the side,” he said, continuing to stir. “And ginger tea thought it would be gentle on your stomach.” You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “You didn’t have to.” “I wanted to,” he replied simply, turning off the stove and turning around in your arms so he could face you. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you gently on the lips, then on your forehead. “Morning looks good on you.” You blushed, burying your face in his chest. The two of you stayed like that for a while you wrapped around him, his arms holding you close, the quiet morning sunlight warming the kitchen.

Heeseung eventually pulled back just enough to serve breakfast. You sat at the small table together, eating slowly. He asked how you were feeling, if the nausea was better, and you asked about his practice schedule. The conversation was easy, domestic, and full of small, sweet moments, him reaching over to brush a strand of hair from your face, you feeding him a piece of fruit from your bowl, both of you laughing when he accidentally got a bit of porridge on his chin.

After breakfast, you both got ready for campus. Heeseung helped you choose a comfortable outfit, making sure it was loose enough for your growing belly. Before leaving, he pulled you into another hug, kissing your forehead.

“Ready to go?” he asked.You nodded, taking his hand as you stepped out together.You walked to campus hand in hand, the morning sun shining down on you. A few people stared, but you didn’t care. For the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. The walk to campus hand in hand with Heeseung felt both surreal and strangely right.Everyone in the campus looked shocked. As you both walked through the main gates, heads turned. Students who had been whispering about the rumors just yesterday now stared openly, eyes wide with surprise. Some pointed discreetly. Others pulled out their phones.

The sight of Heeseung the basketball captain, campus royalty walking hand in hand with you, his arm occasionally brushing protectively over your small, rounded belly, was clearly not what anyone had expected. The news had spread fast. The confession page rumor had painted you as a manipulator. But seeing you two openly together, Heeseung looking at you with soft, obvious adoration, and the visible sign of your pregnancy under your loose sweater it shattered that narrative in real time. People whispered, but the tone had shifted.

Some looked curious, some looked surprised, a few even smiled.Heeseung didn’t seem to care about any of it. He walked with quiet confidence, his fingers intertwined with yours, occasionally squeezing gently as if to remind you he was right there. When you reached the building for your first class, he stopped and turned to you. He cupped your face with both hands and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips right there in the middle of the busy pathway. “I’ll see you after class,” he murmured against your lips. “Text me if you need anything take care of yourself and Bambi.”You nodded, cheeks warm, heart fluttering. “You too.”He gave you one last soft smile, then walked away toward his own building, glancing back once with that same adoring look.

You stood there for a second, still a little dazed, before Yunjin and Soobin appeared beside you, both grinning like idiots. Yunjin squealed and linked her arm with yours. “Oh my god, that was so cute! He just kissed you in front of everyone! Heeseung Mr. Cool Captain is out here openly simping for you. I’m living for this.” Soobin chuckled, shaking his head. “He looked like he was ready to fight anyone who looked at you wrong. Madly in love is an understatement how does it feel to have the whole campus talking about you two in a good way now?” You blushed harder, trying to hide your smile as you walked with them toward class.

“It feels… weird,” you admitted. “But nice I think.”Yunjin bumped your shoulder playfully. “Weirdly nice is the best kind he’s whipped and you’re glowing pregnancy looks good on you, babe.” Soobin nodded in agreement.You laughed softly, the teasing from your friends helping ease some of the nervousness. As you walked into the classroom, you couldn’t help but glance back toward where Heeseung had gone, a small, private smile on your face.The campus was still staring but for the first time, it didn’t feel like judgment.It felt like the beginning of something real.

The rest of your classes went by surprisingly smoothly. Nobody dared say anything to your face. The stares were still there, but they were quieter now more curious than cruel. The rumor had spread, but the sight of Heeseung openly kissing you goodbye in the morning seemed to have shifted the narrative. People whispered, but no one shouted insults no one followed you. You kept your head high, hand occasionally resting on your belly under your hoodie, and focused on your lectures. Yunjin and Soobin stayed close, offering silent support and the occasional funny comment to keep your spirits up.

By the time the final class ended, you felt tired but lighter. The campus still felt watchful, but it no longer felt hostile.

In the evening, you met Heeseung in the parking lot like you had agreed. The moment he saw you walking toward him, his face lit up with that soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip. He didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled you into a big, warm bear hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly and lifting you slightly off the ground. You laughed softly into his shoulder, hugging him back just as hard.

“I missed you today,” he murmured against your hair. “How were your classes?” “They were okay,” you replied, still in his arms. “No one said anything mean. Just staring it was… manageable.”Heeseung pulled back enough to look at you, his hands resting on your waist. “Good if anyone bothers you, tell me. I mean it.”

You nodded, smiling up at him. He looked so happy just to see you eyes bright, shoulders relaxed. It made the earlier anxiety feel smaller.Heeseung brushed a strand of hair from your face. “I was thinking do you want to go on a date? A real one there’s a restaurant not too far from here. Good food” You felt a flutter in your chest a real date with Heeseung after everything. You smiled. “I’d like that.” His face lit up even more. “Great let’s go home first and get ready i’ll drive.”

You both walked back to the apartment hand in hand. Once inside, you changed into a comfortable but cute outfit a flowy dress that hid your bump nicely and made you feel pretty. Heeseung changed into a simple button up shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly handsome. He waited patiently while you did your hair and a bit of makeup, complimenting you every time you caught his eye in the mirror.“You look beautiful,” he said softly when you were ready. “Ready to go?”You nodded, taking his hand as you left the apartment together.

The car ride to the restaurant was peaceful. Heeseung played soft music and asked about your day in more detail what you learned in class, how Bambi had been moving, if you were feeling any new symptoms. You asked him about practice and how he was feeling after the loss. The conversation flowed easily, comfortable and warm, like you had been doing this for months.

The restaurant was quiet and cozy, with soft lighting and gentle background music. You and Heeseung sat at a corner table, the atmosphere intimate and warm. He had chosen a place with light, pregnancy-friendly options, and the waiter had been attentive without being intrusive. As you both ate, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about your classes, how Bambi had been moving more lately, and how your parents had been sending care packages. Heeseung listened with that soft, focused look he always gave you, occasionally reaching across the table to hold your hand.

Toward the end of the meal, Heeseung set his fork down and looked at you with a small, excited smile.

“I have some news,” he said, voice low but full of quiet pride. “During my next match, an NBA scout is coming. My coach told me today. It’s a big one someone from a team that’s been watching me for a while.” Your eyes widened, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “Really? That’s amazing, Heeseung! You’ve been working so hard for this.” He nodded, looking a little shy but happy. “Yeah it’s a huge opportunity I’m nervous, but… excited. I want to show them what I can do.” You squeezed his hand across the table. “You’re going to do great i know it. I’ll be there cheering for you with Bambi.”

Heeseung’s smile widened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Having you there means everything. I’ll play better knowing you’re watching.” There was a comfortable pause as you both finished the last bites of your meal. Then Heeseung’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of cute, boyish jealousy creeping into his voice. “So… who is that guy who has been coming over to your place for the past month?” he asked, trying ( and failing ) to sound casual. “The one with the pie in your instagram story”

You blinked, then couldn’t help but smile at how adorably obvious his jealousy was. “He’s an old friend from high school,” you explained gently. “My first boyfriend, actually we broke up mutually before university because of the distance. He’s been helping at my parents’ bakery and dropped off some food they made for me. That’s all.” Heeseung nodded, but his ears turned a little pink. “Ah okay just… curious.”

You teased him lightly. “Were you jealous?” He looked away, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe a little I saw the story and I don’t know. I didn’t like seeing you smiling with someone else even if it’s fake between us, it felt… real to me.”Your heart melted at his honesty. You squeezed his hand again.“It’s real to me too,” you admitted softly.

Heeseung’s eyes lit up, and he leaned across the table to kiss your knuckles. The rest of the dinner was filled with light conversation about the upcoming game, what he was preparing, and how you could support him. The mood was warm and hopeful, the earlier tension from the campus rumors feeling far away.

After dinner, Heeseung drove you back to the apartment. You both walked into his apartment hand in hand. It felt familiar now the clean, minimalist space with the faint scent of his cologne. Heeseung closed the door behind you and pulled you into a gentle hug, kissing the top of your head.“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll get you something to change into.”

He handed you one of his oversized shirts. You changed in the bathroom and came out to find him already in sweatpants, turning down the bed. He smiled when he saw you in his shirt, eyes warm and adoring. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmured, pulling you into bed with him. You both slipped under the covers, naked except for the shirt you wore. Heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest in a spooning position. One hand rested protectively over your belly, the other stroked your arm.The room was dark and quiet, only the faint city lights filtering through the curtains. You felt safe warm and loved.

Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck.“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered. “Sleep well i’ve got you and Bambi.”You smiled in the dark, intertwining your fingers with his over your belly.“Goodnight,” you whispered back. You fell asleep like that safe in his arms, his breath warm against your neck, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into peaceful rest.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft sound of Heeseung humming in the kitchen. The smell of gentle breakfast filled the apartment. You smiled, stretching slowly, feeling the warmth of the night before still lingering in your body and heart.

You got up, wearing his shirt, and walked to the kitchen. Heeseung turned when he heard you, his face lighting up with that soft smile. “Morning,” he said, pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead. “Sleep well?” You nodded, hugging him back. The two of you spent a sweet, slow morning together eating breakfast at the small table, talking about nothing and everything, stealing soft kisses between bites. Heeseung’s hand never strayed far from your belly, a quiet, protective gesture that made your heart feel full.

When it was time to head to campus, he took your hand as you left the apartment together, walking side by side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to campus hand in hand with Heeseung felt both surreal and strangely right.The morning air was crisp, the sun shining gently as you both made your way through the familiar paths. Heeseung’s fingers were intertwined with yours, his thumb occasionally stroking the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm. You felt the small, rounded curve of your belly brushing against the fabric of your loose sweater with every step a constant, gentle reminder of Bambi growing inside you.

You glanced up at him, heart full. After the sweet night spent in his apartment, the warmth of his arms still lingered on your skin. You took a deep breath and decided to share the news that had been on your mind since the last checkup. “I have an appointment today with the doctor,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “Today they’ll be able to tell us the baby’s gender. Maybe if you want, we can have a small gender reveal? Just something simple with our parents, or even just the two of us.” Heeseung stopped walking abruptly. He turned to you, eyes wide with pure, unfiltered excitement. Then, right there in the middle of the campus pathway, he literally jumped a little, a small, boyish hop of joy that made you laugh out loud.

“What do you mean ‘if you want’?” he exclaimed, grinning so wide it lit up his entire face. “We need to hold a huge gender reveal celebration! Balloons, cake, a big sign the works! I want everyone to know. I want to celebrate our baby properly.” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. His happiness was infectious, and for a moment, all the worries about rumors, his family, and the future faded into the background.

Heeseung pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in the middle of the pathway, not caring who saw. He rested his forehead against yours, voice soft but full of wonder.“And I want a daughter who just looks like you,” he whispered, eyes shining. “With your pretty brown eyes, your smile, your laugh. A little girl who’s as strong and kind as her mom. Though a mini me would be cute too. As long as they have even a little bit of you in them, I’ll be the happiest dad in the world.”

Your heart melted. You felt tears prick your eyes as you hugged him back, burying your face in his chest.“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” you whispered. Heeseung kissed the top of your head, holding you for a long moment before pulling back with a bright, excited grin.

“Let’s do this,” he said. “After the appointment, we’ll plan the gender reveal. Big or small — whatever you want but I’m definitely celebrating our baby.” You nodded, smiling up at him as you continued walking hand in hand toward campus. The stares from other students didn’t bother you as much today. Not when Heeseung was looking at you like you were his whole world. The future still felt a little scary, but with him by your side, it also felt full of hope.

It had been a week since you entered your fifth month and three weeks of pregnancy. Your bump was now clearly visible a soft, rounded curve that made your clothes fit differently and drew more curious glances on campus. You had started wearing looser tops and dresses to accommodate it, and every time you caught your reflection, a mix of wonder and nervousness filled you. Bambi was growing, and the reality of it all felt more real with each passing day.

You and Heeseung were now openly together. The rumors had slowly died down, replaced by a mix of surprise and tentative acceptance. People still whispered, but the public affection the way Heeseung walked you to class, held your hand, and kissed your forehead in front of everyone had shifted the narrative. He was proud and protective and you were slowly letting yourself believe it was real.

Today, you were sitting on the couch in your apartment, feet propped up as Yunjin took full control of planning the gender reveal party. Yunjin had declared herself the official planner the moment you told her the gender reveal was happening. She had taken over everything — decorations, venue, guest list, even the cake. She had told you in no uncertain terms that you were to take full rest and not worry about anything. “This mama needs her beauty sleep,” she had said dramatically, pointing at you with a pen. “You just sit there, look pretty, and let me handle the rest doctor’s orders well, my orders same thing.”

You laughed softly, rubbing your belly. “You’re really going all out, aren’t you?”“Obviously,” Yunjin grinned, scribbling notes on her planner. “This is Bambi’s big day we’re doing it right pink and blue everything. Balloons, confetti It’s going to be perfect.” She looked up from her notes, tapping her pen against her chin. “Okay, so who do you want at the gender reveal? I need the final list.”

You had already thought about it. “My parents and heeseungs parents , obviously. Soobin and you, Heeseung’s teammates — Jake, Jay, Beomgyu and Sangwon.” Yunjin nodded, writing everything down. “Got it I’ll handle the invitations you just relax.” Later that evening, you called your parents. Your mom answered on the first ring, her voice bright and excited.

“Sweetheart! How are you feeling? How’s my grandbaby?”You smiled, rubbing your belly. “We’re doing good. The bump is getting bigger I wanted to let you know we’re planning a gender reveal party soon. I’d love for you and Dad to come.” Your mom gasped happily. “Of course we’ll come! We wouldn’t miss it for the world. And do you think you and Heeseung could visit for Christmas? Stay for a day or two? We’d love to have you both here.” You glanced at Heeseung, who was sitting beside you on the couch, listening quietly. He nodded with a small smile.“Yeah,” you said. “We’d love that.”

Your dad’s voice joined in the background, sounding emotional. “Tell Heeseung we’re looking forward to seeing him too. Take care of yourself, okay?”You ended the call with a warm feeling in your chest. Your parents’ support had always been unwavering, and it meant the world. Yunjin continued planning with relentless enthusiasm, texting you updates and ideas late into the night. You let her take the lead, grateful for her energy while you rested more.The gender reveal was coming and for the first time, you felt excited instead of scared.

The messages had started again. Even though you had blocked the first number, they kept coming from different ones. You had tried blocking each new number, but they always found a way. At first, you had been terrified every time your phone buzzed. Now, you were just tired. You sat on the couch in your apartment, legs tucked under you, hand resting on your growing belly. Bambi was moving more these days gentle flutters that made you smile despite everything. You opened your phone and looked at the latest thread from an unknown number.

unknown : you think blocking me will stop this? Stay away from Heeseung

unknown : i know where you live. I know your schedule don’t test me

unknown : if you don’t leave him, I’ll make sure both your careers are over the baby too

unknown : you’re ruining his life leave before it’s too late

You stared at the screen for a long moment, then locked the phone and set it face down on the coffee table. The threats had lost some of their power over the weeks. They still scared you, but Heeseung’s constant reassurance had slowly built a shield around your heart. He had told you again and again that nothing would happen. That he would protect you and Bambi. That whoever was behind the messages was just trying to scare you. He had even talked to his coach and a few trusted friends about keeping an eye out, and he had started walking you to and from classes more often.

You were happy ,truly happy with the choice you had made. The fear was still there, but it was quieter now. You had Heeseung. You had Bambi. You had a little family that felt more real every day. You rubbed your belly gently, smiling as you felt a small kick. “You’re going to be so loved,” you whispered. “Your dad and I… we’re going to figure this out i promise.” Heeseung walked in from the kitchen, carrying a plate of fresh fruit he had cut for you. He saw your phone on the table and the tired look on your face. “Another one?” he asked softly, setting the plate down and sitting beside you, you nodded. “Different number again.”

He pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. “I’ve got you nothing is going to happen to you or Bambi i won’t let it we’re in this together.” You leaned into him, breathing in his familiar scent. “I know I’m okay and I’m happy, Heeseung really happy with you with Bambi with us.” He smiled against your hair, his hand resting on your belly. “Our little family is perfect,” he whispered. “All that’s left is waiting for Bambi to arrive and I can’t wait.” You closed your eyes, letting his words wrap around you like a warm blanket. The threats were still out there but so was your little family and for the first time, you truly believed everything was going to be okay.

The next day, Heeseung drove to his parents’ house alone. He had decided to invite his mother personally for the gender reveal party. He wanted to do it face to face, hoping to keep the conversation civil and away from his father’s influence. The drive was quiet, his mind drifting between excitement for the reveal and the lingering tension from the last visit. When he arrived, his mom greeted him at the door with her usual warm smile, pulling him into a tight hug.

“My son,” she said happily. “Come in i made your favorite tea.” Heeseung followed her inside, the familiar scent of the house bringing back a mix of memories some good, some painful. They sat in the living room, and his mom asked about you immediately.

“How is she? How’s the baby? Are there any problems? Is she resting enough?” Heeseung smiled softly, the mention of you and Bambi instantly warming his chest.“We’ve never been better,” he said honestly. “She’s doing well the bump is growing, and Bambi is active. She’s strong and we’re both excited for the gender reveal.” His mom’s eyes lit up with genuine joy. “I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to meet my grandbaby.”

They talked for a while about the party plans, about how you were feeling, about Heeseung’s basketball schedule. The conversation was light and comfortable, the kind of talk he wished he could have more often with his family. Then his mom stood up. “Can you go to my room and get me my reading glasses? They’re on the dressing table.” Heeseung nodded and headed to the master bedroom. The room was neat and elegant, as always. He walked to the dressing table and spotted the glasses immediately. As he reached for them, a spare phone lying on the table lit up with a notification. The number on the screen looked oddly familiar ,it was your number. The message preview read

you : i don’t know who you are and why you hate me so much and why you want me away from Heeseung stop it

Heeseung’s hand shook as he picked up the phone. His heart pounded in his chest. He unlocked it with the passcode he knew his mom used for everything and opened the messaging app the thread was long. Dozens of messages from different numbers ( let’s forget common sense here you guys ) all sent to you. Threats, warnings, cruel words telling you to stay away from him. The same anonymous number that had been harassing you for weeks it was his mom.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own mother had been the one sending those messages. The one threatening your career, his career, the safety of you and Bambi.

His hands trembled as he scrolled through the messages. The words were vicious, calculated to scare you into leaving him. His mom had done this. The woman who had welcomed you with open arms, who had cried happy tears at the news of the baby she had been behind it all. Heeseung stood there in the middle of the room, phone in hand, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on him. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the screen, before he heard his mom’s voice calling from the living room.

“Heeseung? Did you find them?”He took a deep, shaky breath, slipped the phone into his pocket, and walked back out.The conversation continued as if nothing had happened, but inside, Heeseung’s world had shifted.His own mother had tried to tear you away from him.

And he had no idea what to do with that. Heeseung sat across from his mother in the living room, the spare phone burning a hole in his pocket. His mom acted like nothing was happening smiling warmly, asking about your health, about the baby, about how the two of you were managing. She poured him tea, chatted about the weather, and even asked if you had any cravings she could help with.He couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Mom,” he said, voice low but sharp. “Did you ever contact her?”

Eunae blinked, setting her teacup down. “Contact who, dear?” “You know who the woman I’m with the mother of my child.” She laughed lightly, waving her hand. “How can I? I don’t even have her number. Why would I contact her?” Heeseung pulled the spare phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table between them. The screen lit up with the thread of messages the threats, the warnings, the cruel words.His mom’s face paled.

Heeseung’s voice shook with anger. “This is you, these are your messages, you threatened her, you told her to stay away from me or you’d ruin both our careers why?”Eunae stared at the phone, then back at him. Her expression shifted from shock to defensiveness. “She isn’t good for you, Heeseung,” she said, voice steady but cold. “She isn’t from the same league, she's just a normal girl and a child now is just a distraction you have a future in the league. Your brother Heedo never let anything like this happen. He stayed focused and succeeded. You’re throwing everything away for her and that baby.”

Heeseung’s hands clenched into fists. “She is good for me she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She stood up for me in front of Dad when you both stayed silent, she’s carrying my child ,our child. And you tried to scare her away you threatened her how could you do that?” Eunae’s eyes hardened. “I did it for you for your future a baby now will ruin your career. She will ruin your career you need to focus on basketball, on the league. Not on playing house with some girl who got pregnant to trap you.”

Heeseung stood up, voice rising. “She didn’t trap me I love her and i want this baby. I want this family if you can’t accept her and Bambi, then I don’t want to be a part of this fucking family you all are dead to me.”The words hung in the air. At that moment, the front door opened. Heedo walked in, back from wherever he had been. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene Heeseung standing, face flushed with anger, their mom looking shocked. Heedo looked at Heeseung, then at their mom

“He’s right,” Heedo said quietly. “If you can’t accept them, then you don’t deserve to be part of their lives.”Heeseung was taken back. His older brother, the golden child, the one their father always compared him to, had never spoken up for him before. Never defended him, never said anything against their parents.Heedo looked at Heeseung with a small, rare nod of respect. Heeseung swallowed hard, then turned back to his mom. “Never fucking contact me again,” he said, voice breaking. “Or her or my child.”

He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. The drive back was a blur. His hands shook on the wheel, tears blurring his vision. But underneath the anger and hurt was a strange sense of freedom.

He had chosen you.

He had chosen Bambi.

And it felt like the right choice.

You were sitting on the couch, still trying to process everything that had happened, when you heard a soft knock on your door. Your heart jumped when you thought it might be Heeseung. You hadn’t expected him so soon, but the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there, something in you broke.

Heeseung looked devastated his eyes were red and glassy, shoulders slumped, hair messy like he had run his hands through it too many times. The moment he saw you, his face crumpled. He stepped inside without a word and broke into tears, pulling you into his arms as sobs shook his body.

You held him tightly, stunned. Heeseung the strong, steady Heeseung who had been your rock through everything was crying in your arms like his world was falling apart.“I’m sorry,” he choked out between sobs.“I’m so sorry.” You rubbed his back, heart aching. “Shh, it’s okay you’re here i’ve got you.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, tears streaming down his face. His voice cracked as he spoke. “The anonymous person was my mom.”The words hit you like a slap. You froze, eyes widening in shock. “What?”

Heeseung nodded, crying harder now, his shoulders shaking. “Out of everyone… it was her, she was the one sending those messages. Threatening you telling you to stay away from me she used a spare phone. I found it when I went to their house today. She denied it at first, but I saw everything, all of it.”

You were completely shaken. His mom the woman who had welcomed you with open arms, who had cried happy tears at the news of the baby, who had been so kind and warm had been the one behind the cruel messages? The one who had terrified you for weeks? You didn’t know how to react your mind spun. You had thought she liked you. You had thought she was happy for you and Heeseung and Bambi.

Heeseung buried his face in your neck, crying harder. “She said you weren’t good enough, that you were a distraction and that the baby would ruin my career. She compared me to Heedo again and said I was throwing everything away. I told her if she couldn’t accept you and Bambi, then I don’t want to be part of this family anymore.”

You held him tighter, your own eyes filling with tears. You rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles, trying to be the steady one for once. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t expect this she was so nice to me. I thought I thought she was happy for us.” Heeseung shook his head against your shoulder. “I didn’t either. I thought she was on our side. I thought I don’t know what I thought anymore.” You pulled back gently and cupped his face with both hands, wiping his tears with your thumbs. “Hey… look at me we’re okay we’re together bambi is okay. That’s what matters right now, we don't need their approval we have each other.”

Heeseung nodded, eyes still wet, but he leaned into your touch. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you and Bambi so much. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.” You kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, then his lips — soft, reassuring kisses. “I love you too, we're going to be okay all three of us.” You held him for a long time, letting him cry it out, stroking his hair, whispering comforting words. The betrayal hurt especially coming from his mom but having Heeseung here, choosing you and Bambi over everything else, made the pain feel a little more bearable you were in this together and that was enough.

The silence in your apartment felt heavier than it ever had.Heeseung sat on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were still shaking slightly from the tears he had shed earlier. You sat beside him, one hand gently rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles, the other resting protectively over your belly. Bambi had been kicking more today, as if sensing the storm around you. Neither of you had spoken for several minutes. Finally, Heeseung lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, voice hoarse.

“I can’t believe it was her,” he whispered. “My own mom. She welcomed you. She cried when she heard about the baby. And behind our backs she was threatening you trying to scare you away from me .”You swallowed hard, your own throat tight. The woman who had hugged you so warmly, who had asked about your health and the baby with what seemed like genuine care she had been the one sending those cruel messages. The realization still felt surreal.“I didn’t expect it either,” you said softly. “She seemed so nice I thought… I thought she was happy for us.”

Heeseung let out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That’s what makes it worse. She played the perfect mother in law. And all this time, she was the one trying to tear us apart. Because I’m not Heedo because I’m not ‘perfect’ enough because having a baby with you is apparently ‘ruining my future.’” You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him. He leaned into you immediately, resting his head on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone,” he murmured. “The messages, the fear you were protecting me, and I had no idea. I should have known something was wrong when you started pulling away.”

You kissed the top of his head. “I didn’t want to add more stress. You already have so much on your plate basketball, your dad, everything. I thought if I stayed away, it would keep you safe.” Heeseung pulled back to look at you, eyes still wet but full of fierce determination. “You don’t have to protect me by disappearing,” he said. “We protect each other, that's what this is supposed to be us ,a team for Bambi.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “I know im sorry I was scared I still am but I don’t want to run anymore.”Heeseung cupped your face with both hands, thumbs wiping your tears away. “We’re going to figure this out together I love you I love Bambi and I’m not letting my family or anyone take that away from us.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, holding each other in the quiet of your apartment. The betrayal still stung, but being together made it feel a little less overwhelming. Later that evening, Heeseung made you both tea and sat with you on the couch. You talked for hours about what to do next, whether to confront his mom again, whether to tell his dad, how to move forward with the gender reveal party. Heeseung was hurt, but he was also resolute.

“I don’t want to cut them off completely,” he said quietly. “But I won’t let them treat you or Bambi like this. If they can’t accept us, then they don’t get to be part of our lives.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “We’ll do whatever feels right as long as we’re together.”

He kissed your forehead, hand resting on your belly. “Together always.” The revelation had shaken both of you. But it had also brought you closer. The love you had both been afraid to fully admit was now out in the open, stronger because of the storm you were facing. You fell asleep that night in his arms, his hand protectively over your belly, whispering promises to Bambi about the family you were building — no matter what anyone else tried to do. The road ahead was still uncertain but you felt ready to walk it together.

The next two weeks passed in a surprisingly peaceful rhythm. Life had settled into a gentle, busy routine that felt almost normal. Heeseung had gotten really busy with practice. The NBA scout was coming to his next big match, and he was pushing himself harder than ever. He left early in the mornings and came back late in the evenings, but he always made time for you. He would text you during breaks, send photos of his meals to show he was eating properly, and still managed to drop off breakfast or dinner whenever he could.

You were equally occupied with your capstone project. With the third trimester approaching, you had decided to take a break from university after this semester to focus on the pregnancy and the baby. The pressure was on to finish strong, so you spent long hours at the library or at home, working on your art curation proposal. Heeseung would often find you hunched over your laptop when he came over, and he would gently pull you away for breaks making you tea, rubbing your feet, or simply holding you while you rested your head on his chest. In between all the busyness, you both started apartment hunting.

It was exciting and a little overwhelming. You looked at several places together, small but cozy apartments closer to both campus and the basketball facilities. After a few viewings, you found one that felt right: a two-bedroom unit with a bright living room, a small balcony, and enough space for a nursery corner. The rent was reasonable, and the location was perfect. You both signed the lease the same day, smiling at each other like it was the beginning of something real.

During Christmas, you and Heeseung visited your parents’ house for a couple of days.The trip was warm and joyful. Your parents were over the moon to have both of you there. Your mom had prepared a feast all your favorite dishes and pregnancy-safe versions of everything. Your dad kept pulling Heeseung aside to talk about baby names and future plans, treating him like a son already. Heeseung fit in seamlessly, helping your dad with small tasks around the house and charming your mom with his thoughtfulness.

One evening, the four of you sat around the Christmas tree, exchanging small gifts. Heeseung had gotten your parents thoughtful presents, and they had prepared something special for both of you baby clothes and a beautiful journal for you to write letters to Bambi. The night ended with Heeseung falling asleep with his head on your shoulder while your dad told old family stories. You felt safe loved like you were already building the family you had dreamed of.

The visit was exactly what you both needed a break from the campus rumors, a reminder that there were people who supported you unconditionally.Back in the city, the gender reveal party planning was also in full swing. The gender reveal party planning was also in full swing. Yunjin had taken complete charge, sending you daily updates and mood boards. She had booked a small venue, ordered decorations in soft pinks and blues, and was handling the guest list with military precision. You and Heeseung helped where you could, choosing the cake flavor, deciding on simple games, and finalizing the guest list. Your parents were coming, and close friends from both sides were excited.

Through all of it, Heeseung was incredibly attentive. He made sure you rested, reminded you to eat, and massaged your feet when they swelled. Some nights he would fall asleep with his head on your belly, talking softly to Bambi about the future. Other nights, when the hormones made you needy, he would make love to you slowly and sweetly, whispering how much he loved you and how beautiful you looked carrying his child you were happy.

The distance you had tried to keep had dissolved completely. The love you felt for him was no longer something you fought against it was something you embraced. Heeseung felt the same. He told you every day, in small ways and big ones. One evening, after a long day, you were both lying on the couch. Heeseung had his hand on your belly, feeling Bambi’s kicks. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to start this life with you for real.” You smiled, turning to kiss him softly. “Me too.” The two weeks had been peaceful, productive, and full of quiet joy.

The morning of the gender reveal party, the air in your apartment felt charged with nervous excitement.You stood in the bathroom, slowly undressing for a shower. Your hands trembled slightly as you pulled off your shirt, revealing your six month pregnant belly and swollen, tender breasts. Today was the day the day you would finally find out if Bambi was a boy or a girl. The day your friends and family would celebrate with you. The day everything felt incredibly real.Heeseung leaned against the doorway, watching you with soft, adoring eyes.

“Are you nervous?” he asked gently, his voice low and warm. You turned to him, a small, shy smile on your face. “A little happy, nervous I just… I can’t believe we’re really doing this finding out who Bambi is.”

Heeseung stepped closer, his gaze tracing your body with reverence, the curve of your belly, the fullness of your breasts, the way your skin glowed from pregnancy. He looked almost reverent, like he still couldn’t believe you were his. “Can I join you in the shower?” he asked, his voice dropping to that husky tone that always made your knees weak. His eyes had that unmistakable puppy dog look soft, pleading, full of love and desire.

You couldn’t say no you nodded, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah come here.” Heeseung stripped quickly. The moment he pulled his pants and boxers down, his cock sprang free, already hard and heavy, slapping against his stomach with a soft sound. The sight made heat pool between your legs instantly.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing him even as your cheeks warmed. “Are you sure you only want to shower?” Heeseung let out a low, embarrassed laugh, stepping into the shower with you. The water started running, warm streams cascading over both of you.

“I swear I’m trying my best,” he groaned, pulling you against him. His hands slid over your wet skin, one cupping your swollen breast, the other resting on your belly. “But mama seeing you like this, carrying our baby, these beautiful swollen breasts I can barely control myself.” You smiled, turning in his arms to face him. Water ran down your bodies as you kissed him deeply, tongues sliding together in a slow, sensual dance. Heeseung groaned into your mouth, his hard cock pressing against your belly. He was gentle but desperate, hands roaming your curves with adoration.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, sucking softly at your pulse point. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. “I love you like this heavy with my baby so full and sensitive ”You whimpered as he cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. They were darker and heavier now, and every touch sent sparks straight to your core. Heeseung leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand kneaded the other. You moaned, fingers threading through his wet hair, hips pressing against him.

He eventually dropped to his knees in front of you, water cascading over his shoulders. He kissed your belly reverently, whispering to Bambi before spreading your legs and burying his face between them. His tongue was slow and thorough, licking and sucking your swollen clit while two fingers slid inside you, curling perfectly. You cried out, one hand braced on the wall, the other in his hair, as he brought you to the edge with expert precision. When you came, it was with a broken moan, legs shaking as pleasure washed over you.

Heeseung stood up slowly, water cascading down his toned body as he captured your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, letting you taste the sweet tang of your own release mixed with the heat of him. You whimpered into the kiss, fingers threading through his damp hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you.“God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmured, voice husky and low. “I could eat you out for hours, baby. But I need to feel you now.”

He turned you around with gentle but firm hands, pressing your front against the cool, slick tile wall. The contrast between the chilled surface on your breasts and the hot spray of water on your back made you gasp. Heeseung’s chest molded to your back, his hard length nudging insistently against your ass. One hand splayed protectively over your rounded belly, cradling it tenderly, while the other slid down between your legs, fingers circling your sensitive clit with expert precision.“You ready for me, love?” he whispered hotly against your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want you,” you breathed, arching back into him. “Please, Heeseung fill me up.” With a low, satisfied growl, he entered you in one smooth, deliberate thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The angle was devastating, deep, intimate, every inch of him stretching and claiming you perfectly. You cried out, forehead pressing against the tile as the water made everything impossibly slick and heated. “Fuck yes,” he groaned, staying still for a moment to let you adjust, his breath ragged against your neck. “You’re so tight, so warm around me like you were made for me. I love you… I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

He began to move slow, sensual rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The hand on your belly held you steady, protective of the life growing there, while his fingers between your legs never stopped their teasing rhythm on your clit. Steam filled the shower, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the rush of water. “Heeseung fuck right there,” you moaned, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Feels so good don’t stop.”

“I won’t, baby never,” he promised, lips trailing wet kisses along your shoulder and neck. “You’re perfect like this carrying our little one so strong, so beautiful I’m so excited to meet Bambi. Boy or girl, I already love them more than anything just like I love their mama.” Your heart swelled at his words, the emotion blending with the building pleasure. He picked up the pace just slightly, thrusts still deep and controlled, grinding against you with every stroke. The hand on your belly rubbed soothing circles, while his other worked your clit faster, drawing desperate sounds from your throat.

“Say it again,” you gasped, clenching around him. “Tell me you love me.” “I love you,” he growled, voice breaking with pleasure. “I love you more than yesterday, and I’ll love you even more tomorrow you and Bambi you’re my everything come for me, sweetheart let me feel you.” The coil inside you snapped hard. You came with a sharp cry of his name, walls pulsing tightly around his cock, vision blurring from the intensity. Heeseung followed right after, burying himself deep with a guttural moan that echoed off the tiles. “Fuck—yes, just like that taking all of me,” he panted, spilling hot and thick inside you, hips stuttering as he rode out his release. He held you close through every pulse, arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, breathing hard under the warm spray. Heeseung kissed your neck softly, whispering, “My beautiful mama you did so well.” He pulled out carefully, turning you to face him. His hands were gentle as he cleaned you both with soapy hands, massaging your shoulders, your belly, your thighs with reverent touches. “Does that feel okay? Not too sore?” he asked, eyes full of concern and love. You smiled, cupping his face. “Perfect I love you, Heeseung.”

He kissed you softly, lingering under the water until it started to cool. Shutting it off, he wrapped you in a huge, fluffy towel, then scooped you up effortlessly into his arms. You laughed lightly, nuzzling into his chest as he carried you to the bedroom.Laying you down on the bed, he climbed in beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. He immediately pressed kisses to your belly, murmuring against your skin, “Hey, little Bambi daddy loves you so much already. Can’t wait to find out if you’re our princess or our little prince today at the reveal but either way, you’re going to be so loved.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, watching him with soft eyes. “You’re going to be the best dad.” He looked up at you, eyes shining. “Only because I have the best partner come here.” He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, one hand still resting on your belly. “The gender reveal’s going to be amazing but right now? This is everything I need just us three.” The room was quiet except for your mingled breathing, the world outside forgotten. Everything felt warm, safe, and utterly perfect.

As soon as you both came down from the high, you dressed slowly, still glowing from the intimacy. You chose a soft white dress that flowed beautifully over your 6 month pregnant bump, the fabric hugging your curves gently and showing off the roundness of your belly. You left your hair in loose waves, adding a touch of natural makeup that made you feel pretty and confident. Heeseung wore a simple white shirt and white pants, looking effortlessly handsome and matching you perfectly.

When you stepped out of the bedroom, Heeseung’s eyes lit up. He walked over and gently placed both hands on your belly, leaning down to kiss it softly.“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured, voice full of awe. “Our little family is going to have the best day today.” You smiled, heart full, and took his hand as you both left the apartment. The drive to the venue was peaceful. Heeseung held your hand the entire way, occasionally rubbing his thumb over your knuckles or glancing at you with that soft, adoring look that always made your stomach flutter. When you arrived, the venue took your breath away.

It was magical.

The outdoor garden space Yunjin had chosen was decorated beautifully with strings of soft fairy lights, arches covered in white and blush flowers, and delicate deer themed decorations everywhere in honor of Bambi. There were tables with pastel blue and pink accents, a beautiful reveal box in the center, and a small stage for the announcement. Balloons in soft colors floated gently, and the whole place felt warm, intimate, and full of love. The moment you stepped inside, Yunjin spotted you and came running. She pulled you into a tight hug, careful of your bump.

“Oh my god, you look so beautiful!” she squealed, pulling back to admire your dress. “That bump is perfect and Heeseung you two match so well. This is going to be the best gender reveal ever.”You hugged her back tightly, laughing softly. “Thank you for doing all of this it’s perfect really.”

Heeseung smiled beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You outdid yourself, Yunjin thank you.”Guests started pouring in slowly. Your parents arrived first, your mom tearing up the moment she saw you. She hugged you carefully, then hugged Heeseung like he was already family.“You both look so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “We’re so excited to meet our grandbaby today.” Your dad pulled you into a warm hug, then patted Heeseung on the back. “Take care of my girl, son.”

Close friends and Heeseung’s teammates filled the space Jake, Jay, Beomgyu, and others congratulating you with wide smiles and teasing Heeseung about how whipped he looked. Soobin and Yunjin stayed close, making sure you were comfortable. Soobin brought you a chair when you looked tired, and Yunjin kept checking if you needed water or snacks.

Then Heedo and his fiancée arrived. Heeseung’s older brother walked in with a calm, confident stride, his fiancée beside him looking elegant and kind. The moment Heeseung saw them, his entire face lit up with genuine happiness. He hadn’t expected them especially after the tension with his parents and the surprise showed in his eyes. “Heedo,” Heeseung said, voice warm as he stepped forward to hug his brother. “You came.” Heedo hugged him back, clapping him on the back. “Of course I did ,couldn’t miss this. Congratulations, little brother, you're going to be a dad.”

His fiancée smiled warmly at you, stepping forward to give you a gentle hug. “You look absolutely radiant we’re so happy for both of you.” Heeseung’s happiness was palpable. He stayed close to you, arm around your waist, but you could see how much it meant to him that his brother had shown up. For the first time in a long time, there was no comparison, no pressure just family showing up for him.

The atmosphere was joyful and full of love. Everyone congratulated you and Heeseung, commenting on how cute your bump was and how excited they were to find out if Bambi was a boy or a girl. Heeseung stayed by your side the entire time, hand on your lower back or gently on your belly, looking at you like you were the center of his world.As the party continued, you felt a deep sense of peace.

The gender reveal was about to begin.And no matter what the result was, you knew you had everything you needed Heeseung, Bambi, and the people who loved you.The moment finally arrived. Yunjin stood in the center of the beautifully decorated garden, holding a microphone with a bright, excited smile on her face. The guests had gathered around in a semi circle, the fairy lights twinkling overhead and the soft pastel decorations creating a magical atmosphere. The air was filled with anticipation and joy.

“Alright everyone!” Yunjin called out, her voice bright and clear. “It’s time for the main event! Can we please gather around the couple? Heeseung and our beautiful mama to be are about to find out if they’re having a baby boy or a baby girl!” The crowd moved closer, phones ready to capture the moment. Your parents stood near the front, your mom already tearing up with excitement. Heedo and his fiancée were smiling warmly beside them. Soobin and the rest of your friends formed a supportive circle, while Heeseung’s teammates cheered loudly, clapping and whistling.

Yunjin gestured dramatically as two staff members wheeled out a beautiful, two-tiered cake. It was white with delicate gold accents and small deer figurines on top a perfect tribute to Bambi. The cake sat on a special stand with a hidden compartment inside.Yunjin handed both of you a small silver spoon. “Okay, lovebirds,” she said with a grin. “You’re going to dig into the cake together on my count. If it’s blue inside, it’s a boy and if it’s pink, it’s a girl ready?” You looked at Heeseung, heart pounding with happy nerves. He smiled at you, eyes full of love, and took your hand.“Ready,” he said softly.

Yunjin raised the microphone. “Alright… 3… 2… 1… Dig in!”

You and Heeseung leaned forward together, spoons sinking into the soft cake. The moment the spoons broke through the white frosting, bright pink filling spilled out vibrant, beautiful pink. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps of delight. Pink poppers went off all around you, showering the air with pink confetti and ribbons. The entire venue lit up with pink lights as everyone celebrated. You and Heeseung were having a baby girl.

The moment you saw the pink, tears filled your eyes. Heeseung’s reaction was immediate, he dropped his spoon and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as happy tears streamed down his face.“We’re having a girl,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “A baby girl our daughter.”He held you close, one hand on your back and the other gently on your belly, crying softly against your shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Thank you for giving me this for giving us her. I love you so much, I love both of you.”

You hugged him back just as tightly, tears falling freely down your cheeks. The joy was overwhelming pure, unfiltered happiness. The guests cheered louder, clapping and whistling as pink confetti continued to rain down. Yunjin was crying happy tears too, jumping up and down. “A girl! Bambi is a girl!” Your parents rushed forward, hugging both of you. Your mom was sobbing with joy, your dad wiping his eyes as he patted Heeseung on the back. Heeseung didn’t let go of you for a long time. He kept whispering against your hair, “Our daughter, we're having a daughter. I can’t believe it ,I’m the luckiest man alive.”

In that moment, surrounded by love, pink confetti, and the people who mattered most, everything felt perfect. Your little family was growing and it was going to be beautiful.The car ride back to your new apartment was quiet but full of warmth.

The gender reveal party had been magical pink confetti still clung to your hair and clothes, and the joy of knowing you were having a baby girl lingered in the air like a sweet aftertaste. Heeseung drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting gently on your thigh, thumb stroking small circles. Every now and then, he would glance at you with that soft, adoring smile that made your heart feel too big for your chest.When you finally stepped into your new apartment, the feeling was surreal.

The space was still mostly unfurnished, but it already felt like home. The living room had a comfortable couch, a few boxes waiting to be unpacked, and a small corner where you had already started imagining the nursery. The balcony doors were open, letting in the cool night breeze. The moment the door closed behind you, Heeseung stopped in the middle of the room, looking around with tears in his eyes.

“We’re going to have a daughter,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “A little miss morals, a mini version.” You turned to him, smiling through your own happy tears. “Yeah we are.” Heeseung’s eyes filled with fresh tears. He looked so overwhelmed, happy, grateful, a little disbelieving like he still couldn’t quite believe this was his life now. “Can I hug you?” he asked softly, almost shyly, as if he was afraid to ask for too much. You laughed gently, stepping closer. “Why are you even asking me? Of course you can.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight, warm hug. His face buried in your neck, and you felt his shoulders shake as he started crying again soft, happy tears that soaked into your shoulder.

“I’m so lucky I found you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You are my lucky charm, miss morals. From the first day you banged on my door and called me an entitled asshole I never stood a chance. You changed everything and you gave me a reason to be better. You gave me Bambi you gave me this — us. I love you so much I love our daughter so much I can’t believe I get to do this with you.”You held him tighter, one hand rubbing his back while the other rested on the back of his head. Tears slipped down your own cheeks as you listened to him pour his heart out.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you whispered. “I know it and I’m so happy it’s with you.” Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes red but shining with love. He cupped your face with both hands, thumbs wiping your tears away. “I’m going to give her the world,” he said, voice thick. “And you too everything you both deserve I promise.” He leaned in and kissed you slow, deep, full of all the love and gratitude he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, hands sliding down to rest on your belly.

“Hey, little one,” he whispered to your bump, voice soft and full of wonder. “It’s Daddy we found out today that you’re a girl. My little miss morals I can’t wait to meet you. I’m going to love you so much your mom and I we’re going to be the best team for you.” You smiled through your tears, placing your hand over his on your belly. The moment felt sacred to the three of you, in your new home, starting this new chapter together. Heeseung kissed your forehead again, then your nose, then your lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For choosing me, for choosing us.”

You hugged him again, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The future was still full of unknowns, the scout, his family, the challenges of parenthood but in that moment, wrapped in his arms in your new apartment, everything felt exactly right you were home.

The arena was packed, the air thick with tension and the roar of the crowd. You sat in the stands with Yunjin beside you, your hand resting protectively on your rounded belly. At sevenmonths pregnant, the bump was impossible to hide now, and every time the crowd cheered, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety twist in your stomach. Today was one of the most important matches of Heeseung’s life a crucial game that could determine whether his team made it to the finals, and with the NBA scout in the audience, the pressure was sky- high.

Yunjin nudged your shoulder, grinning. “You look even more nervous than Heeseung out there. Girl, breathe you’re going to give yourself and Bambi a heart attack.” You let out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t ease the knot in your chest. “How can I be calm? This is huge for him. The scout is watching yhe team is neck and neck with the opponents if they lose this…” You trailed off, eyes fixed on the court. Heeseung was in the middle of it all, sweat dripping from his hair, face focused and determined. The score was tied, and the clock showed only 30 seconds left. The entire arena was on edge, the noise deafening.

Yunjin rubbed your arm gently. “Hey, he’s got this he’s been playing like a beast all season. And even if they don’t win, he’s still going to be okay, you’re here for him, that's what matters.” You nodded, but your heart was racing. Your free hand stayed on your belly, feeling Bambi’s gentle kicks as if the baby could sense your nerves. The final seconds ticked down agonizingly slow.

The opponents had the ball. A quick pass, a shot missed. Heeseung grabbed the rebound, his movements sharp and fast. The crowd erupted. He dribbled down the court, eyes scanning for an opening. With only 5 seconds left on the clock, he drove toward the basket, leaped, and released the ball in a perfect arc.

Time seemed to slow

The ball sailed through the air

It swished cleanly through the net

The buzzer sounded

The arena exploded

Your team had won by one point

You jumped to your feet, tears of relief and joy spilling down your cheeks. Yunjin screamed beside you, hugging you tightly. The crowd was chanting Heeseung’s name as he was swarmed by his teammates on the court. He looked up toward the stands, eyes searching until they found you. Even from a distance, you saw the pure joy and relief on his face.He pointed at you, mouthing “For you” before his teammates pulled him into a group hug. You cried harder, hand on your belly, whispering to Bambi, “Your dad did it, little one he really did it.”

The celebration on the court was chaotic and beautiful. Heeseung eventually broke away from his teammates and jogged over to the sidelines, looking up at you with the brightest smile you had ever seen. Security let you down to the court edge, and the moment you reached him, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground despite your bump. “We did it,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” You hugged him back tightly, laughing through your tears. “You were incredible I’m so proud of you.”

He kissed your forehead, then your lips, right there in front of everyone. The crowd cheered louder at the sight heeseung didn’t care. He held you close, one hand on your belly, the other on your back. “Bambi’s dad just won the matcg ,” he said with a watery laugh. “And maybe just maybe the NBA is next.” You smiled up at him, heart full. “Whatever happens, we’ve got this all three of us.” The scout was somewhere in the stands, but in that moment, none of that mattered. Heeseung had won the game, and you had won each other.The future felt brighter than ever.

The team had to stay back for a post game meeting with the coach and the scout, so you, Yunjin, and Soobin decided to grab dinner together. The three of you went to a quiet, cozy restaurant near campus the kind with warm lighting and comfortable booths. Yunjin ordered all your favorite pregnancy safe dishes, making sure nothing was too spicy or heavy. Soobin kept the conversation light, cracking jokes about the game and how Heeseung had looked like a superhero in the final seconds. You tried to laugh along, but your mind kept drifting back to the court, to Heeseung, and to the scout who had been watching him so closely.

After dinner, they dropped you off at your apartment. Yunjin hugged you tightly before you got out of the car. “Text us when Heeseung gets back, okay?” she said. “And try not to stress too much. He played amazingly today.” Soobin gave you a gentle smile from the driver’s seat. “You’ve got this both of you rest up.”You nodded, thanking them, and waved as the car drove off. The moment you stepped inside your apartment, the silence hit you no messages no calls. Your phone screen was empty except for a few notifications from friends congratulating you on the win.

You paced the living room, hand resting on your belly, anxiety gnawing at you. What was the scout going to say? Would Heeseung even get a chance at tryouts, or would he get selected straight away? You would be happy, so happy even if it was just tryouts. He had worked so hard he deserved this.

An hour passed then another thirty minutes. You sat on the couch, knees bouncing, checking your phone every few seconds. The silence was deafening. You imagined the worst, the scout saying Heeseung wasn’t ready, that the loss had hurt his chances, that the pregnancy rumors had reached him. Your heart ached thinking about how devastated Heeseung would be.The apartment door finally opened.You jumped up and ran to the front door, heart pounding.

There stood Heeseung his face looked downcast, shoulders slightly slumped, hair still messy from the game. Your heart dropped. You thought the news was bad. You stepped forward without thinking and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You did great today you played your heart out I’m so proud of you. Whatever the scout said, it doesn’t change that we’ll figure it out together.”

Heeseung stood still for a second, then his arms came around you, holding you close. You felt him exhale shakily against your hair. Then he whispered into your ear, voice breaking with joy “I’m selected.” You pulled back, eyes wide. “What?” Heeseung’s face broke into the brightest, most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Tears glistened in his eyes as he laughed a happy, disbelieving laugh and carefully picked you up, twirling you slowly and gently, mindful of your belly.

“I’m selected,” he repeated, voice thick with emotion. “The scout loved my performance. He said I have real potential, he thinks I have a real shot.” You laughed through happy tears, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you. “Heeseung I’m so proud of you , you did it you really did it.” He set you down carefully, but kept his arms around you, forehead resting against yours. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispered. “You being there today, cheering for me, believing in me, it gave me strength. I love you, I love you and Bambi so much.” You kissed him, soft and full of joy, tears mixing with your smiles.

The joy in the apartment was palpable, filling every corner of the living room like sunlight breaking through clouds after a long storm. You pulled back from the hug just enough to look up at Heeseung, your hands still pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid, excited thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. His eyes were shining with happy tears that refused to fall, his smile wide and unrestrained, the kind of pure, boyish grin that made your own heart skip.

The news that he had been selected for the NBA felt like a dream you had both whispered about late at night but never fully dared to believe would arrive so soon. Months of grueling practices, early mornings, and late night strategy sessions had finally paid off. “Oh my god,” you said, laughing through your own tears of happiness as you cupped his face. “We should celebrate this properly, should we throw a party? Invite everyone—Yunjin, Soobin, your teammates, your coach, my parents. We could order a ton of food and just let it all out!”

Heeseung chuckled warmly, the sound deep and rich, as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He shook his head, still smiling that dazzling smile, his thumbs gently brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion as he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your chin up so your eyes met. “I want to celebrate with you first, baby just us. Let’s go somewhere really nice tomorrow night, a quiet, upscale restaurant with a view, dress pretty for me, please? I want to spoil you a little.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips as butterflies fluttered in your chest alongside the gentle kicks from Bambi. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’d like that alot.” Heeseung leaned in and kissed your forehead, lingering there for a long moment, his lips warm and reverent against your skin. “Good,I’ll make the reservation right now so it’s perfect.” He pulled out his phone briefly, tapping away with one hand while the other stayed firmly on your waist, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You both eventually settled back down on the couch, the excitement still buzzing warmly between you like electricity. Heeseung kept one arm wrapped around your shoulders and the other hand resting on your rounded belly, gently rubbing small, soothing circles over the fabric of your shirt. Every so often, he’d pause when he felt a little kick or movement, his eyes lighting up with awe. “Feel that?” he murmured, pressing his palm a bit firmer. “She’s celebrating too our little Bambi is already so strong, just like her mom.”

After a comfortable, contented silence stretched between you broken only by the soft hum of the city outside the window he asked, voice low and thoughtful, “Is there anything left to add in Bambi’s room? Any extra furniture or decor we should get before she arrives? I was thinking maybe that soft cloud shaped night light we saw online, or those blackout curtains with the little stars”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder and breathing in the familiar scent of him clean soap mixed with the faint trace of his cologne. Shaking your head, you replied, “We have spent more than enough already, the room is beautiful as it is she is going to love it. You shouldn’t spoil her too much, Heeseung. She’ll have you wrapped around her tiny finger the second she’s born.”

Heeseung grinned, his eyes sparkling with that signature mischief you loved so much. “I can’t guarantee that,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your bump. “What if she wants the softest blankets, the cutest little outfits in every color, and all the storybooks she could ever dream of? I want her to grow up knowing she’s loved beyond measure, safe and cherished just like her mom makes me feel every single day.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and full of affection, before leaning further into him. Heeseung pulled you closer without hesitation, his strong arms enveloping you as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was full of all the love, gratitude, and overwhelming joy he couldn’t quite put into words the taste of salt from happy tears, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, his fingers threading gently through your hair. The kiss lingered, turning tender and unhurried, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

You both stayed like that for a long while, wrapped up in each other on the couch. His hand never left your belly, and you traced lazy patterns on his chest, talking quietly about the future: the tryouts, what it might mean for your little family, the names you’d already picked out as backups, and silly dreams about teaching Bambi basketball one day.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the emotional day caught up with you. Your eyelids grew heavy, and Heeseung noticed immediately. “Time for bed, love,” he whispered, helping you up with careful hands. He guided you to the bedroom, tucking you in gently under the soft sheets, fluffing the pillows just the way you liked them. He changed quickly into comfortable sleep clothes before climbing in beside you, pulling you into his arms once more. One hand rested protectively over your belly, his thumb brushing back and forth in that soothing rhythm, while the other stroked your back.

“Sleep well,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “Tomorrow night is going to be a good one. Just you and me, celebrating how far we’ve come. I love you both.” You closed your eyes, safe and warm in his embrace, the steady beat of his heart lulling you. A content smile played on your lips as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of emerald dresses, city lights, and the bright future ahead.

The next morning, you woke up slowly to the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of your new apartment. Golden streaks painted the walls, and the faint scent of last night’s lingering cologne still clung to the pillows. Your hand automatically reached across the bed for Heeseung, fingers seeking the familiar warmth of his body, but the space beside you was empty and already cool to the touch. You sat up carefully, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand, a small frown forming as the realization settled in.

That was unusual.

Heeseung almost never left without waking you without at least a warm kiss pressed to your forehead, a soft murmur of “I’ll be back soon, love,” or the gentle brush of his fingers over your belly. The apartment felt too quiet without the sound of him moving around the kitchen, the low hum of him talking nonsense to Bambi through your skin, or the quiet clink of mugs as he prepared your morning tea. A faint ache of absence bloomed in your chest.

You pushed the blanket aside and carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed, one hand resting protectively on your rounded seven month bump. The weight of it had become familiar now, a constant, grounding presence. As you walked into the living room, the hardwood cool under your bare feet, you noticed a small white note left on the kitchen counter, weighted down by a glass of water and a plate with a carefully prepared light breakfast two slices of lightly toasted bread, a small portion of sliced fruit ( strawberries and banana, your current favorites ), and a cup of warm ginger tea still faintly steaming. Typical of him. Always thinking of what your stomach could handle these days.

You picked up the note his handwriting was neat and precise, but the message was strangely short.

I’ll come pick you up at 7, get dressed and be ready <3 — Heeseung

That was it. No “I love you.” No “Have a good day, baby.” No explanation about where he had gone so early, or why he had slipped out before the sun had fully risen. You stared at the paper for a long moment, a small knot of nervousness forming low in your chest, just beneath the gentle flutters of Bambi shifting. Heeseung was being weird.

Last night he had been emotional after the selection news soft, overflowing with love, holding you like he never wanted to let go. This morning he had vanished without a word and left nothing but a brief, almost formal instruction. Something about it felt intentional like he was carefully planning something and didn’t want you asking questions that might ruin the surprise.

You sat down at the small dining table and slowly ate the breakfast he had left for you, trying to push down the restless feeling in your stomach. Part of it was the usual pregnancy nerves hormones making everything feel sharper. Part of it was the lingering excitement from yesterday the scout’s call, the selection, the dream that suddenly felt real enough to touch. And part of it was simply Heeseung’s unexplained absence, the quiet that felt too heavy. Throughout the day, the nervous energy only grew.

You tried to keep yourself busy. You organized a few things in the apartment folding the soft blankets that had arrived for Bambi’s room, rearranging the growing stack of tiny onesies and socks your parents had already started sending. You worked a little more on the final sections of your capstone, typing out paragraphs only to reread them three times because your mind kept drifting. Every so often you caught yourself staring at the clock, the quiet of the apartment pressing in.

What was he planning? Why did he leave so early?

Why did the message feel so different from the way he usually spoke to you?

By afternoon, you found yourself checking the time more often than usual.

5:30

6:00

6:30

You stood in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, carefully choosing an outfit. He had said “get dressed and be ready,” and the way the words had been written so deliberately that made you want to look nice for him. You chose a soft, elegant white maternity dress that flowed gently over your curves. The fabric was light and breathable, the neckline modest yet flattering, the skirt draping beautifully around your seven month bump without clinging too tightly. It made you feel pretty, almost bridal in its simplicity. You left your hair in loose waves that framed your face, added a touch of makeup soft pink on your lips, a little mascara and slipped on comfortable white flats.

By 6:50, you were ready and sitting on the edge of the couch, one hand resting on your belly, the other holding your phone. No new messages from him. No calls. The nervousness sat heavier in your chest now, a quiet tightness that made your breathing a little shallower.

What if something is wrong?

What if the scout called him back and the news had changed?

What if he’s pulling away again the way he used to when things felt too good to be true?

You shook the thoughts away and took a slow, deliberate breath, rubbing small circles over your belly where Bambi gave a soft answering kick. “It’s okay, Bambi,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Daddy’s just being weird today, we'll figure it out together.” At exactly 7:00, there was a soft knock on the door.Your heart jumped hard against your ribs.

You stood up carefully, smoothed the white fabric of your dress over your bump, and walked to the door. When you opened it, Heeseung stood there in a dark, perfectly tailored suit, looking impossibly handsome and a little nervous himself. The soft porch light caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the quiet intensity in his eyes. Those eyes softened the moment they landed on you taking in the white dress, the way it framed your growing belly, the slight uncertainty on your face.

For a second, neither of you spoke.The evening air was cool against your skin. Somewhere down the street a car door closed. The quiet stretched, charged.Then he offered you his hand, palm open, a small, almost shy smile curving his lips.“Ready?” he asked quietly, voice low and warm. You nodded, still unsure what was going on, but you placed your hand in his anyway. His fingers closed around yours, steady and familiar, grounding you instantly. Whatever he had planned you were about to find out.

The restaurant Heeseung had chosen was elegant in a quiet, understated way that felt deliberate rather than showy. Soft golden lighting spilled across crisp white tablecloths, catching the edges of crystal glasses and the gentle curve of silverware. The low murmur of other conversations blended with the distant notes of a piano playing somewhere near the back of the room something classical and unhurried, the kind of music that settled into the background without demanding attention. A single candle flickered between the two of you, its flame steady, casting a warm, shifting glow across the small table and the space between your hands.

Heeseung pulled out your chair with careful hands and waited until you were fully settled before taking his own seat across from you. Throughout the dinner he kept looking at you not the quick glances of someone checking in, but long, quiet looks that lingered. His eyes were soft, full of that particular kind of overwhelming love that always made something tighten in your chest, as if your heart had momentarily forgotten how to beat properly. Every time you caught him staring, a small, almost shy smile would tug at the corner of his lips before he looked down at his plate again, as though the intensity of his own feelings had caught him off guard.

But he was also fidgeting.

His fingers kept tapping lightly against the side of his water glass in an uneven rhythm. He adjusted the cuff of his dark suit jacket more than once, smoothing fabric that didn’t need smoothing. At one point he reached across the table and took your hand, holding it for several long seconds, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that felt almost reverent then he let go again, as if the contact itself had become too much to hold onto all at once.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully over the soft candlelight.“Is something wrong?” you asked, voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry beyond your table. Heeseung looked up, momentarily startled, then shook his head with a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite erase the nervous energy still humming around him. “No,” he said. “Nothing’s wrong i just… like looking at you that’s all.”

He tried to shrug it off, but the restless edge never fully left him. Still, the conversation between you stayed warm and easy. You talked about the quiet of the apartment that morning without him, about the way Bambi had been especially active after lunch, rolling and stretching in small, determined movements that made the fabric of your white dress shift. He asked how your back felt after the long day, whether the ginger tea he’d left had settled your stomach. At one point his voice softened further as he looked at you over the rim of his glass.

“We’ve come a long way,” he said quietly. “From everything that used to feel uncertain to this to you to her.” His gaze dropped briefly to your belly before returning to your face. “I don’t think I ever really believed we’d get here this soon.” You smiled, the words settling warmly beneath your ribs. “Yes,” you answered. “We did and we’re still going further.”

The rest of the dinner passed in a gentle haze of soft conversation, shared smiles, and the quiet pleasure of simply being near each other. When the check was paid, Heeseung stood and offered you his hand. His palm was slightly warmer than usual against yours as he guided you back through the restaurant and out to the car waiting under the soft streetlights.

The drive home was quiet in the best way. He kept one hand steady on the steering wheel and the other loosely holding yours across the center console, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. Every so often he would glance sideways at you, that same soft, almost nervous expression still present on his face as if something important was waiting just ahead and he was trying not to let it show too early. The city lights slid past the windows in long, blurred streaks of gold and white. Outside, the night felt calm. Inside the car, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken.

When you finally reached the apartment building and stepped out of the elevator onto your floor, Heeseung walked slightly ahead of you. He unlocked the door with careful fingers, then turned and gently took your hand again, his grip light but certain. “Close your eyes for a second,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper you did.

He guided you carefully inside, one hand at the small of your back to steady you, the other still holding yours. The soft click of the door closing behind you sealed the quiet of the hallway away. For a moment there was only the sound of your breathing and the faint, sweet scent of flowers already beginning to fill the air. When he whispered, “Okay you can open them,” you slowly lifted your lids. The apartment had been transformed.

Fairy lights were strung carefully across the ceiling and along the walls in soft, deliberate lines, casting a gentle glow that made everything look warmer, softer, almost dreamlike. Flower petals soft white mixed with the palest pink were scattered across the floor in a gentle path that began right at the entrance and curved forward, inviting. The air smelled faintly of fresh blooms and something warmer underneath, familiar and comforting, like the scent of home itself made sharper by the care that had gone into arranging it.

Your breath caught in your throat. Heeseung didn’t say anything at first. He simply took your hand more firmly and began leading you along the trail of petals. They guided you through the living room, past the couch where you had fallen asleep in his arms the night before, and down the short hallway until they stopped right in front of Bambi’s nursery door.He opened it slowly.

Inside, the nursery glowed with the same soft fairy lights, their warm light reflecting off the pale walls and the carefully arranged furniture. More petals were scattered across the wooden floor in a loose circle near the center of the room. A few small candles safely placed on the low shelves, away from anything that could catch flickered gently, their flames steady and calm. The room looked even more beautiful than usual quiet, peaceful, full of quiet promise. Everything about it felt intentional, as if the space itself had been holding its breath for this moment.

Heeseung led you to the middle of the room, where the petals were thickest. Then, still holding your hand, he slowly lowered himself onto one knee.

Heeseung stayed on one knee in the middle of the softly lit nursery, his hand still holding yours as if it were the only solid thing keeping him steady. The fairy lights cast a gentle, golden glow over his face, catching the faint sheen of moisture already gathering in his eyes. For a long moment he simply looked up at you really looked taking in every detail as though he needed to memorize the exact shape of this second before he spoke. His chest rose and fell with a careful breath. The quiet of the room pressed in around you both, broken only by the soft crackle of the candles and the distant city hum beyond the windows.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and a little unsteady, rough at the edges with emotion he no longer tried to hide.

“I love you,” he said, the words coming out like a confession he had been carrying for years. “I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone more than basketball more than any dream I used to chase alone. I want to spend the rest of my life with you— not just the good days, not just the easy ones. I want every morning when your hair is messy and you’re half asleep. I want every hard day when you’re tired and scared and need someone to hold you up. I want every quiet night when the world feels too loud and the only thing that settles it is the sound of your breathing next to mine. I want to be the person you lean on without thinking twice. The one who holds you when things feel too heavy. The one who never, ever lets you face anything alone.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes already glistening. A single tear slipped free and traced a slow path down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away.

“When I first met you, you were just miss morals to me. The girl next door who kept yelling at me to turn the music down. The one who rolled her eyes every time I opened my mouth and looked at me like I was the last person on earth she wanted to share a hallway with. I thought you hated me and maybe part of you did. I was loud and careless and full of myself, and you saw straight through it. But somewhere along the way you became everything. You became the first thought when I wake up and the last one before I sleep. You became the person I want to come home to, the person whose laugh I want to hear when everything else feels wrong. You became the love of my life — the only one I want to build a future with.”

His thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, trembling slightly. Another tear followed the first.

“Today it reminds me of the first time I asked you to marry me. Right after we found out you were pregnant. I was scared and hopeful and so sure that marrying you was the right thing to do because I already loved you more than I knew how to say. And you turned me down. You said marriage needed more than just a baby. You said it needed love and trust and knowing each other all the way through. You were right I didn’t understand it then the way I do now. I thought love was enough if it was loud and certain. But you taught me that real love is quieter. It’s choosing someone every single day, even when it’s hard. It’s growing together instead of just holding on.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath, the sound almost a sob. More tears fell freely now, catching the fairy lights like tiny stars on his skin.

“I promise you I’ll take care of Bambi. I’ll strive every single day to be a better father and a better husband — not perfect, just better. I want her to grow up seeing how much I love her mother. I want her to know that she was wanted from the very first moment, that she was chosen, that she has two parents who will fight for her and for each other no matter what comes. I want our family to be real not because we have to stay, but because we choose each other over and over again. I want her to see what it looks like when someone loves another person so completely that even the hard days feel like home.”

He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small velvet ring box. His fingers trembled as he opened it, revealing a simple, elegant ring that caught the soft light of the fairy lights and held it. The band was delicate, the stone modest but clear, chosen with care rather than extravagance.He looked up at you, tears fully in his eyes now, voice barely holding together. “Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life learning how to love you better every day?”

Your own tears had already started falling, warm and steady against your cheeks. Your free hand covered your mouth as a soft, watery laugh escaped you half joy, half the overwhelming weight of everything you had survived together. For a second you couldn’t speak. The fear, the growth, the nights you almost walked away, the mornings you chose to stay all of it settled in your chest at once, heavy and bright. Then you nodded, voice breaking into a whisper that still managed to fill the room.

“YESSSSS Yes, I will.” ( FUCKKK YEAHHH, bawling as im editing this )

Heeseung’s face broke into the most beautiful, relieved smile you had ever seen wide and open and shining through the tears. He carefully took your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and reverent, as if he were afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too quickly. The metal settled against your skin, cool at first, then warming with your pulse. The moment it was in place, he rose to his feet and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply soft at first, tasting of salt and joy, then fuller, pouring every unsaid promise into the press of his mouth against yours. His hands cradled your face, then slid down to rest over your belly, holding both of you as if the three of you had always belonged in this exact space.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you still crying and smiling, breath mingling in the quiet.

In the soft glow of the fairy lights, with white and pink petals scattered like quiet confessions across the nursery floor and the steady, living presence of your daughter moving gently between you, the years that had once felt uncertain suddenly folded into something whole. All the almosts and the nearlys and the nights you both almost gave up became the foundation of this one perfect yes. You could feel it in the way his arms held you — not as if he was afraid you might leave, but as if he finally understood that you never would. And in that small, glowing room, with the future already breathing softly against your heart, it felt less like the start of a marriage and more like the quiet, inevitable homecoming of two people who had been walking toward each other the entire time.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t let yourself get any closer. From your point of view, keeping your distance was the best , the only thing you could do. If you stayed near him, your feelings would only grow stronger, and that would only put him at greater risk. You couldn’t let your heart get in the way of his future. You couldn’t let your love become the reason his career and everything he had worked so hard for got destroyed. Bambi deserved a father with a bright future, not one whose dreams were ruined because of you.

You hugged your knees tighter to your chest, phone still clutched in your hand, the decision settling over you like a heavy, painful blanket. It hurt, it hurt more than you expected. But it was the right thing, the safe thing and the only way to protect him.Just then, another notification popped up.

heeseung : thank you so much for standing up for me tonight , tomorrow we go out somewhere ?

Your thumb hovered over the screen. The message was simple, sweet, and full of the quiet care you had come to expect from him. Your heart ached fiercely. You wanted to reply, you wanted to tell him yes, that you’d see him in the morning, that you’d face the day together like you had been doing. You wanted to hear his voice, feel his hand in yours, let him make you breakfast and hold you when the world felt too heavy.

But you didn't, you ignored the message.You turned your phone face down on the floor and hugged your knees closer, fresh tears silently sliding down your cheeks. If you didn’t draw a line right now, your feelings might get out of hand. And that would only hurt him and his career even more.You sat there in the dark for a long time, tears flowing freely now, one hand still protectively over your belly. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty. The love you had just realized was now tangled with guilt, fear, and a painful resolve.

You didn’t know what the future held but you knew one thing for certain ,you didn’t want to hurt him, especially not his career.The realization that you were in love with Heeseung and that you wanted a family with him suddenly felt both precious and terrifyingly vulnerable.You stayed on the cold floor until your legs went numb, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a stone. You stayed on the cold floor for what felt like hours, knees hugged tightly to your chest, tears drying on your cheeks. The weight of the threatening message, the realization of your feelings, and the painful decision you had just made pressed down on you until your body felt too heavy to move.

Eventually, you forced yourself up. Your legs were numb, your eyes swollen. You moved through your nightly routine on autopilot washing your face with cold water, brushing your teeth, changing into an oversized tshirt. Every motion felt mechanical, like you were watching yourself from outside your body. When you finally crawled into bed, you pulled the covers over your head and curled up on your side, one hand resting protectively over your belly.

The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come. It took a long time, but exhaustion eventually won. You drifted off with Heeseung’s face in your mind his gentle smile, the way he had held you earlier, the way he had kissed your forehead like you mattered.

The next morning, you woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains. Your body felt heavy, your eyes still puffy from the night before. The decision to keep your distance sat like a stone in your chest, but you knew it was the right thing. You reached for your phone on the nightstand and opened your messages to Heeseung. Your fingers hovered for a moment before you typed

you : hey, I’m going to my parents’ place for the weekend since we have holidays now

you : i’ll be back on monday morning, sorry that I can’t go out with you.

You stared at the message for a long time, thumb hovering over the send button. It felt cold and distant but it was necessary. You couldn’t let your feelings get out of hand, you couldn't risk hurting him — or his career. you hit send and then you turned your phone face down, got out of bed, and started getting ready for the trip to your parents’ house. The weekend away felt like a necessary escape, a chance to breathe, to think, to put some space between you and the complicated feelings that were growing too fast.

But even as you packed your bag, a small, quiet part of you already missed him.The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on it.You moved quickly, almost frantically, through your apartment. You pulled out a small suitcase and started packing as fast as you could clothes for the weekend, your laptop for capstone work, toiletries, and a few comfort items. Every motion felt mechanical, like you were trying to outrun the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. The threatening message still burned in your mind, but you pushed it down, focusing instead on the practical steps in front of you.

Once your bag was packed, you grabbed your keys and left the apartment without looking back. The hallway felt too quiet, too empty. You didn’t glance at Heeseung’s door as you passed it fuck you couldn’t. On the way to the bus stop, you pulled out your phone and called your parents. The line connected after a couple of rings, and your mom’s cheerful voice filled your ear. “Sweetheart! Is everything okay?”

You forced a smile into your voice. “Hi mom im coming home for thanksgiving break. The university has a short break, so I thought I’d surprise you guys and spend the long weekend with you.”Your mom gasped happily. “Oh! That’s wonderful! We’ll prepare your favorite room and make all your favorite dishes. Is Heeseung coming with you? We’d love to see him again and celebrate Thanksgiving together as a family.”You swallowed hard, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “No, he’s busy with basketball practice. He couldn’t make it this time.”

Your dad’s voice joined in the background, sounding a little disappointed. “Ah, that’s too bad we really liked him. But we’re so happy you’re coming home, honey. We’ll see you soon!”They sounded a little sad about Heeseung not joining, but their excitement to see you won out. You ended the call with a promise to text when you reached the bus station, then quickly messaged Yunjin and Soobin to let them know you’d be away until monday morning.

you : hey guys, im heading to my parents’ town for the weekend since there’s a short break i’ll be back on monday morning and take care!

you : also happy early thanksgiving !

Yunjin replied almost immediately with a string of heart emojis and a promise to catch up when you returned. Soobin sent a simple, caring message wishing you a safe trip.You reached the bus stop just in time for the earliest bus to your hometown. You climbed aboard, found a window seat near the back, and settled in with your bag on your lap. The bus pulled away from the stop, the familiar streets of campus slowly fading behind you.As the scenery changed to highways and open fields, your mind wandered back to Heeseung.

You thought about him and Bambi. About the quiet mornings when he brought you breakfast. About the way he held you when you cried. About the gentle way he spoke to your belly, calling the baby by the nickname you both loved. About how safe you felt in his arms. About how much you wanted to build a real family with him but nothing could be done now.His career was important. He had worked so hard to get where he was — the captain of the team, the one with real NBA potential. According to whoever sent that message, you looked like a threat. You couldn’t be the reason his dreams crumbled. You couldn’t be the reason his future was ruined.

You hugged your bag tighter to your chest, staring out the window as the bus rumbled along the highway. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was the right thing this was the only thing you could do to protect him.The bus continued its journey, carrying you away from him, away from the complicated feelings that had grown too strong, too fast.You leaned your head against the window, watching the world blur past, heart heavy with love and sacrifice.

The bus finally pulled into your hometown station by early afternoon. The familiar sight of the small, quiet terminal and the surrounding streets brought a strange mix of comfort and nostalgia. You stepped off the bus with your bag, scanning the area, and spotted your dad waiting near the entrance.The moment he saw you, his face lit up with the warmest smile. He rushed forward and pulled you into a big, tight hug, holding you like he hadn’t seen you in years.“My girl,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You look beautiful come here, let me see you properly.”

He pulled back slightly, then gently placed both hands on your shoulders before lowering them to rest lightly on your belly. His eyes softened with pure joy as he leaned down a little. “Hey there, little Bambi,” he whispered to your belly, his voice full of wonder. “How is my little grandbaby doing today? Grandpa can’t wait to meet you.” You felt tears prick your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. Your dad straightened up and hugged you again, kissing the top of your head.

“Let’s get you home, your mom has been cooking up a storm since you called.”You climbed into his car, the familiar smell of leather and faint bakery scent ( from years of him driving to and from work ) wrapping around you like a hug. As he started the engine and pulled out of the station, your dad began chatting happily. “The bakery has been so busy lately,” he said, smiling. “Thanksgiving orders are pouring in and we're fully booked for the next few days. Oh, and guess what? Sangwon started working with us three months ago.”You turned to him, shocked. “Sangwon? When did he come back from pastry school?”

Your dad chuckled. “About three months ago he finished his program early and wanted to come back home. He’s been a huge help at the bakery and the customers love his new recipes. He’s really grown into a fine young man.”Sangwon your first love, your first and only boyfriend. The two of you had dated in high school a sweet, normal relationship filled with study dates, walks home, and innocent kisses. The breakup had been mutual and gentle. The distance during university had simply made things too hard, so you both decided to part ways before starting separate schools.

You had stayed friends, occasionally checking in on each other’s lives through social media, but it had been years since you last saw him in person.

Hearing his name now felt surreal. A wave of nostalgia washed over you, but it was soft, not painful. You wondered how he was doing, how life had treated him since then. Your dad continued chatting warmly about the bakery, your mom’s excitement to see you, and how they had prepared your old room with fresh sheets and your favorite snacks. You listened, smiling softly, letting his voice fill the car and ease some of the heaviness you had carried from the city.

But in the back of your mind, Heeseung’s face kept appearing his gentle smile, the way he had held you last night, the way he had kissed your forehead before leaving.You pushed the thoughts down this weekend was for your parents for some distance and for some clarity. Even if your heart was still back in the city with him, Heeseung woke up slowly around 10 a.m., the sunlight filtering through the curtains of his bedroom. For a moment, the events of the previous day felt distant the loss at the game, the painful dinner with his parents, the comforting way you had hugged him and kissed him before he went to sleep alone then reality settled in.

He sat up, rubbing his face with both hands, and reached for his phone on the nightstand. He had planned to take you out today to a quiet movie or a walk, just the two of you, something normal after the chaos of yesterday. He had been looking forward to it. But when he opened his messages, there was no new reply from you.He frowned slightly, you must have been exhausted and fallen asleep, he thought. The day had been long and emotional for both of you. He scrolled up to check the conversation again, hoping he had missed something. There it was your message from last night.

you : hey, im going to my parents’ place for the thanksgiving break since there’s a short break. i’ll be back on Monday morning. sorry that I can’t go out with you

The words felt… off too polite, too distant. Nothing like the way you had been opening up to him lately the soft smiles, the way you leaned into his touch, the quiet conversations in the dark. This message sounded careful and guarded like you were putting space between you both again. Heeseung stared at the screen for a long time, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Did something happen yesterday? The thought gnawed at him. The dinner with his parents had been rough. His father’s words had cut deep, and he had seen how you had stood up for him. Maybe it had been too much, maybe you were pulling away because of that or maybe… you were just tired.

He didn’t want to pry he couldn’t. You two weren’t actually dating. This was all supposed to be for show for the baby, for appearances. He was the one who had developed real feelings. He was the one who lay awake at night thinking about you and Bambi, imagining a future that felt real. He couldn’t push you he wouldn’t.So he typed a simple, careful reply.

heeseung : did you reach safely?

He sent it and set the phone down, running a hand through his messy hair. The apartment felt too quiet without you. He got up, made himself a quick breakfast, and tried to focus on the day ahead. But his mind kept drifting back to you wondering if you were okay, if the trip was a good escape for you, if you were thinking about him at all. He told himself it was fine if you needed space. You needed time with your family.

But the quiet ache in his chest told him it wasn’t fine he missed you already.Thanksgiving Day started quietly for Heeseung.He woke up early, the apartment feeling too empty without the soft sound of your breathing or the faint scent of your shampoo on the pillow next to him. He spent the first half of the day trying to keep busy. He went to the gym for a long, intense workout pushing himself harder than usual, lifting heavier weights, running longer on the treadmill. The physical exertion helped quiet the restless thoughts in his head.

After showering, he settled on the couch with one of the parenting books he had ordered. He read about the second trimester, about how the baby was developing, about ways to support a partner through mood swings and fatigue. Every page made him think of you how you had been feeling lately, how your belly was starting to show more, how you tried to hide your exhaustion behind a brave smile. He highlighted passages and made mental notes of things he wanted to ask you about or prepare for.

Later, he cleaned his apartment thoroughly, wiping down surfaces, organizing the kitchen, folding the blanket you had used the last time you fell asleep on his couch. The small tasks kept his hands busy, but his mind kept drifting back to you. He wondered if you had reached your parents’ house safely, if you were resting, if you were thinking about him at all.By late evening, he still hadn’t heard from you.He checked his phone again as he got ready to head out for Thanksgiving dinner with his teammates. No new messages. The silence felt heavier than he expected.

Fuck I miss you so much

The thought hit him as he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He wanted to take you along with him tonight. He wanted to show you off to everyone to walk into the restaurant with your hand in his, to introduce you as his girlfriend ( even if it was still fake to you ), to let his teammates see the girl who had changed everything for him. He imagined how proud he would feel, how complete the night would feel with you by his side. Instead, he would be going alone. Most of his teammates would be there with their girlfriends. Jake had mentioned bringing his girl. Jay was bringing someone too.

The thought of sitting there, watching everyone else paired up while he sat by himself, made the loneliness feel sharper. He grabbed his keys and headed out, the cool evening air doing little to ease the ache in his chest. The restaurant was lively when he arrived. Laughter, clinking glasses, the smell of roasted turkey and warm pies filled the air. His teammates greeted him warmly, clapping him on the back and teasing him about the game. But the moment he sat down at the long table, the emptiness beside him felt glaringly obvious.

He smiled and laughed at the right times, joining in the conversation about the season and holiday plans. But his mind kept drifting back to you wondering if you were having a good time with your parents, if you had eaten something gentle on your stomach, if you were thinking about him even a little. He missed you more than he had expected to. He missed the way you leaned into him when you were tired. He missed the soft way you said his name when you were half asleep. He missed the quiet moments where you let him talk to Bambi, your hand resting over his on your belly.

He took a sip of water, forcing another smile as his teammates joked around him. The loneliness sat heavy in his chest, but he pushed it down. He had chosen this to be there for you, even if it meant sitting through a holiday dinner feeling like something was missing. He pulled out his phone under the table and checked it one more time, still no reply from you.He put the phone away and tried to focus on the conversation, but his thoughts kept circling back to the same quiet hope

Come back soon.

Come back to me.

Heeseung sat at the long dinner table with his teammates, the restaurant buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the rich smell of roasted turkey and warm pies. The Thanksgiving dinner was lively, exactly the kind of celebration the team usually loved after a tough season. But tonight, Heeseung felt detached from it all. Ten minutes into the main course, Beomgyu walked up to him with that signature mischievous grin, slinging an arm around his shoulders.“Yo, captain,” Beomgyu teased loudly enough for the whole table to hear. “You look like a loser in love sitting here all by yourself. Where’s your girl?

The table erupted in laughter. Jake, Jay, and a few others joined in with playful jabs. Heeseung forced a small smile, trying to play along, but the words landed heavier than they should have. Jake, who knew the full truth along with Coach, Jay, and Beomgyu, shot him a sympathetic look but didn’t say anything. Heeseung shrugged, keeping his tone light. “She’s at her parents’ place for Thanksgiving family stuff couldn’t make it.” Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Is she avoiding the team dinner because she knows how chaotic we are?” The teasing continued, but Heeseung’s mind wasn’t fully there.

He laughed at the right moments, contributed a few comments about the lost game and holiday plans, but the loneliness from earlier still sat heavy in his chest. Most of his teammates had come with their girlfriends. The empty seat beside him felt glaringly obvious. He pulled out his phone under the table and started scrolling through Instagram to distract himself. Stories popped up one after another. Then he saw it ,you had reposted a story.

It was a picture of you smiling brightly next to a guy — tall, good looking, holding a freshly baked pie. The two of you looked comfortable together, arms casually close, the background clearly a warm home setting. Heeseung stared at the photo something sharp twisted in his chest. Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be, it was just a picture. You were allowed to have friends. You were allowed to spend time with people from your past. You had the time to repost that, but not to reply to his message?

He told himself it was nothing. You two were just faking it anyway. But to him, it had started to feel real. The way you had hugged him two nights ago, the peck on his cheek, the way you had defended him in front of his father — it had started to feel real from your side too or maybe he was just being delusional. The thought stung more than he wanted to admit.He slipped his phone back into his pocket, the food on his plate suddenly tasting like nothing. The laughter around the table felt distant. “I’m tired,” he told Coach a few minutes later, standing up. “I’m gonna head out enjoy the rest of the night, guys.”

Coach gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. “Get some rest, Lee, see you at practice.” Heeseung drove straight to the basketball court instead of going home. The arena was empty and dark, but he had a key. He turned on the lights in the practice gym, the familiar smell of polished wood and sweat hitting him as he stepped inside. He changed into practice clothes he kept in his bag and started doing drills dribbling, shooting, defensive slides, anything to clear his head. The ball echoed loudly in the empty gym, each bounce and swish a small release of the frustration and jealousy he didn’t want to name.

Every shot he took, he thought of you every time he caught the ball, he remembered the way you had looked at him after the game, the way you had hugged him, the way you had stood up for him in front of his father.He kept playing until his muscles burned and his mind felt a little quieter.But even then, the image of you smiling next to that guy lingered.

He didn’t know what this was between you two anymore. But he knew one thing for certain he missed you and he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend he didn’t.

Heeseung sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at the dark screen. The apartment felt too quiet after the team dinner. The loneliness from earlier had only grown heavier on the drive home. He had tried to distract himself with a quick shower and some stretches, but nothing worked. He opened his messages and typed a simple text to you.

heeseung : happy thanksgiving looks like you’re busy with family hope you’re having a good time

heeseumg : take care of yourself and bambi

He stared at the message for a long moment before sending it. No reply came. He waited a few minutes, refreshing the chat, but the screen stayed silent.He sighed, setting the phone on the nightstand.You’re probably busy with your parents, he told himself. It’s fine she needs time with her family.But the silence stung more than he wanted to admit. He missed the little replies you usually sent even the short ones that made his day feel a little brighter. He missed the way you had started opening up to him, the quiet conversations, the way you let him hold you.

He changed into comfortable clothes and lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The room felt too empty without you. No soft breathing beside him. No warm body curled against his chest. No gentle hand resting on his stomach while you slept. He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. She’s not mine, he reminded himself this is all fake she’s doing this for the baby not for me.But the lie felt thinner every day. He turned on his side, pulling the blanket higher, and tried to sleep.

The last thing he thought about before drifting off was you smiling in that Instagram story, looking happy and carefree with someone else. And how much he wished he had been the one standing next to you instead.You were sitting on the edge of your old bed in your parents’ house when your phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Heeseung’s message.

heeseung : happy thanksgiving looks like you’re busy with family hope you’re having a good time

heeseung : take care of yourself and bambi

Reading his words made something twist painfully in your chest. Guilt flooded through you, heavy and sharp. You could almost hear his voice saying it soft, caring, the same tone he used when he brought you food or held you through a bad night. You felt like the worst person in the world for ignoring him earlier, for pulling away when he had been nothing but good to you. But you had no choice , you typed back quickly, keeping it short and neutral.

you : happy thanksgiving to you too, good night

you : yes, I was hanging out with my family

You hit send and immediately turned your phone face down on the nightstand. You couldn’t let yourself think about him right now. Not when you were trying so hard to keep your distance. You had spent the day helping out at your parents’ bakery. The place was busy with Thanksgiving orders, the warm smell of fresh bread, pies, and cookies filling the air. You had tied on an apron and worked alongside your mom and dad packing orders, decorating cakes, and chatting with regular customers. It felt good to be useful, to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of the bakery. Your mom kept fussing over you the whole time, reminding you to sit down, to drink water, to take care of yourself and the baby.

“You’re growing a little person in there,” she had said, gently patting your belly. “Don’t overdo it, sweetheart we’re so happy you’re home.” You had smiled and nodded, letting her worry over you. It was comforting in its own way.

You had also run into Sangwon earlier that day.He was working behind the counter at your parents’ bakery, focused and efficient as he helped customers with their orders. When he looked up and saw you standing there, his eyes widened in genuine surprise, then lit up with that familiar, warm smile you remembered so clearly from high school. The same smile that used to make your teenage heart flutter.

“Wow,” he said, stepping around the counter to pull you into a quick, friendly hug. “It’s really you you look different in a good way.”The two of you had talked for a while during a quiet moment between customers. You had found a small table in the back corner of the bakery, away from prying ears. You told him everything the pregnancy, that Heeseung was the father, and that the two of you were in a pretend relationship for now, mostly for the sake of the baby and to keep things stable.

Sangwon had been really shocked. His eyes went wide, and he leaned back in his chair, processing the news in silence for a few seconds. He asked a few careful, gentle questions how you were feeling, how far along you were, if you were okay emotionally.

Then he promised to keep it all to himself. “You know I won’t say anything to your parents,” he had said seriously, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “But… are you okay? Do you need anything? Money, a place to stay, someone to talk to anything at all.” You had hesitated before answering his next question.“Do you like him?” Sangwon had asked gently, his voice full of understanding. You had paused for a long moment, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue.

“I love him,” you had admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it just wouldn’t work out we’re from two different worlds his career, his family expectations, the pressure he’s under… it’s too complicated. I can’t drag him down with me.”Sangwon had looked at you with deep understanding, then pulled you into a gentle, comforting hug right there in the back of the bakery. “Whatever happens, you can come to me,” he had said softly. “I’m always here, never hesitate to call me day or night.”

You had smiled, grateful beyond words. It felt good to have someone who had your back, someone who didn’t judge, someone who remembered the girl you used to be before everything became so complicated.

Now, back in your old room, you lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, your parents already asleep after a long day at the bakery. The realization that you were in love with Heeseung still sat heavy in your chest, warm and terrifying at the same time. You wanted him. You wanted the quiet mornings, the late night talks, the way he held you like you were something precious. You wanted to build a real family with him and Bambi.

But the threatening message from earlier made your decision feel even more necessary. You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but Heeseung’s face kept appearing in your mind his gentle smile, the way he held you when you cried, the way he spoke to Bambi like the baby was already the most important thing in the world. You turned onto your side, hugging a pillow to your chest, and whispered to the quiet room “I’m sorry…” But you knew you had to stay away — for him for Bambi for both of you.

The weekend went by quickly you spent most of your time with your family, helping out at the bakery whenever you could. The familiar rhythm of packing orders, decorating cakes, and chatting with regular customers felt grounding. Your mom fussed over you constantly making sure you ate small, frequent meals, reminding you to rest, and gently patting your belly while whispering sweet words to Bambi. Your dad was over the moon, constantly talking about future plans for the baby and how excited he was to be a grandfather. The warmth of their love helped ease some of the heaviness you had carried from the city.

You also spent time with Sangwon. The two of you talked a lot during quiet moments at the bakery or while walking home in the evenings. It was easy and nostalgic reminiscing about high school, laughing about old memories, and catching up on life since then. He was supportive without being pushy, and his presence felt like a safe, familiar anchor.But throughout the weekend, you barely texted Heeseung. He had messaged you several times asking how you were doing, how your parents were, if you were resting enough, if the nausea was better.

Each message was caring, thoughtful, and full of the quiet concern you had come to expect from him. You replied briefly, keeping your answers short and neutral. You told yourself it was for the best. Keeping distance was the only way to protect him. On Monday morning, your dad didn’t want you to travel back by bus. He insisted Sangwon drop you back to your apartment. “It’s safer this way,” he said. “And it would have been better if Heeseung was here to pick you up, but I understand he’s busy with practice.” You forced a small smile. “He is busy it’s fine, Dad.”

The drive back with Sangwon was pleasant. The two of you chatted casually about old times funny high school memories, how life had changed since then, and light updates about mutual friends. It was fun talking to him. The conversation flowed easily, and you didn’t realize how fast the time had passed until the car halted right in front of your apartment building. Sangwon helped you carry your bags and all the stuff your parents had sent homemade snacks, some clothes, and a few things for the baby they had already started buying. He carried everything up to your door without complaint.

When you reached your apartment door, Heeseung’s door suddenly opened. He stepped out, looking like he had just come back from somewhere. His eyes landed on you first, then on Sangwon standing beside you with your bags. Something passed through his eyes in a quick flash you couldn’t quite figure out surprise? hurt? jealousy? It was gone too fast to read.“You’re back,” he said quietly, his voice neutral but his gaze lingering on you. You nodded, suddenly feeling awkward with Sangwon still standing there. “Yeah… just got back.”

Sangwon gave a polite nod to Heeseung, then turned to you with a warm smile. “Take care, call me if you need anything, okay?” You thanked him and watched him leave. When you turned back, Heeseung was still standing in his doorway, watching you. The air between you felt heavy and didn't know what to say. You stood in the hallway for a moment, the silence after Sangwon left feeling heavier than it should have. Heeseung was still standing in his doorway, watching you with that unreadable expression. The air between you felt thick, charged with everything that had happened over the weekend and everything that remained unsaid.

You shifted your bag on your shoulder and tried to sound casual. “Do you… want to come inside?” you asked, gesturing toward your apartment door.Heeseung shook his head slowly, his voice gentle but firm. “No, you must be tired from all the traveling. You need to rest.” He paused, eyes flicking to your face as if checking for any sign of exhaustion. “Do you have any classes today?” he asked. You shook your head. “No, the one I had in the evening is cancelled.”

Heeseung nodded once, a small, almost curt movement. He didn’t say anything else no “how was your weekend,” no “I missed you,” no offer to bring you dinner or check on you later. He simply turned and walked back into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a quiet finality.You stood there for a few seconds longer, staring at his closed door. The hallway felt colder now emptier.

You turned and walked into your own apartment, locking the door behind you. You set your bags down and leaned against the door, letting out a long, slow breath. Yes, you thought, closing your eyes. This is how it should be. This is how it should have been from the beginning. Keeping distance was the right thing, the safe thing. The only way to protect him from the threat, from his father’s expectations, from the complications your feelings would bring. You couldn’t let yourself get any closer. You couldn’t let your heart get in the way of his future.

You unpacked your bags slowly, folding clothes and putting away the snacks and gifts your parents had sent. Every motion felt mechanical, like you were trying to outrun the ache in your chest. The apartment felt too quiet without his presence no soft knocks on the door, no warm food waiting on the table, no gentle voice asking how you were feeling. You sat on the edge of your bed, hand resting on your belly, and whispered to the quiet room. “This is better for him and Bambi.”

But even as you said the words, a small, stubborn part of you ached for the way things had been just a few days ago the easy conversations, the forehead kisses, the way he made you feel safe. You pushed the thoughts down, telling yourself again and again that this was the right choice. You had to keep your distance.

The following weeks blurred into a painful routine of deliberate distance you ignored Heeseung. Every morning, when he knocked softly on your door with breakfast, you pretended you were already gone or too busy to answer. You left earlier than usual for campus, taking the side stairs to avoid the hallway. When he texted asking how you were feeling or if you needed anything, you replied with short, polite messages — “I’m fine,” “Thank you,” “No need.” You stopped letting him come inside. You stopped the late night talks. You stopped the quiet moments where you used to watch him cook or let him hold you, it hurt.

Every time you saw his name on your phone, your heart clenched. Every time you heard his door open or close, you pressed your back against your own door and reminded yourself why you were doing this. The threatening message still lingered in your mind like a shadow. You couldn’t risk his career. You couldn’t risk Bambi’s future. Keeping distance was the only way.Soobin and Yunjin noticed something was wrong.

They caught the way you went quiet whenever Heeseung’s name came up. They saw how you avoided the usual routes where you might run into him. They noticed how tired and distant you seemed. But they didn’t dare ask. They simply stayed close Soobin walking you to classes, Yunjin sending funny memes to cheer you up, both of them offering silent support without pushing.

Heeseung still tried.

He kept showing up.

Some mornings he left breakfast containers outside your door with little notes “Eat something for Bambi.”He texted every day asking how you were feeling, if the nausea was better, if you needed anything. When you gave short replies, he still followed up the next day. He waited in the hallway sometimes, hoping to catch you, but you always slipped away before he could say more than a few words. One evening, he knocked on your door with dinner. You opened it just a crack, thanked him politely, and took the container without letting him inside. The hurt in his eyes was impossible to miss, but he didn’t push. He simply nodded and said, “Take care of yourself.”

It broke your heart a little more every time. During this one month, your parents sent Sangwon every single week to bring food they had made for you. Homemade meals, snacks, and little notes from your mom reminding you to rest. Sangwon would drop them off with a warm smile, sometimes staying for a short chat. He never pushed, never asked too many questions. He was just there, a safe, familiar presence.

Every time Sangwon came, Heeseung’s door would open. He would step out, see the two of you in the hallway, and go dead silent. His expression would tighten, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, before he quietly went back inside without a word you noticed it every time.And every time, it made the ache in your chest worse.

You were ignoring him to protect him. But it felt like you were hurting him anyway. You sat alone in your apartment many nights, hand on your belly, whispering to Bambi about how sorry you were, how you were doing this for both of them, how you wished things could be different.But you kept your distance because you loved him too much to let anything happen to him. It was a random Wednesday afternoon. ( like it was a random tuesday march 10 )

You were walking down the familiar hallway toward your next class, bag slung over your shoulder, mind lost in thoughts about your capstone project and the gentle flutter you had started feeling in your belly lately. The campus was busy as usual, students rushing between classes, but something felt off the moment you turned the corner and people were staring. Not the usual quick glances, these were prolonged, deliberate stares. Groups of students huddled together, whispering as you passed. Some gave you disgusted looks, others smirked or shook their heads. A few pulled out their phones, clearly taking photos or sending messages. The air felt thick with judgment, and your steps slowed as unease crept up your spine.

You kept your head down, pulling your hood a little lower, trying to ignore the growing discomfort. It’s nothing, you told yourself. Just rumors from the game or something but then it happened. One of the girls standing with a group near the lockers suddenly shouted loud enough for the entire hallway to hear

“Whore!” You stopped dead in your tracks, heart slamming against your ribcage. “What?” you whispered, turning toward her in disbelief. She crossed her arms, smirking with clear malice. “Aren’t you such a slut for baby trapping Heeseung? Everyone knows it you got pregnant on purpose to trap the basketball captain pathetic.”

The words hit like a slap. Your face burned with humiliation as more whispers erupted around you. The hallway seemed to close in, the stares growing sharper, more vicious. Your hand instinctively moved to your belly, protecting the small swell that was starting to show. Before you could even process what to say, Yunjin came running from the other end of the hallway, pushing through the crowd. “Get away from her!” Yunjin snapped at the girl, grabbing your arm and pulling you away. “Come on.”

She dragged you down the hallway and into the nearest empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind you. The room was quiet, the noise from the hallway muffled. Yunjin turned to you, her face flushed with anger and worry. “Are you okay?” she asked, searching your face. You nodded shakily, but your legs felt weak. You leaned against a desk, trying to steady yourself. Yunjin pulled out her phone, scrolling quickly before turning the screen toward you. “Look at this itt’s been circulating all morning.”

It was a post on the anonymous campus page

@decelisconfessions : The only reason Heeseung is with the girl from the arts major is because she baby trapped him. She got pregnant on purpose to lock down the basketball captain disgusting he deserves better.

The post had hundreds of likes and comments already, many agreeing with the accusation, calling you names, speculating about your motives.Your heart dropped. The room spun for a second. You felt sick not from pregnancy, but from the sheer cruelty of it all. The rumors had been bad before, but this was vicious, personally designed to hurt.Yunjin put her phone away and pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “People are idiots, you know that’s not true heeseung knows that’s not true ee know that’s not true.”

You hugged her back, tears stinging your eyes. The weight of the secret, the distance you had been trying to keep, the love you were trying so hard not to feel it all crashed down on you at once.You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine.You didn’t know what to do. The words on Yunjin’s phone screen blurred as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop crying. The accusation“baby trapped him” felt like a knife twisting in your chest. Who would do this to you? Who would spread such a vicious, cruel rumor? Why? What had you ever done to deserve this kind of hatred?

Your shoulders shook with silent sobs as you stood in the empty classroom, the world outside the door feeling too loud, too cruel. Yunjin immediately pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as you cried against her shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay those people are idiots. They don’t know anything they’re just jealous or bored or whatever. This isn’t true you know that i know that and moreover Heeseung knows that too.”

You clung to her, the tears coming harder. The weight of the past few weeks the hormones, the secrecy, the distance you had forced between you and Heeseung, the love you were trying so hard not to feel all of it crashed down on you at once. You felt small exposed and terrified.Yunjin held you until the worst of the sobs eased, then gently pulled back and wiped your tears with her thumbs. “Do you want to go home?” she asked softly. “Skip the rest of the classes today? It’s okay if you do.” You nodded, unable to speak. The thought of walking through the hallways again, facing more stares and whispers, made your stomach churn.

Yunjin nodded understandingly. “Okay, I’ll call Soobin. He can bring his car and pick us up at the side entrance so we can avoid the main crowd.” She quickly dialed Soobin while you tried to steady your breathing. Your hand stayed on your belly, gently rubbing small circles. I shouldn’t stress myself out too much, you thought, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. It isn’t good for Bambi. I have to stay calm for you, little one. Soobin arrived quickly. He didn’t ask questions when he saw your tear streaked face he just gave you a gentle, concerned look and helped guide you out through a quieter side exit. You kept your head down the entire way, hood pulled low, trying to make yourself as small as possible so no one would notice you.

The walk to the car felt endless, every distant whisper or glance making you flinch. Once you were safely in the backseat with Yunjin beside you, Soobin started the car and drove away from campus. The silence in the car was broken only by your occasional sniffles.Yunjin rubbed your arm gently. “Hey… it’s going to be okay those rumors are bullshit people love drama, but it’ll die down. You’re strong, you've got us and you’ve got Heeseung.” Soobin glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his voice soft and reassuring. “Yeah and if anyone says anything to your face, tell me. I’ve got your back.”

They spent the entire car ride trying to cheer you up. Yunjin told funny stories about her latest disastrous date attempt trying to move on sunghoon. Soobin played some of your favorite calm music and cracked a few light jokes about how the three of you should start a secret society to fight campus gossip. Their efforts were sweet, and you managed a few watery smiles, but the ache in your chest didn’t fully go away.When Soobin pulled up in front of your apartment building, Yunjin helped you out of the car and walked you to your door. “Call us if you need anything,” she said, hugging you tightly. “Even if it’s just to cry we’re here.”Soobin gave you a gentle hug too. “Rest up we love you.”

You nodded, thanking them both before stepping inside. The apartment felt too quiet too empty. You locked the door, leaned against it, and let the tears come again. You couldn’t stop thinking about the rumor. About how it could hurt Heeseung’s reputation. About how it could affect Bambi one day. About how you had to keep your distance to protect him even if it broke your heart a little more every day.

You curled up on the couch, hand on your belly, whispering softly to Bambi. “I’m sorry, little one. I’m trying to do the right thing for you and your dad.” The tears kept coming, but you held on to the small comfort that at least you weren’t completely alone.

Only ten minutes had passed since you had curled up on the couch, tears still flowing freely as you hugged a pillow to your chest. The weight of the rumor, the stares, the whispers, and the overwhelming fear of what it could do to Heeseung and Bambi felt crushing. Your phone lay silent on the coffee table, the ignored message from Heeseung still open on the screen. You didn’t have the strength to reply. You didn’t have the strength to face anyone right now.

The doorbell rang and your heart jumped you thought it was Heeseung. He must have heard about the rumor somehow, or maybe he had come to check on you after his practice. You didn’t want to face him right now — not with your eyes swollen from crying, not with the guilt of ignoring him weighing on you, not when you were still trying so hard to keep your distance to protect him.

But the doorbell rang again, soft but persistent.You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, took a shaky breath, and forced yourself to stand up. Your legs felt heavy as you walked to the door. You opened it slowly, expecting to see Heeseung’s concerned face.

It wasn’t him it was Sangwon.He stood there with a small bag in his hand, likely another care package from your parents. His expression was relaxed at first, the familiar warm smile starting to form on his face. But the moment he saw you eyes red and swollen, cheeks streaked with tears, shoulders hunched his smile vanished completely.You broke down the second you saw him.

The tears you had been trying to hold back came rushing out again. A sob tore from your throat as you covered your mouth with one hand, the other gripping the doorframe for support. Your body shook with the force of the crying, the exhaustion of the day, the fear, the guilt, and the overwhelming love you were trying so hard to suppress all crashing down at once.

Sangwon’s eyes widened in alarm. He stepped forward immediately, startled and deeply worried.“Hey, hey — what happened?” he asked, voice full of concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen at campus? Talk to me.”You couldn’t answer right away. The sobs kept coming, your legs feeling weak. Sangwon didn’t hesitate he gently guided you inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. He led you to the couch, making you sit down carefully, and sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

“Take your time,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m here just breathe whatever it is, you can tell me.” You cried harder, leaning into his side as the words finally started spilling out between sobs the rumor on the campus page, the girl shouting “whore” in the hallway, the stares, the whispers, the fear that it would ruin Heeseung’s career and reputation. You told him how you had stood up for Heeseung in front of his father, how you were trying so hard to keep your distance to protect him, how much you loved him but couldn’t let yourself get closer.

Sangwon listened without interrupting, his arm around your shoulders, rubbing gentle circles on your back. He stayed quiet and steady, letting you cry it all out, his presence calm and comforting in the middle of your storm. Sangwon stayed with you on the couch, his arm around your shoulders as you cried out everything that had been weighing on you. He didn’t rush you. He just listened, rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence steady and comforting in the middle of your storm. When your sobs finally quieted into soft sniffles, you pulled back slightly and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. Sangwon looked at you with deep concern, his voice gentle but firm.

“Is there anything else?” he asked. “You look like you’re carrying even more.”You hesitated, then nodded. The threatening message had been burning in your mind since last night. You took a shaky breath and told him everything the anonymous text, the warning to stay away from Heeseung, the threat to both your careers.Sangwon’s expression darkened. He sat up straighter, his hand still on your shoulder.

“Did you discuss this with Heeseung?” he asked.You shook your head, eyes downcast. “No.”Sangwon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why not? Heeseung should be the first person to know all of this he’s the father of your baby. He’s been there for you every step of the way you can’t keep carrying this alone.”

You looked down at your hands, voice small. “I don’t want to ruin his future. If I tell him, he’ll worry, he’ll get involved. And if whoever sent that message finds out… it could hurt his career even more. I can’t do that to him.” Sangwon stared at you for a moment, then gently flicked your forehead. “You’re dumb,” he said, but there was no real bite in his voice, only fond exasperation. “If he didn’t care about you, you would be alone here. Even though you’ve been ignoring him, he still shows up, he still brings you food and he still checks on you that he wants this baby. Do you think some anonymous threat is going to stop him? I think you’re too blind to see that that man is in love with you.”You shook your head quickly, cheeks burning. “No it’s not like that this is all fake it’s just for the baby he’s just being responsible.”

Sangwon gave you a long, knowing look, but he didn’t push further on that point. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder. “I want you to call him up and tell him that you wanna talk to him. This is much needed, he deserves to know. But right now go to sleep, you need that rest. You’ve been through enough today.”

You nodded, too exhausted to argue. Sangwon helped you to your bed, tucking the blanket around you like an older brother ( ex boyfriend turned older brother 🥰). He dimmed the lights and quietly started cleaning up your apartment picking up the scattered snacks from earlier, washing the few dishes in the sink, folding the blanket on the couch.You watched him for a moment, grateful beyond words, before your eyes grew heavy. As you drifted off, the last thing you thought about was Heeseung and how much you wished you could tell him everything.

The entire day had been a blur of motion and focus for Heeseung.He had woken up early, the apartment feeling too quiet without you. The first thing he did was prepare breakfast mild porridge with ginger and some fresh fruit slices, exactly the kind of thing that wouldn’t upset your stomach. He packed it carefully, wrote a short note “Eat something and have a good day”, and quietly left it outside your door before heading to practice. He didn’t knock, he didn't want to wake you if you were still resting. After that, he was completely immersed in basketball.

He arrived at the coaching center and didn’t even glance at his phone. Practice was intense drills, strategy sessions, weight training, and full court scrimmages. He pushed himself harder than usual, channeling every ounce of frustration from the previous night’s loss and the painful dinner with his parents into every sprint, every shot, every defensive slide. Coach noticed his intensity and gave him approving nods, but Heeseung barely registered it. His mind was focused, sharp, and deliberately empty of everything else.

The only breaks he took were for water and quick stretches. He didn’t check his messages. He didn’t think about the unanswered text he had sent you last night. He didn’t let himself wonder why you had suddenly pulled away again. By the time evening practice ended, he was exhausted but satisfied. The team headed to the locker room, the air filled with the usual post practice chatter jokes about the game, plans for the weekend, complaints about sore muscles. Heeseung was changing his shirt when Jay walked over, phone in hand, his expression unusually serious. “Hey, man,” Jay said, lowering his voice. “You should check the university confession page there’s something posted about you and her.”

Heeseung’s stomach dropped. He took the phone from Jay and opened the page. The post was right at the top, already with hundreds of likes and comments.

@decelisconfessions : The only reason Heeseung is with the girl from the arts major is because she baby trapped him. She got pregnant on purpose to lock down the basketball captain disgusting he deserves better.

Heeseung’s blood boiled his grip tightened on the phone, knuckles turning white. The words felt like a personal attack not just on you, but on everything the two of you had been trying to build. The casual cruelty, the assumption that you would do something so manipulative, the way it painted you as some scheming villain it made his jaw clench so hard it hurt.

What do these people think? he thought, anger surging through him. What do they actually think of themselves? Spreading lies like this, ruining someone’s reputation for clicks and gossip? They don’t know anything about her. They don’t know how hard she’s trying, how scared she is, how much she’s already giving up to protect this baby. He handed the phone back to Jay without a word, his mind racing. He wanted to find whoever posted it. He wanted to shut it down. He wanted to protect you from this.But right now, all he could do was breathe through the anger and try to stay calm.

The locker room fell into a stunned silence as the post spread through the team’s phones.Heeseung’s blood was still boiling, his grip on the edge of the bench so tight his knuckles turned white. The words on the screen, the casual cruelty, the baseless accusation that you had “baby trapped” him made his jaw clench so hard it ached. He wanted to find whoever posted it. He wanted to shut it down. He wanted to protect you from this vicious gossip that was clearly spreading like wildfire across campus.Before he could say anything, the door to the locker room burst open.

Coach rushed in, phone in hand, his face a mixture of concern and anger. The rest of the team looked up, the atmosphere shifting from casual post-practice chatter to tense worry.

“I just saw the post,” Coach said, voice low but urgent. “It’s been up for almost 8 hours. The whole campus is talking about it. Heeseung — are you okay? Is she okay?”The guys gathered closer, their expressions shifting from shock to genuine concern. Jake stepped forward first. “Man, this is messed up,” Jake said, voice serious. “If you need anything, if she needs anything we’ve got your back.”Jay nodded. “Yeah this isn’t right people are assholes.”Beomgyu looked furious. “Who the hell posts something like this? We need to find out who runs that page.”Heeseung ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I’m going to find out,” he said. He turned to Jake. “Can you try to find the admin of the page? Anything you can dig up.”

Jake nodded immediately. “On it.”Heeseung didn’t wait for more. He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the door.“I need to check on her,” he said over his shoulder. “She’s not answering my messages, and her calls are going straight to voicemail.”The team called out words of support as he left, but Heeseung barely heard them. His mind was racing. The rumor had been out for almost 8 hours. You must have seen it. You must be hurting. And the fact that you weren’t answering him only made the worry twist sharper in his chest. He drove straight to your apartment building, heart pounding the entire way. The streets blurred past as he pushed the speed limit, his mind replaying every moment of the past few weeks the way you had stood up for him in front of his father, the way you had hugged him after the game, the way you had slowly started opening up to him.

He parked quickly and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached your door, he knocked firmly.No answer he knocked again, louder still nothing. He pulled out his phone and tried calling you straight to voicemail. “Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.He stood there for a moment, worry and frustration mixing with a deep, protective anger. He didn’t know who was behind the post, but he knew one thing for certain he wasn’t going to let this hurt you. Not if he could help it he knocked one more time, calling your name softly through the door.

“Baby… it’s me please open the door if you’re in there.”The silence on the other side only made his chest ache more.Heeseung stood outside your door, heart pounding, worry and frustration mixing in his chest. He had knocked again, called your name softly, and tried your phone one more time. Straight to voicemail.The silence on the other side was deafening.

Just as he was about to knock again, the door finally opened. But it wasn’t you it was another guy — tall, good looking, carrying a small bag. The same guy from the Instagram story you had reposted. The one holding a pie, smiling comfortably next to you. Heeseung’s heart hurt it was a sharp, unexpected twist in his chest. You had relied on another man instead of him. He didn’t even know who this guy was or what his relationship with you was. All he knew was that this same person had been visiting you every single week for the past month, bringing things from your parents. And now he was here, in your apartment, when you weren’t answering Heeseung’s calls.

The jealousy was instant and ugly. He tried to push it down, but it burned.Sangwon looked at him for a second, then offered a polite, slightly awkward nod.

“I think I’ll leave now,” Sangwon said quietly. “I was waiting for you to come back.”Heeseung just nodded, jaw tight, unable to form words. Sangwon grabbed his stuff, gave a small wave, and left down the hallway.Heeseung stepped inside your apartment, closing the door behind him. The place was dimly lit, quiet except for the faint sound of your breathing from the bedroom. He walked in slowly, his eyes adjusting to the low light.You were curled up on the bed, eyes red and swollen from crying, looking small and exhausted. The sight broke something in him. He crossed the room in a few quick steps and knelt beside the bed, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice soft. “I’m here.”You looked up at him, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. Heeseung’s heart twisted again. He climbed onto the bed and pulled you into his arms without another word, holding you close as you cried against his chest.He didn’t ask what happened. He just held you, one hand stroking your back, the other resting protectively over your belly.“I’ve got you,” he murmured against your hair. “I’ve got both of you.”

He stayed like that for a long time, letting you cry it all out, his own worry and jealousy fading into the background. Right now, the only thing that mattered was you.You stayed curled against Heeseung’s chest for a long time, the sobs slowly easing into quiet sniffles. His arms were steady around you, one hand gently stroking your back, the other resting protectively over your belly. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat slowly grounded you.

When you finally felt calm enough to speak, you pulled back just enough to look at him. Your voice was hoarse and shaky. “People are talking shit about me,” you whispered. “On that confession page they’re saying I baby trapped you. Some girl shouted ‘whore’ at me in the hallway today. Called me a slut for trapping you. Everyone was staring… whispering…”Heeseung’s expression darkened, but his touch remained gentle. He brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“That isn’t true,” he said firmly, voice low and steady. “You know it. I know that those people don’t know anything about us they don’t know how hard you’ve been trying, how scared you’ve been, or how much you’ve already given up to protect this baby. They’re just bored and cruel. Their words don’t define you. They don’t define us.”He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, holding it there for a long moment. You took a shaky breath and continued.

“There’s more,” you whispered. “The day we came back from your parents’ place… an anonymous number threatened me. They said to stay away from you or they’d ruin both our careers. I… I got scared I didn’t want to ruin your future. That’s why I started avoiding you. I thought if I kept my distance, it would protect you.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly. He searched your face, then let out a slow, pained breath. “It was probably my dad,” he said quietly, voice tight with frustration. “He’s been like this my whole life always comparing me to Heedo, always putting pressure on me. I should have told you how bad it was. You should have told me about the message. We’re supposed to face this together.” You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “I couldn’t,” you whispered. “I was scared I didn't want to ruin your career you mean a lot to me, Heeseung, more than I ever thought you would.” Heeseung’s eyes filled with tears. He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, thick with emotion. “Don’t ever hide anything from me again,” he whispered. “Not the hard things not the scary things. Not the messages that make you cry. I don’t care how busy I am, or how important the tryouts feel, or how much pressure my dad puts on me. You come first always.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. His own eyes were shining.

“I want to be the first person you come to when something hurts, when you’re scared, when you need something, anything. Even if it’s just to sit in silence and let me hold you. I don’t want you carrying things alone just because you’re trying to protect me. That’s not how this works, we're a team now you and me and Bambi.” His forehead rested against yours as he continued, voice softer but no less certain. “I know I’ve been focused on the NBA stuff. I know I’ve been distant sometimes because of it. But that stops now. If my dad sends another message, if anyone tries to make you feel small or unwanted, you tell me immediately. I will handle it i will protect you. I will never let anyone make you feel like you have to choose between my dreams and your peace.”

He kissed your forehead, lingering there, then pressed another soft kiss to each of your damp eyelids.“Promise me,” he murmured. “Promise you’ll come to me first. No more keeping things inside because you’re afraid of what it might cost me. You’re not a burden, baby you’re the reason any of this matters. You’re the home I want to come back to every single time.” His arms tightened around you again, one hand sliding down to rest protectively over your belly.

He thought to himself it is now or never fuck it “I have to tell you this,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you ever since the first day you walked into this building and banged on my door calling me an entitled asshole. I loved how you never backed down, how you called me out, how you were so real with me. I fell for you long before the baby. I fell for you when you were still miss morals, yelling at me through the wall. I love you. I love Bambi. I want this — us ,to be real. I don’t care how complicated it is i want to build a life with you. I want to be the one who’s there for you every single day i love you.”

His voice cracked on the last words, tears slipping down his cheeks as he held you like you were the most precious thing in his world. You felt your own tears fall faster. You pulled back just enough to look at him, then leaned in and kissed him soft at first, then deeper, pouring everything you had been holding back into it.When you pulled away, your voice was shaky but sure. “I love you too,” you whispered. “I’ve been trying so hard not to admit it, but I do, I love you, Heeseung.” He smiled through his tears and pulled you back into his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

Heeseung’s confession hung in the air between you, raw and honest. His eyes were glassy with tears, but the smile on his face was real soft, vulnerable, full of love. You didn’t have words left, you just leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss started slow and tender, lips brushing gently, tasting the salt of tears that still clung to both of you then it deepened. Heeseung cupped your face with both hands, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he tilted your head and kissed you like he had been starving for this exact moment for months. His tongue traced the soft curve of your lower lip, teasing, asking. You opened for him without hesitation, and the kiss turned hungry desperate in the best way. Your tongues met in a slow, deliberate slide, wet and warm, exploring each other with a thoroughness that made heat pool low in your belly.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, gripping the soft strands at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. He groaned into your mouth, the low, rough sound vibrating straight through your chest. His hands left your face and slid down, roaming over your back with firm, open palms. Fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, finding bare skin. The first touch of his warm hands against your lower back made you shiver. He stroked upward, slow and deliberate, mapping the line of your spine, the soft curves of your waist, the sensitive skin just beneath your shoulder blades.

You pressed closer, shifting until you were straddling his lap fully. The solid heat of his thighs beneath you, the unmistakable hardness growing against the softest part of you, sent a fresh wave of need through your body. He pulled you down against him, rolling his hips once just enough for you to feel how much he wanted you and another deep groan spilled from his throat into the kiss.

The kiss broke only for quick, shared breaths before you found each other again. His lips were swollen, wet, insistent. He sucked gently on your lower lip, then your upper, then kissed you deeper still, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that felt almost indecent. One of his hands slipped higher under your shirt, palm gliding over the side of your ribcage until his fingers brushed the soft underside of your breast. He didn’t rush he just held you there, thumb stroking back and forth in a feather light tease that made your breath catch. The other hand stayed on your thigh, fingers spreading wide, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulled you even tighter against the hard line of his cock.

You rocked against him without thinking, a soft, needy sound escaping into his mouth. He answered by kissing you harder open mouthed, messy, full of heat while both hands moved with purpose. One stayed under your shirt, now fully cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra until it tightened into a sensitive peak. The other hand slid higher up your thigh, fingertips tracing the edge of your underwear, not quite slipping underneath yet, just teasing the sensitive skin there in slow, maddening strokes.

You kissed for what felt like forever slow, then deeper, then almost frantic his tongue stroked yours. Your teeth grazed his lower lip. His hands never stopped moving, squeezing, stroking, mapping every inch of bare skin he could reach. The air between you grew warmer, heavier. Your fingers tightened in his hair, his hips rolled up against you again, deliberate and slow, letting you feel every hard inch of him through the layers of clothing.

When Heeseung finally pulled back just enough to look at you, both of you were breathing hard. His eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide, but underneath the heat there was something softer, almost worshipful. His hands remained on you one still under your shirt, palm curved possessively over your breast, the other resting high on your thigh, fingers still tracing lazy, intimate patterns against your skin.He didn’t speak he only watched you, lips parted and shining, as if the sight of you flushed and breathless in his lap was something he needed to memorize before he kissed you again.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “God, I love you so much. I’ve been losing my mind over you for months. Every time you smiled at me, every time you let me hold you, every time you trusted me with Bambi… I fell harder. I’m such a loser for you i can’t even pretend anymore.” He laid you down gently on the bed, hovering over you. His hands were reverent as he slowly undressed you, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. When you were bare beneath him, he took his time, lips trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and over your swollen, sensitive breasts.

He sucked gently on one nipple, then the other, making you whimper and arch into him.bHis hand slid between your thighs. You were already wet, aching. He teased your folds with his fingers, circling your clit slowly before sliding two fingers inside you. He pumped them deep and steady, curling them just right against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. His thumb rubbed your clit in perfect rhythm, and you whimpered, hips rolling against his hand.

“So good,” he murmured against your breast, voice wrecked. “So wet for me I love you like this I love you so much it hurts.” You moaned loudly, fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked you closer and closer. The pleasure built slowly, deliciously, until you came with a soft cry, clenching around his fingers.

Heeseung kissed you through it, then gently withdrew his hand. He stripped off his own clothes and settled between your legs in missionary. He entered you slowly, inch by inch, filling you completely. You both moaned at the feeling. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in. “I love you,” he whispered as he started moving slow, deep thrusts that made you feel every inch of him. “I love you I love you so much.”

You wrapped your legs around him, hands on his back, matching his rhythm. The pace was sensual, loving, every stroke deliberate. He kissed you the entire time, whispering sweet, adoring words between thrusts how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, how happy he was to have you and Bambi.

After a while, the need to feel even closer overwhelmed you. You gently pushed at Heeseung’s shoulder, and he understood immediately, rolling onto his back without breaking the kiss. You followed, straddling his hips, your hands braced on his chest as you slowly sank down onto him. The new angle made you both moan deeply. He filled you completely, thick and warm, stretching you in the most delicious way. You paused for a moment, adjusting, breathing each other in as your bodies connected fully. Heeseung’s hands found your hips, fingers digging in just enough to ground you, his eyes dark and full of awe as he looked up at you.

You started moving slow, rolling hips that dragged him in and out of you with exquisite friction. Every downward motion made you whimper softly, the angle hitting that perfect spot deep inside. Heeseung’s breath hitched with every roll, his hands guiding your movements, thumbs stroking the skin just above your hips. When you placed your right leg on his chest, bending it so your foot rested near his shoulder, he took it gently in both hands. He kissed your calf tenderly, lips brushing the sensitive skin, then moved to your ankle, pressing open mouthed kisses there as you continued riding him. The contrast between the sweet, reverent kisses on your leg and the way his cock filled you so perfectly made your head spin.

“Look at you,” he groaned, voice wrecked and full of wonder. “Riding me so perfectly you’re so beautiful like this. I’m such a loser for you I can’t even think straight when you’re on top of me I love you I love you so much it hurts.” ( my man is pussy drunk ) His words, combined with the deep, rolling thrusts and the way he kissed your leg like it was something sacred, pushed you over the edge again. You came hard, trembling on top of him, walls clenching rhythmically around his cock as pleasure crashed through you in waves. Your moans filled the room, raw and unrestrained. Heeseung followed right after, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside you, hips jerking up to meet yours. He held you down on him, pulsing inside you, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

Afterward, he gently pulled you down onto his chest, arms wrapping around you tightly. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your lips soft, lingering kisses that spoke more than words ever could. You both stayed like that, naked and tangled together, hearts beating in sync, his hand resting protectively over your belly where Bambi was growing. The room was quiet except for your slowing breaths. Heeseung held you like you were the most precious thing in his world, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as you drifted in the warm afterglow.

The next morning, you woke up slowly to the soft clinking of utensils and the faint, comforting smell of something warm cooking in the kitchen. Sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You were still naked under the blanket, the memory of last night’s intimacy lingering in the pleasant ache of your body and the warmth in your chest. Heeseung wasn’t in bed beside you. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and smiled faintly when you heard him humming quietly in the kitchen.

You slipped on one of his oversized shirts that had been left on the chair and padded barefoot toward the kitchen.

Heeseung stood at the stove, wearing only sweatpants, his back to you as he stirred something in a pot. The sight of his broad shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he cooked, the domestic ease of it all made your heart flutter. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his bare back in a back hug. Heeseung startled for a second, then relaxed into your embrace with a soft chuckle. “Good morning,” he murmured, turning his head slightly to kiss the top of your head. “Did you sleep well?”You nodded against his back, tightening your arms around him. “Better than I have in a while what are you making?”

“ porridge with ginger and some fruit on the side,” he said, continuing to stir. “And ginger tea thought it would be gentle on your stomach.” You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “You didn’t have to.” “I wanted to,” he replied simply, turning off the stove and turning around in your arms so he could face you. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you gently on the lips, then on your forehead. “Morning looks good on you.” You blushed, burying your face in his chest. The two of you stayed like that for a while you wrapped around him, his arms holding you close, the quiet morning sunlight warming the kitchen.

Heeseung eventually pulled back just enough to serve breakfast. You sat at the small table together, eating slowly. He asked how you were feeling, if the nausea was better, and you asked about his practice schedule. The conversation was easy, domestic, and full of small, sweet moments, him reaching over to brush a strand of hair from your face, you feeding him a piece of fruit from your bowl, both of you laughing when he accidentally got a bit of porridge on his chin.

After breakfast, you both got ready for campus. Heeseung helped you choose a comfortable outfit, making sure it was loose enough for your growing belly. Before leaving, he pulled you into another hug, kissing your forehead.

“Ready to go?” he asked.You nodded, taking his hand as you stepped out together.You walked to campus hand in hand, the morning sun shining down on you. A few people stared, but you didn’t care. For the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. The walk to campus hand in hand with Heeseung felt both surreal and strangely right.Everyone in the campus looked shocked. As you both walked through the main gates, heads turned. Students who had been whispering about the rumors just yesterday now stared openly, eyes wide with surprise. Some pointed discreetly. Others pulled out their phones.

The sight of Heeseung the basketball captain, campus royalty walking hand in hand with you, his arm occasionally brushing protectively over your small, rounded belly, was clearly not what anyone had expected. The news had spread fast. The confession page rumor had painted you as a manipulator. But seeing you two openly together, Heeseung looking at you with soft, obvious adoration, and the visible sign of your pregnancy under your loose sweater it shattered that narrative in real time. People whispered, but the tone had shifted.

Some looked curious, some looked surprised, a few even smiled.Heeseung didn’t seem to care about any of it. He walked with quiet confidence, his fingers intertwined with yours, occasionally squeezing gently as if to remind you he was right there. When you reached the building for your first class, he stopped and turned to you. He cupped your face with both hands and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips right there in the middle of the busy pathway. “I’ll see you after class,” he murmured against your lips. “Text me if you need anything take care of yourself and Bambi.”You nodded, cheeks warm, heart fluttering. “You too.”He gave you one last soft smile, then walked away toward his own building, glancing back once with that same adoring look.

You stood there for a second, still a little dazed, before Yunjin and Soobin appeared beside you, both grinning like idiots. Yunjin squealed and linked her arm with yours. “Oh my god, that was so cute! He just kissed you in front of everyone! Heeseung Mr. Cool Captain is out here openly simping for you. I’m living for this.” Soobin chuckled, shaking his head. “He looked like he was ready to fight anyone who looked at you wrong. Madly in love is an understatement how does it feel to have the whole campus talking about you two in a good way now?” You blushed harder, trying to hide your smile as you walked with them toward class.

“It feels… weird,” you admitted. “But nice I think.”Yunjin bumped your shoulder playfully. “Weirdly nice is the best kind he’s whipped and you’re glowing pregnancy looks good on you, babe.” Soobin nodded in agreement.You laughed softly, the teasing from your friends helping ease some of the nervousness. As you walked into the classroom, you couldn’t help but glance back toward where Heeseung had gone, a small, private smile on your face.The campus was still staring but for the first time, it didn’t feel like judgment.It felt like the beginning of something real.

The rest of your classes went by surprisingly smoothly. Nobody dared say anything to your face. The stares were still there, but they were quieter now more curious than cruel. The rumor had spread, but the sight of Heeseung openly kissing you goodbye in the morning seemed to have shifted the narrative. People whispered, but no one shouted insults no one followed you. You kept your head high, hand occasionally resting on your belly under your hoodie, and focused on your lectures. Yunjin and Soobin stayed close, offering silent support and the occasional funny comment to keep your spirits up.

By the time the final class ended, you felt tired but lighter. The campus still felt watchful, but it no longer felt hostile.

In the evening, you met Heeseung in the parking lot like you had agreed. The moment he saw you walking toward him, his face lit up with that soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip. He didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled you into a big, warm bear hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly and lifting you slightly off the ground. You laughed softly into his shoulder, hugging him back just as hard.

“I missed you today,” he murmured against your hair. “How were your classes?” “They were okay,” you replied, still in his arms. “No one said anything mean. Just staring it was… manageable.”Heeseung pulled back enough to look at you, his hands resting on your waist. “Good if anyone bothers you, tell me. I mean it.”

You nodded, smiling up at him. He looked so happy just to see you eyes bright, shoulders relaxed. It made the earlier anxiety feel smaller.Heeseung brushed a strand of hair from your face. “I was thinking do you want to go on a date? A real one there’s a restaurant not too far from here. Good food” You felt a flutter in your chest a real date with Heeseung after everything. You smiled. “I’d like that.” His face lit up even more. “Great let’s go home first and get ready i’ll drive.”

You both walked back to the apartment hand in hand. Once inside, you changed into a comfortable but cute outfit a flowy dress that hid your bump nicely and made you feel pretty. Heeseung changed into a simple button up shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly handsome. He waited patiently while you did your hair and a bit of makeup, complimenting you every time you caught his eye in the mirror.“You look beautiful,” he said softly when you were ready. “Ready to go?”You nodded, taking his hand as you left the apartment together.

The car ride to the restaurant was peaceful. Heeseung played soft music and asked about your day in more detail what you learned in class, how Bambi had been moving, if you were feeling any new symptoms. You asked him about practice and how he was feeling after the loss. The conversation flowed easily, comfortable and warm, like you had been doing this for months.

The restaurant was quiet and cozy, with soft lighting and gentle background music. You and Heeseung sat at a corner table, the atmosphere intimate and warm. He had chosen a place with light, pregnancy-friendly options, and the waiter had been attentive without being intrusive. As you both ate, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about your classes, how Bambi had been moving more lately, and how your parents had been sending care packages. Heeseung listened with that soft, focused look he always gave you, occasionally reaching across the table to hold your hand.

Toward the end of the meal, Heeseung set his fork down and looked at you with a small, excited smile.

“I have some news,” he said, voice low but full of quiet pride. “During my next match, an NBA scout is coming. My coach told me today. It’s a big one someone from a team that’s been watching me for a while.” Your eyes widened, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “Really? That’s amazing, Heeseung! You’ve been working so hard for this.” He nodded, looking a little shy but happy. “Yeah it’s a huge opportunity I’m nervous, but… excited. I want to show them what I can do.” You squeezed his hand across the table. “You’re going to do great i know it. I’ll be there cheering for you with Bambi.”

Heeseung’s smile widened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Having you there means everything. I’ll play better knowing you’re watching.” There was a comfortable pause as you both finished the last bites of your meal. Then Heeseung’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of cute, boyish jealousy creeping into his voice. “So… who is that guy who has been coming over to your place for the past month?” he asked, trying ( and failing ) to sound casual. “The one with the pie in your instagram story”

You blinked, then couldn’t help but smile at how adorably obvious his jealousy was. “He’s an old friend from high school,” you explained gently. “My first boyfriend, actually we broke up mutually before university because of the distance. He’s been helping at my parents’ bakery and dropped off some food they made for me. That’s all.” Heeseung nodded, but his ears turned a little pink. “Ah okay just… curious.”

You teased him lightly. “Were you jealous?” He looked away, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe a little I saw the story and I don’t know. I didn’t like seeing you smiling with someone else even if it’s fake between us, it felt… real to me.”Your heart melted at his honesty. You squeezed his hand again.“It’s real to me too,” you admitted softly.

Heeseung’s eyes lit up, and he leaned across the table to kiss your knuckles. The rest of the dinner was filled with light conversation about the upcoming game, what he was preparing, and how you could support him. The mood was warm and hopeful, the earlier tension from the campus rumors feeling far away.

After dinner, Heeseung drove you back to the apartment. You both walked into his apartment hand in hand. It felt familiar now the clean, minimalist space with the faint scent of his cologne. Heeseung closed the door behind you and pulled you into a gentle hug, kissing the top of your head.“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll get you something to change into.”

He handed you one of his oversized shirts. You changed in the bathroom and came out to find him already in sweatpants, turning down the bed. He smiled when he saw you in his shirt, eyes warm and adoring. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmured, pulling you into bed with him. You both slipped under the covers, naked except for the shirt you wore. Heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest in a spooning position. One hand rested protectively over your belly, the other stroked your arm.The room was dark and quiet, only the faint city lights filtering through the curtains. You felt safe warm and loved.

Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck.“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered. “Sleep well i’ve got you and Bambi.”You smiled in the dark, intertwining your fingers with his over your belly.“Goodnight,” you whispered back. You fell asleep like that safe in his arms, his breath warm against your neck, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into peaceful rest.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft sound of Heeseung humming in the kitchen. The smell of gentle breakfast filled the apartment. You smiled, stretching slowly, feeling the warmth of the night before still lingering in your body and heart.

You got up, wearing his shirt, and walked to the kitchen. Heeseung turned when he heard you, his face lighting up with that soft smile. “Morning,” he said, pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead. “Sleep well?” You nodded, hugging him back. The two of you spent a sweet, slow morning together eating breakfast at the small table, talking about nothing and everything, stealing soft kisses between bites. Heeseung’s hand never strayed far from your belly, a quiet, protective gesture that made your heart feel full.

When it was time to head to campus, he took your hand as you left the apartment together, walking side by side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to campus hand in hand with Heeseung felt both surreal and strangely right.The morning air was crisp, the sun shining gently as you both made your way through the familiar paths. Heeseung’s fingers were intertwined with yours, his thumb occasionally stroking the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm. You felt the small, rounded curve of your belly brushing against the fabric of your loose sweater with every step a constant, gentle reminder of Bambi growing inside you.

You glanced up at him, heart full. After the sweet night spent in his apartment, the warmth of his arms still lingered on your skin. You took a deep breath and decided to share the news that had been on your mind since the last checkup. “I have an appointment today with the doctor,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “Today they’ll be able to tell us the baby’s gender. Maybe if you want, we can have a small gender reveal? Just something simple with our parents, or even just the two of us.” Heeseung stopped walking abruptly. He turned to you, eyes wide with pure, unfiltered excitement. Then, right there in the middle of the campus pathway, he literally jumped a little, a small, boyish hop of joy that made you laugh out loud.

“What do you mean ‘if you want’?” he exclaimed, grinning so wide it lit up his entire face. “We need to hold a huge gender reveal celebration! Balloons, cake, a big sign the works! I want everyone to know. I want to celebrate our baby properly.” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. His happiness was infectious, and for a moment, all the worries about rumors, his family, and the future faded into the background.

Heeseung pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in the middle of the pathway, not caring who saw. He rested his forehead against yours, voice soft but full of wonder.“And I want a daughter who just looks like you,” he whispered, eyes shining. “With your pretty brown eyes, your smile, your laugh. A little girl who’s as strong and kind as her mom. Though a mini me would be cute too. As long as they have even a little bit of you in them, I’ll be the happiest dad in the world.”

Your heart melted. You felt tears prick your eyes as you hugged him back, burying your face in his chest.“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” you whispered. Heeseung kissed the top of your head, holding you for a long moment before pulling back with a bright, excited grin.

“Let’s do this,” he said. “After the appointment, we’ll plan the gender reveal. Big or small — whatever you want but I’m definitely celebrating our baby.” You nodded, smiling up at him as you continued walking hand in hand toward campus. The stares from other students didn’t bother you as much today. Not when Heeseung was looking at you like you were his whole world. The future still felt a little scary, but with him by your side, it also felt full of hope.

It had been a week since you entered your fifth month and three weeks of pregnancy. Your bump was now clearly visible a soft, rounded curve that made your clothes fit differently and drew more curious glances on campus. You had started wearing looser tops and dresses to accommodate it, and every time you caught your reflection, a mix of wonder and nervousness filled you. Bambi was growing, and the reality of it all felt more real with each passing day.

You and Heeseung were now openly together. The rumors had slowly died down, replaced by a mix of surprise and tentative acceptance. People still whispered, but the public affection the way Heeseung walked you to class, held your hand, and kissed your forehead in front of everyone had shifted the narrative. He was proud and protective and you were slowly letting yourself believe it was real.

Today, you were sitting on the couch in your apartment, feet propped up as Yunjin took full control of planning the gender reveal party. Yunjin had declared herself the official planner the moment you told her the gender reveal was happening. She had taken over everything — decorations, venue, guest list, even the cake. She had told you in no uncertain terms that you were to take full rest and not worry about anything. “This mama needs her beauty sleep,” she had said dramatically, pointing at you with a pen. “You just sit there, look pretty, and let me handle the rest doctor’s orders well, my orders same thing.”

You laughed softly, rubbing your belly. “You’re really going all out, aren’t you?”“Obviously,” Yunjin grinned, scribbling notes on her planner. “This is Bambi’s big day we’re doing it right pink and blue everything. Balloons, confetti It’s going to be perfect.” She looked up from her notes, tapping her pen against her chin. “Okay, so who do you want at the gender reveal? I need the final list.”

You had already thought about it. “My parents and heeseungs parents , obviously. Soobin and you, Heeseung’s teammates — Jake, Jay, Beomgyu and Sangwon.” Yunjin nodded, writing everything down. “Got it I’ll handle the invitations you just relax.” Later that evening, you called your parents. Your mom answered on the first ring, her voice bright and excited.

“Sweetheart! How are you feeling? How’s my grandbaby?”You smiled, rubbing your belly. “We’re doing good. The bump is getting bigger I wanted to let you know we’re planning a gender reveal party soon. I’d love for you and Dad to come.” Your mom gasped happily. “Of course we’ll come! We wouldn’t miss it for the world. And do you think you and Heeseung could visit for Christmas? Stay for a day or two? We’d love to have you both here.” You glanced at Heeseung, who was sitting beside you on the couch, listening quietly. He nodded with a small smile.“Yeah,” you said. “We’d love that.”

Your dad’s voice joined in the background, sounding emotional. “Tell Heeseung we’re looking forward to seeing him too. Take care of yourself, okay?”You ended the call with a warm feeling in your chest. Your parents’ support had always been unwavering, and it meant the world. Yunjin continued planning with relentless enthusiasm, texting you updates and ideas late into the night. You let her take the lead, grateful for her energy while you rested more.The gender reveal was coming and for the first time, you felt excited instead of scared.

The messages had started again. Even though you had blocked the first number, they kept coming from different ones. You had tried blocking each new number, but they always found a way. At first, you had been terrified every time your phone buzzed. Now, you were just tired. You sat on the couch in your apartment, legs tucked under you, hand resting on your growing belly. Bambi was moving more these days gentle flutters that made you smile despite everything. You opened your phone and looked at the latest thread from an unknown number.

unknown : you think blocking me will stop this? Stay away from Heeseung

unknown : i know where you live. I know your schedule don’t test me

unknown : if you don’t leave him, I’ll make sure both your careers are over the baby too

unknown : you’re ruining his life leave before it’s too late

You stared at the screen for a long moment, then locked the phone and set it face down on the coffee table. The threats had lost some of their power over the weeks. They still scared you, but Heeseung’s constant reassurance had slowly built a shield around your heart. He had told you again and again that nothing would happen. That he would protect you and Bambi. That whoever was behind the messages was just trying to scare you. He had even talked to his coach and a few trusted friends about keeping an eye out, and he had started walking you to and from classes more often.

You were happy ,truly happy with the choice you had made. The fear was still there, but it was quieter now. You had Heeseung. You had Bambi. You had a little family that felt more real every day. You rubbed your belly gently, smiling as you felt a small kick. “You’re going to be so loved,” you whispered. “Your dad and I… we’re going to figure this out i promise.” Heeseung walked in from the kitchen, carrying a plate of fresh fruit he had cut for you. He saw your phone on the table and the tired look on your face. “Another one?” he asked softly, setting the plate down and sitting beside you, you nodded. “Different number again.”

He pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. “I’ve got you nothing is going to happen to you or Bambi i won’t let it we’re in this together.” You leaned into him, breathing in his familiar scent. “I know I’m okay and I’m happy, Heeseung really happy with you with Bambi with us.” He smiled against your hair, his hand resting on your belly. “Our little family is perfect,” he whispered. “All that’s left is waiting for Bambi to arrive and I can’t wait.” You closed your eyes, letting his words wrap around you like a warm blanket. The threats were still out there but so was your little family and for the first time, you truly believed everything was going to be okay.

The next day, Heeseung drove to his parents’ house alone. He had decided to invite his mother personally for the gender reveal party. He wanted to do it face to face, hoping to keep the conversation civil and away from his father’s influence. The drive was quiet, his mind drifting between excitement for the reveal and the lingering tension from the last visit. When he arrived, his mom greeted him at the door with her usual warm smile, pulling him into a tight hug.

“My son,” she said happily. “Come in i made your favorite tea.” Heeseung followed her inside, the familiar scent of the house bringing back a mix of memories some good, some painful. They sat in the living room, and his mom asked about you immediately.

“How is she? How’s the baby? Are there any problems? Is she resting enough?” Heeseung smiled softly, the mention of you and Bambi instantly warming his chest.“We’ve never been better,” he said honestly. “She’s doing well the bump is growing, and Bambi is active. She’s strong and we’re both excited for the gender reveal.” His mom’s eyes lit up with genuine joy. “I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to meet my grandbaby.”

They talked for a while about the party plans, about how you were feeling, about Heeseung’s basketball schedule. The conversation was light and comfortable, the kind of talk he wished he could have more often with his family. Then his mom stood up. “Can you go to my room and get me my reading glasses? They’re on the dressing table.” Heeseung nodded and headed to the master bedroom. The room was neat and elegant, as always. He walked to the dressing table and spotted the glasses immediately. As he reached for them, a spare phone lying on the table lit up with a notification. The number on the screen looked oddly familiar ,it was your number. The message preview read

you : i don’t know who you are and why you hate me so much and why you want me away from Heeseung stop it

Heeseung’s hand shook as he picked up the phone. His heart pounded in his chest. He unlocked it with the passcode he knew his mom used for everything and opened the messaging app the thread was long. Dozens of messages from different numbers ( let’s forget common sense here you guys ) all sent to you. Threats, warnings, cruel words telling you to stay away from him. The same anonymous number that had been harassing you for weeks it was his mom.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own mother had been the one sending those messages. The one threatening your career, his career, the safety of you and Bambi.

His hands trembled as he scrolled through the messages. The words were vicious, calculated to scare you into leaving him. His mom had done this. The woman who had welcomed you with open arms, who had cried happy tears at the news of the baby she had been behind it all. Heeseung stood there in the middle of the room, phone in hand, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on him. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the screen, before he heard his mom’s voice calling from the living room.

“Heeseung? Did you find them?”He took a deep, shaky breath, slipped the phone into his pocket, and walked back out.The conversation continued as if nothing had happened, but inside, Heeseung’s world had shifted.His own mother had tried to tear you away from him.

And he had no idea what to do with that. Heeseung sat across from his mother in the living room, the spare phone burning a hole in his pocket. His mom acted like nothing was happening smiling warmly, asking about your health, about the baby, about how the two of you were managing. She poured him tea, chatted about the weather, and even asked if you had any cravings she could help with.He couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Mom,” he said, voice low but sharp. “Did you ever contact her?”

Eunae blinked, setting her teacup down. “Contact who, dear?” “You know who the woman I’m with the mother of my child.” She laughed lightly, waving her hand. “How can I? I don’t even have her number. Why would I contact her?” Heeseung pulled the spare phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table between them. The screen lit up with the thread of messages the threats, the warnings, the cruel words.His mom’s face paled.

Heeseung’s voice shook with anger. “This is you, these are your messages, you threatened her, you told her to stay away from me or you’d ruin both our careers why?”Eunae stared at the phone, then back at him. Her expression shifted from shock to defensiveness. “She isn’t good for you, Heeseung,” she said, voice steady but cold. “She isn’t from the same league, she's just a normal girl and a child now is just a distraction you have a future in the league. Your brother Heedo never let anything like this happen. He stayed focused and succeeded. You’re throwing everything away for her and that baby.”

Heeseung’s hands clenched into fists. “She is good for me she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She stood up for me in front of Dad when you both stayed silent, she’s carrying my child ,our child. And you tried to scare her away you threatened her how could you do that?” Eunae’s eyes hardened. “I did it for you for your future a baby now will ruin your career. She will ruin your career you need to focus on basketball, on the league. Not on playing house with some girl who got pregnant to trap you.”

Heeseung stood up, voice rising. “She didn’t trap me I love her and i want this baby. I want this family if you can’t accept her and Bambi, then I don’t want to be a part of this fucking family you all are dead to me.”The words hung in the air. At that moment, the front door opened. Heedo walked in, back from wherever he had been. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene Heeseung standing, face flushed with anger, their mom looking shocked. Heedo looked at Heeseung, then at their mom

“He’s right,” Heedo said quietly. “If you can’t accept them, then you don’t deserve to be part of their lives.”Heeseung was taken back. His older brother, the golden child, the one their father always compared him to, had never spoken up for him before. Never defended him, never said anything against their parents.Heedo looked at Heeseung with a small, rare nod of respect. Heeseung swallowed hard, then turned back to his mom. “Never fucking contact me again,” he said, voice breaking. “Or her or my child.”

He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. The drive back was a blur. His hands shook on the wheel, tears blurring his vision. But underneath the anger and hurt was a strange sense of freedom.

He had chosen you.

He had chosen Bambi.

And it felt like the right choice.

You were sitting on the couch, still trying to process everything that had happened, when you heard a soft knock on your door. Your heart jumped when you thought it might be Heeseung. You hadn’t expected him so soon, but the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there, something in you broke.

Heeseung looked devastated his eyes were red and glassy, shoulders slumped, hair messy like he had run his hands through it too many times. The moment he saw you, his face crumpled. He stepped inside without a word and broke into tears, pulling you into his arms as sobs shook his body.

You held him tightly, stunned. Heeseung the strong, steady Heeseung who had been your rock through everything was crying in your arms like his world was falling apart.“I’m sorry,” he choked out between sobs.“I’m so sorry.” You rubbed his back, heart aching. “Shh, it’s okay you’re here i’ve got you.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, tears streaming down his face. His voice cracked as he spoke. “The anonymous person was my mom.”The words hit you like a slap. You froze, eyes widening in shock. “What?”

Heeseung nodded, crying harder now, his shoulders shaking. “Out of everyone… it was her, she was the one sending those messages. Threatening you telling you to stay away from me she used a spare phone. I found it when I went to their house today. She denied it at first, but I saw everything, all of it.”

You were completely shaken. His mom the woman who had welcomed you with open arms, who had cried happy tears at the news of the baby, who had been so kind and warm had been the one behind the cruel messages? The one who had terrified you for weeks? You didn’t know how to react your mind spun. You had thought she liked you. You had thought she was happy for you and Heeseung and Bambi.

Heeseung buried his face in your neck, crying harder. “She said you weren’t good enough, that you were a distraction and that the baby would ruin my career. She compared me to Heedo again and said I was throwing everything away. I told her if she couldn’t accept you and Bambi, then I don’t want to be part of this family anymore.”

You held him tighter, your own eyes filling with tears. You rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles, trying to be the steady one for once. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t expect this she was so nice to me. I thought I thought she was happy for us.” Heeseung shook his head against your shoulder. “I didn’t either. I thought she was on our side. I thought I don’t know what I thought anymore.” You pulled back gently and cupped his face with both hands, wiping his tears with your thumbs. “Hey… look at me we’re okay we’re together bambi is okay. That’s what matters right now, we don't need their approval we have each other.”

Heeseung nodded, eyes still wet, but he leaned into your touch. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you and Bambi so much. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.” You kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, then his lips — soft, reassuring kisses. “I love you too, we're going to be okay all three of us.” You held him for a long time, letting him cry it out, stroking his hair, whispering comforting words. The betrayal hurt especially coming from his mom but having Heeseung here, choosing you and Bambi over everything else, made the pain feel a little more bearable you were in this together and that was enough.

The silence in your apartment felt heavier than it ever had.Heeseung sat on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders were still shaking slightly from the tears he had shed earlier. You sat beside him, one hand gently rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles, the other resting protectively over your belly. Bambi had been kicking more today, as if sensing the storm around you. Neither of you had spoken for several minutes. Finally, Heeseung lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, voice hoarse.

“I can’t believe it was her,” he whispered. “My own mom. She welcomed you. She cried when she heard about the baby. And behind our backs she was threatening you trying to scare you away from me .”You swallowed hard, your own throat tight. The woman who had hugged you so warmly, who had asked about your health and the baby with what seemed like genuine care she had been the one sending those cruel messages. The realization still felt surreal.“I didn’t expect it either,” you said softly. “She seemed so nice I thought… I thought she was happy for us.”

Heeseung let out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That’s what makes it worse. She played the perfect mother in law. And all this time, she was the one trying to tear us apart. Because I’m not Heedo because I’m not ‘perfect’ enough because having a baby with you is apparently ‘ruining my future.’” You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him. He leaned into you immediately, resting his head on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone,” he murmured. “The messages, the fear you were protecting me, and I had no idea. I should have known something was wrong when you started pulling away.”

You kissed the top of his head. “I didn’t want to add more stress. You already have so much on your plate basketball, your dad, everything. I thought if I stayed away, it would keep you safe.” Heeseung pulled back to look at you, eyes still wet but full of fierce determination. “You don’t have to protect me by disappearing,” he said. “We protect each other, that's what this is supposed to be us ,a team for Bambi.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “I know im sorry I was scared I still am but I don’t want to run anymore.”Heeseung cupped your face with both hands, thumbs wiping your tears away. “We’re going to figure this out together I love you I love Bambi and I’m not letting my family or anyone take that away from us.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, holding each other in the quiet of your apartment. The betrayal still stung, but being together made it feel a little less overwhelming. Later that evening, Heeseung made you both tea and sat with you on the couch. You talked for hours about what to do next, whether to confront his mom again, whether to tell his dad, how to move forward with the gender reveal party. Heeseung was hurt, but he was also resolute.

“I don’t want to cut them off completely,” he said quietly. “But I won’t let them treat you or Bambi like this. If they can’t accept us, then they don’t get to be part of our lives.” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “We’ll do whatever feels right as long as we’re together.”

He kissed your forehead, hand resting on your belly. “Together always.” The revelation had shaken both of you. But it had also brought you closer. The love you had both been afraid to fully admit was now out in the open, stronger because of the storm you were facing. You fell asleep that night in his arms, his hand protectively over your belly, whispering promises to Bambi about the family you were building — no matter what anyone else tried to do. The road ahead was still uncertain but you felt ready to walk it together.

The next two weeks passed in a surprisingly peaceful rhythm. Life had settled into a gentle, busy routine that felt almost normal. Heeseung had gotten really busy with practice. The NBA scout was coming to his next big match, and he was pushing himself harder than ever. He left early in the mornings and came back late in the evenings, but he always made time for you. He would text you during breaks, send photos of his meals to show he was eating properly, and still managed to drop off breakfast or dinner whenever he could.

You were equally occupied with your capstone project. With the third trimester approaching, you had decided to take a break from university after this semester to focus on the pregnancy and the baby. The pressure was on to finish strong, so you spent long hours at the library or at home, working on your art curation proposal. Heeseung would often find you hunched over your laptop when he came over, and he would gently pull you away for breaks making you tea, rubbing your feet, or simply holding you while you rested your head on his chest. In between all the busyness, you both started apartment hunting.

It was exciting and a little overwhelming. You looked at several places together, small but cozy apartments closer to both campus and the basketball facilities. After a few viewings, you found one that felt right: a two-bedroom unit with a bright living room, a small balcony, and enough space for a nursery corner. The rent was reasonable, and the location was perfect. You both signed the lease the same day, smiling at each other like it was the beginning of something real.

During Christmas, you and Heeseung visited your parents’ house for a couple of days.The trip was warm and joyful. Your parents were over the moon to have both of you there. Your mom had prepared a feast all your favorite dishes and pregnancy-safe versions of everything. Your dad kept pulling Heeseung aside to talk about baby names and future plans, treating him like a son already. Heeseung fit in seamlessly, helping your dad with small tasks around the house and charming your mom with his thoughtfulness.

One evening, the four of you sat around the Christmas tree, exchanging small gifts. Heeseung had gotten your parents thoughtful presents, and they had prepared something special for both of you baby clothes and a beautiful journal for you to write letters to Bambi. The night ended with Heeseung falling asleep with his head on your shoulder while your dad told old family stories. You felt safe loved like you were already building the family you had dreamed of.

The visit was exactly what you both needed a break from the campus rumors, a reminder that there were people who supported you unconditionally.Back in the city, the gender reveal party planning was also in full swing. The gender reveal party planning was also in full swing. Yunjin had taken complete charge, sending you daily updates and mood boards. She had booked a small venue, ordered decorations in soft pinks and blues, and was handling the guest list with military precision. You and Heeseung helped where you could, choosing the cake flavor, deciding on simple games, and finalizing the guest list. Your parents were coming, and close friends from both sides were excited.

Through all of it, Heeseung was incredibly attentive. He made sure you rested, reminded you to eat, and massaged your feet when they swelled. Some nights he would fall asleep with his head on your belly, talking softly to Bambi about the future. Other nights, when the hormones made you needy, he would make love to you slowly and sweetly, whispering how much he loved you and how beautiful you looked carrying his child you were happy.

The distance you had tried to keep had dissolved completely. The love you felt for him was no longer something you fought against it was something you embraced. Heeseung felt the same. He told you every day, in small ways and big ones. One evening, after a long day, you were both lying on the couch. Heeseung had his hand on your belly, feeling Bambi’s kicks. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to start this life with you for real.” You smiled, turning to kiss him softly. “Me too.” The two weeks had been peaceful, productive, and full of quiet joy.

The morning of the gender reveal party, the air in your apartment felt charged with nervous excitement.You stood in the bathroom, slowly undressing for a shower. Your hands trembled slightly as you pulled off your shirt, revealing your six month pregnant belly and swollen, tender breasts. Today was the day the day you would finally find out if Bambi was a boy or a girl. The day your friends and family would celebrate with you. The day everything felt incredibly real.Heeseung leaned against the doorway, watching you with soft, adoring eyes.

“Are you nervous?” he asked gently, his voice low and warm. You turned to him, a small, shy smile on your face. “A little happy, nervous I just… I can’t believe we’re really doing this finding out who Bambi is.”

Heeseung stepped closer, his gaze tracing your body with reverence, the curve of your belly, the fullness of your breasts, the way your skin glowed from pregnancy. He looked almost reverent, like he still couldn’t believe you were his. “Can I join you in the shower?” he asked, his voice dropping to that husky tone that always made your knees weak. His eyes had that unmistakable puppy dog look soft, pleading, full of love and desire.

You couldn’t say no you nodded, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah come here.” Heeseung stripped quickly. The moment he pulled his pants and boxers down, his cock sprang free, already hard and heavy, slapping against his stomach with a soft sound. The sight made heat pool between your legs instantly.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing him even as your cheeks warmed. “Are you sure you only want to shower?” Heeseung let out a low, embarrassed laugh, stepping into the shower with you. The water started running, warm streams cascading over both of you.

“I swear I’m trying my best,” he groaned, pulling you against him. His hands slid over your wet skin, one cupping your swollen breast, the other resting on your belly. “But mama seeing you like this, carrying our baby, these beautiful swollen breasts I can barely control myself.” You smiled, turning in his arms to face him. Water ran down your bodies as you kissed him deeply, tongues sliding together in a slow, sensual dance. Heeseung groaned into your mouth, his hard cock pressing against your belly. He was gentle but desperate, hands roaming your curves with adoration.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, sucking softly at your pulse point. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. “I love you like this heavy with my baby so full and sensitive ”You whimpered as he cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. They were darker and heavier now, and every touch sent sparks straight to your core. Heeseung leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand kneaded the other. You moaned, fingers threading through his wet hair, hips pressing against him.

He eventually dropped to his knees in front of you, water cascading over his shoulders. He kissed your belly reverently, whispering to Bambi before spreading your legs and burying his face between them. His tongue was slow and thorough, licking and sucking your swollen clit while two fingers slid inside you, curling perfectly. You cried out, one hand braced on the wall, the other in his hair, as he brought you to the edge with expert precision. When you came, it was with a broken moan, legs shaking as pleasure washed over you.

Heeseung stood up slowly, water cascading down his toned body as he captured your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, letting you taste the sweet tang of your own release mixed with the heat of him. You whimpered into the kiss, fingers threading through his damp hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you.“God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmured, voice husky and low. “I could eat you out for hours, baby. But I need to feel you now.”

He turned you around with gentle but firm hands, pressing your front against the cool, slick tile wall. The contrast between the chilled surface on your breasts and the hot spray of water on your back made you gasp. Heeseung’s chest molded to your back, his hard length nudging insistently against your ass. One hand splayed protectively over your rounded belly, cradling it tenderly, while the other slid down between your legs, fingers circling your sensitive clit with expert precision.“You ready for me, love?” he whispered hotly against your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want you,” you breathed, arching back into him. “Please, Heeseung fill me up.” With a low, satisfied growl, he entered you in one smooth, deliberate thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The angle was devastating, deep, intimate, every inch of him stretching and claiming you perfectly. You cried out, forehead pressing against the tile as the water made everything impossibly slick and heated. “Fuck yes,” he groaned, staying still for a moment to let you adjust, his breath ragged against your neck. “You’re so tight, so warm around me like you were made for me. I love you… I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

He began to move slow, sensual rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The hand on your belly held you steady, protective of the life growing there, while his fingers between your legs never stopped their teasing rhythm on your clit. Steam filled the shower, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the rush of water. “Heeseung fuck right there,” you moaned, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Feels so good don’t stop.”

“I won’t, baby never,” he promised, lips trailing wet kisses along your shoulder and neck. “You’re perfect like this carrying our little one so strong, so beautiful I’m so excited to meet Bambi. Boy or girl, I already love them more than anything just like I love their mama.” Your heart swelled at his words, the emotion blending with the building pleasure. He picked up the pace just slightly, thrusts still deep and controlled, grinding against you with every stroke. The hand on your belly rubbed soothing circles, while his other worked your clit faster, drawing desperate sounds from your throat.

“Say it again,” you gasped, clenching around him. “Tell me you love me.” “I love you,” he growled, voice breaking with pleasure. “I love you more than yesterday, and I’ll love you even more tomorrow you and Bambi you’re my everything come for me, sweetheart let me feel you.” The coil inside you snapped hard. You came with a sharp cry of his name, walls pulsing tightly around his cock, vision blurring from the intensity. Heeseung followed right after, burying himself deep with a guttural moan that echoed off the tiles. “Fuck—yes, just like that taking all of me,” he panted, spilling hot and thick inside you, hips stuttering as he rode out his release. He held you close through every pulse, arms wrapped around you like he’d never let go.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, breathing hard under the warm spray. Heeseung kissed your neck softly, whispering, “My beautiful mama you did so well.” He pulled out carefully, turning you to face him. His hands were gentle as he cleaned you both with soapy hands, massaging your shoulders, your belly, your thighs with reverent touches. “Does that feel okay? Not too sore?” he asked, eyes full of concern and love. You smiled, cupping his face. “Perfect I love you, Heeseung.”

He kissed you softly, lingering under the water until it started to cool. Shutting it off, he wrapped you in a huge, fluffy towel, then scooped you up effortlessly into his arms. You laughed lightly, nuzzling into his chest as he carried you to the bedroom.Laying you down on the bed, he climbed in beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. He immediately pressed kisses to your belly, murmuring against your skin, “Hey, little Bambi daddy loves you so much already. Can’t wait to find out if you’re our princess or our little prince today at the reveal but either way, you’re going to be so loved.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, watching him with soft eyes. “You’re going to be the best dad.” He looked up at you, eyes shining. “Only because I have the best partner come here.” He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, one hand still resting on your belly. “The gender reveal’s going to be amazing but right now? This is everything I need just us three.” The room was quiet except for your mingled breathing, the world outside forgotten. Everything felt warm, safe, and utterly perfect.

As soon as you both came down from the high, you dressed slowly, still glowing from the intimacy. You chose a soft white dress that flowed beautifully over your 6 month pregnant bump, the fabric hugging your curves gently and showing off the roundness of your belly. You left your hair in loose waves, adding a touch of natural makeup that made you feel pretty and confident. Heeseung wore a simple white shirt and white pants, looking effortlessly handsome and matching you perfectly.

When you stepped out of the bedroom, Heeseung’s eyes lit up. He walked over and gently placed both hands on your belly, leaning down to kiss it softly.“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured, voice full of awe. “Our little family is going to have the best day today.” You smiled, heart full, and took his hand as you both left the apartment. The drive to the venue was peaceful. Heeseung held your hand the entire way, occasionally rubbing his thumb over your knuckles or glancing at you with that soft, adoring look that always made your stomach flutter. When you arrived, the venue took your breath away.

It was magical.

The outdoor garden space Yunjin had chosen was decorated beautifully with strings of soft fairy lights, arches covered in white and blush flowers, and delicate deer themed decorations everywhere in honor of Bambi. There were tables with pastel blue and pink accents, a beautiful reveal box in the center, and a small stage for the announcement. Balloons in soft colors floated gently, and the whole place felt warm, intimate, and full of love. The moment you stepped inside, Yunjin spotted you and came running. She pulled you into a tight hug, careful of your bump.

“Oh my god, you look so beautiful!” she squealed, pulling back to admire your dress. “That bump is perfect and Heeseung you two match so well. This is going to be the best gender reveal ever.”You hugged her back tightly, laughing softly. “Thank you for doing all of this it’s perfect really.”

Heeseung smiled beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You outdid yourself, Yunjin thank you.”Guests started pouring in slowly. Your parents arrived first, your mom tearing up the moment she saw you. She hugged you carefully, then hugged Heeseung like he was already family.“You both look so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “We’re so excited to meet our grandbaby today.” Your dad pulled you into a warm hug, then patted Heeseung on the back. “Take care of my girl, son.”

Close friends and Heeseung’s teammates filled the space Jake, Jay, Beomgyu, and others congratulating you with wide smiles and teasing Heeseung about how whipped he looked. Soobin and Yunjin stayed close, making sure you were comfortable. Soobin brought you a chair when you looked tired, and Yunjin kept checking if you needed water or snacks.

Then Heedo and his fiancée arrived. Heeseung’s older brother walked in with a calm, confident stride, his fiancée beside him looking elegant and kind. The moment Heeseung saw them, his entire face lit up with genuine happiness. He hadn’t expected them especially after the tension with his parents and the surprise showed in his eyes. “Heedo,” Heeseung said, voice warm as he stepped forward to hug his brother. “You came.” Heedo hugged him back, clapping him on the back. “Of course I did ,couldn’t miss this. Congratulations, little brother, you're going to be a dad.”

His fiancée smiled warmly at you, stepping forward to give you a gentle hug. “You look absolutely radiant we’re so happy for both of you.” Heeseung’s happiness was palpable. He stayed close to you, arm around your waist, but you could see how much it meant to him that his brother had shown up. For the first time in a long time, there was no comparison, no pressure just family showing up for him.

The atmosphere was joyful and full of love. Everyone congratulated you and Heeseung, commenting on how cute your bump was and how excited they were to find out if Bambi was a boy or a girl. Heeseung stayed by your side the entire time, hand on your lower back or gently on your belly, looking at you like you were the center of his world.As the party continued, you felt a deep sense of peace.

The gender reveal was about to begin.And no matter what the result was, you knew you had everything you needed Heeseung, Bambi, and the people who loved you.The moment finally arrived. Yunjin stood in the center of the beautifully decorated garden, holding a microphone with a bright, excited smile on her face. The guests had gathered around in a semi circle, the fairy lights twinkling overhead and the soft pastel decorations creating a magical atmosphere. The air was filled with anticipation and joy.

“Alright everyone!” Yunjin called out, her voice bright and clear. “It’s time for the main event! Can we please gather around the couple? Heeseung and our beautiful mama to be are about to find out if they’re having a baby boy or a baby girl!” The crowd moved closer, phones ready to capture the moment. Your parents stood near the front, your mom already tearing up with excitement. Heedo and his fiancée were smiling warmly beside them. Soobin and the rest of your friends formed a supportive circle, while Heeseung’s teammates cheered loudly, clapping and whistling.

Yunjin gestured dramatically as two staff members wheeled out a beautiful, two-tiered cake. It was white with delicate gold accents and small deer figurines on top a perfect tribute to Bambi. The cake sat on a special stand with a hidden compartment inside.Yunjin handed both of you a small silver spoon. “Okay, lovebirds,” she said with a grin. “You’re going to dig into the cake together on my count. If it’s blue inside, it’s a boy and if it’s pink, it’s a girl ready?” You looked at Heeseung, heart pounding with happy nerves. He smiled at you, eyes full of love, and took your hand.“Ready,” he said softly.

Yunjin raised the microphone. “Alright… 3… 2… 1… Dig in!”

You and Heeseung leaned forward together, spoons sinking into the soft cake. The moment the spoons broke through the white frosting, bright pink filling spilled out vibrant, beautiful pink. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps of delight. Pink poppers went off all around you, showering the air with pink confetti and ribbons. The entire venue lit up with pink lights as everyone celebrated. You and Heeseung were having a baby girl.

The moment you saw the pink, tears filled your eyes. Heeseung’s reaction was immediate, he dropped his spoon and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as happy tears streamed down his face.“We’re having a girl,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “A baby girl our daughter.”He held you close, one hand on your back and the other gently on your belly, crying softly against your shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Thank you for giving me this for giving us her. I love you so much, I love both of you.”

You hugged him back just as tightly, tears falling freely down your cheeks. The joy was overwhelming pure, unfiltered happiness. The guests cheered louder, clapping and whistling as pink confetti continued to rain down. Yunjin was crying happy tears too, jumping up and down. “A girl! Bambi is a girl!” Your parents rushed forward, hugging both of you. Your mom was sobbing with joy, your dad wiping his eyes as he patted Heeseung on the back. Heeseung didn’t let go of you for a long time. He kept whispering against your hair, “Our daughter, we're having a daughter. I can’t believe it ,I’m the luckiest man alive.”

In that moment, surrounded by love, pink confetti, and the people who mattered most, everything felt perfect. Your little family was growing and it was going to be beautiful.The car ride back to your new apartment was quiet but full of warmth.

The gender reveal party had been magical pink confetti still clung to your hair and clothes, and the joy of knowing you were having a baby girl lingered in the air like a sweet aftertaste. Heeseung drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting gently on your thigh, thumb stroking small circles. Every now and then, he would glance at you with that soft, adoring smile that made your heart feel too big for your chest.When you finally stepped into your new apartment, the feeling was surreal.

The space was still mostly unfurnished, but it already felt like home. The living room had a comfortable couch, a few boxes waiting to be unpacked, and a small corner where you had already started imagining the nursery. The balcony doors were open, letting in the cool night breeze. The moment the door closed behind you, Heeseung stopped in the middle of the room, looking around with tears in his eyes.

“We’re going to have a daughter,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “A little miss morals, a mini version.” You turned to him, smiling through your own happy tears. “Yeah we are.” Heeseung’s eyes filled with fresh tears. He looked so overwhelmed, happy, grateful, a little disbelieving like he still couldn’t quite believe this was his life now. “Can I hug you?” he asked softly, almost shyly, as if he was afraid to ask for too much. You laughed gently, stepping closer. “Why are you even asking me? Of course you can.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight, warm hug. His face buried in your neck, and you felt his shoulders shake as he started crying again soft, happy tears that soaked into your shoulder.

“I’m so lucky I found you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You are my lucky charm, miss morals. From the first day you banged on my door and called me an entitled asshole I never stood a chance. You changed everything and you gave me a reason to be better. You gave me Bambi you gave me this — us. I love you so much I love our daughter so much I can’t believe I get to do this with you.”You held him tighter, one hand rubbing his back while the other rested on the back of his head. Tears slipped down your own cheeks as you listened to him pour his heart out.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you whispered. “I know it and I’m so happy it’s with you.” Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes red but shining with love. He cupped your face with both hands, thumbs wiping your tears away. “I’m going to give her the world,” he said, voice thick. “And you too everything you both deserve I promise.” He leaned in and kissed you slow, deep, full of all the love and gratitude he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, hands sliding down to rest on your belly.

“Hey, little one,” he whispered to your bump, voice soft and full of wonder. “It’s Daddy we found out today that you’re a girl. My little miss morals I can’t wait to meet you. I’m going to love you so much your mom and I we’re going to be the best team for you.” You smiled through your tears, placing your hand over his on your belly. The moment felt sacred to the three of you, in your new home, starting this new chapter together. Heeseung kissed your forehead again, then your nose, then your lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For choosing me, for choosing us.”

You hugged him again, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The future was still full of unknowns, the scout, his family, the challenges of parenthood but in that moment, wrapped in his arms in your new apartment, everything felt exactly right you were home.

The arena was packed, the air thick with tension and the roar of the crowd. You sat in the stands with Yunjin beside you, your hand resting protectively on your rounded belly. At sevenmonths pregnant, the bump was impossible to hide now, and every time the crowd cheered, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety twist in your stomach. Today was one of the most important matches of Heeseung’s life a crucial game that could determine whether his team made it to the finals, and with the NBA scout in the audience, the pressure was sky- high.

Yunjin nudged your shoulder, grinning. “You look even more nervous than Heeseung out there. Girl, breathe you’re going to give yourself and Bambi a heart attack.” You let out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t ease the knot in your chest. “How can I be calm? This is huge for him. The scout is watching yhe team is neck and neck with the opponents if they lose this…” You trailed off, eyes fixed on the court. Heeseung was in the middle of it all, sweat dripping from his hair, face focused and determined. The score was tied, and the clock showed only 30 seconds left. The entire arena was on edge, the noise deafening.

Yunjin rubbed your arm gently. “Hey, he’s got this he’s been playing like a beast all season. And even if they don’t win, he’s still going to be okay, you’re here for him, that's what matters.” You nodded, but your heart was racing. Your free hand stayed on your belly, feeling Bambi’s gentle kicks as if the baby could sense your nerves. The final seconds ticked down agonizingly slow.

The opponents had the ball. A quick pass, a shot missed. Heeseung grabbed the rebound, his movements sharp and fast. The crowd erupted. He dribbled down the court, eyes scanning for an opening. With only 5 seconds left on the clock, he drove toward the basket, leaped, and released the ball in a perfect arc.

Time seemed to slow

The ball sailed through the air

It swished cleanly through the net

The buzzer sounded

The arena exploded

Your team had won by one point

You jumped to your feet, tears of relief and joy spilling down your cheeks. Yunjin screamed beside you, hugging you tightly. The crowd was chanting Heeseung’s name as he was swarmed by his teammates on the court. He looked up toward the stands, eyes searching until they found you. Even from a distance, you saw the pure joy and relief on his face.He pointed at you, mouthing “For you” before his teammates pulled him into a group hug. You cried harder, hand on your belly, whispering to Bambi, “Your dad did it, little one he really did it.”

The celebration on the court was chaotic and beautiful. Heeseung eventually broke away from his teammates and jogged over to the sidelines, looking up at you with the brightest smile you had ever seen. Security let you down to the court edge, and the moment you reached him, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground despite your bump. “We did it,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” You hugged him back tightly, laughing through your tears. “You were incredible I’m so proud of you.”

He kissed your forehead, then your lips, right there in front of everyone. The crowd cheered louder at the sight heeseung didn’t care. He held you close, one hand on your belly, the other on your back. “Bambi’s dad just won the matcg ,” he said with a watery laugh. “And maybe just maybe the NBA is next.” You smiled up at him, heart full. “Whatever happens, we’ve got this all three of us.” The scout was somewhere in the stands, but in that moment, none of that mattered. Heeseung had won the game, and you had won each other.The future felt brighter than ever.

The team had to stay back for a post game meeting with the coach and the scout, so you, Yunjin, and Soobin decided to grab dinner together. The three of you went to a quiet, cozy restaurant near campus the kind with warm lighting and comfortable booths. Yunjin ordered all your favorite pregnancy safe dishes, making sure nothing was too spicy or heavy. Soobin kept the conversation light, cracking jokes about the game and how Heeseung had looked like a superhero in the final seconds. You tried to laugh along, but your mind kept drifting back to the court, to Heeseung, and to the scout who had been watching him so closely.

After dinner, they dropped you off at your apartment. Yunjin hugged you tightly before you got out of the car. “Text us when Heeseung gets back, okay?” she said. “And try not to stress too much. He played amazingly today.” Soobin gave you a gentle smile from the driver’s seat. “You’ve got this both of you rest up.”You nodded, thanking them, and waved as the car drove off. The moment you stepped inside your apartment, the silence hit you no messages no calls. Your phone screen was empty except for a few notifications from friends congratulating you on the win.

You paced the living room, hand resting on your belly, anxiety gnawing at you. What was the scout going to say? Would Heeseung even get a chance at tryouts, or would he get selected straight away? You would be happy, so happy even if it was just tryouts. He had worked so hard he deserved this.

An hour passed then another thirty minutes. You sat on the couch, knees bouncing, checking your phone every few seconds. The silence was deafening. You imagined the worst, the scout saying Heeseung wasn’t ready, that the loss had hurt his chances, that the pregnancy rumors had reached him. Your heart ached thinking about how devastated Heeseung would be.The apartment door finally opened.You jumped up and ran to the front door, heart pounding.

There stood Heeseung his face looked downcast, shoulders slightly slumped, hair still messy from the game. Your heart dropped. You thought the news was bad. You stepped forward without thinking and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You did great today you played your heart out I’m so proud of you. Whatever the scout said, it doesn’t change that we’ll figure it out together.”

Heeseung stood still for a second, then his arms came around you, holding you close. You felt him exhale shakily against your hair. Then he whispered into your ear, voice breaking with joy “I’m selected.” You pulled back, eyes wide. “What?” Heeseung’s face broke into the brightest, most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Tears glistened in his eyes as he laughed a happy, disbelieving laugh and carefully picked you up, twirling you slowly and gently, mindful of your belly.

“I’m selected,” he repeated, voice thick with emotion. “The scout loved my performance. He said I have real potential, he thinks I have a real shot.” You laughed through happy tears, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you. “Heeseung I’m so proud of you , you did it you really did it.” He set you down carefully, but kept his arms around you, forehead resting against yours. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispered. “You being there today, cheering for me, believing in me, it gave me strength. I love you, I love you and Bambi so much.” You kissed him, soft and full of joy, tears mixing with your smiles.

The joy in the apartment was palpable, filling every corner of the living room like sunlight breaking through clouds after a long storm. You pulled back from the hug just enough to look up at Heeseung, your hands still pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid, excited thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. His eyes were shining with happy tears that refused to fall, his smile wide and unrestrained, the kind of pure, boyish grin that made your own heart skip.

The news that he had been selected for the NBA felt like a dream you had both whispered about late at night but never fully dared to believe would arrive so soon. Months of grueling practices, early mornings, and late night strategy sessions had finally paid off. “Oh my god,” you said, laughing through your own tears of happiness as you cupped his face. “We should celebrate this properly, should we throw a party? Invite everyone—Yunjin, Soobin, your teammates, your coach, my parents. We could order a ton of food and just let it all out!”

Heeseung chuckled warmly, the sound deep and rich, as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He shook his head, still smiling that dazzling smile, his thumbs gently brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion as he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your chin up so your eyes met. “I want to celebrate with you first, baby just us. Let’s go somewhere really nice tomorrow night, a quiet, upscale restaurant with a view, dress pretty for me, please? I want to spoil you a little.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips as butterflies fluttered in your chest alongside the gentle kicks from Bambi. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’d like that alot.” Heeseung leaned in and kissed your forehead, lingering there for a long moment, his lips warm and reverent against your skin. “Good,I’ll make the reservation right now so it’s perfect.” He pulled out his phone briefly, tapping away with one hand while the other stayed firmly on your waist, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You both eventually settled back down on the couch, the excitement still buzzing warmly between you like electricity. Heeseung kept one arm wrapped around your shoulders and the other hand resting on your rounded belly, gently rubbing small, soothing circles over the fabric of your shirt. Every so often, he’d pause when he felt a little kick or movement, his eyes lighting up with awe. “Feel that?” he murmured, pressing his palm a bit firmer. “She’s celebrating too our little Bambi is already so strong, just like her mom.”

After a comfortable, contented silence stretched between you broken only by the soft hum of the city outside the window he asked, voice low and thoughtful, “Is there anything left to add in Bambi’s room? Any extra furniture or decor we should get before she arrives? I was thinking maybe that soft cloud shaped night light we saw online, or those blackout curtains with the little stars”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder and breathing in the familiar scent of him clean soap mixed with the faint trace of his cologne. Shaking your head, you replied, “We have spent more than enough already, the room is beautiful as it is she is going to love it. You shouldn’t spoil her too much, Heeseung. She’ll have you wrapped around her tiny finger the second she’s born.”

Heeseung grinned, his eyes sparkling with that signature mischief you loved so much. “I can’t guarantee that,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your bump. “What if she wants the softest blankets, the cutest little outfits in every color, and all the storybooks she could ever dream of? I want her to grow up knowing she’s loved beyond measure, safe and cherished just like her mom makes me feel every single day.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and full of affection, before leaning further into him. Heeseung pulled you closer without hesitation, his strong arms enveloping you as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was full of all the love, gratitude, and overwhelming joy he couldn’t quite put into words the taste of salt from happy tears, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, his fingers threading gently through your hair. The kiss lingered, turning tender and unhurried, as if the rest of the world had faded away.

You both stayed like that for a long while, wrapped up in each other on the couch. His hand never left your belly, and you traced lazy patterns on his chest, talking quietly about the future: the tryouts, what it might mean for your little family, the names you’d already picked out as backups, and silly dreams about teaching Bambi basketball one day.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the emotional day caught up with you. Your eyelids grew heavy, and Heeseung noticed immediately. “Time for bed, love,” he whispered, helping you up with careful hands. He guided you to the bedroom, tucking you in gently under the soft sheets, fluffing the pillows just the way you liked them. He changed quickly into comfortable sleep clothes before climbing in beside you, pulling you into his arms once more. One hand rested protectively over your belly, his thumb brushing back and forth in that soothing rhythm, while the other stroked your back.

“Sleep well,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “Tomorrow night is going to be a good one. Just you and me, celebrating how far we’ve come. I love you both.” You closed your eyes, safe and warm in his embrace, the steady beat of his heart lulling you. A content smile played on your lips as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of emerald dresses, city lights, and the bright future ahead.

The next morning, you woke up slowly to the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of your new apartment. Golden streaks painted the walls, and the faint scent of last night’s lingering cologne still clung to the pillows. Your hand automatically reached across the bed for Heeseung, fingers seeking the familiar warmth of his body, but the space beside you was empty and already cool to the touch. You sat up carefully, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand, a small frown forming as the realization settled in.

That was unusual.

Heeseung almost never left without waking you without at least a warm kiss pressed to your forehead, a soft murmur of “I’ll be back soon, love,” or the gentle brush of his fingers over your belly. The apartment felt too quiet without the sound of him moving around the kitchen, the low hum of him talking nonsense to Bambi through your skin, or the quiet clink of mugs as he prepared your morning tea. A faint ache of absence bloomed in your chest.

You pushed the blanket aside and carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed, one hand resting protectively on your rounded seven month bump. The weight of it had become familiar now, a constant, grounding presence. As you walked into the living room, the hardwood cool under your bare feet, you noticed a small white note left on the kitchen counter, weighted down by a glass of water and a plate with a carefully prepared light breakfast two slices of lightly toasted bread, a small portion of sliced fruit ( strawberries and banana, your current favorites ), and a cup of warm ginger tea still faintly steaming. Typical of him. Always thinking of what your stomach could handle these days.

You picked up the note his handwriting was neat and precise, but the message was strangely short.

I’ll come pick you up at 7, get dressed and be ready <3 — Heeseung

That was it. No “I love you.” No “Have a good day, baby.” No explanation about where he had gone so early, or why he had slipped out before the sun had fully risen. You stared at the paper for a long moment, a small knot of nervousness forming low in your chest, just beneath the gentle flutters of Bambi shifting. Heeseung was being weird.

Last night he had been emotional after the selection news soft, overflowing with love, holding you like he never wanted to let go. This morning he had vanished without a word and left nothing but a brief, almost formal instruction. Something about it felt intentional like he was carefully planning something and didn’t want you asking questions that might ruin the surprise.

You sat down at the small dining table and slowly ate the breakfast he had left for you, trying to push down the restless feeling in your stomach. Part of it was the usual pregnancy nerves hormones making everything feel sharper. Part of it was the lingering excitement from yesterday the scout’s call, the selection, the dream that suddenly felt real enough to touch. And part of it was simply Heeseung’s unexplained absence, the quiet that felt too heavy. Throughout the day, the nervous energy only grew.

You tried to keep yourself busy. You organized a few things in the apartment folding the soft blankets that had arrived for Bambi’s room, rearranging the growing stack of tiny onesies and socks your parents had already started sending. You worked a little more on the final sections of your capstone, typing out paragraphs only to reread them three times because your mind kept drifting. Every so often you caught yourself staring at the clock, the quiet of the apartment pressing in.

What was he planning? Why did he leave so early?

Why did the message feel so different from the way he usually spoke to you?

By afternoon, you found yourself checking the time more often than usual.

5:30

6:00

6:30

You stood in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, carefully choosing an outfit. He had said “get dressed and be ready,” and the way the words had been written so deliberately that made you want to look nice for him. You chose a soft, elegant white maternity dress that flowed gently over your curves. The fabric was light and breathable, the neckline modest yet flattering, the skirt draping beautifully around your seven month bump without clinging too tightly. It made you feel pretty, almost bridal in its simplicity. You left your hair in loose waves that framed your face, added a touch of makeup soft pink on your lips, a little mascara and slipped on comfortable white flats.

By 6:50, you were ready and sitting on the edge of the couch, one hand resting on your belly, the other holding your phone. No new messages from him. No calls. The nervousness sat heavier in your chest now, a quiet tightness that made your breathing a little shallower.

What if something is wrong?

What if the scout called him back and the news had changed?

What if he’s pulling away again the way he used to when things felt too good to be true?

You shook the thoughts away and took a slow, deliberate breath, rubbing small circles over your belly where Bambi gave a soft answering kick. “It’s okay, Bambi,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Daddy’s just being weird today, we'll figure it out together.” At exactly 7:00, there was a soft knock on the door.Your heart jumped hard against your ribs.

You stood up carefully, smoothed the white fabric of your dress over your bump, and walked to the door. When you opened it, Heeseung stood there in a dark, perfectly tailored suit, looking impossibly handsome and a little nervous himself. The soft porch light caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the quiet intensity in his eyes. Those eyes softened the moment they landed on you taking in the white dress, the way it framed your growing belly, the slight uncertainty on your face.

For a second, neither of you spoke.The evening air was cool against your skin. Somewhere down the street a car door closed. The quiet stretched, charged.Then he offered you his hand, palm open, a small, almost shy smile curving his lips.“Ready?” he asked quietly, voice low and warm. You nodded, still unsure what was going on, but you placed your hand in his anyway. His fingers closed around yours, steady and familiar, grounding you instantly. Whatever he had planned you were about to find out.

The restaurant Heeseung had chosen was elegant in a quiet, understated way that felt deliberate rather than showy. Soft golden lighting spilled across crisp white tablecloths, catching the edges of crystal glasses and the gentle curve of silverware. The low murmur of other conversations blended with the distant notes of a piano playing somewhere near the back of the room something classical and unhurried, the kind of music that settled into the background without demanding attention. A single candle flickered between the two of you, its flame steady, casting a warm, shifting glow across the small table and the space between your hands.

Heeseung pulled out your chair with careful hands and waited until you were fully settled before taking his own seat across from you. Throughout the dinner he kept looking at you not the quick glances of someone checking in, but long, quiet looks that lingered. His eyes were soft, full of that particular kind of overwhelming love that always made something tighten in your chest, as if your heart had momentarily forgotten how to beat properly. Every time you caught him staring, a small, almost shy smile would tug at the corner of his lips before he looked down at his plate again, as though the intensity of his own feelings had caught him off guard.

But he was also fidgeting.

His fingers kept tapping lightly against the side of his water glass in an uneven rhythm. He adjusted the cuff of his dark suit jacket more than once, smoothing fabric that didn’t need smoothing. At one point he reached across the table and took your hand, holding it for several long seconds, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that felt almost reverent then he let go again, as if the contact itself had become too much to hold onto all at once.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully over the soft candlelight.“Is something wrong?” you asked, voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry beyond your table. Heeseung looked up, momentarily startled, then shook his head with a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite erase the nervous energy still humming around him. “No,” he said. “Nothing’s wrong i just… like looking at you that’s all.”

He tried to shrug it off, but the restless edge never fully left him. Still, the conversation between you stayed warm and easy. You talked about the quiet of the apartment that morning without him, about the way Bambi had been especially active after lunch, rolling and stretching in small, determined movements that made the fabric of your white dress shift. He asked how your back felt after the long day, whether the ginger tea he’d left had settled your stomach. At one point his voice softened further as he looked at you over the rim of his glass.

“We’ve come a long way,” he said quietly. “From everything that used to feel uncertain to this to you to her.” His gaze dropped briefly to your belly before returning to your face. “I don’t think I ever really believed we’d get here this soon.” You smiled, the words settling warmly beneath your ribs. “Yes,” you answered. “We did and we’re still going further.”

The rest of the dinner passed in a gentle haze of soft conversation, shared smiles, and the quiet pleasure of simply being near each other. When the check was paid, Heeseung stood and offered you his hand. His palm was slightly warmer than usual against yours as he guided you back through the restaurant and out to the car waiting under the soft streetlights.

The drive home was quiet in the best way. He kept one hand steady on the steering wheel and the other loosely holding yours across the center console, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles over your knuckles. Every so often he would glance sideways at you, that same soft, almost nervous expression still present on his face as if something important was waiting just ahead and he was trying not to let it show too early. The city lights slid past the windows in long, blurred streaks of gold and white. Outside, the night felt calm. Inside the car, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken.

When you finally reached the apartment building and stepped out of the elevator onto your floor, Heeseung walked slightly ahead of you. He unlocked the door with careful fingers, then turned and gently took your hand again, his grip light but certain. “Close your eyes for a second,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper you did.

He guided you carefully inside, one hand at the small of your back to steady you, the other still holding yours. The soft click of the door closing behind you sealed the quiet of the hallway away. For a moment there was only the sound of your breathing and the faint, sweet scent of flowers already beginning to fill the air. When he whispered, “Okay you can open them,” you slowly lifted your lids. The apartment had been transformed.

Fairy lights were strung carefully across the ceiling and along the walls in soft, deliberate lines, casting a gentle glow that made everything look warmer, softer, almost dreamlike. Flower petals soft white mixed with the palest pink were scattered across the floor in a gentle path that began right at the entrance and curved forward, inviting. The air smelled faintly of fresh blooms and something warmer underneath, familiar and comforting, like the scent of home itself made sharper by the care that had gone into arranging it.

Your breath caught in your throat. Heeseung didn’t say anything at first. He simply took your hand more firmly and began leading you along the trail of petals. They guided you through the living room, past the couch where you had fallen asleep in his arms the night before, and down the short hallway until they stopped right in front of Bambi’s nursery door.He opened it slowly.

Inside, the nursery glowed with the same soft fairy lights, their warm light reflecting off the pale walls and the carefully arranged furniture. More petals were scattered across the wooden floor in a loose circle near the center of the room. A few small candles safely placed on the low shelves, away from anything that could catch flickered gently, their flames steady and calm. The room looked even more beautiful than usual quiet, peaceful, full of quiet promise. Everything about it felt intentional, as if the space itself had been holding its breath for this moment.

Heeseung led you to the middle of the room, where the petals were thickest. Then, still holding your hand, he slowly lowered himself onto one knee.

Heeseung stayed on one knee in the middle of the softly lit nursery, his hand still holding yours as if it were the only solid thing keeping him steady. The fairy lights cast a gentle, golden glow over his face, catching the faint sheen of moisture already gathering in his eyes. For a long moment he simply looked up at you really looked taking in every detail as though he needed to memorize the exact shape of this second before he spoke. His chest rose and fell with a careful breath. The quiet of the room pressed in around you both, broken only by the soft crackle of the candles and the distant city hum beyond the windows.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and a little unsteady, rough at the edges with emotion he no longer tried to hide.

“I love you,” he said, the words coming out like a confession he had been carrying for years. “I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone more than basketball more than any dream I used to chase alone. I want to spend the rest of my life with you— not just the good days, not just the easy ones. I want every morning when your hair is messy and you’re half asleep. I want every hard day when you’re tired and scared and need someone to hold you up. I want every quiet night when the world feels too loud and the only thing that settles it is the sound of your breathing next to mine. I want to be the person you lean on without thinking twice. The one who holds you when things feel too heavy. The one who never, ever lets you face anything alone.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes already glistening. A single tear slipped free and traced a slow path down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away.

“When I first met you, you were just miss morals to me. The girl next door who kept yelling at me to turn the music down. The one who rolled her eyes every time I opened my mouth and looked at me like I was the last person on earth she wanted to share a hallway with. I thought you hated me and maybe part of you did. I was loud and careless and full of myself, and you saw straight through it. But somewhere along the way you became everything. You became the first thought when I wake up and the last one before I sleep. You became the person I want to come home to, the person whose laugh I want to hear when everything else feels wrong. You became the love of my life — the only one I want to build a future with.”

His thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, trembling slightly. Another tear followed the first.

“Today it reminds me of the first time I asked you to marry me. Right after we found out you were pregnant. I was scared and hopeful and so sure that marrying you was the right thing to do because I already loved you more than I knew how to say. And you turned me down. You said marriage needed more than just a baby. You said it needed love and trust and knowing each other all the way through. You were right I didn’t understand it then the way I do now. I thought love was enough if it was loud and certain. But you taught me that real love is quieter. It’s choosing someone every single day, even when it’s hard. It’s growing together instead of just holding on.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath, the sound almost a sob. More tears fell freely now, catching the fairy lights like tiny stars on his skin.

“I promise you I’ll take care of Bambi. I’ll strive every single day to be a better father and a better husband — not perfect, just better. I want her to grow up seeing how much I love her mother. I want her to know that she was wanted from the very first moment, that she was chosen, that she has two parents who will fight for her and for each other no matter what comes. I want our family to be real not because we have to stay, but because we choose each other over and over again. I want her to see what it looks like when someone loves another person so completely that even the hard days feel like home.”

He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small velvet ring box. His fingers trembled as he opened it, revealing a simple, elegant ring that caught the soft light of the fairy lights and held it. The band was delicate, the stone modest but clear, chosen with care rather than extravagance.He looked up at you, tears fully in his eyes now, voice barely holding together. “Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life learning how to love you better every day?”

Your own tears had already started falling, warm and steady against your cheeks. Your free hand covered your mouth as a soft, watery laugh escaped you half joy, half the overwhelming weight of everything you had survived together. For a second you couldn’t speak. The fear, the growth, the nights you almost walked away, the mornings you chose to stay all of it settled in your chest at once, heavy and bright. Then you nodded, voice breaking into a whisper that still managed to fill the room.

“YESSSSS Yes, I will.” ( FUCKKK YEAHHH, bawling as im editing this )

Heeseung’s face broke into the most beautiful, relieved smile you had ever seen wide and open and shining through the tears. He carefully took your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and reverent, as if he were afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too quickly. The metal settled against your skin, cool at first, then warming with your pulse. The moment it was in place, he rose to his feet and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply soft at first, tasting of salt and joy, then fuller, pouring every unsaid promise into the press of his mouth against yours. His hands cradled your face, then slid down to rest over your belly, holding both of you as if the three of you had always belonged in this exact space.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you still crying and smiling, breath mingling in the quiet.

In the soft glow of the fairy lights, with white and pink petals scattered like quiet confessions across the nursery floor and the steady, living presence of your daughter moving gently between you, the years that had once felt uncertain suddenly folded into something whole. All the almosts and the nearlys and the nights you both almost gave up became the foundation of this one perfect yes. You could feel it in the way his arms held you — not as if he was afraid you might leave, but as if he finally understood that you never would. And in that small, glowing room, with the future already breathing softly against your heart, it felt less like the start of a marriage and more like the quiet, inevitable homecoming of two people who had been walking toward each other the entire time.

Heeseung smiled at first—that soft, genuine smile that always seemed to light up the space between you. He hung his jacket on the coat rack in the entryway without rushing and placed his wallet on the console table.

“How was your day, beautiful?” he asked, his voice warm and unpressured, while his eyes continued to admire you from where he stood, hands now tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, just a bit more of the same as always,” you replied, without drama, almost indifferently. He nodded, perfectly understanding the weight those brief words carried.

“I can imagine, my angel,” he murmured gently.

You looked at him for a moment longer, then added in that same low voice, “I kept your dinner warm in the oven.” Without waiting for a reply, you turned around and disappeared down the hallway toward the main bathroom, the towel shifting slightly with each step.

Heeseung stood for a moment in the entryway, smiling to himself. Then he headed to the kitchen. When he opened the oven, he found the plate perfectly arranged: his favorite meal, still hot, with that precise touch only you knew how to give it. He sat at the table alone, but he didn’t feel lonely. As he ate, savoring every bite calmly, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar warmth in his chest.

You always had these thoughtful, quiet details, even though your reserved nature rarely put them into words. It was your way of taking care of him, and he cherished it more than any grand declaration.

When he finished, he washed the dishes carefully and went upstairs. His intention was simple: to stop by the bedroom to grab the paperback they had been reading together and the wooden chair he usually dragged into the bathroom to keep you company. But when he entered the bedroom, he stopped. Neither the book nor the chair was in its usual place. He frowned slightly, feeling curious, and headed to the bathroom. When he reached the doorway, he froze.

The chair was already there, placed precisely beside the tub. On it rested the open book, marked at the page where they had left off the night before. Steam was beginning to rise from the warm water filling the bathtub, curling lazily in the air. You stood beside the tub, still wrapped in the towel, looking at him with that serene expression that hid so much.

Heeseung entered without saying anything at first, only a soft smile forming on his lips. He sat down in the chair, settling in naturally. Before he could open his mouth, you spoke first, your voice low and sincere.

“I’ve really been waiting for you to get home… so we could have this moment.”

He watched you in silence, his gaze filled with deep tenderness. No words were needed in response. He simply looked at you as, without haste and without apparent shame, you let the towel fall. The white fabric slipped softly to the floor, exposing your naked body in front of him under the dim bathroom light.

And then you stepped in.

The warm water laps gently against your skin as you sink deeper into the tub, the steam rising in lazy curls around you. Your arms drape over the curved edge, elbows bent, and you rest your head on them, letting the tension of the day melt away. But it's not just the bath soothing you, it's him. Heeseung sits in the chair pulled close beside the tub, his presence a quiet anchor in the softly lit bathroom. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the lean muscles of his forearms, and his dress pants hug his thighs just right. The glasses perched on his nose catch the faint glow from the overhead light, making him look almost ethereal, like something out of a dream you didn't know you were having.

He's reading to you from that worn paperback, his voice a low, hypnotic murmur that weaves through the air like silk. Each word he speaks pulls you in deeper, his tone smooth and unhurried, wrapping around your senses. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the way his lips move, the subtle shift of his jaw, the way his fingers hold the pages with such care. He's perfect like this; your sweet husband, utterly devoted, reading just to make your evening better.

The thought bubbles up unbidden, warm and insistent, and before you can stop it, the words slip out. "My man is so gorgeous."

He paused mid-sentence, a small smirk playing on his lips at your sudden whisper, the rhythm of his voice breaking like a skipped heartbeat. He glanced up from the book to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with warmth behind the glasses. For a moment, he just stares, the surprise softening into something warmer, deeper. He set the book down gently on the table beside him.

"You're quite biased tonight, my love”. His smile blooms across his features, broad and genuine, lighting up his eyes behind those glasses. It's the kind of smile that makes your chest tighten, all affection and quiet joy.

Heat floods your cheeks, you hadn't meant to say it aloud, not like that. The vulnerability hits you hard, your honesty laid bare, and you see the effect it has on him, the way his gaze lingers, intense and tender. You duck your head, burying your blushing face against your arms, the porcelain cool against your skin. A nervous giggle escapes you, light and shaky.

"Hey ~ what's with that haughty attitude?” you murmur, peeking up at him through your lashes, trying to play it off even as your heart races.

"Haughty? Me? The man whose wife just called him gorgeous?” he doesn't stop smiling, teasing you a little. His hand reaches out, fingers gentle as they cup your chin. He tilts your head up, coaxing you to meet his eyes, his touch warm and steady against your damp skin. Heeseung's eyes hold yours, dark and full of that quiet intensity that always makes your heart flustered.

Without a word, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. His lips brush your damp forehead first, soft and reverent, lingering there as if savoring the faint scent of lavender from your bath. Then he trails downward, feather-light kisses along the bridge of your nose, each one sending a shiver through you despite the heat of the water. When he reaches your lips, he doesn't rush, he presses in deeply, his mouth claiming yours in a slow, lingering kiss that tastes of devotion and unspoken promises.

You melt into it, returning the pressure with equal fervor, your lips parting to let him in, tongues brushing in a dance that's tender yet charged with the sweetness of the moment. It's unlike your usual reserve tonight, this open affection, but you push the thought aside, not wanting to shatter the fragile warmth between you.

When he finally pulls back, his flirtatious smile curves his lips, eyes gleaming with playful mischief behind his glasses. “Did you really mean that?” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “Do you find me as gorgeous as you said?”

Heat surges back into your cheeks, and you decide to deflect, playing it light. “Hmm~ Maybe…' you say with a feigned innocence, your gaze darting away to the steam rising from the water. “I don't even remember what I said earlier.” But Heeseung isn't letting you off that easily. His fingers firm up gently on your chin, turning your face back to his.

“Don't play with your husband's heart, Mrs. Lee,” he says, his tone a mix of mock sternness and genuine warmth, his thumb stroking your jawline. “Not when I'm melting just seeing you like this, so open, so wonderful, and sweet.”

The words hit you square in the chest, vulnerability twisting with affection, and before you can overthink it, you reach out. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer despite the edge of the tub, water sloshing softly. You initiate this time, capturing his lips in a kiss that's hungry yet sweet, pouring all the honesty you feel into it. Heeseung responds instantly, his arms encircling your shoulders, drawing you as near as the porcelain allows. His hands slide against your wet skin, the warmth of his palms contrasting the cooling droplets that cling to you, and the subtle floral essence of your bath mingles with his clean, masculine scent, wrapping around you both like an intimate haze.

As the kiss breaks, you rest your forehead against his, breaths mingling. “I mean it…” you whisper, voice steady now. “Every word. My husband is absolutely gorgeous, and I love him so much.”

“I love you too, so much” he replies right away, his voice rough with emotion, “Even more than that. I'm absolutely obsessed with you.” Then he's kissing you again, this time with a passion that ignites the air between you, deeper, more insistent, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that makes your toes curl in the water.

You surrender to it, letting the sensations wash over you : the firm press of his mouth, the way his tongue explores with tender urgency. His hands begin to roam, sliding down your bare shoulders, tracing the curve of your arms before dipping lower, fingers grazing the swell of your breasts just above the waterline, then skimming your sides, igniting sparks wherever they touch. The caresses are unhurried, reverent, mapping your naked form with a possessiveness that's all love. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, then down to the sensitive column of your neck, nipping softly at the pulse point there.

“You're so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, his voice vibrating through you. “You fascinate me… every part of you, every glance, every touch. There's nothing I don't love about you.” His words weave into the kisses, each one punctuated by the warmth of his mouth, the faint suckle that leaves your skin tingling, while his hands continue their exploration; one cupping your breast fully now, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his attention, the other splaying across your thigh beneath the water, squeezing gently.

The intimacy builds, a slow burn that has your body arching toward him instinctively. “Heeseung…” you murmur, your voice breathy, fingers threading through his hair. “Can we... make love?”

His breath catches sharply against your neck, a hitch that betrays his surprise. It's the first time you've asked so directly, so freely, and you feel the shift in him : the way his body tenses with delight. He pulls back just enough to search your eyes, his own wide and filled with wonder. “Is that what you want?” he asks, voice husky, and you nodded in response. “Then yes, absolutely.” A pause, his gaze flicking to the tub. “Right here?”

You shake your head, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I'd rather go to bed.”

Without hesitation, he stands, water dripping from your arms onto the floor as he reaches for you. His hands slide under your body, one supporting your back, the other beneath your thighs, and he lifts you effortlessly from the tub, your wet form cradled against his chest. The cool air hits your skin, raising goosebumps, but his warmth chases them away. He grabs a plush towel from the rack, wrapping it around you with care, tucking it securely before scooping you up bridal-style again, your arms looping around his neck.

As he carries you down the dimly lit hallway toward the bedroom, his steps steady and sure, you lean in, pressing soft kisses to the side of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin mixed with the faint trace of his cologne.

“You turn me on more than you imagine,” you whisper between kisses, your lips brushing the spot just below his ear. “More than I let on at first glance. I really like you… like a lot.” Your words are murmured against him, intimate confessions that make his hold tighten, his breath quickening as he nudges the bedroom door shut with his foot, the soft click echoing in the quiet space as he carries you toward the king-sized bed.

The room is bathed in the warm glow of bedside lamps, casting golden shadows that dance across the walls. Gently, he lowers you onto the mattress, the fabric cool against your towel-wrapped form. His hands linger at the edges of the towel, and with deliberate care, he unfolds it, peeling it away to reveal your naked body. Water droplets still cling to your skin, glistening like tiny jewels under the light, and he pauses, his gaze sweeping over you, tracing the curve of your shoulders, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, down to the flare of your hips and the soft mound between your thighs. Every inch draws his attention, his eyes darkening with reverence and hunger, drinking you in as if committing you to memory.

He leans over you then, bracing one hand beside your head, his body hovering close enough that you feel the heat radiating from him. His lips find yours in a deep kiss, slow and reassuring, his tongue slipping past to tangle with yours.

“I want to take my time with you,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice rough with promise. “To worship you properly, like you deserve.” And he means it. Starting at your collarbone, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his tongue darting out to lap at the lingering droplets, tasting the faint warmth and soap. His hands follow, fingers splaying across your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before cupping them fully, kneading with precise pressure that makes your nipples harden into tight peaks under his palms.

He works his way lower, lips trailing fire down your sternum, nipping lightly at the soft flesh there, leaving faint red marks that bloom like secrets. A hickey forms just above your breast as he sucks gently but firmly, his teeth grazing enough to send a sharp jolt straight to your core. His fingerprints press into your hips as he shifts, marking you with the evidence of his touch, subtle bruises that promise possession wrapped in tenderness. You arch into him, a soft moan escaping as his mouth reaches your stomach, tongue swirling around your navel before dipping lower still.

“You're so good to me ~” you breathe, fingers weaving into his hair, holding him close as waves of sensation build. He lifts his head briefly, eyes locking onto yours with that intense gaze.

“You deserve this, every kiss, every touch, every bit of me worshipping you.” His words vibrate against your skin as he settles between your legs, parting your thighs with strong hands. He doesn't tease; he dives in with devotion. His mouth covers your pussy in a firm, hungry kiss, lips sealing over your slick folds. His tongue flattens against you, dragging broad, wet strokes from your dripping entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, savoring the taste of your arousal, tangy, sweet, and utterly addictive.

He groans deeply into your cunt, the low rumble vibrating straight through your core as he laps at your leaking juices, tongue swirling slow, deliberate circles around your throbbing nub before sucking it between his lips. One hand slides up your thigh, thick fingers parting your puffy outer lips wider so his tongue can delve deeper. He pushes the slick muscle inside you, thrusting in and out in wet, obscene mimicry of fucking, fucking you with his tongue while his nose grinds against your clit.

Then he adds two fingers, sliding them into your soaked hole with a wet squelch, curling them firmly against that spongy, sensitive spot on your front wall. His mouth focuses entirely on your clit now, sucking it rhythmically, harder and faster, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out, stroking that perfect spot with every thrust.

The pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly. Your hips buck wildly against his face, but his free hand pins you down firmly to the bed, holding you in place as he devours you relentlessly. Your cries grow louder, sharper, until the orgasm crashes over you like a breaking wave, intense, shattering, your walls clenching and fluttering violently around his thrusting fingers while a hot gush of your juices floods his mouth and chin. He doesn’t stop, groaning hungrily as he licks you through every pulsing aftershock, soft, soothing passes of his tongue gentling you down while you tremble and whimper beneath him.

Finally, he pulls back, lips and chin shiny and glistening with your slick, a satisfied, almost feral smile curving them as he rises to his knees. Under your watchful eyes, he begins to undress. His shirt goes first, buttons undone slowly, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the faint trail of hair leading down his abdomen. He shrugs it off, then stands, unbuckling his belt with a quiet metallic clink.

The leather whispers as it slides free. Pants and boxers pool at his feet in one motion, and his cock springs free, heavy, thick, and rock-hard, curving slightly upward toward his stomach. The veined shaft throbs visibly, the flushed head already slick and beaded with precum that drips in a thin string toward the sheets. You watch every second of it, anticipation thrumming through your veins.

Naked now, he looms over you again, muscles shifting under his skin as he crawls back onto the bed. Something has shifted in you, and he sees it in the way your arms reach for him, wrapping around his torso to pull him down. Your kiss isn’t soft this time; it’s desperate, raw, scorching. Lips crash together, tongues battling in a slick, heated slide that leaves you both gasping. In the midst of it, your hand snakes between your bodies, fingers wrapping tightly around his thick cock. You stroke him with deliberate, firm pulls from the base all the way to the swollen head, feeling him throb hot and heavy in your grip, the silky skin sliding over steel as more precum leaks over your knuckles with every upward twist of your wrist.

Your hand moves with eager devotion, stroking his thick cock from base to tip in long, firm pulls. The silky skin slides hot and heavy over the rigid shaft, your thumb occasionally sweeping over the swollen, leaking head to spread the slick precum down his length. “God, you’re so big,” you whisper breathlessly, eyes fixed on the way your fingers barely wrap around his girth. “So thick… and handsome. Every part of you is perfect.”

Heeseung’s breath hitches, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he watches you. You tighten your grip slightly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke the way you think he’ll like, pumping him steadily while your other hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath your palm.

“Does it feel good like this?” you ask softly, a little shy but determined to please him. “Tell me how you want it… I want to make you feel amazing.”

Heeseung’s eyes darken with heat and affection. He reaches down, wrapping his larger hand around yours, guiding your grip and rhythm. “A little tighter here,” he murmurs, voice rough, showing you exactly how to squeeze the base before sliding up with more pressure. “And slower on the head… fuck, yes! just like that.” He keeps his hand over yours for a few strokes, teaching you the precise pace and firmness that makes his cock twitch and leak even more in your palm.

You follow his instructions perfectly, adjusting your hold until his hips jerk forward involuntarily and a deep, guttural moan escapes him. “That’s it, baby,” he praises, voice warm and thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so good for me… such a good girl with your pretty hand around my cock.”

Encouraged, you keep the rhythm he showed you, but Heeseung leans down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He sucks hungrily, tongue swirling around the stiff peak before gently biting down, sending sparks straight to your core. His other hand palms your neglected breast, thumb flicking over the sensitive bud as he lavishes attention on your chest, alternating between soft licks and firmer suction that leaves your nipples glistening and aching.

You’re lost in the dual sensation, your hand working his throbbing cock while his mouth devours your breasts, when your arm starts to burn with fatigue. Embarrassed, you pause mid-stroke, cheeks flushing hot.

“Babe… my hand is getting tired,” you admit quietly, voice small in a way that feels foreign to you.

Heeseung lifts his head from your chest, eyes meeting yours. For a moment he just looks at you, soft, delighted, almost awed because this vulnerable, open version of you is so different from the usual guarded one he’s used to. A tender smile curves his lips. He leans in and kisses you gently, slow and reassuring, tasting the embarrassment on your tongue until it melts away.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” he whispers against your mouth, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve already made me feel incredible tonight. Let me take care of the rest now.”

You nod, heart swelling at his gentleness. He takes your hand, the one that had been stroking him, and brings it to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles one by one. Then, with one large hand, he gathers both of your wrists and pins them gently but securely above your head against the pillow. His other hand wraps around his cock, thick and still glistening from your strokes, as he aligns the blunt, leaking head with your soaked entrance.

He doesn’t rush. He rubs the swollen tip up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal, teasing your clit with the head until you’re whimpering. Then, eyes locked on yours, he slowly pushes inside.

The stretch is exquisite; thick, hot, and overwhelming. Inch by inch he sinks into your tight, fluttering cunt, your walls parting around his girth with wet, obscene sounds. A broken moan escapes you as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, the slight upward curve pressing perfectly against that sensitive spot deep within.

Heeseung stays there for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard. “Fuck… you feel so good,” he groans, voice strained with restraint. “So warm… so tight around me. Like you were made for me.”

Then he starts to move with slow, deep rolls of his hips that drag his cock almost all the way out before sliding back in, every thrust deliberate and loving. His free hand caresses your body endlessly: stroking your side, cupping your breast, thumb brushing your cheek as he kisses you deeply. Every glide of his thick cock fills you completely, the wet squelch of your joined bodies filling the room along with your shared gasps and moans.

You lose yourself in him, the steady rhythm, the way his chest presses against your breasts with every thrust, the intense eye contact that never breaks for long. “I love you,” he whispers between kisses, lips brushing your jaw, your neck, your mouth. “Love being inside you… love how you take me so well.”

The pleasure builds fast and intense. Your second orgasm hits you without warning, walls clenching hard around his thrusting cock as you cry out, back arching off the bed. Heeseung groans at the feeling, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking you through it, hips rolling steadily, drawing out every pulse until you’re shaking.

He doesn’t let you come down. The overstimulation kicks in almost immediately. His cock still dragging against your sensitive walls, the head kissing your cervix with every deep thrust. Your moans turn into desperate whimpers as another climax crashes over you, even stronger than the first, your cunt spasming wildly around him, juices coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.

Only when you’re trembling and gasping beneath him does he finally slow, though he stays buried deep inside you. You look up at him, voice hoarse. “Why… why aren’t you coming yet?”

Heeseung smiles softly, brushing his nose against yours in a tender nuzzle. “I wanted to take care of you first,” he murmurs. “Your pleasure matters more to me”

Your heart clenches at his words. You shake your head gently, still pinned beneath him. “I want you to enjoy it fully too… and I want to feel you come inside me. Please… fill me up, Heeseung.”

Something in his eyes shifts, deeper hunger mixed with overwhelming affection. He releases your wrists, wrapping both arms around you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest as his thrusts grow harder, more purposeful. The pace quickens, skin slapping wetly, his cock driving into you with loving intensity.

When he finally comes, it’s powerful, his entire body tensing as he buries himself as deep as possible. A low, broken groan tears from his throat while thick, hot ropes of cum flood your cunt, pulse after pulse painting your walls. He holds you impossibly close, arms locked around you, kissing you fiercely through his release. His tongue licks a stripe along your flushed cheek before he captures your mouth again, whispering praises against your lips between gasps: “That’s it… take all of me… such a good girl… I love you… fuck, I love you so much.”

You feel every throb, every spurt of his cum filling you until it starts to leak out around his still-pulsing cock. He stays buried inside you long after, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat and trembling with aftershocks, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Heeseung presses a lingering kiss to your temple, then pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, a playful yet possessive spark lighting his gaze.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with renewed hunger. “I have no intention of giving you a break anytime soon. You have to face the consequences of acting like such a sweet angel tonight… of loving me so openly… of calling me gorgeous like that.”

A soft, genuine laugh bubbles up from your chest, free, light, and completely stripped of your usual cold facade. For once, the guarded walls are gone, revealing the sweet, surrendering woman beneath who melts completely for him. You surrender willingly as Heeseung’s hands gently but firmly guide your hips, turning you onto all fours. He positions himself behind you, his cock pressing against your entrance once more. With one smooth, deep thrust, he enters you again, drawing a shared moan from both of you as the night stretches on, promising so much more.

you fall back onto the bed, fingers tangling in jake’s hair as he makes a humming sound against you, the vibrations sends sparks up your spine.

jake is good at this, always has been, but tonight he’s showing off. his tongue traces slow circles around you before flicking at your opening and dragging up, seeking out the place where you need him most.

“oh”, you whine. “oh fuck.”

“the clitoris”, he says against you, pulling his head back enough to meet your gaze, eyes becoming glossy as if he wants something more. “did you know it has over eight thousand nerve endings? the most of any part of the human body.”

“jake.” you threaten, fingers finding his temple as he continues to suck gently on your clit, his other hand splayed over the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“its educational,” he teases.

you laugh, a high pitched giggle that turns into a moan when jake sucks your clit into his mouth. your hips buck upwards as he braces himself over you.

“you’re such a nerd,” you manage to say through your moans.

“you are dating a nerd,” he says against your skin. “you knew what you were getting into.”

jake eases two fingers into you as you groan, your head falling back. he uses the stretch of his fingers to find the place deep inside you that makes your whole body twitch. his fingers are long and beautifully angled, curling in just the right way to send another pulse of sensation through you.

“see?” he murmurs, his mouth pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “angles and vectors, all geometry.”

“shut up,” you gasp, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you try to catch your breath. “ah— jake!”

“the g-spot is actually part of the clitoral structure,” he says, his fingers sliding in and out as his mouth finds your core again. “it all connects.”

“jake, i swear—”

“did you know that the clitoris is shaped like a wishbone?” he asks, tracing slow patterns along you with his tongue, working you over from bottom to top. you forget what you were about to say when he begins rolling his tongue over your clit in fast, shallow strokes.

you are so close, already writhing, and jake knows it, he always knows it. he knows your body the way he knows his textbooks, every little sound and reaction to a chapter he memorizes with devotion.

“you’re gonna come for me, baby?”

jake asks, his voice thick with something between amusement and need as his tongue skates over your thigh. “on my face? are you really going to do it? let’s test it, shall we?”

“your— fuck, glasses—!”

“forget the glasses.”

they are completely fogged over now, all opaque. its absurd, really, the way his tongue flicks over you in short bursts while his fingers curl inside you, making you dizzy with need. you can barely focus on what he says next.

“take them off,” you whine, practically begging. “jake— ”

“cant, im too busy recalling the theory of..” he says, practically purring. you find yourself laughing and whimpering at the same time.

“that doesnt even— thats not how it—”

“maybe physics isnt my strongest subject.” jake sighs dramatically before his tongue licks insistently at your folds, his fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. he manages to ignore the fog on his glasses long enough for you to climax, shuddering and whimpering his name as your thighs shake on either side of his head. jake hums against your skin.

“come on, baby,” he groans, voice rough. “let me taste it. let me have it.”

“ah— jake!”

“i’ve got you. i’ve got you.”

your orgasm rolls over you, until you are gasping your release into the air, your back arching violently. your fingers dig into jakes scalp, his hair splayed out on either side of your hips. jake licks at you determinedly until your whimpers die down, your body limp, exhausted.

you push his head away weakly.

jake grins, finally lifting himself off of you, his chin glistening. he peeks up at you, the lenses blurred with condensation.

“see?” he says, sliding them up his nose. “perfectly functional.”

“you can’t see a thing.” you scoff.

“i can see enough, princess.”

jake leans over you, his head hovering just above your torso as he peppering kisses all over your body. you taste yourself on his lips when his glasses press against your cheek, warm and fuzzy.

you lift his head by the back of his skull, kissing him thoroughly before sliding his glasses off his face.

“hey,” he whines, blinking up at you. his lashes cast shadows across his cheeks. jake’s face is softer without the frames.

“i was going for a look.” he mumbles softly.

you raise your eyebrows, “the look was clouded nerd who cant see.”

“hey, that’s a classic aesthetic!”

you laugh, pulling him down on top of you. jake melts against you, kissing your collarbone, his fingers finding the sensitive spot at the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“i could go again,” he murmurs, voice heavy with intent. “we could run another trial. for science.”

“for science,” you repeat, laughing when jake’s fingers push into you once more, coaxing another moan from your lips as his glasses sit on the nightstand, forgotten.

You wouldn't have thought that the cardboard box in your arms would be heavier than it has any right to be, given it's mostly filled with towels and a lamp that probably won't survive the move. You shift it against your hip, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as Jungwon's voice crackles through the speaker.

"—and the landlord said the water pressure is good, but you should still check the boiler room, okay? Just in case. Mom keeps asking if you've eaten."

"I've eaten," you say, dumping the box onto the kitchen counter. The sound echoes in the empty space. "I ate a granola bar on the drive."

"That's not eating. You usually eat much more than that, Y/N."

You almost laugh. The corners of your mouth twitch, yet the energy to actually produce the sound feels too expensive. The new apartment is small, already making you hyperaware of your own breathing. White walls, beige carpet, a window that overlooks a fire escape and the back of a laundromat. It's nothing like your old place. And that's totally the point.

"There's a coffee shop down the street," you say instead, peering through the smudged glass of the window. "I saw it when I pulled in."

"Good, you should go there. Drink something with sugar and call me if you need anything."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The line goes dead, and the silence in the apartment rushes back in to fill the space. You stand there for a minute, only breathing, letting your new life settle into your bones. New city with a new apartment, and no memories of the last three years to trip over on your way to the bathroom.

You grab your keys and head out. The neighborhood is weirdly quiet even in the afternoon, it feels like everyone is holding their breath. Old brick buildings line the street, their facades streaked with years of rain. A bodega on the corner, a laundromat, and there, wedged between a bookstore and a clothing shop, the coffee shop. It's decorated with mismatched chairs and a counter cluttered with jars of homemade pastries. You order a black coffee because you don't trust your brain to make decisions, and you take it to a table by the window. You're halfway through the cup, watching a pigeon peck at a discarded wrapper, when the sky opens up. The rain comes down in sheets, loud and violent, rattling against the glass like it's trying to get in. You watch it for a while, then check your phone. It's already 5 PM.

"Excuse me," you say, approaching the counter. The barista, a tired-looking woman with flour on her apron, looks up. "Do you have an umbrella I could borrow? I just moved in across the street, I'll bring it back."

She blinks at you before she disappears into the back, returning a moment later with a flimsy black umbrella. It looks like the one you buy at a bodega for five dollars and immediately regret. "Keep it," she says. "We have like twelve of these."

The rain hasn't let up by the time you step outside. You pop the umbrella open, holding it tight as the wind tries to wrestle it from your grip. The street is a river now, the buildings blurred through the curtain of water. You walk quickly, splashing through puddles, your sneakers already soaked.

The apartment building is a relief when it comes into view. You duck into the alcove of the entrance, shaking water from your hair, and fumble with the umbrella to close it. The mechanism catches on something, and you jerk it, frustrated, only to have it flip open in a violent snap. A spray of water arcs outward, catching the person passing behind you square in the chest.

You freeze.

He freezes.

For an agonizing long moment, neither of you dare to move. He's standing half in the rain, half out, his white t-shirt now clinging to his torso with a growing dark patch. His hair is damp at the ends, dark brown and curling slightly. His eyes ; wide and startled ; scan your face with intensity, making you want to quickly apologize, but the words get caught somewhere in your throat.

His expression falters for the briefest moment. The certainty in his eyes gives way to hesitation, his gaze tracing your features as though something refuses to add up. His head tilts slightly, thoughtful rather than confused. You brace yourself for annoyance. For the kind of clipped anger that would be entirely justified.

Rather than that, he blinks, and a smile touches the corner of his mouth. It's not quite a smile, more like the ghost of one, uncertain and clumsy. "Hi," he says. His voice is a little rough, maybe from the cold. "Sorry, I was—do I know you?"

You shake your head, clutching the umbrella tightly. "I don't think so. I just moved in. I'm sorry about your shirt."

He glances down at the wet patch before looking back up at you. "Don't worry about it. It's just water." He's still looking at you, though. Too fucking long. His gaze lingers, waiting for...something. Whatever it is never comes. With a shake of his head, he drags a hand through his wet hair before a tiny smile finds its way onto his face, warming the corners of his eyes. "I'm Jake. I live in 9C down the hall."

"Y/N," you say. "5C."

"Welcome to the building."

"Thanks."

The rain continues to fall, filling the space between you with noise. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and you realize you're both just standing there, awkward and dripping, with nothing else to say.

"Well," he says, "I should probably go change. Before I catch a cold."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry again."

"Don't be."

He heads for the elevator, and you watch him go, his wet footprints staining the floor. He pauses with his hand on the button, and for only a second, you think he might turn back or might say something else. But then the door swings open, and he disappears inside.

You stand there for another minute, the broken umbrella dangling from your hand, the rain hammering against the awning above you. The feeling of his gaze on your face lingers, unsettled, like a half-remembered dream.

You close the apartment door behind you and lean against it. The key is still in your hand. The broken umbrella is still in the other. Your socks are soaked through because you forgot to wipe your feet.

None of that registers.

Because Jake ; apartment 9C, white t-shirt, gray hoodie, hole in his jeans ; had a face that shouldn't exist outside of Renaissance paintings and the occasional fever dream. Sharp jaw and messy hair that looked intentional even though it definitely wasn't. And his eyes, soft and curious, doing that slow scan of your features like he was reading something he couldn't put down.

You slide down the door until you're sitting on the floor.

This doesn't happen to you.

No—correction. This has never happened to you. You've read about it, sure. Pages in secondhand paperbacks where the protagonist trips and falls into a stranger's arms and he just happens to have cheekbones that could cut diamonds. You've rolled your eyes at those scenes and called them unrealistic. You told yourself that real life doesn't come with lighting cues and slow motion. However, standing on those steps with rain dripping off his chin and an animal shelter's worth of grime on his wrist, he had no business being that striking. That disarming. That stupidly attractive.

Your brain caught on the way he'd looked at you. Not like he was checking you out but more like he was searching for something. A flicker of recognition that didn't meant nothing if you recoil on it. And after that the shrug, and the introduction so smooth it had to be accidental.

Jake.

You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. Are you freaking kidding me ?

"You're being ridiculous." you tell the empty apartment.

Three hours later, you've unpacked exactly one box ; where it cointained your sheets and a single mug shaped like a cactus that Jungwon bought you as a joke three birthdays ago. The mug is now sitting on the kitchen counter, empty, staring at you judgmentally.

He keeps finding his way back into your thoughts. Not because you're trying to hold on to him, and surely not because you can't move on. It happens almost absentmindedly, the way your brain revisits familiar things when it's left alone. How his voice sounded slightly wrecked, like he'd been yelling or laughing or both. The smudge on his wrist ; potting soil, probably, if the canvas bag full of clinking jars was any indication. Pickles? Jam? The man had twelve jars of something and dirt on his hands and he lived four apartment next to yours.

You catch your reflection in the bathroom mirror and frown at yourself.

"Girl, you don't even know his last name." you say.

You go to bed early because there's nothing else to do. The new apartment sounds are unusual, there's more creaks and fewer sirens. At 2:17 AM, someone in the building starts playing the guitar badly. You fall asleep to a mangled rendition of "Wonderwall".

─────────

The alarm drags you from sleep sharply. You bat at your phone until the noise stops, and lie there, blinking at the still unfamiliar ceiling, reacquainting yourself with the fact that this is your life now. Everything was going to be new now.

By the time you've wrestled yourself into something presentable, you're already running five minutes behind. You skip breakfast, grab your bag, and lock the door behind you.

The elderly home sits at the end of a tree-lined street, a squat brick building, you almost mistook it for a community center. The receptionist gives you a visitor's badge and points you toward the common room, where a handful of residents are scattered across armchairs, some dozing, some staring at a muted television, one engaged in a heated argument with a plant.

You're barely through the door when a woman appears at your elbow, small and bright-eyed, with a name tag that reads Hanni in cheerful block letters. "New hire?" she asks, already steering you toward a supply closet. "Thank god. I've been doing double shifts for three weeks. I'm Hanni. You're Y/N. I read your file. It said you have experience with dementia patients. That's good, because Jacob over there—" she jerks her chin toward a man in a cardigan who's now trying to feed his coffee to the plant, "—thinks he's a squirrel."

You blink. "A squirrel?"

"Don't ask. Just go with it. If he offers you acorns, take them."

The day unfolds. You help Mrs. Han find her glasses (they were on her head), you listen to Mr. Eom's stories about a bakery he ran forty years ago, and you learn the exact difference between the "good" applesauce and the "bad" applesauce. Hanni works beside you with effortless competence, cracking jokes under her breath and seamlessly redirecting residents who wander toward the exit. "You're pretty good at this," she says during a break, as you both stand at the nurses' station, scribbling notes. "Most new people get that deer-in-headlights look for at least a week. You just sort of absorbed it."

You shrug, not sure how to explain that this ; the slow pace, the gentle repetition, the small dignities of helping someone remember their own name ; it feels like the only thing you're certain about these days. "It's not that hard. They just want to be seen."

Hanni studies you for a moment, something curious flickering behind her eyes. Then she nods, and the moment passes.

Your shift ends, your feet ache and your brain feels pleasantly fuzzy, which doesn't leave room for anxiety. You change out of your scrubs, say goodbye to Hanni, and step out into the evening air.

The street is calm, the rain from yesterday reduced to a thin dampness on the pavement. You're walking toward your building, hands shoved in your jacket pockets, when you round the corner and nearly collide with someone coming the other way.

Fuck, it's him.

Jake.

He's wearing a different shirt ; navy this time, sleeves pushed up to his elbows ; and he's carrying a cardboard pack of beer tucked under one arm. His hair is dry, pulled up in a little ponytail at the back, and the sight of him in the golden light of early evening hits you like a delayed punch.

"Oh," you say. Why now?

He stops. For a heartbeat, something unsettles his expression, his eyes lingering on you a fraction too long. Then, it melts away, something softer taking place. "Hey. Y/N, right?"

"Oh, you remembered." The words come out flatter than you wanted them to be, yet your pulse is doing a ridiculous drum solo again.

"I remember a lot of things," he says, there's a strange weight to the phrase, like he's saying something else underneath it. He gestures with the beer. "You're heading back?"

"Yeah. I just finished my first day at the elderly home down the street."

"How was it?"

"Exhausting. Good, though. I think. One of the residents offered me a fake acorn, so I'm taking that as a sign of approval."

He laughs, low and surprised, you can see that he didn't expect to find it funny. "That's a pretty solid endorsement. I'd trust fake acorn guy over most people."

You fall into step together, and you notice how he adjusts his pace to match yours, shortening his stride just slightly. The street stretches ahead, lined with those old brick buildings, the sky above streaked with pale orange and lavender. You nod toward the beer. "Expecting company, or is that just for personal purpose?"

He glances down at the pack, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm having friends over tonight. A couple of guys from the shelter—I work at the animal shelter a few blocks over. We do this thing every other Thursday. It's mostly just eating takeout and arguing about which dog breed is objectively the best."

"Which one is?"

"Rescue," he says immediately. "All of them."

You snort. "I think so too."

"Right? This is why we're going to get along." He says it casually, the words land in your chest with an unexpected weight.

The building comes into view, its facade warm in the fading light. He holds the door open for you, and you step into the foyer, the familiar smell of old carpet and someone's cooking drifting through the hallway. At your door you fumble for your keys, and he lingers, shifting the beer from one arm to the other.

"Good first day," he says. "At the job, I mean."

"Thanks." You find the right key, fit it into the lock. "Have fun with your friends. Try not to let the argument escalate into a physical altercation."

"No promises. We're very passionate about this." He's already turning, already stepping back toward his door, when something makes you call out : "Jake."

He stops and looks back.

"Thanks for walking me," you say. "Even if you didn't have to."

A small shrug. "It's fine. I wanted to, anyway." And he's already gone, his footsteps echoing in the corridor, and you're left standing in your doorway, keys still in hand, watching the space where he was.

You unlock the door, step inside, and close it behind you. The apartment is mostly empty, since your laziness won over you to unpack the rest of your stuff. You press your back against the door and stare at the ceiling.

This, you think, is exactly the kind of thing I'd roll my eyes at in a book.

Regardless, you can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, slow and helpless and embarrassingly real.

You're sprawled across the couch, legs tangled in a throw blanket, the glow of the television painting your face in shifting blues and reds. Some reality show about people competing to bake things that look like other things. It's mindless and perfect, exactly the sort of programming that requires zero cognitive effort. Your oversized t-shirt hangs off one shoulder with Justin Bieber's face from his Purpose World Tour, faded and cracked from years of washing. Below that, nothing but a pair of plain cotton panties. Your hair is messy, and there's a half-empty mug of tea growing cold on the floor beside you. You're comfortable. Vulnerable, maybe, but in the privacy of your own space, and that's all that matters.

Your gaze wanders into the kitchen and lands on the trash bin that is overflowing with flattened boxes and crumpled packing paper, the remains of a move you’re still halfway through. It doesn’t look like much, but you know it’ll be the first thing to irritate you in the morning if it’s left untouched. You weigh the options. Get dressed and actually put on pants, find a bra, the whole tedious ritual, or just…go. It's a quick trip. The trash chute is at the end of the hallway, maybe twenty steps from your door. The corridor has been empty all evening. And Jake has friends over. He's occupied. He's not going to be lurking around corners, waiting to ambush you with his inconveniently-timed presence.

Nobody will see you, you tell yourself. It's fine. You're fast as fuck.

You pad to the door, press your eye to the peephole. The hallway stretches, empty. Clear. You crack the door open, just wide enough to slip through, and you're out, barefoot, the cold floor sending a shiver up your legs. The trash bag is heavier than you expected ; you hoist it against your hip, jogging in that awkward, flat-footed way of someone who's both in a hurry and deeply aware of their own exposure. The chute is a metal hatch in the wall. You heave it open, shove the bag inside, hear it clatter down into the abyss. Mission accomplished.

You turn, already planning your retreat, and—

He's standing three feet away. Oh fuck off.

Jake.

He's holding a bulging trash bag of his own, the clink of glass bottles audible as he adjusts his grip. His eyes travel from your face down to the faded Bieber shirt, then back up, and there's a beat of silence where neither of you move. Your brain short-circuits and your mouth opens. What comes out is a garbled mix of syllables that might have been intended as "hey" but emerges as something closer to "heh—uh—I—"

He blinks. Slowly, the corner of his mouth twitches. "Didn't mean to startle you," he says, and his voice is level, calm, almost like he's trying to soothe a startled animal.

"You didn't—I mean, I was just—" You gesture clumsily at your attire, then at the trash chute, then back at yourself, as if this chain of context will explain everything. "The trash was full. And I didn't think anyone would be—I mean, you said you had friends—"

"Friends," he confirms. "They left about ten minutes ago. I was just cleaning up."

"Of course you were. That makes sense." You're still standing there, bare-legged, the shirt barely grazing your thighs, and the hallway suddenly feels like a wind tunnel. You cross your arms over your chest, which does absolutely nothing to help the situation. Jake doesn’t leer nor does he joke. He meets your eyes with that same searching look, softened now into quiet amusement. "You know," he says, "you have a habit of running into me in unexpected situations."

"This is your fault," you say, and the words come out sharp without real bite behind them. "You're supposed to be busy. That was the whole point."

"Sorry to inconvenience you by taking out my trash."

"You're not sorry, are you?"

"No," he admits, his half-smile edges into fuller one. "I'm not." He steps past you toward the chute, and you catch a whiff of a clean and comforting scent, the ordinary scent of someone who's recently showered. He drops his bag in, closes the hatch with a metallic thunk and turns back. "See you around, Bieber," he says, the warmth in the nickname makes your stomach flip.

He's walking back toward his apartment door, and you're standing once again, your face heating in an inexorable crawl. You wait until his footsteps fade before you scurry back to your door, slip inside, and press your back against the wood. The television is still playing, some contestant weeping over a collapsed trompe-l'oeil. You stare at the screen, unseeing.

Bieber.

You look down at the faded face on your shirt, at your bare legs, at the utter mess of your appearance, and you press the heels of your palms into your eyes like the day before. You're still standing with your back against the door, willing your face to return to a normal temperature, when the knock comes.

Three sharp raps.

Your entire body goes still. The television babbles on, oblivious, as you press your eye to the peephole. Jake. Of course. He's standing there, hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor, he's waiting for something. He's changed into a gray sweatshirt, hood down, hair slightly mussed. You don't open the door. You can't, not after what he just witnessed. Not with this shirt still on.

"What?" you call through the wood, and your voice comes out higher, strained.

"Y/N," His voice is muffled but clear. "I know you're in there."

"I'm not opening the door."

A pause. "I'm not asking you to."

"Why are you here then?"

He pauses again. You can hear him shift his weight. "I just wanted to say—" He stops, and you imagine him running a hand through his hair, figuring out how to phrase something. "The shirt. I really like it."

You press your forehead against the door. "You're lying."

"I'm not. I had that exact one in middle school and I wore it until the print started peeling off."

"That doesn't make it better."

"Maybe not." His voice carries a smile, you can hear it, the slight lift in the vowels. "I thought you should know, though. That's all."

You stay silent, unsure how to answer. The pause settles in, comfortable rather than tense, and you notice he isn’t hurrying to fill it.

"Anyways," he says finally, "goodnight, Y/N."

You hear footsteps, receding. You wait until the sound fades completely before you let out a breath you were holding deeply. Your reflection stares back at you from the peephole's warped glass, only a blur of color, but you can feel the heat still lingering in your cheeks. You push off from the door, walk back to the couch, and collapse into the cushions. The reality show contestants are still crying about pastries. You look down at Justin Bieber's faded face. At the cracked screen print and the worn collar.

He had this exact one in middle school, what a coincidence.

You pull the hem of the shirt, stretch it, let it snap back. A small, involuntary sound escapes your throat. It might be a laugh or anything else. You grab your phone, open your messages, and type out a single line to Jungwon.

Y/N [11:52 PM]

I think I'm in trouble.

But you delete it, toss the phone aside, and stare at the ceiling until your heartbeat settles to normal again.

It takes a while.

─────────

The morning came faster than you thought. You grab the umbrella on your way out ; the same flimsy black one that started this whole foolish chain of events ; and stop by the coffee shop before your shift. The barista barely glances up as you set it on the counter.

"Thanks," you say. "For letting me borrow it."

She waves a hand, already reaching for a pitcher of milk. "Keep it next time. We've got a whole graveyard of those things in the back."

You almost tell her there won't be a next time, yet the words feel like tempting fate, so you just nod and head out.

The elderly home is already rumbling when you arrive. Hanni greets you with a coffee cup thrust into your hands and a breathless update about Mr. Eom's missing dentures. You take a sip, let the caffeine do its work, and fall into the cadence of the morning.

By early afternoon, the sun is actually warm enough to justify a walk. You round up three residents ; Mrs. Han, who's having a good day and remembers your name, Mr. Chen, who doesn't say much but mumbles tunelessly under his breath and Jacob, who offered you the fake acorn. He's wearing a different cardigan today, mustard yellow, and he keeps patting his pockets like he's checking for something. The path behind the building winds through a small garden, past benches and bird feeders and a sad little fountain that hasn't worked in years. You walk slowly, matching their pace, letting Mrs. Han point out flowers she's identified incorrectly and pretending to take Jacob's commentary seriously.

It's peaceful, nearly meditative. A moment like this makes you wonder if this new life really is as bad as you thought.

Abruptly, a dog comes out of nowhere. A golden retriever ; young, gangly, all oversized paws and manic energy ; bounds across the grass with the focus of a missile. It's not aggressive and not even barking. It's excited, and its excitement is directed straight at Jacob, who is the slowest-moving, most startle-prone member of your little group. The dog lunges up before you can react, front paws slamming into Jacob’s chest. He rocks back, arms windmilling, then drops in a slow heap, feeling like it’s happening in two conflicting speeds at once.

"Jacob!" You're at his side in an instant, dropping to your knees, hands hovering unevenly. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

Jacob blinks up at you, more confused than pained. His glasses are askew. "I dropped my acorn," he says.

"I'll find it. Just—stay still. Tell me if anything hurts."

A voice cuts through the chaos, alert and breathless. "Oh god—I'm so sorry—"

You look up. Jake is sprinting toward you, the dog's leash trailing behind him like a forgotten flag. He's in work clothes ; a navy polo with the shelter's logo, dirt smudged on his forearm ; and his face is veiled with unguarded panic.

The dog, oblivious, is now trying to lick Jacob's ear.

"Leo, down!" Jake grabs the dog's collar, hauls him back with a firm yet gentle tug. "I am so, so sorry. He got loose—I was just bringing him out for a walk and he saw the—are you okay? Is he okay?"

You're already helping Jacob sit up, checking his wrists, his neck, the back of his head. No swelling or bleeding. He's still patting his pockets for the acorn.

"He's fine," you say, your voice flat. "He's just disoriented."

"Thank god." Jake exhales, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. "I really am—I should have had a better grip on the leash. He's young, he's still learning, but that's not an excuse—"

"You're right." You stand, brushing grass from your knees. "It's not."

The silence that follows is stiffling. Mrs. Han is watching with curious eyes, Mr. Chen has stopped mumbling, and Leo is now sitting at Jake's feet, tail excitedly wagging. You turn to Jake fully. "You work at a shelter. You know how unpredictable dogs can be. Especially around elderly people. One wrong jump, one fall, and it's a broken bone or a concussion. That could actually hurt someone."

Jake meets your gaze without a trace of defensiveness or excuses. He simply nods slowly, his jaw tightening in restraint. "You're right," he says. "I wasn't careful enough. I got distracted, and I let him pull ahead, and I should have anticipated that this could happen." He glances at Jacob, who is now patting Leo's head with a delighted smile. "I'm really glad he's okay. And I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

The words settle with an unexpected weight, disarming you. You were ready for deflection, for something casual and rehearsed. Regardless, he stays still, accepting it without trying to cushion the blow.

You let out a breath. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a shaky residue. "Be more careful," you say, and your voice is quieter now. "Please."

"I will." He holds your gaze for another beat, and crouches down to Jacob's level. "Hey, sir. That was my dog. He's really sorry. Are you okay?"

Jacob looks at him, then at Leo before his gaze goes back at his empty palm. "I lost my acorn," he says, there's a note of genuine distress in his voice. Jake doesn't miss a beat. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small smooth stone and presses it into Jacob's hand. "Here. I found this, it must've been yours."

Jacob stares at it. His face splits into a wide, gap-toothed smile. "Thank you," he says, and clutches it like treasure.

You watch it unfold, something uneasy tightening in your chest. Jake stands and meets your gaze again. A flash crosses his face ; rueful, or closer to hope. "I'll make sure he's more secured next time," Jake says, nodding toward Leo. "And if there's anything I can do—"

"There isn't," you say, but the sharpness has gone from your voice. "But still...keep a closer eye on him."

"Always." He turns and walks back toward the path, Leo trotting obediently at his heel. You watch him go, the way his shoulders are slightly hunched, how he glances back once before rounding the corner.

Mrs. Han sidles up to you. "He's cute," she states. "The boy. Not the dog."

You open your mouth, not a sound escaping your mouth. You try again.

"Mrs. Han," you say, "you're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side," she says, patting your arm. "That's why I'm telling you."

You help Jacob to his feet, find his acorn in the grass, and start the slow walk back to the building. Your thoughts drift elsewhere, replaying Jake crouching down to Jacob’s level, finding the stone without hesitation, saying 'I will' like he truly meant it.

You shake your head, focus on the path ahead.

After you end your shift, you walk back to your apartment. The sky has gone hazy, and you keep your hands in your pockets, replaying the afternoon in fragments. You unlock your door, kick off your shoes, and collapse onto the couch. The television is still on from last night. You turn it off, let the silence settle.

You decide to pull out your phone and call Jungwon. He picks up, but the background noise is a wall of bass and overlapping voices. You can hear a bunch of voice shouting "CHUG CHUG CHUG!!!" and loud cheers. You hear a door slam, the noise muffles.

"Y/N?" His voice is slightly breathless. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," you say, and you mean it. "I just wanted to check in. You sound busy, though."

"I'm at a mixer party with my house and sororities. It's loud so I stepped outside." He stops for a second. "Are you sure you're okay? You never call this late."

"Late? It's like seven."

"Yeah. You're usually asleep by now."

You fairly laugh. "I've been more awake lately. I had a long day."

"Tell me about it."

So you do. You tell him about everything. You don't want to mention Jake.

"You sound good," Jungwon says when you finish. " Really good. Not just saying you're good."

"I think I am," you say, the words surprise you with their honesty.

"That's all I needed to hear." There's a muffled shout from behind him, someone calling his name. "I should get back. But call me anytime, okay? Even if it's just to complain about old people and dogs."

"Old people and dogs. The two pillars of my existence now."

"Don't let the dogs jump on you," he mentions, you can hear the smile in his voice.

"I won't. Have fun at your party."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

The line goes dead. You hold the phone for a moment before setting it aside, letting the quiet wrap around you. You stand, stretch, and gather your clothes for a shower, a clean towel, a change of underwear, the softest pair of sweatpants you own. You pad toward the bathroom, already anticipating the hot water, the steam, and the small escape from your own head.

You're two steps from the bathroom door when the lights flicker.

Once. Twice. It dies.

The apartment plunges into absolute darkness. No sound from the refrigerator, no glow from the microwave clock, just black, thick and total. You stand there, motionless, one hand gripping your towel, the other reaching for the wall. You feel along the switch, flick it up and down. There's nothing.

You step to the window to peer out. The streetlights are on. The building across the way is lit, warm rectangles of gold in every window. The coffee shop's neon sign still glows. You check your phone to see your battery at 60%. You switch on the flashlight, sweep it across the room. So it's only your apartment. The refrigerator is dead. The outlets are dead. The overhead light, the bathroom ; all dead. You flip the circuit breaker in the tiny panel by the door. Shit. You try the main switch. Nothing.

You stand there in the beam of your phone, your reflection ghostly in the dark window glass, wearing that stupid Justin Bieber shirt and holding a bundle of clean clothes, and you realize you have no flashlight, no candles, and mostly, no backup plan.

The silence presses in. 9C. A certain neighbor who might have a working outlet and a willingness to share. A part of you notes, almost critically, that this would be the kind of contrived convenience you’d hate in a book.

You sigh, grab your keys, and head for the door.

The hour stretches like taffy. You've tried the circuit breaker three times, called the landlord four times, and texted him twice, giving you no results. The voicemail picks up on the first ring, a generic recording without a name. You sit next to your door and consider your options. There's a motel two blocks away. There's the coffee shop, but they close in fifteen minutes. It got to be a joke.

And there's the door at the end of the hallway.

You pace. You argue with yourself. You list all the reasons this is a terrible idea ; all the incidents that happened and degraded your confidence, the fact that you've known this man for approximately forty-eight hours and he's already seen you at your most unguarded multiple times. But the need for a shower wins. You smell like old people and grass, with the sublte tang of anxiety sweat. You can't go to work like this tomorrow and you can't sleep like this tonight. So you put on a pair of shorts ; the longest ones you own ; and a different shirt, and you walk toward his door with the weight of your own dignity dragging behind you.

His door is at the end of the hall. You knock before you can talk yourself out of it. The door swings open. Jake stands there in a faded gray t-shirt and sweatpants, hair slightly damp, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He's holding a half-eaten apple. His eyes land on you. Travel down to your shorts, back up to your face.

His mouth curves into a smile so wide, so unapologetically amused, that you feel it like a punch right in your guts.

"Bieber," he says. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Don't call me that." The words come out weak, deflated. "My power's out. The landlord won't answer and I absolutely need a shower."

He takes a bite of his apple. He chews slowly, considers you.

"Just the shower," you add, and you can hear how defensive you sound, how utterly transparent.

"I didn't say anything." He steps back, holds the door open. "Come in."

His apartment is small too, but lived-in. A couch with a blanket draped over the back. A stack of books on the coffee table. A guitar propped in the corner. The kitchen is visible from the living room, dishes drying on a rack, a pot of something that smells like garlic and tomatoes simmering on the stove. "Bathroom's down the hall, second door on the left," he says, pointing with the apple still in hands. "Towels are in the cabinet. Use whatever you need."

"Thanks." You pause at the threshold, suddenly aware of the absurdity of this. "I'll be quick."

"Take your time." That smile again, softer now. "I'll keep the apartment from burning down while you're in there."

You close the bathroom door behind you and lean against it, exhaling. Hot water, steady pressure, a luxurious flow that makes you forget every indignity that led you here. You stand under the spray as long as you can, letting it beat against your shoulders, your neck, the tension you've been carrying since yesterday. When you finally step out, wrapped in a towel, you catch your reflection in the mirror. Wet hair and pink cheeks. A stupid smile that you can't suppress.

Stop it. You wipe the steam from the mirror, and that's when you notice it. On the edge of the sink, next to a half-empty bottle of cologne, is a keychain. A small, plastic orange. Slightly faded, the paint worn at the edges.

Your breath catches. You have that exact same keychain. It's been on your keys for as long as you can remember. Well, as long as your memory goes back, which is not even a year. It's one of the few objects that survived the move, one of the small constants in the fog of your past.

You pick it up and turn it over. It's identical, even the little chip in the paint near the stem matches. You stare at it for a long moment. You dress quickly, step out into the hallway, and find Jake in the kitchen, stirring the pot on the stove. "Everything okay?" he asks without turning.

"Where did you get this?" You hold up the keychain.

He turns and sees it. For an instant, his expression falters into recognition before it smooths itself back into neutrality. "Oh, that." He sets down the spoon, wipes his hands on his sweatpants. "I found it, actually. A few years ago, on the street, I think. I kept it because—" He pauses, and you notice the way his eyes shift, slightly, like he's rearranging words in his head. "It reminded me of something. I don't know. I just liked it."

The explanation comes out too smooth and too rehearsed. You're wondering if he's said it before, practiced it, polished it until it sounded natural. You're not even sure why, something about how he said it, but you don't have the energy to interrogate right now. "Funny," you say, pocketing your own keys, where your matching orange dangles. "I have the same one."

He looks at you. You feel like you're standing on the edge of a cliff, for a jump you're not ready for.

"That is funny," he says, and his voice is softer now, almost distant. "Small world."

You nod, not trusting your voice. The moment stretches, fragile, and you're the one who breaks it. "I should go. Thanks for the shower."

"Anytime." He walks you to the door, and the teasing smile has returned. "If the power's still out tomorrow, you know where to find me."

"Bold of you to assume I'll survive that long."

"I have faith in you."

You roll your eyes, yet you're smiling as you step into the hallway. The door clicks shut behind you. You stand there for a moment, your keychain warm in your palm, and wonder what exactly you've just walked into. It's probably nothing, you tell yourself.

Oh it's definitely something.

─────────

A few days pass, you're unpacking one box at a time, learning where the light switches are without having to think about it, catching the same bus at the same time each morning until the driver starts to nod at you like an old acquaintance.

You see Jake in the hallways more often than coincidence should allow. Tuesday morning, you're leaving for work and he's coming back from a run, sweaty and out of breath, and he raises a hand in greeting without breaking stride. Fuck he's hot.

Wednesday evening, you're carrying a bag of groceries and he's hauling a bag of dog food toward the elevator, and you end up walking side by side without discussing it. Thursday, you don't see him at all, and you catch yourself checking the peephole before bed like a woman waiting for something she won't admit to wanting.

Friday arrives with gray skies and the particular exhaustion of a full week. You've just changed into sweatpants.

Three taps. You know who it is before you look. Jake is standing in the hallway wearing a knitted sweater and he's holding his keys in his hand. He looks different at night ; softer, somehow. The hard angles of his jaw blurred by the low light.

"I'm heading to the convenience store," he announces.

You lean against the doorframe. "It's eight o'clock."

"I'm aware. That's why I said convenience store and not, like, a sit-down restaurant." He jingles his keys. "You want to come?"

You hesitate for a second too long, and he catches it. His expression shifts into something hesitant. "For the accident," he adds. "Last week, with Jacob. I've been meaning to…I don't know. Make up for it, in a small way. This is the small way."

"You're making up for catastrophe with a trip to 7-Eleven?"

"Don't call it that. I'd rather call it a restitution." He pauses. "Also they have those frozen slushies that turn your tongue blue, and I don't want to drink one alone because that feels sad even by my standards."

You look down at your sweatpants. "Give me two minutes," you say.

"You look fine."

"I know I look fine. I want to look like I didn't just spend an hour lying on my floor thinking about nothing."

He blinks. "That's—"

"Two minutes." You close the door and change into jeans. You don't know why. It's just the convenience store after all. Although you put on real pants anyway, and you run your fingers through your hair, and when you open the door again, he's still standing there, checking his phone. "Cute," he says, not looking up.

"Shut up."

The walk is short ; five blocks, past the coffee shop with the broken umbrellas, past a laundromat, and past a house with a porch light that flickers like it's sending morse code. The air is cold enough to see your breath, and Jake walks on the street side of the sidewalk without making a thing out of it.

You two arrive at the convenience store, with the buzzing lights overhead. A bell dings when you walk in. The guy behind the counter is watching a small TV mounted in the corner, some sports game apparently.

You grab a basket and Jake grabs another. "This is a competition now," he says.

"It's always been a competition."

The snack aisle is narrow, forcing you to stand closer than necessary. You reach for a bag of chips. He reaches for the same bag. Your hands collide, and he lets you take it without a fight, which is suspicious. "You're being nice," you say.

"What do you mean? I'm always nice."

"No but, like, you're being strategically nice."

He grins. It's crooked and quick, making your chest tighten. "I just want you to let your guard down so I can steal the last bag of sour stripes."

"I don't even like sour stripes."

"Everyone likes sour stripes. That's like saying you don't like breathing."

You move down the aisle, scanning the shelves. Your fingers hover over a bag of shrimp crackers ; the spicy kind, bright red packaging, which Jungwon used to make fun of you for buying in bulk. You reach for them at the same time he does. "These," he says, pushing the bag toward you. "Get these."

"I was going to."

"They're your favorite, right?"

You stop. Your hand freezes over the bag. "I didn't tell you that."

He's already looking at the next shelf, picking up a pack of chocolate cookies, turning it over to read the nutrition facts. His expression doesn't change. His voice is casual, almost bored. "Everyone likes spicy shrimp crackers," he says. "It's not some niche preference. It's a classic. Like salt and vinegar. Or barbecue."

"That's not—"

"I'm getting these," he interrupts, holding up the cookies. "You want a drink? They have that weird melon soda. Everyone says that it tastes like liquid gummy bear."

You stare at the back of his head in confusion. He's walking toward the drink cooler, shoulders relaxed, like the conversation is already over. You grab the shrimp crackers and follow him.

The park is two blocks from your building, a small wedge of grass with three benches and a set of swings that face a community garden. The swings are old, their chains rusty, seats scratched with names and dates, but they hold your weight when you sit. Jake takes the swing next to yours. The plastic bags dangle from his wrist, crinkling every time he moves. You've split everything down the middle ; your shrimp crackers, his chocolate cookies, two bottles of the melon soda, a shared bag of sour striped that he claimed were for everyone, still you've noticed he keeps eating.

The soda fizzes when you open it. The park is empty except for the two of you and a cat sitting on a bench across the grass, watching like it's waiting for something to happen. You swing a little, just enough to rock. The chains squeak.

"My brother," you say, because the silence feels good but you want to fill it anyway. "He's the reason I moved here. Not because he lives here—he doesn't. He lives like four hours away. He helped me find the apartment and with all the packing."

Jake doesn't say anything. He's unwrapping a chocolate cookie, breaking it in half.

"He's in college now," you continue. "Fraternity guy, and he’s so serious about it, which is funny because he's also the least intimidating person I've ever met. Once he cried because I didn’t want to go with him at the dentist."

"That’s cute."

"He's sensitive." You shrug. "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this."

"I won't tell."

The cat on the bench yawns. The swings creak. You take a sip of your melon soda and watch the clouds move past the streetlights.

"Jungwon," Jake says.

You almost choke.

"What?"

"Your brother." He's looking at his hands, turning the cookie over and over. "His name. You said it. Jungwon."

You frown. Your brain backtracks through the last thirty seconds, replaying your own words. You definitely didn't say his name. You've been careful about that by habit. Jungwon is precious to you. His name is something you keep close, like a photo in a wallet. "I didn't say his name," you say slowly.

His chewing stops. His throat moves as he swallows. The openness on his face is convincing enough to pass for genuine, if not for the faint impression that he's worn it many times before.

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Huh." He dusts cookie crumbs off his fingers. "Maybe I heard it wrong, or you mentioned it before and I remembered. I don't know."

"I've never mentioned his name."

The silence stretches. The cat on the bench stands up, circles once, lies back down. He sets the cookie down on the plastic bag between you. He wipes his hands on his jeans. For a moment, he looks like he's going to say something else that might explain the way he looked at you that first night on the steps, like he was trying to place you.

His shoulders drop. "He came by," he declares. "Before you moved in. Your brother, Jungwon." He says the name carefully, testing each syllable. "He was checking out the building and making sure the landlord wasn't sketchy. I ran into him in the hallway."

You stare at him.

"He asked me about the neighborhood," Jake continues. "Whether it was safe. Whether people were friendly, and all that stuff." A small smile, almost self-deprecating. "I think he was doing a background check on all the tenants."

"That sounds like him."

"Yeah." He picks up his soda to take a long drink. "He mentioned you, and that you were moving in. I remembered."

It fits, it’s plausible. Jungwon would absolutely do something like that ; interview strangers in hallways, gather informations, build a mental map of everyone who might cross your path. He's been doing it since you were kids, since before the accident, before you forgot a quarter your life.

Nonetheless, something about how Jake tells it feels off. The words are right and the timing is too. Yet, his hands are still, and his hands are never still on the daily basis. He's always tapping or fidgeting or running his fingers through his hair, and right now, sitting on this swing in the dark, he's perfectly motionless. You want to push further. There's something in the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that you couldn’t put a finger on. You can’t, the evening is too nice, and he's bought you snacks. You let it go.

"Small world," you say, echoing his words from the night when you took a shower at his place.

"Small world," he agrees.

─────────

You walk into the elderly home with your hair still damp and the taste of the spicy shrimp crackers lingering at the back of your throat. Hanni's already at the nurses' station, flipping through a clipboard with focus, she’s been here for hours. "You look less dead than yesterday," she says without looking up. "That's progress."

"I slept." You hang your jacket on the hook and grab your name tag. "Almost eight hours. Uninterrupted."

"Must be the neighborhood atmosphere." She finally glances at you, there's a knowing tilt to her mouth. "Or something else."

You ignore that last part. The morning unfolds like every other morning ; the slow parade of residents who need help finding their glasses or their dentures or their way back to their rooms. Mrs. Han asks you three times if you've met her son, and you say yes each time, and each time she looks satisfied and moves on. You're in the common room, helping Mr. Chen with a puzzle he's been working on for weeks, when your gaze drifts toward the window. The street outside is quiet, the morning light still pale and thin. And there, on the other side, is Jake. Can he not look hot for just one day?

He's walking three dogs at once ; a golden retriever, a wiry terrier, and a bulldog that seems to be leading the pack. The leashes cross and uncross as the dogs weave around each other, and Jake's holding them with the practiced looseness of someone who's done this a hundred times. He's wearing a worn denim jacket and a few strands of hair are falling on his face, and when he glances up and spots you through the glass, his whole face shifts. He lifts his free hand to give you a small wave, fingers wiggling. You wave back, your brain couldn’t catch.

The bulldog tugs him forward and he's gone, swallowed by the next block. You turn back to the room. Hanni's standing beside you, arms crossed, watching the empty street with an ambiguous expression plastered on her face. "That’s him?" she asks.

"Yeah."

She hums in a considering sound. "He's fucking hot."

You snort, but it comes out wrong, sounding a bit too defensive. "Yeah. He knows it too, I think."

"He doesn't seem like the type who knows it." She shrugs, uncrossing her arms. "He's unaware of his own face."

You don't respond. You're already looking back at the window, though he's long gone. "His nose," you say, the words stumbling right out of your head. "That's the thing. I can't—" You stop yourself, shake your head. "It's nothing."

Hanni could only nod, she understands and hands you a stack of folded towels. "Focus on the towels," she says. "The nose can wait."

You take the towels and get back to work. The image of him across the street stays with you for the rest of the shift.

The sidewalk cracks under your feet as you walk, the sky a pale gray that threatens nothing in particular, hopefully not rain. You pull out your phone, scroll to Jungwon's contact, and press call. He picks up after some time, which means he's either not busy or he's avoiding something.

"What’s up?" he says. "You're calling at a normal time. That's kind of suspicious."

"I'm walking home from work and I thought I'd fill the silence."

"Fill away."

As you ramble on everything, you don’t allow yourself to bring up Jake yet.

"Sounds like you're settling in," Jungwon says. "That's really good, Y/N."

"Yeah." You kick a pebble off the curb. "It's weird, though. Sometimes I forget I'm supposed to be starting over. It just feels like—I don't know. Like I've been here longer."

"You have been there longer. In a way." His voice drops, careful. "You lived there before. Remember?"

You stop walking. A car passes, its headlights cutting through the dusk. You do remember—fragments, not really. The knowledge that you'd been in this city before the accident and the three-year gap in your memory. You'd chosen to come back because something about it felt familiar, even if you couldn't know why.

"Yeah," you say. "I keep forgetting that part."

Silence on his end. You start walking again. "There's this guy," you say carelessly, and you already regret it. "In my building. His name is Jake. We keep running into each other."

"What kind of running into?"

"Literally and figuratively. He nearly killed one of the old folk at my work. Long story." You suddenly pause. "He has this orange keychain. The same one I have. You know, the little fruit thing on my keys."

You can hear him breathing, he's seems like measuring his response. "That's weird," he says. "That's a weird coincidence."

"Yeah, I know." You wait for him to say more but he doesn't. "He also said he met you when you came to check out the apartment before I moved in. You talked in the hallway, isn’t it?"

"I did talk to someone. I don't remember his name, though."

"Jake," you repeat. "You don't remember him?"

"Lot of people in that building. I was there for like an hour." He laughs but it sounds flat. "Why are you asking?"

You don't know why you're asking. The question hangs there, unanswered, as you round the corner and your building comes into view. "Pure curiosity," you say. "He's nice. We went to the convenience store last night."

"The convenience store at night. Like a date?"

"Not a date, it was an apology. His dog knocked over an old man at my work."

Jungwon is quiet for a beat before talking again. "Don’t tell me that you like him."

"It's not like that."

"It's exactly like that. I can hear it in your voice."

You stop at the front door of your building, hand on the handle. It’s cool under your palm. "I don't even know him. We've talked, like, four times."

"And you're already calling him by name. That's more than you do with most people."

You leave the question unanswered. The door opens, and the smell of aged carpet and lingering cooking oil greets you before anything else. "I'll talk to you later," you say.

"Okay. But Y/N—"

"What?"

"Be careful, okay? Just—" He stops. "Just be careful with yourself. You're still figuring things out. I love you."

"I know. Love you too." You hang up and stand in the foyer, phone warm in your hand. The hallway stretches ahead, empty and quiet as usual. You climb the stairs slowly instead of taking the elevator, each step slow. What is happening? Something doesn't add up.

─────────

The banging comes from somewhere down the hall. Sharp and insistent, the sound of a fist against wood or maybe a shoulder against a frame. You freeze mid-step, your keys still in the lock, heart lurching into your throat. The apartment building is usually calm at this hour with the muffled sound of someone's guitar upstairs or television, but nothing like this.

You press your eye to the peephole but the angle is wrong, the fish-eye view showing only the empty stretch of hallway directly outside your door. The banging continues, punctuated by a voice. It’s raised, female, too muffled to make out words but carrying an obvious edge of distress.

The smart move would be staying inside, lock the door, call 911 and wait it out. The sound carries a note of despair that makes you pause. Your mind drifts to the building's elderly residents and the possibility that someone is in trouble. Before the thought has time to settle, you're unlocking the door and pulling it open.

You step into the hallway.

Jake is there, about twenty feet down, his back half-turned to you. A woman stands in front of him, her posture stiff, her hands gesturing in jagged movements. She's undeniably pretty ; dark hair pulled back, a denim jacket, boots that look expensive. Her face is flushed, and even from here you can see the tension in her jaw. "It's not fair," she's saying, her voice cracking. "You can't just—I've been trying for months, Jake. Months. And you just—"

"Luna." Jake's voice is low, placating, his hands raised in that universal gesture of de-escalation. "I've told you. It's not like that. I'm not—"

She scoffs, loud and bitter. "Not what? Not interested? You've made that fucking clear."

You're frozen in the doorway, unsure whether to retreat or announce your presence. The woman's head snaps toward you, her eyes widening for a split second before narrowing.

"Oh," she says, the word dripping with annoyance. Her eyes scan you for approximately 5 seconds. "Great. She’s back." She brushes past you without another word, her shoulder colliding with yours hard enough to make you stumble back a step. The elevator doors close behind her, and it's just you and Jake in the hallway now. He's still standing there, hands lowered now, his face a mingle of exhaustion and embarrassment. He runs a palm over his jaw, lets out a long breath.

She's back. What?

"That," he says, "was not how I wanted you to meet my coworker."

You blink at him. "Coworker?"

"Luna." He points loosely toward the elevator. "She works at the shelter with me. We've known each other since we were kids."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. "She seemed upset."

"She's been upset for a while." He rubs the back of his neck. "She's had a thing for me. For years. And I keep telling her I don't feel that way, but she doesn't—" He exhales again. "She doesn't take it well."

You raise an eyebrow. "So she followed you home and banged on your door?"

"She showed up unannounced. I was trying to calm her down. She's not a bad person, she just—" He hesitates, searching for the right words. "She's stubborn, and she doesn't like hearing no."

You study him. His shoulders are still tense, his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. He looks genuinely rattled, not like someone who's been caught in a lie. "Childhood friends," you repeat. "she's been flirting with you, and you felt bad for her."

"First, I’m not flirting with her and I’m not planning on it. I felt bad because I know she's lonely. She's been through some stuff. But I can't—" He looks at you, his expression transforming invisibly. "I can't give her what she wants. It wouldn't be fair to her. Or to anyone else."

"I’ve never seen you so flustered," you declare softly. He huffs a laugh, short and breathy. "Yeah, well. You bring out the best in me."

You push off from the doorframe. "She seems like she'll be fine."

"She'll be fine. She always is." He pauses. "Thanks for not assuming the worst."

"I assumed the worst," you admit. " A girlfriend and an angry breakup."

"Not a girlfriend," he says. "Not even close."

You nod, and the moment stretches between you, comfortable but charged. "Goodnight then, Jake."

"Sleep tight, Y/N."

You close the door behind you and lean against it, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall.

Not a girlfriend. Is he lying?

You don't know why that detail settles in your mind the way it does. You’d rather sleep it away.

─────────

You're coming back from a late shift, leaving your feet sore and your brain half-fogged, when you round the corner to your floor and find the hallway occupied. Four of them, clustered around Jake's door like they're waiting for someone to let them in. You recognize Jake immediately ; he's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, laughing at something one of the others said. The other three are strangers, but they have that easy familiarity with each other, displaying years of friendship.

Jake spots you first. His face shifts, the laugh settling into a smile that's more reserved but no less warm. "Y/N," he says. "You're back late."

"There was a lot of work to do." You slow your pace, your keys already in hand. "I wasn't expecting to see a lot of people today."

One of the strangers ; tall with sharp features and a casual slouch ; he steps forward, extending a hand. "Jay. I've heard about you."

"Good things, I hope."

"Debatable." The one next to him grins, softer, with eyes that crinkle at the corners. "I'm Heeseung. This is Sunghoon, and that's Jenna, his girlfriend."

Jenna waves from where she's tucked under Sunghoon's arm. She has a face that immediately puts you at ease, round and open and curious.

"We were about to have a drink," Jake announces. "You want to join?"

You hesitate. The exhaustion is tugging at your limbs, but the alternative is your empty apartment and the leftover convenience store chips you've been picking at for days. "Sure," you say. "Why not."

His apartment is the same as before, but with four extra bodies it feels smaller, more alive. Jay immediately claims the couch, sprawling like he owns it. Heeseung perches on the armrest. Sunghoon and Jenna take the floor, backs against the coffee table, and Jake gestures for you to take the single chair by the window.

"Drinks are in the kitchen," he says. "Help yourself."

You grab something from the fridge ; a cheap beer, nothing fancy ; and settle into the chair. The conversation flows around you, natural and unforced, as they talk about work and mutual friends and an inside joke about the shelter.

After two or three drinks, someone suggests a game. "Chug or dare," Jay announces, the glint in his eye makes you immediately suspicious. "You know the rules. Pick chug, you finish your drink. Pick dare, you do whatever we come up with. But you’re forbidden to back down."

"Really?" you say. "This is how you treat your guests?"

"Guests are the most fun," Heeseung says. "You're fresh meat."

Jake shoots them a warning look, veiled with exasperation. "You don't have to play. They're idiots."

"We’re not," Sunghoon protests. "Jake, it’s been years since we know each other. Don’t be surprised."

You look around the room. The faces watching you are expectant, amused, a little bit reckless. The knot in your chest loosens. "I’m in. I'm taking Jake down with me, though."

The first few rounds are tame. Heeseung chugs three times in a row and declares himself champion. Sunghoon dares Jay to do a handstand, which he fails spectacularly. Jenna picks dare and has to call her mom and tell her she loves her, which she does with zero hesitation and an extreme level of sincerity.

After that, the bottle lands on you. "Y/N," Jay says, rubbing his hands together. "Chug or dare?"

You weigh your options. Your drink is half-full. "Dare."

Jay leans forward, eyes glittering. "I dare you to tell us what you first thought when you saw Jake."

The room goes quiet. Jake's hand stops mid-reach for his bottle.

"That's not a dare," you say. "That's kind of embarrassing."

"It's the correct functionality of a dare." Heeseung is grinning now, too. "Answer the question."

You look at Jake. He's watching you with a curious expression.

"You want the honest answer?" you ask.

"Always."

"His nose." The words come out neutral. "I thought it was ridiculous how perfect it was. It’s like someone sculpted it. It's annoying, honestly."

A beat of silence. Then Jay doubles over, slapping his knee. Heeseung lets out a wheeze of a laugh. Sunghoon is covering his mouth, eyes wide. Jenna just shakes her head, grinning. Jake's face has gone slightly pink. He looks down at his bottle, then back at you, and his face softens. "That's not what I expected," he says.

"I had to be unpredictable."

The game continues. Jenna gets dared to chug and does it with ease. Sunghoon gets asked if he'd rather fight a bodybuilder or five horses, and he spends five minutes arguing the logistics. Heeseung picks chug three times in a row and is visibly struggling to stay upright, his ears turning bright pink.

It's Jake's turn. "Chug," he says immediately.

"Whoa, not too fast." Jay says. "You're not getting out of it that easy. I'm changing the rules. You have to pick dare."

"Since when can you change the rules?"

"Since I'm the one asking." Jay grins. "Dare : show us the most embarrassing thing on your phone."

Jake's eyes narrow. "I'm not doing that."

"Then you have to answer a question instead," Sunghoon offers. "From anyone in the room. You pick who."

Jake considers this. His gaze scans the room, passing over Jay and Heeseung, settling on you for a moment before moving to Jenna. "Jenna. Ask me anything."

Jenna tilts her head, thinking. "Why did you move back to this city?" The question lands differently than the others. The light atmosphere falters slightly. Jake's jaw tightens, and for a second you see an unguarded expression crossing his features.

"Personal reasons," he says. "I needed to be back here."

"That's vague," Heeseung notes.

"It's still an answer." Jake picks up his bottle. "I'm drinking now." He finishes his drink in one long swallow, and everyone lets it go.

The bottle spins again, lands on you. Jay's turn to ask. "Chug or dare?"

You're feeling the warmth of the alcohol now, loose and careless. "Dare."

"I dare you to kiss Jake."

The room goes dead quiet. You hear someone inhale sharply ; maybe Jenna or yourself. Jake's head snaps toward Jay, disbelief and uncertainty show on his features.

"Jay," he mumbles, his voice has an edge to it. "That's not—"

"Too late," Jay cuts him off. "She already picked. Rules are rules."

You look at Jake. He's sitting across from you, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his bottle dangling from his fingers. The light from the kitchen catches the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. That stupid, perfect nose. Lord, why would you make me cross paths with a guy that I obviously can’t have? He’s going to be fucking weirded out since I haven’t kiss a single soul in my entire life.

"I don't have to, right?" you say. "I can chug instead."

"You're not chugging." Jay's tone is firm. "That's not how the game works."

The silence lingers. Jake holds your gaze, his expression betraying him ; hesitation, or resolve masquerading as it. Whatever it is, it stays unspoken.

"Jake," you say, and your voice comes out steady. "What do you think?"

He studies you in silence for what feels like an eternity. Then he sets his bottle down with delicate care, rises, and slowly closes the distance between you. "Okay," he says lowly. "If you're okay with it."

You're not sure if you're okay with it. I mean, he’s hot for sure. You're lost right now, while his hand finds the back of your chair, he leans down, his breath is warm and smells faintly of beer. His lips brush your cheek. Soft, quick, almost unsure. It's not a kiss, not really ; it's the ghost of one, lingering just long enough to leave a hot mark. He straightens up and steps back. The room erupts into wolf-whistles and laughter.

"Cheater," Jay yells. "That's not a kiss."

"Mind you, those are my favorite kind." Jake says, and he's looking at you, not at Jay. You touch your cheek, where the warmth of his lips still lingers. Your face is burning, you're not sure if it's embarrassment or something else. "You're a coward," you say, your tone weak.

He smiles, slow and crooked. "You’re going to thank me later."

The game dissolves after that, the energy beginning to loosen, more rambling. Jenna falls asleep against Sunghoon's shoulder. Heeseung starts recounting a story about one of his high school exes. Jake moves to the floor, leaning against the couch, and you find yourself beside him, your shoulders almost touching. Your head starts to pound.

The game continues. The bottle spins, lands on Jay, then Heeseung, then Jenna. People chug or dare with increasing abandon, the alcohol loosening tongues and lowering inhibitions. Sunghoon admits he once cried while arguing with Jenna. You're on your fourth bottle, maybe your fifth. The edges of the room have gone soft and blurry, and you're laughing at something Heeseung said that you're not entirely sure was a joke. Your face feels warm, your limbs loose, and when you lean back against the couch, your shoulder brushes Jake's once again.

The bottle spins again to land on you. Jay's turn, because it's always Jay. "Y/N. Chug or dare?"

"Dare." You're feeling bold, the alcohol humming in your veins. Jay's grin is wicked. "I dare you to spend ten minutes locked in Jake's bedroom. Just the two of you, with no phones."

The room erupts. Sunghoon lets out a low whistle and Heeseung chuckles while nearly passing out on the couch.

Jake shifts beside you. "Okay, let’s stop here—"

"You cheated earlier," Jay cuts him off. "You’ll have to make up for that."

You glance at Jake. His expression gives nothing away, even though the tightness in his jaw wasn't there a moment ago. He watches you closely, waiting for your reaction.

"Ten minutes?" you say. "That's it?"

"That's it."

You stand, and the room tilts slightly. You steady yourself against the arm of the couch. "Fine."

Jake stands too, as hesitant as before. He leads you down the short hallway to his bedroom, and you hear the hoots and catcalls from the living room as the door clicks shut behind you.

The room is small and neat. A bed with rumpled sheets, a dresser with a lamp, a window overlooking the street. And on the nightstand, next to a half-empty glass of water, a photo frame turned face-down.

Jake leans against the door, arms crossed. "You don't have to do this. We can just sit here and wait it out."

"Where's the fun in that?" You're already wandering around, peering at books on the shelf, a guitar propped in the corner. Your eyes keep drifting back to the photo frame. You walk toward it, curiosity tugging at you. "What's this?"

Jake's body goes still. Before you can reach for it, he's there, his hand catching your wrist, turning you toward him. "No, please don’t," he says, and his voice is urgent.

"Why? Is it embarrassing?"

"Something like that."

You're close now, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, his pupils are dilated, there’s a slight sheen on his lower lip. The alcohol has made you bold and afraid of nothing.

"I want to see," you say.

He leans in for his lips find yours. The kiss is warm, lingering, carrying a soft urgency that feels almost like a plea. Even though you thought you had no experience in kissing, doing it with him nearly felt natural, as much as muscle memory. The world seems to melt around you. Your thoughts dissolve, and the photo frame slips from your mind as completely as if it had never been there. You stumble backward, your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and you fall onto the mattress, pulling him with you. He catches himself on his hands, hovering over you, but your legs are tangled and the momentum shifts and suddenly you're in his lap, straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips.

His hands find your waist, then slide down, settling on your butt. He squeezes, and you gasp against his mouth. He kisses you again, deeper and slower, his tongue brushing your lower lip. You arch into him, your fingers threading through his hair, and he groans, low and rough.

The kiss breaks for a moment, both of you breathing hard. He's looking up at you, his eyes pleading, his lips parted. "Y/N," he murmurs, your name sounds different in his mouth, sounding like it means something more.

You finally get the hang of it and you kiss him again. His hands tighten on your ass, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of him through both your clothes. The world outside this room fades into static.

Ten minutes pass. Even longer than that.

You feel him shift beneath you, his hips rolling upward in a slow motion, sending a jolt through your entire body. His hands are still firm on your backside, guiding you, and you follow the movement without thinking, your own hips tilting to meet his.

The kiss breaks just long enough for you to gasp, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your jaw, your neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you feel the low vibration of a sound that might be his voice or yours, you can't really tell anymore.

He grinds up into you again, and you feel the full heat of him through the denim, the friction of it making your head spin. Your breath is coming in short, uneven bursts, and his is the same ; harsh and ragged against your skin. His hands slide up from your backside to your waist, then back down, pulling you closer, harder, like he's trying to fuse you to him. You're not sure who moves first, but suddenly you're both lying back on the bed, him beneath you, your legs still straddling his hips, the kiss deepening into something messier. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip beneath, grazing the bare skin of your lower back, and you shiver.

Someone bangs at the door. Insistent knocks on the bedroom door. Heeseung's voice, muffled but audible. "Time's up! Ten minutes are over! You're not dead, are you?"

You both stop in your tracks. Your foreheads almost touching, your breath mingling in the small space between. He laughs from half-exasperation and half-relief. He drops his head back against the pillow, and you feel the tension in his shoulders subtly ease.

"Ignore him," he says while he's already loosening his grip on your waist, giving you space to pull back. You sit up, your thighs still bracketing his hips, and run a hand through your tangled hair. Your face is burning. Your lips feel swollen. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between you.

"We should—" you start, yet you don't know how to finish the sentence.

"Yeah." He's watching you from beneath half-lidded eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Heeseung bangs again. "I'm not leaving until you open the door! Jay's timing you!"

Jake groans without real frustration in it. He sits up slowly, his hands finding your waist and steadying you as you climb off his lap. You stand, smoothing down your shirt, and he gets to his feet, adjusting his jeans with casualness.

He opens the door.

Heeseung stands there, arms crossed, a triumphant grin on his face. "Took you long enough. What were you doing in there?"

Jake steps past him into the hallway. "Mind your own business."

You follow, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor, you catch Jenna's teasing glance and Jay's eyebrows have shot up past his hairline. You already have to resist the urge to hide behind Jake's shoulder.

"Drink," Heeseung says, shoving a fresh bottle into your hand. "You've earned it."

You take it carelessly. You stand there, feeling the phantom weight of Jake's hands on your waist, the lingering heat of his mouth on your neck. How the fuck am I going to face him after that?

Or any day after.

─────────

A week passes.

Seven days of routine, of work and sleep and the occasional text from Hanni about something absurd a resident did. You walk the same hallways, take the same elevator, pass the same doors. But you don't see Jake ; not in the corridor, not at the coffee shop and not on the street. It's like he's vanished into the walls of the building, existing only in the memory of that night ; the heat of his hands, the press of his mouth, and how your name rolled over his tongue in such a delicate way.

You tell yourself it doesn't matter, that it was just a game, just alcohol, just ten minutes in a locked room that somehow stretched into something you can't stop replaying. You tell yourself you're not looking for him when you walk past his door nor listening for his footsteps on the stairs.

You can’t even lie to yourself.

Jungwon arrives on Friday afternoon, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a grin that takes up half his face. He hugs you in the doorway, squeezing too tight, and you let him because you've missed him more than you realized.

"Damn. It’s smaller then I remember," he announces, dropping his bag on the floor. "Like, really small. How do you live here?"

"I manage."

"Barely, by the looks of it." He peers at the stack of boxes still in the corner, the ones you haven't touched since you moved in. "You haven't unpacked everything."

"I'm getting to it."

"Yeah, right."

The weekend unfolds. You take him to the park, to the coffee shop, to the elderly home to meet Hanni and Jacob and Mrs. Han. He charms everyone, that's what he does the best, and by the end of the first day he's already promised to visit again.

Sunday afternoon, you're walking back from the park, the sun warm on your shoulders. Jungwon is telling you about a girl in his sociology class, someone he's been dancing around for weeks, he met her that one mixer party, and you're listening with half your attention, the other half occupied by the streets and the weight of your keys in your pocket. You round the corner into your building's corridor.

No way.

Jake.

He's standing by his door, keys in hand, like he's just coming back from somewhere. He looks up as you approach, and for a moment, A subtle change passed over his face. His eyes lit with recognition, followed by a fleeting trace of relief that was quickly replaced by his usual impassive stance.

"Y/N," he says. "Hey."

"Hi."

Jungwon's gaze flickers between you, sharp and assessing. "You're Jake," he says, there's a weight to the words that makes you look at him. Jake's posture shifts, almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. And you're Jungwon."

"You remember me."

"I remember a lot of things." Jake's voice is calm, yet there's a tension in his jaw that wasn't there before. You look between them, suddenly aware that you're missing something. "You two already know each other. From before I moved in, right?"

"Briefly," Jungwon says, and the word is clipped. He turns to you, his expression softening. "Y/N, can you go inside? I want to talk to Jake for a minute."

"What? Why?"

"I—" He hesitates. "I'll explain later. Please."

You look at Jake. He's watching Jungwon with an expression you can't read, and when he meets your gaze, there's something almost apologetic in it.

"Please," Jungwon repeats.

You hesitate, the key in your hand feeling heavier than usual. Jungwon has never asked you for much, and the look on his face is earnest in a way you rarely see. "Fine," you say, and you don't miss the way both of them exhale just slightly. "You better tell me later."

You slip into your room and quietly shut the door behind you. Remaining still, you lean close until your ear rests against the wood, listening for the hushed conversation outside. Only faint murmurs reach you, too muffled to make out.

You stand in the middle of your apartment, staring at the closed door, your hand still resting on the handle. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant sound of traffic from the street. You count the seconds, then the minutes, your mind spinning through possibilities you can't figure out.

When the door finally opens, Jungwon steps inside and closes it behind him with a soft click. He doesn't meet your eyes immediately, and his shoulders are set in an unusual way ; the tension he carries when something is bothering him but he doesn't want to talk about it.

"Everything okay?" you ask.

He runs a hand through his hair, exhales slowly. "Yeah, it’s fine. It was—" He stops, shakes his head. "He's a little weird. That's all."

"Weird how?"

"I don't know." He shrugs too quickly. "It’s just the way he talks. He sounds like he knows more than he's saying. It's probably nothing."

You study him. His jaw is tight, and there's a crease between his brows that he's trying to smooth away. You've known him your whole life, or at least the parts you remember, and you can tell when he's holding something back. "Jungwon." You keep your voice level. "What did you talk about?"

He moves past you toward the kitchen, opens the fridge, and stares inside with focus. "I just wanted to get a read on him and make sure he's not some weirdo who's going to cause problems for you."

"And?"

"And he's not." He pulls out a bottle of water, twists off the cap to take a long drink. "He seems fine. Genuine, even. I just—" He pauses and sets the bottle down. "I don't know. There's something about him that feels familiar, and I can't figure out what it is."

Your stomach tightens. "Familiar how?"

"I don't know." He says it again, more frustrated this time. "It's probably nothing. I'm probably just being overprotective."

The unease that's lingered since the moment you saw the keychain resurfaces with renewed force. Jake's searching gaze keeps replaying in your mind, refusing to be ignored. Questions crowd your thoughts, but one look at Jungwon's guarded expression tells you this isn't the time to press him. You know he'd only withdraw further.

"Okay," you say. "If you say it's nothing."

"It's nothing." He meets your eyes, something in his gaze that's almost pleading. "Drop it, okay? For now."

You nod, even though every instinct is telling you not to. He relaxes for a bit, and the moment passes. Something is happening. Something you don't understand. And you're starting to think that the answers might not be as simple as you hoped.

─────────

As the door shuts behind Jungwon, the apartment returns to its usual calm. You stand quietly, replaying the fragments of a conversation you were never meant to hear. Whatever Jake said has stayed with him, but his expression is firmly closed off.

You wander into the living room, grab your phone and scroll through notifications. A news alert catches your eye ; an article about the sequel to that movie you've been waiting for, the one you've watched half a dozen times since you moved. Your stomach drops as you read the date. The premiere was last week. You missed it.

You're already moving toward the door before you fully decide to go. Your shorts are fine. The hoodie is fine. It's just a movie, and the theater is only a few blocks away. You don't bother changing or checking your reflection. You grab your keys and step into the hallway.

Jake is at the elevator, walking out as you're heading down. He stops when he sees you, his gaze traveling over your outfit, the urgency in your stride.

"Whoa," he says. "Where's the fire?"

"Movie." You're already past him, one hand on the buttons. "The sequel to that film I've been waiting for. I missed the premiere. I'm trying to catch a showing."

He watches you for a beat, then his hand lands lightly on your arm, stopping you. "Wait. Which movie?"

You tell him the title. His eyebrows lift.

"I like that one too," he says. "I actually have it. The original, I mean. On my laptop. I downloaded the sequel the day it came out."

You blink at him. "You downloaded it?"

"Yeah. I was going to watch it tonight, actually." He drops his hand and shoves it into his pocket. "If you want, you could watch it with me, at my place. Instead of running to the theater in shorts."

The simplicity of his offer makes it harder to dismiss. You think about the movie theater and everything that comes with it, but those thoughts are quickly overshadowed by the past week without him, the lingering uncertainty between you, and the rush of your heartbeat. "That's not weird?" you ask. "Watching a movie with your neighbor you haven't talked to in a week?"

He shrugs, a small smile playing at his mouth. "It's a good movie. And I promise I won't talk during the quiet parts."

You consider it. The hallway is dark, the evening light filtering through the window at the end. He's standing there, patient, and waiting for your answer.

"Okay," you say. "I don’t want to share my snacks, though."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You follow him to his door, your footsteps echoing in the hallway. His apartment is just as you remember it ; the guitar, the books, the soft warm lights. He gestures toward the couch while he grabs his laptop from the coffee table and plugs it to the TV. You settle into the cushions, pulling your knees up, the hoodie swallowing you. The screen lights up, the opening credits rolling. He sits at the other end of the couch, a respectful distance between you, and hits play.

The movie plays on, but neither of you is really watching anymore. The scenes blur into background noise, punctuated by your shared laughter at a line you both find cliché, a character you both hate, a moment that still makes you cringe after all these years. Between scenes, you talk ; about the original movie, about other films, about nothing at all ; and the space between you shrinks with each exchange.

You barely register the moment his arm comes to rest along the back of the couch. The small brush of his fingertips against your shoulder goes unnoticed too. It's only when his hand settles there, warm and reassuring, his thumb lazily drawing slow circles over your hoodie, that you become aware of just how close he is. The blanket is draped over both of you, a thin barrier against the cool air of the apartment. His other hand slips beneath it, finding your thigh, resting there with a casualness that feels anything but like it. You lean into him, your head drifting toward his shoulder, the conversation fading into comfortable silence.

The movie continues, although you can feel your eyes becoming heavy. The warmth of his hand on your thigh, the rhythm of his breathing, the low murmur of dialogue from the TV ; it all blends into a haze of contentment. Your eyelids droop, flutter, close.

"Y/N." His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "You're falling asleep."

"Mmm." You don't open your eyes. "I know."

"Do you want to go back?"

The room stays quiet as his words linger. Beyond the door waits a dark hallway, an empty apartment, and a bed that has already gone cold. The image settles over you like a burden, leaving you with little desire to leave.

"I don't want to move," you murmur, the words slurred with sleep.

He's quiet for a moment before he decides to speak. "You could stay here if you want. I have an extra blanket, or—" He pauses. "The bed's big enough."

You lift your head, blinking at him. His face is so close, his eyes soft in the low light of the screen. There's no expectation in his expression, no pressure. It’s an offer.

"Okay," you say.

He stands, extends a hand, and pulls you gently to your feet. You both walk shortly to his bedroom. He pulls back the covers, and you slip in, the mattress dipping under your weight. He climbs in behind you, his arm finding your waist, pulling you close. His chest presses against your back, his legs tangling with yours, and you feel his breath warm against the curve of your neck.

"You smell so good," he murmurs, the words a low vibration against your skin.

You laugh, low and drowsy. "I haven't showered."

"Don't care." His nose brushes your hairline. "You always smell good."

His arm tightens around you, his hand splayed across your stomach. His lips press a soft, absent kiss to your shoulder, then another, barely there. "Your skin is so soft too," he confies, you can hear the smile in his voice. "I wanted to tell you that before. When you got out of the shower at my place, that first time. But I didn't want to be weird."

"You're being weird now," you mumble, but you're smiling too.

"Keep acting like you don’t like it." He nuzzles into your neck. "I'm okay with it."

You feel his hand slide from your stomach to your hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against the bone. His breath evens out, his body relaxing behind you, and you feel yourself sinking into the warmth of him.

"Jake," you say, barely audible.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for letting me stay."

He squeezes you gently, his lips pressing against your hair. "Anytime, Y/N."

Curled against his chest, you slowly surrender to sleep. His arm remains securely around you, its warmth grounding you until the last of your thoughts dissolve.

─────────

The sunlight filters through the curtains, and you blink awake slowly, your mind still thick with sleep. The bed is warm, the sheets tangled around your legs, however, the space beside you is empty. You reach out, your hand finding only cool fabric.

You lie there for a moment, orienting yourself. Jake's room. Jake's bed. The events of the night before trickle back in fragments. You check your phone on the nightstand. Saturday, 9:47 AM. Two days off stretching ahead of you, unplanned and open. You pad out of the bedroom, still in the oversized hoodie you wore last night, your hair a mess and your eyes half-opened. The smell of coffee hits you brutally. Jake is standing at the kitchen counter, a mug in one hand, his phone in the other. He's in a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his hair still sleep-tousled, and he looks up when he hears your footsteps.

"Morning," he says, his voice so soft and reassuring. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked comfortable."

"You're still here," you say, your voice scratchy. "Don't you have work?"

He shakes his head. "Day off. I figured I'd take it easy."

You close the distance without giving yourself time to hesitate. Slipping your arms around his waist from behind, you rest your cheek between his shoulder blades. Warmth radiates through him, and you feel his entire body go still beneath your embrace. He stays still. His breath barely catches, and you feel the tension ripple through his shoulders. After that, his hand comes down to rest over yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.

"Y/N," he says, and his voice is rougher than before. "You're going to make me drop my coffee."

"Put it down, then."

He does as you say. You hear the mug clink against the counter, and then he's turning in your arms, his hands finding your waist, his face close to yours. A flush is creeping up his neck, pink and noticeable, the sight of it makes thousands of sparks flicker in your stomach.

"You're blushing." you observe.

"I’m not," he says, his ears are red now, and he's not meeting your eyes. "I just wasn't expecting a hug. First thing in the morning. From someone who—" He stops, clears his throat. "Never mind."

"From someone who what?"

He finally looks at you, vulnerability filling his gaze completely. "From someone I really didn't want to wake up alone."

Words fail you, so you simply stay where you are. He pulls you into him, holding you with gentleness before resting his forehead against the top of your head. As he breathes in deeply, the strain he'd been carrying begins to slip away.

"Your hair smells like my shampoo," he mumbles into your hair.

"Your shampoo smells good."

"It's just generic stuff from the convenience store."

"Still smells good."

He laughs, soft and warm, and his arms tighten around you. "That sounded stupid, doesn’t it?"

You smile and chuckle against his chest. "A little bit."

You only eat eggs, toasts and drink coffee, but it feels like more than that. You sit across from him at his small kitchen table, the soft light of the sun landing on his face, and the conversation flows easily between bites.

He tells you about the shelter and problems that he had when he took care of a dog for the first time, and you do the same.

"It's a good job," you say, stirring your coffee. "Exhausting, but good. They make me laugh sometimes."

"They sound like characters."

"They are." You pause, watching him over the rim of your mug. "Can I ask you something personal?"

He looks up, a hint of wariness in his eyes, but he nods. "Sure."

"Why did you move back here? You said that night at the game—personal reasons. But you didn't elaborate."

He's quiet for a moment, his fork hovering over his plate. "I had some things to figure out," he says slowly. "Things I couldn't figure out anywhere else."

"Like what?"

He meets your gaze, something you can’t quite read passes across his face. "Like whether some things are worth coming back for."

The answer is vague and careful, yet there's a weight to it that makes you not want to know more about it. So you don't.

"Your turn," you say instead. "You can ask me anything."

He sets down his fork, considering. "What made you choose this city? Out of all the places you could have gone."

You look down at your coffee. The steam rises in slow spirals. "I used to live here. Before the accident." You say it matter-of-factly, you've learned to say it over the past year. "I don't remember it, but something about it felt right. Like I was supposed to come back."

"The accident," he repeats, and his voice is measured now. "You've mentioned it before. The memory loss."

"Yeah." You wrap your hands around the mug, let the warmth seep into your palms. "Three years. Just gone. I woke up in the hospital and suddenly I was 22, and I didn't remember being 21, 20 and even 19. My brother had to tell me who I was friends with, where I'd worked, what I'd done." You pause. "It's strange. Knowing there's a version of yourself out there that you'll never meet."

Jake is watching you intently, his breakfast forgotten. "That must have been hard," he says quietly.

"It was. Still is, sometimes. There are things I know I'm supposed to remember—people, places, moments—and I just can't access them. It’s like a locked door I don't have the key to."

He's silent for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is softer than before. "Do you ever feel like you're close to remembering? Or that something triggers it?"

You consider the question. "Sometimes it’s little things. A smell, a song, or an object." You think of the keychain, the one that matches his. "But it never sticks. It's just—there and it’s gone."

He nods slowly.

"Sorry," you say. "That got heavy."

"Don't apologize." He reaches across the table, his hand covering yours. "Thank you for telling me."

You look at his hand on yours, warm and soft. "Your turn," you say, trying to lighten the mood. "Ask me something else."

He thinks for a moment. "What's your favorite thing about this city? Now that you're back."

You smile, the tension easing. "The coffee shop on the corner. They have terrible pastries but really good lattes."

He laughs, and the sound fills the kitchen. "I'll have to try it sometime."

"Maybe I'll take you." The words come out before you can stop them, and you feel a flush creep up your neck.

He squeezes your hand. "I'd like that."

The morning stretches into a lazy afternoon. You've migrated to the couch, your phone in one hand, scrolling through nothing in particular. Jake is stretched out beside you, his head resting on your thigh like it belongs there, his own phone held above his face. The weight of him is warm and familiar now, and you've stopped overthinking how his hair brushes against your bare knee.

He's quiet, focused on whatever he's reading, his thumb occasionally swiping. You're half-watching a video on your own screen, the sound muted, when you feel his body shift. A pause. His thumb stops moving.

Then his free hand moves, quick and unexpected, his fingers finding the spot just above your knee. He digs in lightly, and you jolt, your phone nearly slipping from your grip.

"Jake!" Your voice comes out loud, a mix of surprise and laughter. "What are you doing?"

He grins, an unapologetic grin, and his fingers keep moving, dancing along the sensitive skin of your thigh. You try to twist away, but his head is still heavy on your lap, pinning you in place, and he's using his other hand to trap your leg.

"Stop—" You're laughing, breathless, trying to grab his wrist. "I'm serious—"

"Are you?" His voice is teasing and low. His fingers find your ribs, and you arch, a helpless sound escaping you.

"You're the fucking worst." You manage to grab his hand, but he's stronger, and he uses the momentum to roll slightly, shifting so he can reach your side. The tickling intensifies, and you're squirming, your free hand batting at his shoulder.

"Say I'm the best," he says, his voice muffled against your stomach.

"Never."

He doubles down, and you dissolve into helpless laughter, your phone clattering onto the floor. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Okay—okay—you're the best." The words come out in a wheeze. "You're the best, Jake. I surrender."

He stops, his hand stilling, still he doesn't move away. His face is close now, hovering over you, his eyes bright with amusement and softness beneath.

"That was easy," he says.

"Fuck you."

"You wouldn't," He settles back down, and you slap his arm for the comment. His head finding your lap again, his hand resting loosely on your knee. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you next time."

You pick up your phone with your heart is still racing, and you can feel the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of your shorts.

A random movie starts on the laptop screen, playing as background noise to fill the silence. You're sitting on the floor between Jake's legs, your back against the couch, your head tilted back slightly as his fingers work through your hair. He's been at it for a while now, separating strands, twisting them together, muttering under his breath when they slip apart.

"Like this?" he asks, his voice close to your ear.

"Tighter," you say. "You're not pulling enough."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Just—here." You reach up, your hand finding his, guiding his fingers to the right section. "Hold that one. Now cross it over the middle. Yes, like that."

He follows your instructions with concentration and that makes you smile. His fingers are careful, delicate, and you feel the gentle tug as he works through a tangle.

"You've done this before, no?" you say.

"Never. I'm just naturally talented."

You snort. "We'll see about that."

Another minute passes. He's quiet, too focused, and you can feel the slight movement of his hands as he continues his work. You're both lost in the small intimacy of the moment.

"Okay," he says finally. "I think I got it."

You reach up, your fingers brushing against the braid he's made. It's lopsided, uneven, with strands sticking out at odd angles. You tug at it gently, and a section comes loose.

"It's bad," you say, and you can hear the laughter in your own voice.

He lets out a mock-offended sound. "I spent ten minutes on that."

"Ten minutes and this is what I get?"

"I'm a beginner. Tell me I’m doing good. Please."

You turn your head to look up at him. He's pouting weakly, his bottom lip pushed out, his eyes looking down with exaggerated hurt.

"Okay," you relent. "You did great."

His expression shifts instantly, the pout melting into a pleased smile. "Really?"

"For a first try. It's not completely terrible."

"High praise." His hand finds your shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'll take it."

You settle back against the couch, your head still tilted to look at him. He's looking down at you, his gaze soft, unguarded, letting you see something he usually keeps hidden.

"These past few days," he says, his voice quieter now. "They've been—I don't know. I've been comfortable. More than I have in a while."

"You're not going to get all sentimental on me, are you?"

He laughs, low and warm. "Maybe a little. Is that okay?"

You wait and watch him, the light catches his eyes, the slight curve of his mouth. The air between you feels heavier now. He leans forward, his face hovering above yours, and you feel a pull ; something that tugs at the edges of your memory. The feeling is fleeting, gone before you can grasp it, yet it leaves a warmth in its wake.

"Y/N," he says, your name sounds different on his lips.

Suddenly, his mouth is on yours, gentle and upside down, his lips soft against your own. You lean into him, your hand reaching up to cup his jaw, and the kiss deepens. His fingers thread through your hair, careful not to pull the messy braid loose, and you tilt your head further to meet him. The angle is awkward, the position of him behind you and you below making it clumsy, but you don't want to stop.

When he finally pulls back, his face above yours by an inch, his breath is uneven.

"You’re so pretty that it hurts," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could handle a little pain, though."

"You don't look bad yourself." You chuckle softly, close your eyes and let yourself feel it ; the warmth of him, the pace of his heart against your back, the small certainty that this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Now, the movie has ended, the credits scrolling silently across the screen. Silence remains in the living room. You've shifted positions, no longer on the floor but curled together on the couch, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. His legs bracket yours, and your head rests in the crook of his neck, the warmth of him seeping through your t-shirt.

His lips find your temple first, light and sweet, a barely-there press of skin against skin. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your eye. Each kiss is soft, as he's memorizing the geography of your face. You feel the slight stubble on his jaw brush against you.

"Are you still going to kiss every inch of my face?" you murmur, your eyes closed.

"Every single one." He punctuates the words with another kiss, this one on the bridge of your nose. "I have a list. It's very thorough."

You laugh, tired and content, and his arms tighten around you. His lips trail down to your jaw, then your chin, then the spot just below your ear.

"Getting distracted?" you ask.

"Completely." Another kiss, this one on your neck. "This is your fault for being here."

"I didn't do anything."

"You’re existing right now, so deal with the consequences."

You tilt your head back, giving him more access, and he takes the invitation, his mouth trailing along the curve of your throat. His kisses are still gentle, almost reverent, but they linger a little longer now.

His fingers find your hand, lace through yours, squeeze once. You feel the weight of his lips on your shoulder, your collarbone, the soft skin just above the neckline of your hoodie. Then back up, retracing the path, pausing at your cheek again.

"You're very thorough," you manage, your voice dreamy.

"I told you. I'm a man of my word."

He presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth, soft and sweet, and then settles his chin on the top of your head, his arms still wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear.

You don’t want to move. The afternoon light has shifted, growing gold, and the room feels suspended in a bubble of warmth and intimacy.

"Jake," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For today. For all of it."

He presses his lips to your hair, a silent reply, and you feel his smile against the strands. The last kiss lingers, right against your hair, and then you tilt your head up, catching his mouth with yours. It's not the upside-down kiss from before, this one is direct and utterly intentional, your lips finding his with unexpected certainty. He responds immediately, his hand cupping your jaw, angling you toward him.

You feel his other hand slide from your shoulder down your side, settling on your hip. You shift, twisting in his arms, and before you know it, you're turning to face him properly. Your knees find the cushion on either side of his thighs, and you settle into his lap, straddling him, your chest pressed against his.

His hands find your waist immediately, gripping you through the fabric of your t-shirt, his fingers splaying across the curve of your hips. He pulls you closer, and you feel the strong warmth of him beneath you, his breath hitches slightly as you settle your weight against him.

"You're going to make it hard to stop." he murmurs against your lips while he's smiling.

"That’s too bad." you whisper back, you could feel the vibration of his laugh.

─────────

It’s been an hour. You’re still straddling Jake, your knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips as your mouths move together in a heated, urgent kiss. His lips are warm and demanding, although there’s a delicious clumsiness to the way he kisses you ; teeth grazing a little too eagerly, his tongue sliding against yours with more hunger than precision. He’s so turned on he can barely focus, and it shows in every shaky breath and muffled sound.

His large hands slide down your back and grip your ass firmly now, fingers digging into the soft flesh with possessive strength. He squeezes and fondles you without restraint, kneading your cheeks as he pulls you harder against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. A low throaty moan echoes from his chest into your mouth, raw and needy, sending a rush of heat straight through you.

He breaks the kiss for half a second to gasp for air, forehead lightly pressed to yours, before diving back in even sloppier than before ; lips wet, tongue eager, hands still greedily massaging and spreading your ass as he rocks you against him. His grip is tight enough to leave marks, but the way he groans your name between kisses makes it impossible to care.

You pull back to catch your breath, your hands resting on his chest as you look down at him with flushed cheeks. His eyes are veiled with want, lips slightly swollen from the messy kiss, and his hands are still firmly anchored to your ass, unwilling to let go.

“Sorry,” you whisper, voice a little shaky. “If I’m bad at this…it’s my first time doing any of it, really.”

Jake blinks up at you, his breath still ragged. For a moment his grip on your ass loosens slightly, but then he squeezes again, almost reassuringly. A soft surprised chuckle escapes him before he leans in and presses a gentler kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky and sincere. “I’ve never gotten past a kiss either. So…we’re both figuring this out.”

He pulls you closer again, one hand sliding up your back while the other stays possessively on your ass, and kisses you slower now ; still clumsy with need, still moaning softly into your mouth, but now with a shared nervousness that somehow makes everything feel even hotter.

You smile softly against his lips at his confession, a warm flutter of relief mixing with the heat in your belly. Boldness comes through you, you slide one hand down his chest, slowly tracing the ridges of his abs through the thin fabric of his shirt. Your fingertips press lightly, exploring the firm muscle beneath, and Jake’s entire body jolts under you.

He gasps sharply into your mouth, hips twitching upward as a shiver runs through him. He’s incredibly sensitive there ; every slow drag of your fingers makes his muscles tense and twitch. Another involuntary moan slips out of him, breathier than before.

“S-sorry,” he blurts out by reflex, cheeks burning as he pulls back just an inch, eyes half-lidded and embarrassed. His hands tighten on your ass again, almost like he’s grounding himself. “I’m just…really sensitive. Fuck, that feels good.”

He leans in quickly to kiss you again, clumsier now from the rush of sensation, his abs contracting under your exploring touch as he rocks you gently against him, clearly fighting the urge to apologize a second time.

You keep tracing his abs, feeling them flex and twitch under your fingertips, when his breathing grows even heavier. His hands squeeze your ass one last time before sliding up to your hips. He leans in close, lips brushing your ear as he whispers softly, voice rough with arousal.

“Take your panties off for me…please?”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you. You hesitate, suddenly shy, cheeks burning as you bite your lip and glance away. Jake notices immediately. A small affectionate smirk tugs at his lips despite how flustered he is.

“What’s wrong?” he teases gently, voice playful, his fingers tracing slow circles on your hips. “Don’t get all shy on me now…I’m dying here.”

You swallow hard, heart racing, but the way he’s looking at you ; equal parts desperate and sweet ; makes you brave. Instead of taking them off completely, you reach the hem of your shorts and throw them next to the couch, hook your fingers into the side of your panties, and push the damp fabric aside, exposing yourself to him.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, voice barely audible.

Jake’s eyes widen slightly. He nods slowly, one hand sliding from your hip down between your bodies. His middle finger gently traces along your slick folds, testing, before he slowly pushes it inside you ; careful, inch by inch, watching your face the whole time to make sure it’s okay. His breath catches at how warm and wet you feel around his finger, and he lets out a shaky moan, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck…is this alright?” he murmurs, voice trembling with restraint as he holds still, letting you adjust.

You let out a shaky breath, hips shifting slightly against his hand as his finger moves inside you.

“That feels good,” you whisper, voice breathy and honest. “Really good…”

Jake’s eyes light up with relief and hunger. Encouraged, he slowly pulls his middle finger back, then carefully pushes two fingers in this time ; his middle and ring finger ; stretching you more. He’s clumsy about it, his movements a little uncoordinated from how turned on he is, but the gentle pressure feels incredible as he works them deeper.

He starts to pump them slowly, trying to find a rhythm, when suddenly his breath hitches.

“Wait—” he says quickly, almost like he remembered something.

Before you can respond, he curls his fingers upward, searching. The moment he hits that sensitive spot inside you, a loud, involuntary moan escapes your lips, loud and needy. Your thighs tremble around him as pleasure jolts through your body.

His face flushes deeper, a proud but clumsy grin breaking across his face even as he keeps awkwardly pumping and curling his fingers, trying to do it again. His free hand grips your ass tightly for balance, his own breathing ragged and uneven while he watches you react, completely lost in how you sound and feel.

You’re still trembling from the sudden rush of pleasure when he slows his fingers, keeping them buried inside you. He looks up at you with those wide, needy eyes, his cheeks flushed and his breathing ragged.

“Tell me I’m doing good…” he whispers, voice deep and a little vulnerable as he searches your face. “Please?”

You cup his face gently in both hands, thumbs brushing over his warm cheeks. Leaning down, you kiss him softly, tenderly, your lips lingering against his for a long moment. When you pull back just enough to speak, you gaze softens.

“You’re being so good to me,” you murmur. “It feels really good, Jake…keep going.”

A relieved moan slips from him at your words. His eyes flutter half-closed, and he presses into your touch like he’s starving for the praise. His fingers start moving again ; still a little clumsy and eager ; pumping slowly in and out while curling every few strokes to hit that spot that make you squirm. His free hand squeezes your ass tighter, pulling you closer as he kisses you back, messy and grateful.

You keep kissing him, slow and sweet, when Jake suddenly pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound that makes you both blush. He shifts underneath you, breathing hard, and hurriedly works open his jeans.

“I need to feel you more,” he mutters, voice thick with desperation.

He lifts his hips and shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out, hard and throbbing, already leaking at the tip. You barely get a look at it before he pulls you back down onto his lap, lining you up so your bare, soaked pussy presses directly against his length. You start moving again, grinding with your panties still pushed to the side. The hot, velvety shaft of his cock slides perfectly between your slick folds, the head bumping against your clit with every roll of your hips. Jake groans loudly, head falling back against the couch as his hands return to grip your ass, guiding you faster.

“Fuck…you feel so good,” he moans, clumsy and desperate. He’s getting impossibly harder beneath you, his dick twitching and throbbing with every grind. His hips jerk up to meet yours, uncoordinated and eager, making wet sounds every time your slick heat drags along his entire length.

He looks completely wrecked already ; lips parted, eyes hazy with desire, fingers digging into your ass as he rocks you harder against him, chasing more of that delicious friction. You keep grinding against him, the slick sounds growing louder as both of you get messier. Your panties are completely soaked, the fabric clinging wetly to your folds, and his boxers ; now bunched around his thighs ; are dark with your arousal too.

Jake lets out a frustrated groan and lifts you just enough to shove his boxers the rest of the way down his legs, kicking them off. He reaches into his pocket, tears open a condom with shaky hands, and rolls it on quickly, his cock twitching hard as he does. You move to slide your panties down, but he catches your wrists gently, stopping you.

“Wait—” he breathes, voice hoarse. His eyes drop to where your soaked panties are still pushed to the side, the pretty fabric framing your glistening pussy. “Don’t take them off. They’re too pretty on you like this…looks so fucking hot.”

He pulls you back down onto him, guiding the head of his cock to nudge against your entrance through the shifted fabric. His hands return to your ass, squeezing firmly as he looks up at you with doe, desperate eyes, clearly waiting for you to take the next step while his throbbing length presses impatiently against your heat.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and slowly sink down onto him, taking every inch of his cock inside your tight, soaked heat. The stretch is intense, making you gasp and pause halfway before you breathe through it and slide all the way down until your hips meet his. Jake’s head falls back with a deep, broken moan, his fingers digging hard into your ass.

But after a few seconds, the latex feels uncomfortable and distant. You lift yourself off him, quickly peel the condom away, and sink back down onto his bare cock before he can protest. The raw heat of him makes you both moan.

His eyes fly open in panic. “Wait—fuck—baby—” he stammers, hands gripping your waist tightly as his cock throbs hard inside you. His face is flushed with alarm even as pleasure clouds his expression.

You can’t help but laugh softly at his wide-eyed reaction, the sound breathy and fond. “It’s okay,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss him.

You start moving ; not bouncing, but grinding slowly in deep circles with him fully buried inside you. The pressure against that sensitive spot makes you whimper, but it completely wrecks Jake. He moans loudly, the sound raw and uncontrolled, his whole body tensing beneath you.

Suddenly, his hands clamp around your waist and he lifts you straight up, pulling out of you with a wet pop. You blink in confusion, hovering above him as his cock twitches angrily in the open air, slick with your juices.

“I was about to cum,” he pants, voice strained and embarrassed. “You’re too warm and tight…and I’m really sensitive right now. Fuck, I almost didn’t stop in time.”

He looks up at you, chest heaving, cheeks burning red as he tries to catch his breath, still holding you suspended above his lap.

You hover above him for a moment, still catching your breath, then bite your lip shyly and whisper, “It’s okay…if it happens and you cum inside me, I can take the morning after pill.”

Jake looks up at you, eyes glassy from the pleasure, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. He swallows hard, then nods, his hands gently squeezing your waist. “Okay…but I’ll still try to be careful,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to mess this up for you.”

You smile softly at his sweetness and slowly sink back down onto his bare cock, taking him all the way inside again with a soft gasp. Once he’s fully buried, you resume grinding on him in deep circles, your soaked pussy clenching around his thick length.

He groans loudly, his head tipping back for a second before he looks down to where your bodies are joined. His hands slide firmly onto your hips, fingers digging in as he starts guiding you harder against him. He pulls and pushes you in longer, more insistent grinds, forcing your clit to rub against the base of his cock with every roll.

Sloppy sounds fill the room as your soaked folds slide back and forth along his shaft. The harder he makes you grind, the louder the sounds get, your arousal coating him completely. Jake’s moans turn ragged and desirous, his abs flexing under your hands while he stares at the way your pretty panties, still pushed aside, frame your pussy taking every inch of him.

You keep grinding on him, the wet sounds growing filthier with every roll of your hips, when Jake suddenly sits up straighter. One of his hands slides up your back, pulling you closer as his mouth finds your neck.

He starts licking and kissing the sensitive skin there, sucking gently at first, then harder, while his hips snap upward. He shifts from letting you grind to actively pounding into you, thrusting deep and fast from below. Each rough stroke makes you whimper, your fingers clutching his shoulders as pleasure spikes through you.

“I’m sorry—” he whispers hotly against your neck, voice strained and weak between open-mouthed kisses. His thrusts grow erratic, sloppy, and frantic. “Fuck, I’m so sorry…I’m gonna cum inside you.”

His grip on your hips tightens almost painfully as he buries himself as deep as he can, moaning loudly into your neck while his cock throbs hard inside your tight heat. His body trembles beneath you, clearly fighting it for only a second longer before he loses control.

You cry out as the intense rhythm pushes you over the edge right along with him. Your orgasm crashes through you hard, walls clenching and fluttering wildly around his cock as waves of pleasure rip through your body. At the same moment, Jake groans deeply into your neck and starts cumming, pulsing hot and thick inside you with every thrust.

Still trembling and moaning from your climax, you gasp out quickly, “Finger me—please—”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He lifts you off his cock with a wet sound, lays you back on the couch, and slides two fingers deep into your dripping pussy. He keeps them buried inside you, pumping slowly and softly, curling them gently against that sensitive spot while his thumb rests lightly on your clit.

“Fuck—that’s it,” he whispers soothingly against your ear, voice gentle even as he’s still catching his breath. “You’re doing so good. Let it all out for me.”

His fingers move in slow strokes, drawing out every last pulse of your orgasm as he kisses your neck and jaw. “So pretty when you cum…keep squeezing around my fingers, baby. I’ve got you.”

He stays close, murmuring soft praises while his fingers continue their gentle rhythm inside your soaked heat, helping you ride through the aftershocks.

An hour later, you’re sprawled on the couch with your legs spread wide, one draped lazily over the armrest. Jake kneels between your thighs, his hands resting on your inner thighs to keep you open.

He starts with broad strokes of his tongue, licking up and down your slick pussy, tasting the mess you two made earlier. Then he dives in deeper, pressing his whole mouth against you and kissing your folds like he’s making out with them ; soft, wet, hungry kisses that make filthy sounds echo in the living room.

A deep moan escapes you as his tongue swirls around your clit.

Jake pulls back just enough to grin up at you, lips glistening. “Hey, you gotta be quiet,” he teases in a joking tone, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can’t hear the TV show if you’re moaning like that. Rude.”

You try to focus on the screen, but the pleasure is making you sleepy and relaxed. Your eyelids start to flutter, growing heavier as you sink deeper into the couch.

Without warning, Jake tightens his grip on your thighs and thrusts his tongue straight into your pussy, fucking you with it in deep, firm strokes. Your eyes snap open with a sharp gasp, hips twitching against his face as the sudden intensity jolts you awake.

He pulls back for a second, smirking. “There you go. Can’t have you falling asleep on me already,” he murmurs playfully, before diving right back in, tongue thrusting into you again while his nose nudges your clit.

His hands hold you firmly in place as he eats you out with renewed energy, clearly determined to keep you wide awake and moaning.

You can’t hold back anymore.

The steady thrust of Jake’s tongue inside you, combined with the way his nose keeps rubbing against your swollen clit, pushes you straight over the edge. Your second orgasm hits hard and fast. Your thighs clamp around his head as you cry out, back arching off the couch while waves of pleasure crash through you.

While you’re still cumming, he quickly pulls his tongue out and replaces it with two fingers, sliding them deep into your clenching pussy. He curls them gently against that sensitive spot, pumping them slowly and steadily to draw out your orgasm even longer.

“That’s it…cum on my fingers again, baby,” he murmurs against your thigh, voice low and husky as he watches you fall apart. “Fuck, you’re squeezing so tight.”

He keeps fingering you through every pulse and shudder, soft and deep, never rushing. His thumb moves up to circle your clit lazily, prolonging the pleasure until your moans turn into breathy whimpers and your body finally starts to relax.

Even then, he doesn’t pull his fingers out right away. He leaves them buried inside your warm, fluttering heat, gently stroking your walls while he kisses the inside of your thigh, looking up at you with a satisfied, slightly smug smile.

─────────

Both of you cuddling in his bed, and sleep finally gets to you. You're both tangled in his sheets, limbs intertwined, the warmth of his body a grounding presence against your back. His arm is draped over your waist, his breath slow and even against your neck, and you can feel the occasional press of his lips against your shoulder ; delicate, absent, as he's kissing you even in his sleep.

You should be content and you are content. Nevertheless, there's a dull ache beginning to throb behind your eyes, a persistent pressure that makes you wince when you shift against the pillow.

"Jake," you murmur, your voice rough. "I have a headache."

He stirs behind you, his arm tightening around your waist. "Mmm?"

"A headache. Do you have any painkillers?"

He blinks, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Bathroom cabinet on the top shelf. There's a bottle."

You start to untangle yourself, but his arm holds you for a moment longer, pulling you back against him. "Don't go," he mumbles, his nose brushing your ear.

"I'll be right back." You press a kiss to his knuckles, and he loosens his grip.

You pad out of the bedroom, the cool air of the apartment raising goosebumps on your bare skin. You grab the shirt he'd left on the floor ; his shirt, the one he'd worn earlier ; and pull it over your head. It falls to your thighs, soft and worn, and you feel a small thrill at the intimacy of it.

The bathroom is as small as you could remember the last time you took a shower, the light harsh when you flick it on. You find the painkillers easily, shake two into your palm, and turn to get water.

You pause.

The drawer next to the sink is slightly open, just a crack, and something inside catches your eye. You don't know why you reach for it. Curiosity, maybe. The same instinct that made you want to see the photo frame by his bed.

You pull it open.

The drawer is filled with photographs ; loose, some curled at the edges, same as snapshots you'd find in a shoebox under a bed. But these aren't random. You recognize the faces.

Your face. And Jake's face.

Both of you, younger. His hair is different, shorter, but the smile is the same. Your hair is shorter too, your eyes brighter, and you're pressed together like you've known each other for years. In another, you're at a café, holding up coffee cups, laughing at something off-camera. In another, you're in a park, your head on his shoulder, his arm around you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Your hands are shaking. You dig deeper, pulling out more photos. One with your parents. Your mother's arm around you, your father's hand on Jake's shoulder, and the four of you are smiling at the camera like a family.

Another with Jungwon. He's younger, his face rounder, and he's giving a thumbs-up while Jake ruffles his hair.

You drop the photos. They scatter across the floor, and you stumble back, your back hitting the bathroom wall.

This doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. You don't remember any of this. You've never seen these photos before in your life. But your face is there, your smile, your eyes. And Jake is there too, always beside you, he's always been part of the picture.

The memory loss. The three years.

You feel the world tilt beneath you, the edges of your vision going fuzzy. The photos on the floor stare up at you, silent and damning.

"Y/N?"

Jake's voice. He's at the doorway, his eyes still sleep-soft, and he's holding a glass of water. He takes one step into the bathroom, then stops. His gaze drops to the photos scattered around your feet.

The glass slips from his fingers. It shatters against the tile, water spreading in a river across the floor.

"Y/N," he says again, and his voice is different now, sounding afraid.

You look at him. At the face you've come to know over these past weeks. The face you've kissed, laughed with, let hold you. The face that has been hiding everything from you.

"You knew me?" you say, and your voice comes out flat, hollow. "You knew me before?"

He doesn't answer as the look on his face says it all.

"All this time," you continue, the words spilling out now, unstoppable. "You knew everything. You knew me. You knew me and you didn't say anything."

"I was going to tell you." His voice is low. "I was trying to find the right time. I didn't want to scare you—"

"Scare me?" A broken laugh escapes you. "I've been living in a fog for a year. I've been trying to piece together who I am, and you—you've been standing right there, holding all the pieces, and you didn't tell me."

The rain starts outside, a sudden downpour that hammers against the window. You don't remember putting on his clothes, but you're moving now, past him, through the apartment, toward the door. He calls your name without you turning back.

You barge into the hallway. The stairs are a blur beneath your feet. You burst out into the rain, and it hits you like a wall ; cold, merciless, soaking through the shirt, your hair and your skin.

You don't know where you're going, and you know you can't be near him, nor look at his face and see the truth you were too blind to notice.

The street is empty, the rain turning the pavement into a river. You walk, then run, your bare feet slapping against the wet ground, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind you, you hear a door slam. A voice calling your name, distant and helpless.

Your legs don’t seem to want to stop. Your bare feet slap against the wet pavement, each step sending shocks through your legs, but you don't stop. You actually can't stop because if you do, you'll have to think, and thinking means facing what you just saw.

Your fingers fumble with your phone, slick with rain, and you manage to pull up Jungwon's contact. It rings once, twice, three times, and then the automated voice cuts in. Voicemail. Full. You try again and it’s the same result.

"Come on," you mutter, your voice cracking. "Come on, pick up. Pick up—"

The phone slips from your grip, clattering onto the wet ground. You leave it behind and keep walking, your arms wrapped around yourself, the thin fabric of his shirt doing nothing to ward off the cold.

"Y/N."

His voice. Behind you. Closer than you expected.

You keep walking faster, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Y/N, please—just stop—"

"I don't want to talk to you." Your voice is barely audible over the rain. "Go away."

"I can't do that." His footsteps are closer now. "I can't let you run out like this. It's not safe."

"You don't get to decide what's safe for me." You finally stop, spinning around to face him. He's there, a few meters away, soaked through, his hair plastered to his forehead, his chest heaving. He's stopped too, keeping his distance like you're a wild animal that might bolt.

"You don't get to decide anything," you continue, your voice rising. "You knew me. You knew me and you lied. Every single day, every single conversation—you looked at me and you knew exactly who I was, and you let me stumble around like an idiot trying to figure it out."

"I didn't lie—"

"Hiding the truth is lying." You're shaking now, from cold and anger. "You kept all of it from me. The photos, the memories—" You gesture wildly. "Everything. You let me think we were strangers." Your voice cracks. "You let me fall for you like you were someone new."

"I had to." His voice is raw. "I had to keep it from you. It was the only way—"

"The only way for what?" You're yelling now, the rain muffling the sound but not the anger. "The only way to protect yourself? The only way to make sure you didn't have to deal with the mess of my broken brain?"

He flinches like you've struck him. "No. That's not—"

"Then what? What the fuck is about?"

He's quiet for a long moment. The rain falls between you, heavy and cold, a curtain that separates you from him. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, barely above a whisper.

"Because I was scared."

You laugh, a hollow, broken sound. "Scared of what?"

"Of this." He gestures between the two of you. "Of you remembering and looking at me like you are right now. Like I'm a stranger. Like I'm someone who hurt you."

Your chest tightens. "God—Jake do you even care about me?"

"I fucking do." He takes a step closer, and then stops himself. "I loved you, Y/N. Before the accident. We were—" He runs a hand through his wet hair, his voice cracking. "We were together. For three freaking years. We lived together. We had a life."

You stare at him, the words hitting you like blows. "I don't remember."

"I’m aware of that." He's crying now, his tears mistook for rain drops. You can't tell. "I’m aware that you don't. And that's—that's the worst part. Because I've been standing here, watching you rebuild your life, and every time you looked at me like I was a stranger, it felt like losing you all over again."

"Why did you stay, then?" Your voice is barely a whisper. "Why didn't you just leave?"

"Because I made a promise." He meets your eyes. "A promise to your brother, to Jungwon. After the accident, when you couldn't remember anything—he came to me. He said that if I really loved you, I would stay away. That seeing me, remembering me, would confuse you. That it would hurt you more than it would help."

"So you just—walked away?"

"I tried. I moved to another city. I told myself it was for the best. But I couldn't." He stops, his voice breaking. "I couldn't stay away. When I heard you were coming back here, I told myself I wouldn't interfere and that I'd keep my distance. But then I saw you with that stupid umbrella, and—"

His words trail off, lost in the rain. You stand there, shivering, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

"I was scared," he continues, his voice still barely audible. "I was scared that if I told you, you'd run. That you'd look at me and feel nothing. That the person you were before—the person I loved—was gone forever, and I couldn't bear that. So I kept it to myself. I told myself I was protecting you. But really, I was protecting myself."

The silence stretches between you.

"You should have told me," you finally say, and your voice is weak, drained of emotion. "You should have trusted me to handle it."

"I know." He looks down at the ground. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I just—" He stops, his shoulders shaking. "I just wanted to hold onto the part of you that was still mine. Even if you didn't know it."

Your chest is heaving again and you feel the tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. You're not sure when you started crying or maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"When?" Your voice cracks once again. "When did we—when did we first meet?"

He looks up, and you see the tears streaming down his face, indistinguishable from the rain. "Nineteen," he says, his voice raw and broken. "We were nineteen. You were wearing that oversized Bieber shirt, and you tripped over your own feet walking into that library, and I—" He pauses, a sob tearing from his throat. "I fell in love with you right there."

You feel the sob building in your chest, unstoppable and devastating. "I’m sorry."

"It’s okay." He's crying openly now, his shoulders shaking. "I—I needed you to know that you were loved. That you are loved. By me. Always."

Your legs give out. You don't realize it until you're sinking, your knees hitting the wet pavement, your hands bracing against the cold ground. The sobs are torn from you now, ugly and loud, your entire body shaking with the force of them.

He’s already moving. His feet splash against the wet ground, closing the distance between you in seconds. He drops to his knees in front of you, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you against his chest. His body shields you from the rain, his hands cradling the back of your head, pressing your face into the warmth of his neck.

"I'm sorry," he's saying, over and over, his voice broken and fragile. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

You feel his tears against your skin, his body shaking with the same sobs that are tearing through you. He holds you tighter, afraid you'll disappear, and you grip the wet fabric of his shirt, your fingers twisted in the material.

"I don't remember," you choke out. "I don't remember any of it."

"That's okay." His voice is a whisper, trembling. "That's okay. We can—we can start over. We can make new memories. Whatever you need. I'll give you whatever you need."

You pull back just enough to look at him. His face is streaked with rain and tears, his eyes red-rimmed, his expression open and completely unguarded.

You let him hold you, his arms wrapped around you like a shield against the world, and you feel something shift in your chest. The rain continues to fall, but you barely notice it anymore.

All you feel is him.

─────────

The next morning. You're sitting on the edge of the couch, your legs stretched out in front of you, the bruises on your knees a mottled purple from the fall the night before. The rain has stopped, but the world outside is still wet, the streets glistening under the gray sky.

Jake is kneeling in front of you, a small first-aid kit open on the floor beside him. His movements are gentle, careful, as he dabs at the scrapes with an antiseptic wipe. You flinch slightly at the sting, and he murmurs an apology, his fingers light against your skin.

"I could do it on my own." you say, your voice hoarse from crying.

"Let me do it for you. Please." He doesn't look up, his focus on the cut on your knee. "I should have done this last night, but you were—" He stops, swallowing. "You were upset. I didn't want to push."

You watch him as he works, the furrow of concentration between his brows, his lower lip catches between his teeth. His hands are steady despite everything, carefully smoothing the edges of a bandage over your skin.

"There," he says softly. "All done."

You're about to say something when the door slams open.

Jungwon stands in the doorway, his chest heaving and his eyes wild. He's still in his clothes from yesterday, his hair disheveled, his phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline. He must have come straight from wherever he was, must have run the whole way. His gaze sweeps the room and takes in the two of you. Jake kneeling at your feet. The bandage on your knee. Your tear-streaked face. And mostly, the visible tension in the air.

He looks at Jake and at you while shifting his gaze between both of you.

"Fuck." he says, the word heavy, loaded with remorse.

Jake rises slowly to his feet. He stands there, his hands at his sides, his face blank.

"Jungwon," he starts, but Jungwon cuts him off.

"What the fuck, Jake." He steps into the room, the door swinging shut behind him. "I told you—I told you to stay away. I told you it would be better for her. And for everyone. And you—" He stops, his jaw tight. "You couldn't keep your promise for even a year?"

"It wasn't like that." Jake's voice is steady yet a tremor is present beneath it. "I didn't plan this. It just happened."

"It just happened?" Jungwon scoffs. "You see her in the hallway and suddenly all your promises mean nothing?"

"Jungwon—" you start, both of them turn to look at you, and the weight of their gazes makes the words die in your throat. Jungwon's expression softens slightly. "Are you okay?" he asks, the question is directed at you, not Jake.

You don't know how to answer that. Are you okay? You're sitting in the apartment of a man you've known for weeks, who apparently knew you for three years before that, who you still can't remember, who you cried in the rain with, who bandaged your knees this morning because he cares about you. And you can’t understand any of it.

"I don't know," you say honestly.

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair, exhales slowly. "I should have told you," he says with regret in his voice. "I should have told you about him. About everything. I thought I was protecting you, but I—" He pauses and shakes his head. "I made it worse."

"He knew," you say, voice flat. "He knew and he kept it from me. You both did."

Jake flinches and Jungwon looks away.

"I had to," Jake says quietly. "I had to see if you could remember on your own. If there was any part of you that still—" He swallows, the words caught in his throat. "I needed to know if you could love me without the memories."

Jungwon's head snaps toward him. "That's not why you did it."

"Isn't it?" Jake's voice is raw. "I wanted to believe that if I just gave you time, you'd remember, and I know that it sounds stupid. That you'd look at me and see all the years we had. But you didn't. You never did." He looks at you, his eyes glassy. "And I had to accept that the person I loved might never come back. But I still loved you anyway."

The silence in the room is suffocating. You look from Jake to Jungwon, the weight of their secrets pressing down on you, and you feel something crack inside your chest.

Jungwon is the one to break it. "I'm sorry," he says, the words are directed at both of you. "I was scared. I didn't want to lose you again, Y/N. And when I saw the two of you starting to know each other I panicked." He confesses, his composure cracking. "I just wanted to protect you and I failed. I failed both of you."

Jake stays silent, his eyes fixed on the floor.

You take a breath. The air is thick, but you force yourself to speak.

"I don't remember him," you say, looking at Jungwon. "I don't remember any of it. But I—" You stop, your voice catching. "I know I felt something. Even when I didn't know who he was. That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

Jungwon meets your eyes. Then he nods, slowly.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "It does."

─────────

The afternoon has settled in, the earlier tension slowly unwinding like a knot being picked apart. Jungwon left an hour ago, his goodbye awkward but not hostile, a promise to call later that felt more like a question than a statement. You'd watched him go, the door clicking shut behind him, and then you'd turned to find Jake standing in the middle of the living room, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes uncertain.

Neither of you had spoken for a while. Then you'd walked to the kitchen, pulled out a cutting board and some vegetables, and started preparing something that might become dinner. He'd followed, hovering at the edge of the counter, until you'd handed him a knife and told him to chop the onions.

Now you're standing at the stove, stirring a pan of vegetables, while Jake sits on a stool behind you. His fingers are in your hair again, separating strands, twisting them together with a concentration that's become familiar over the past few days. The braid is better than yesterday ; still not perfect, but recognizable.

"You're getting better at this," you say, your voice quiet.

"I've had practice." An incredible softness in his voice. "Also, you're very patient. That helps."

You stir the vegetables, watching them sizzle and soften. The silence is comfortable, however, there's something sitting between you, a question you've been turning over in your mind since last night.

"Jake," you start, and you feel him pause, his fingers stilling in your hair. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

You keep your eyes on the pan. "Last night—was that our first time?"

You feel him go still behind you. His hands are frozen in your hair, and for a moment, you think you've overstepped. You feel his breath, a soft exhale, and his hands resume their work.

"Yes," he says, and his voice is careful. "That was our first time."

The words hang in the air. You nod slowly, processing. "So we never had sex…before the accident?"

He shakes his head, even though you can't see him. "We were close, and we lived together. But we never did those kind of things." He pauses, his fingers continuing to work through your hair. "We were waiting. I don't know what we were waiting for. The right moment, maybe." His voice drops. "I never really thought about it. I just knew I wanted it to be right."

You set down the spoon, turning to face him. He's watching you, his hands hovering where your hair falls against your shoulders. His eyes are searching, cautious.

"Jake," you say. "How long did you go without doing it?" You stop, not sure how to phrase it. "Without being with anyone?"

He understands. His jaw tightens, and he looks down at his hands. "It’s been a year. Since the accident." He meets your eyes again. "I couldn't. I tried to…talk to girls, once. It didn't feel right. I mean, I didn't feel right. I couldn't even hold someone's hand without feeling like I was betraying you."

You feel your breath catch. "Even when you didn't know if I'd ever remember?"

"Especially then." His voice honest. "It didn't matter if you remembered me or not. I remembered you. I knew what we had, and…I couldn't replace that. I really didn't want to."

You look at him, this man who's been carrying this weight for three years, who stayed loyal to a ghost he didn't know would ever come back. You look at his hands shaking slightly, his eyes are glassy.

"I didn't know," you say.

"How could you?"

You reach out, your hand finding his. He looks down at your fingers intertwined, and you feel the dull trembling in his grip.

"Thank you," you say, your voice almost a whisper. "For waiting. Even when you didn't have to."

He looks at you with vulnerability in his gaze. "I never really had a choice. It was always you. It's always been you."

You pull him closer, your arms wrapping around him, your face pressing into his shoulder. He holds you back, his arms tight around your waist, and you feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

The vegetables are still burning. You're still wrapped in his arms, your face pressed into his shoulder, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt. His hand is cradling the back of your head, his fingers gently threading through the braid he'd just finished.

He pulls back to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face still carrying the traces of the tears you'd both shed.

"I love you," he says.

The words are simple, unadorned. Only three words, spoken as they've been sitting on his tongue for years, waiting for the right moment to be released. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your throat is tight, your chest aching with the pressure of everything you don't know how to say.

Noticing your silence, he leans in, his lips pressing against your forehead, lingering long enough for you to feel the slight shaking in his breath.

Then your cheek. The corner of your eye. The bridge of your nose. Each kiss is slow, like he's tracing the contours of your face with his mouth, memorizing every inch. His lips brush your temple, your jaw, the base of your neck.

"You don't have to say it back," he murmurs against your skin. "I just needed you to know."

You feel the tears pricking at your eyes again, yet they're not the same as before. "You've been carrying this for a year," you manage, your voice thick. "And you still—"

"Still love you." He presses another kiss to your cheek, then your other cheek, then the corner of your mouth. "Yes. I do. And I'll keep saying it until you're tired of hearing it."

"I won't get tired."

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours.

"That’s good for me." he says softly, the smile that tugs at his lips is small and tentative. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that have escaped down your cheeks. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, and you feel the warmth of him surrounding you.

"Jake," you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Stay with me. While I try to remember. While I figure this out." You swallow. "Don't leave again."

He doesn't hesitate once. "I won't."

His lips find yours, soft and gentle, and when he pulls back, he presses one last kiss to the tip of your nose.

You were ready to rebuild your life, with everything you’ve shared from now, with him.

The frat house is crowded as usual, with people getting drunk and high on whatever substances they prefer in their system. On any other night, Jay would find the scene irritable and annoying. 

After all, he always keeps himself in check, always sober and in control of his actions and thoughts, always so, so responsible. He’d prefer watching from the sidelines and being of help for when Riki starts throwing up from too much drinking or when Heeseung sings too loud after his second fill.

Jay is always responsible. He never lets himself on the loose.

But tonight, as the aftermath of his near-fight with Heeseung and him having to rush to the hospital after the burgundy-haired alpha collapsed in his omega’s doorway, despite Jay himself being too shaken to stand, he thinks he’s fine with getting slightly reckless.

Slightly reckless, in this case, is drinking more than the two red cups he usually gets.

“Why are we using fruits to represent anatomy?” 

Back to the situation at hand, where he’s sitting on top of a tall stool around the kitchen island, Sunoo is throwing Jake a grimace. Beside him, Riki already has his head bobbing to the music, a telltale sign of a blackout drunk that would usually result in Jay and Sunoo cleaning his mess up. A defeated sigh leaves his lips involuntarily.

Jay downs another shot.

"I don't want to be too explicit," Jake shrugs, like it's the most normal thing to do. "So, peach or cherry?"

Jay knows how this will go.

Riki is an ass guy, judging from the way he likes to slap anyone's butt within his proximity. Jake is both because he's an indecisive little shit who's just too greedy to pick. If pussy was on the options, he'd pick all three.

Sunoo, despite his reckless endeavor with alphas, Jay has never heard him doing anything more than a messy make-out and a blowjob. But he might be an ass guy too, just because he has a juicy fat ass. Heeseung—well, if he was here, anyway—would've said boobs, because Jay knows him a little too well which makes him privy to the former's (previously) sexually active life.

And Jay—he's too respectful to even answer that.

True to his own guess, Riki shakes his head drunkenly from beside an expressionless Sunoo. "My girl is perfect," he says, then grins cheekily. "But I like taking her from the back. Shit, you shouldn't know that."

"We shouldn't, dumbass. Why are you airing out your bedroom activities to us?" Sunoo rolls his eyes, but there's no bite to it. Everybody knows how loose Riki's tongue can get when he's wasted. On any other sober days, he would gate-keep the hell out of his omega. "Anyway, peach."

Jay has guessed almost everything right. He downs another shot.

A shit-eating grin appears on Jake's face. "I knew it, Sunny, you're an ass guy!"

"It's not really a groundbreaking discovery," Sunoo shrugs his shoulders, then turns to Jay. "Jay hyung, what about you?"

Jay is a respectful guy, so there's no way he would ever answer that. He shakes his head, already dizzy from the buzzing alcohol in his system.

"I don't like talking about this."

A chorus of groans echoes around the island. Only Sunoo smiles at him.

"You're no fun, Jjongsaeng," Jake shoves his shoulders playfully. "It's harmless conversation. As for me, I like anything they give me, but I love pussy the most. Which will make me a butterfly guy."

Sunoo lets out a loud groan, while Riki is already giggling. "Are you calling pussy a butterfly? Hyung, please shut the fuck up."

It's ridiculous, really. Jay loves his friends, but they sometimes do questionable things that makes him want to rip his own hair out. If Jungwon was here, he would be up his ass and plot ways to get on his nerves. If Sunghoon was here, well, Jay likes his company the most because he's the calmest and doesn't say controversial shits that could get them cancelled. His friends can be insufferable sometimes, but the most annoying one at this moment is none other than Heeseung.

Thinking about the burgundy-haired alpha just makes his wolf bitter all over again. Seriously, what did he do wrong? Heeseung should've been thanking him instead for keeping his omega dry from the rain. Not taking him down in an almost-fistful physical attack, and definitely not this silent treatment between them that makes their shared apartment smaller than it is, on-edge pheromones suffocating the air.

Jay is pissed. Pissed that they haven't made up yet and pissed at himself for being too kind.

Is he too kind? Should he just let her get soaked in the rain?

He grabs his red cup, ready to feel the alcohol again, and sighs quietly when there's only a drop left inside. Jay is about to stand and refill more booze, but he's stopped by a firm hand on his wrist.

He looks up to a worried Sunoo.

The younger alpha gives him a once-over. He probably looks so red in the face right now, but nobody seems to notice because Jake and Riki are somehow trying to bite each other's heads off arguing about the proper fruit representative for a pussy.

"You're drinking a lot tonight," Sunoo finally says, ever the observant. "Did something happen?"

Everything happened.

Is what Jay wants to say badly.

That near-fight with Heeseung happened. That still-awkward tension between him and Riki's mate happened. That weird glances mated alphas throw at him whenever he's around their omegas happened. That flirty and hopeful stares omegas give him whenever he so as looks their way happened.

And, despite everything, him still not meeting his mate happened.

If anyone should be envious, it's Jay. Not Heeseung. Not Riki.

"Envious of?"

Shit. He said that out loud, didn't he?

He was about to deflect, but now that Sunoo is fixing him with that foxy gaze, glinting with relentless curiosity that won't back down no matter the excuses, Jay knows he has nowhere to go. He looks to his left, where Jake and Riki has reconciled and agree that no fruit matches with a pussy's shape because apparently pussy is too special for fruit comparisons, settling on calling it flower instead, and now have started discussing about how diabolical it is to compare a dick to an eggplant, and sighs.

Jay thinks he needs new friends. Better friends, even. Except Sunoo. And Sunghoon.

"Hyung?"

When Jay's sure that Jake and Riki are too wasted and distracted to eavesdrop, he finally relents.

"I…Sunoo-yah," he swipes a tongue across his bottom lip. "Is there something wrong with me?"

This is why he hates getting drunk. Because his body recognises alcohol as invitation to start talking deep shits and pouring his heart out like an endless stream of river. It's not a bad thing to be vulnerable, but Jay has guarded his heart so tight that only certain people have the privilege to listen to his deepest secrets.

Thankfully, tonight is just his luck. Rather than exposing himself to a stranger, which has been his biggest fear when getting drunk, it's Sunoo who's listening to him attentively. The brown-haired alpha is looking at him softly, amber eyes full of understanding and encouragement, and it makes the tension in his shoulders slowly melt away.

"Why'd you say that?"

Jay is quiet for a moment. Right, why would he? Then he remembers Heeseung and Riki, those omegas and alphas, and, finally—his own wolf.

"Am I too…" he sucks in a breath, not wanting to sound self-absorbed, but it's what he's been hearing from people.

"Am I too much of a green flag?"

Sunoo didn't expect that from him, judging by the micro-surprise in his expression. Maybe he should stop there and let Sunoo reply, but now that he finally lets it out, Jay finds it easy to just continue.

"Is it wrong to be a kind alpha? I think it wasn't, but seeing how anxious and weary alphas can get when I'm being a gentleman to their omegas…" he trails off, hating the fact that it's his best friends' faces that appear on his mind. "I think it's a mistake. I shouldn't be too kind, right?"

There's a muffled silence between them, dampened by the loud bass from the living room and the sharp citrus turning bitter in the air. Jay looks off to the kitchen island, realising that it's now just him and Sunoo in that space; Jake and Riki are now joining the beer pong just getting started in the backyard.

Across from him, a look of understanding crosses Sunoo's face.

"There's no such thing as being too kind, hyung."

"Then why am I being punished for it?" He cuts in sharply. "Why do I feel bad for doing those things to them?"

He still remembers, the day Riki showed up in his apartment, crying because his lifelong crush wanted Jay to help her with her heat. Riki begged him not to agree, and Jay had done so—it didn't feel right to do that, especially when he knows about the younger boy's feelings for his childhood friend. But then Riki changed his mind and convinced him to say yes, because 'I didn't want her to go through it alone in indescribable pain, and I don't want to ruin our friendship if it's not me that she wanted. Please help me, hyung, she's just presented as an omega. It'll be too dangerous for her to do it alone.'

He had agreed out of sympathy for his younger friend, but somehow him agreeing had bloomed jealousy in the alpha's heart. Jay understands—Riki is still too young, and young alphas are the most territorial creatures to walk on this Earth—but it still hurts his feeling to be treated like a Mr. Steal Your Girl, when he has never stolen anything except omegas' hearts unintentionally.

Riki had apologised and admitted to his immaturity, but still, it wasn't enough to erase weeks of awkward silences and clipped conversations over a single apology. His omega has been extra cautious around Jay, and it always makes him sore to hold back from being himself around her. Or around any taken omegas, for the record.

So, really, he'd appreciate it a lot if Sunoo could just be honest with him and tell him, 'Yes, hyung, you're too kind for your own good,' instead of sugarcoating it.

But of course Sunoo would say the opposite.

"The ones who did that to you aren't the people you helped, right?" Sunoo says, smooth voice weaving through the music like it's meant to find Jay no matter the noise. "It's always the jealous alphas. But I'm sure those omegas were thankful for you for helping them. You're not being punished, hyung. You're just too good that you kinda intimidated these alphas into thinking that their mates would run to you the second they look away."

Jay doesn't know what to say to that. Sunoo always has this way of charming people with his words, the kind that can convince a criminal that they're a saint with that lilt in his voice that only he has. He's not sure if Sunoo really means it, or if it's the truth as it is.

The younger alpha sees right through him. "You're doubting me."

"No! No, I'm just—" Jay pauses, hating the fact that he is indeed doubting his friend's words, and decides to just be honest. "Okay—yeah. You're right. It's hard to believe you."

Sunoo hums, not the slightest offended. He leans forward, turning his head to watch the ongoing beer pong, seen through the transparent sliding door. Jay follows his line of sight, and feels his chest tighten when he sees Riki making out with his omega.

It's the familiar ache that he felt when he saw the mating mark on Riki's neck. The same longing he feels whenever his mated teammates talk about their fulfilled love life. It's like a circle of bubble that Jay doesn't dare burst, being the only one outside of a room full of people who have found the meaning of love.

I wish I could have that too.

Sunoo catches him before he could mask his scent. He throws Jay an expressionless look. For a moment, Jay prepares himself for a 'Gotcha!' comment from him, but the younger alpha only gives him a close-lipped smile.

"Ah, hyung. I should've known. You want a mate, don't you?"

"I don't," Jay is quick to deny, but upon seeing the knowing glint in Sunoo's eyes, he realises there's no point in denying. He sighs for the umpteenth time that night.

"Yes, I do. But it's not as easy as you might think."

"Why? I'm pretty sure there are many omegas who'd throw themselves at you."

"But I can't because I…" Jay licks his lips, "I don't find anyone I like enough yet."

Sunoo doesn't say anything for a long, stretched moment. Jay almost squirms under his dissecting eyes. It feels as though Sunoo is picking him apart by his gaze and his scent alone, seeing parts of himself that he wouldn't show bare. It's unnerving yet weirdly comforting at the same time, having someone who can see right through him despite the walls he built.

"Hyung, everything about this gentleman persona and you wanting a mate—there's only one thing I can say."

Jay swallows thickly, mind sobering up with each passing second. "What?"

"You are with this kindness not without a purpose," Sunoo says calmly, like he hasn't just dropped the most riddled sentence that sounds too Shakespeare-ish to Jay's drunken mind.

"Huh?"

"I'm saying, there is someone out there who needs your kindness, hyung. Your patience. Your heart," Sunoo flashes him a small smile, sincere and genuine. "You'll meet them someday. And when you do, you'll understand why you are the way you are. You are never too much for someone who's meant to hold you."

Jay hears him, truly, but that promise sounds so distant and far away. Like a reality he's witnessesing from a different universe, through a portal of lifelong waiting and yearning. He wants to believe it, wants to hold onto every syllable and let it be his new faith, but the deepest, ugly part of him doesn't believe he belongs to that kind of destiny.

He doesn't say anything. Not that he has the chance to when the smell of burning chocolate greets his senses and soon, an upset Jungwon is already filling up the space with his broad shoulders and moody pheromones.

A black leather jacket, zipped up to his chin, hugs his body, highlighting his wide figure under the kitchen light, paired with leather pants. Jungwon's hair is messy, untamed around the frame of his eyes, and Jay knows why when he sees the helmet in his arm.

"Hyung, be honest. Do I look too baby-faced?" The alpha pouts, gesturing at his body. "Even after wearing this whole gear? I even rode my precious bike to see her!"

Jay doesn't have to stay to know that Jungwon's whining about the older omega he has a crush on, someone that used to babysit him when he was 10 years old and is now still treating him like a baby. He would've stayed to listen and comfort the younger alpha, really, but unfortunately for Jungwon, Jay also needs some comfort for himself before he loses his fucking mind.

He grabs his red cup and stands up, needing the alcohol to be in his system now more than anything. The other two alphas don't notice him leaving, and if they do, Jay's sure Sunoo's more interested to hear about Jungwon's failing love life than his already-doomed one.

Jay makes his way through the crowd, giving polite smiles to everyone in his way. He's not really a fan of this kind of crowd—it's more of Heeseung's and Riki's crowd—but it's the least of his concerns now. The alpha squeezes past dancing omegas whose stares linger, past a group of alphas who give him a nod of acknowledgement, past a pair of lovers making out on the wall.

That makes him falter.

Jay blames it on the alcohol. Really, he's usually not like this. It's actually easier to act like not having a mate among friends who are already mated doesn't affect him when his thoughts are more coherent and making sense. But right now, as he watches the couple giggling at each other, lips in ears and soft eyes looking into soft eyes, a pinch of envy twists in his chest.

Jay huffs, leaving the scene faster than he'd like to admit. Seriously, if he was so good and kind like everybody had said, if he's the picture-perfect alpha like every family member had boasted about, then why is it only him alone with no one to hold? Why is it always him who's cleaning after everybody's mess when he only watches on the sidelines as they get their happy ending? Why is it that people who run from love are more favoured than someone who's always been ready like him?

What about him? What about his happy ending?

After what felt like hours, Jay finally finds his booze. Jake has an eccentric preference of placing the booth all over the frat house, and the one in the kitchen has long ran out. He's standing at the booth by the stairs right now, the majority of them still untouched. Jay pours into his cup full to the brim. His senses are already tingling with the thoughts of drinking more.

When the alcohol buzzes through his system, Jay lets out a satisfied sigh. God, he's so carefree tonight. But whatever, he's pretty sure Sunoo can drive them home safely. Right now, Jay's focus is only on making himself feel better and forget whatever ruckus that has unfolded the past few weeks.

He pours more when his cup empties. From where he's standing, the bass doesn't really reach him, a bit distant from the speaker now blasting Miley Cyrus' Party In The U.S.A.. It makes the conversation around him sounds clearer in his ears. Including the ones coming from upstairs.

Jay pays them no mind. He's not here for gossips or shits and giggles—he's here to cool off. But when something sweet, something that reminds him of his mom's berry strudels and morning coffee drifts into his nose, Jay's senses sharpen.

Is someone baking? He wonders alone. The last time he left the kitchen, there were only Sunoo and Jungwon. As far as he remembers, neither could touch the oven without risking an explosion.

So where does this sweet scent come from?

It gets sweeter the more he spends his focus on it. Jay looks around, mind still buzzing, unable to find the source of the scent that has piqued his interest through the haziness. His nose twitches. Even in his drunken state, Jay can't help but notice how constrasting the scent is to his sharp citrus.

And for some reason, his wolf likes it.

"Is it from the stairs?" he mumbles, stumbling to the foot of the stairs, drink sloshing in his cup.

But just as he's about to look up, he's already colliding into a soft body coming down from upstairs.

"Ah!"

Oh no.

Jay watches in horror as the drink in his hand spills all over the person's shirt, staining the white fabric with yellowish mark that almost looks like someone's piss. He freezes, mouth gaping in surprise, but the only thing his hazy mind picks up is 'Yes, he's finally found where the scent comes from.'

It's from the victim of his booze.

Or rather, the furious omega who's looking down at him with a sneer on her face right now.

"Hey!" You yell, face burning red. "Look at what you did!"

Oh, Jay is definitely looking. For some reason, his eyes are glued to your face, taking in every feature decorating your sweet face. The perfectly sculpted brows that are now frowning deep, the round eyes that are narrowing down at him, the full lips that are pulled into a tight, dissatisfied line.

Such an angry omega. But also the most beautiful he's ever laid his eyes on.

"Hey, stupid alpha. I'm talking to you!"

Jay has never seen you before. Who are you? Why are you making his heart beat so fast? Why is his wolf wiggling his tail at the sight of you?

"Oh my fucking God. So fucking annoying."

Even when you're glaring at him, under the dim light of Jake's frat house, you look very, very pretty. Are you even real, or just a drunken manifestation of his desperation for a mate?

Jay's too starstruck and drunk to notice how dumb he must look right now, but you've had enough of the alpha gaping at you like a dying fish. You shake his shoulders, manicured nails digging into his shirt.

"Earth to dumbass alpha! Hello??? You just spilled your drink all over my Limited Edition Cherry Chanel Baby Tee!"

Oh, right. Jay snaps out of his reverie, and drops his eyes on your chest to see the damage he's done.

But instead of realising his mistake, he's realising something else instead.

The wet patch darkens your shirt from its usual shade, sticking to your chest like second skin. From where he's standing so close, just a step below you on the stairs, his eyes level with your chest, Jay has a belated realisation that you have such perfect…boobs.

They're slightly bigger than average, perfectly-shaped and round, and they sit so nicely that Jay feels like they'd beat his expensive pillows in softness. A thought, a small thought that sober-Jay would never have, crosses his mind.

Jay wants to bury his face in your chest to test it.

Oh my God. This is bad. Drunk-Jay is so, so bad. He's really malfunctioning tonight.

You, on the other hand, are already at your wits' ends. It doesn't help that the shirt feels so sticky, so uncomfortable and it irritates you to the core. Also, why the fuck is this stupid alpha staring at your chest like—like he wants to touch it?

"Hey!" you push his shoulder again, but the alpha doesn't budge. You grit your teeth. "My eyes are up here, dumbass!"

Jay breathes out. "Che…rry."

Your brows furrow in confusion.

"What?"

"Cherry." Jay repeats, eyes never leaving your chest. His mind is dissolving into mixed up conversations—he can hear Jake's voice, your voice, and the bass mixing together.

"I prefer…cherry."

There is a heavy silence that follows, loaded with bubbling anger, drunk confusion, and a very, very horrific realisation that he's talking about your chest. Your mouth falls open.

With a handsome face and neat shirt like that, you can't believe that this alpha is such a fucking pervert!

"Yah! Are you crazy?! What cherry?!" You scream, attracting more attention on the two of you. Jay barely blinks. "Are you talking about—about my boobs?!"

Jay blinks blearily, then nods.

"Your…cherry."

You let out a scandalised gasp. Humiliation starts creeping up your face, painting your skin even redder than before.

This is ridiculous. This is diabolical! The audacity of this alpha—!

Before you know it, your hand already swipes across his cheek in a surprised, harsh slap. Jay's head jerks to the side, his own eyes growing wide at the impact. A ringing silence echoes between the two of you, followed by a chorus of gasps from the onlookers.

After literally getting slapped into his senses, Jay sobers up in that one single moment and realises with a dread, What the fuck did he just do?

He slowly looks back at you, touching his stinging cheek like you had personally offended his whole bloodline. You're glaring at him, chest heaving rapidly like you can't contain your anger any longer.

"You fucking pervert!"

Jay's breath hitches. He's a pervert?

"Get away from me!"

The alpha lets his body get shoved to the side like a door blocking the way. He stands there, motionless, as he watches you leave, angry steps making your hair bounce. Shame and guilt start crawling up his chest when his mind decides to replay the scene, realising in horror how out of character he had been and how rude he was to you.

Oh God. Oh my God.

Seriously, Park Jongseong? Cherry? That's the first thing you say to the literal love of your life?

"Isn't that Park Jongseong?"

"Oh my God, I thought he was a green flag?"

"I guess even a green flag still has a knot to satisfy."

"Park Jongseong is a pervert?"

Jay squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand down his face. He doesn't really care about his reputation, so the whispers barely bother him.

What he cares more is the lingering scent of acidic espresso and rotting cherries in the air, trailing after you even when you're long gone. His cheek still burns, but he couldn't care less because—you know…he kind of deserved it.

Fuck.

And Jay doesn't even know your name.

"All alphas are nothing but a knothead!"

You spit, seething in anger as you glare at anyone in your way. Not even the loud music can muffle your voice, sending death threats and insults to a certain alpha (and literally all other alphas.)

Maybe it's just your bad day, because just as you finally see your exit, an alpha—stupidly broad-shouldered alpha, fuck alphas and their ridiculous proportions—bumps into you. You click your tongue and look up at him.

"Why do you guys stupid alphas only think with your dick, your cock, and only your small fucking knot?!"

The alpha stares at you in horror. It seems like today is more of his unlucky day than yours.

"I-I don't—"

"What? You don't have a dick?" You cut him off, irritation pulling at your nerves. Tonight is such a shitty night. "Isn't that the only thing you alphas are proud of? Thinking with your knot and tricking omegas with your cock?!"

The poor alpha stands there cowering, hanging his head low as if he's already accepted his fate of being the receiving end of your hatred towards alphas and…dicks.

You push a trembling finger on his chest, eyes prickling with tears. Fuck these hormones and emotions, fuck this soft scent that makes people think you're nothing more than a weak, defenceless omega—you've had enough of everything.

"Am I wrong? Isn't that why Riki cheated on me?!" You yell, not caring if people catch your words. "Because his dick can't get enough with only one pussy?!"

A ripple of murmurs and whispers start spreading around you. Even the DJ has turned the volume down slightly, taken aback by the sudden drop of the bomb of truth.

A cheating scandal? That's the juiciest gossip college students could have ever had.

The nameless alpha looks at you, eyes wide in surprise mixed with disappointment when he hears your words.

"Oh my God—there's no way—Riki cheated?" He stammers. "Nishimura Riki cheated?"

"Who the fuck is Nishimura Riki?" Your brows furrow, first time hearing that family name. "It's Hirota Riki! My stupid, cheating ex who's immature and younger than me and just plain dumb like a textbook alpha!"

The relief physically vanishes from his face. Then, as if realising what you have said, his face mirrors your confusion. "Wait—you mean Maki? That German-Japanese guy?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. Of course people know him. You almost forgot that your ex, other than being a piece of garbage and a pain in your ass, is also a famous model for the college magazines. His face is everywhere, in every campaign and poster and advertisements, wearing clothes that always gains attention.

Clothes that you designed and sewn by hand.

The back of your eyes burn with tears, but you blink them back, not wanting people to see your sadness. You'd rather they have your anger and rage, because lashing out and being called crazy for screaming seem less vulnerable than the little drops of tears down your cheeks.

You push at the alpha weakly, every fibre of your being just begging to go home and forget everything about tonight.

"Are you okay, angry omega?"

"Shut up," you hiss, voice shaky. "I'm leaving this place."

The crowd parts for you as you make your way to the exit. You sway slightly, too drained from spending your energy screaming at everyone and no one at the same time.

You hate the prying eyes. You hate the pitying words. You hate the whispers. But there's nothing you can do when it's you who accidentally aired out your ex boyfriend's scandal in your fit of anger.

It's been two months since the breakup—a breakup that you thought was healthy and reasonable. Maki told you that he was going to get busy with growing his career, balancing his job as a freelance model with being an engineering student was starting to take up most of his time. Somewhere in between schedules, he no longer could find the time to love you, to fit you in his world of fame and glory.

You didn't want to hold him back. Even when you had liked him more than you ever did anyone, you still let him go. The relationship lasted only for nine months, and you never really expected anything serious or long lasting from dating someone in college.

But tonight, a friend let the truth slip.

Maki didn't break up with you because he wanted time for his career growth—or whatever bullshit he spouted at you. No.

He has been seeing another omega behind your back. Someone from the same major as you.

It's no surprise that you didn't find out any sooner. Being a fashion major warrants competitiveness and rivals—and you're not exactly well-loved by your fellow designers. You're the notorious omega known for your ridiculous standards, your pride and stubbornness, and your sharp tongue. It's your brilliant designs that get people to at least pretend to be your friends, hoping to steal a bit of your creative talent—but you always smell bullshit from miles away.

So, really, it upsets you that you failed to detect Maki's bullshit first. And people have been keeping it from you because they like to see your downfall.

And what better downfall is there than seeing your ex cheating on you with your fashion rival?

It's not like you liked him to the point of love—no. It's the betrayal that makes your mouth feel dry, heart heavy in ways it never had been before, like an anchor pulling down ships to sink.

Before you know it, you're already outside. The air is too chilly for your skin, amplified by the wet stain on your chest. You bite your lips, on the verge of tears when you're reminded of that perverted alpha.

Another alpha that only caused you humiliation. Really?

How can someone look at you like you're the most divine being one minute, then blatantly stare at your chest the next?

It's beyond you, really. Alphas are just evolutionary failures.

You fish out your phone from your wallet and look for an Uber. You're not too drunk to drive. If anything, you've never felt more sober in your life. It's just skills issue—you just cannot drive. Even when you have a whole damn Porsche in the garage of your family's mansion; a gift from your overly-doting parents who got too excited when you managed to get into fashion school—it still terrifies you to hold the steering wheel.

All of these privileges and wealth, yet no success in the dating department (and driving classes). Your whole life, you have dated a cheater, a closeted alpha who was too scared to tell you that he liked knots better than your pussy, and just a total manchild who sulked back whenever you pouted.

"Seriously," you mutter, confirming your location on the screen. "When will it be my turn to date an actual manly alpha?"

You pause. Now that you think of it, even so-called green-flag alphas give you the ick.

They're just a bunch of performative males. Just look at the college's beloved cheater. Maki was acting like a green forest itself when he was courting you!

None of these alphas can be trusted!

"I will just die single," you decide, closing the app once your driver is confirmed. Your parents have more than enough money to support you anyway.

You stand at the porch in silence, the sound of the bass can be heard faintly through the walls. The stickiness of your shirt is now long forgotten; you've given up thinking about it when the memory of your ex comes back. There are more pressing matters at hand that need your attention.

Like the upcoming fashion week, no doubt will get you into another spiral of self-doubt and stress. Like your parents who keep insisting you meet this one young, handsome bachelor that apparently would be just your type—but you're still hurt by Maki's action that you haven't found the right timing to say yes. Like your favourite cherry Chanel baby tee, now ruined and stained, and you wonder if you should send it for dry cleaning or pay a fortune to scalpers—

"Miss?"

A deep timbre greets your hearing. It's soft and a tad bit familiar, like you've heard it somewhere before.

You turn around and immediately frown when you see him.

It's that perverted alpha.

"What?" You reply, already annoyed. The alpha blinks at you, looking more sober than before. His collar is folded neatly now, and the red tips of his ears are hinting more on shyness than alcohol influence.

He gives you a nervous smile. "I came to apologise."

Tch. Another performative alpha. But this one likes to stare at your chest too much.

You roll your eyes and turn back to the front, wishing for your driver to arrive fast.

"Just save your breath and go. You don't even know what you're apologising for."

One thing you hate about men, especially alphas, is that they never mean their sorry's. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything'. Everything is too generic. They don't have any idea what they apologise for. The phrase has lost its value from how often it flows out of their mouths without meaning.

But this alpha is a bit more stubborn than you think. He shuffles closer, still keeping a safe distance, and stands next to you. Now closer, you can smell the citrusy scent wafting from him—sharp and refreshing, something that reminds you of summer. It has to be his pheromones.

Well, okay. He has sexy pheromones. You'll admit that. Too bad that the owner is already on your blacklist.

"I apologise for spilling my drinks on you and ruining your baby tee," he begins, turning his body facing you. But you refuse to look.

"It's the Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee," you correct him. From your peripheral vision, you can faintly see him grin.

"Yes, I'm sorry for ruining your Limited Edition Cherry Chanel baby tee."

Okay. He's obedient. But it could be performative. Maybe he's just trying to get into your pants. You're not oblivious to how beautiful you look. You know that your family has good genes.

"And I apologise for staring at your chest inappropriately. I came off as a pervert even when I didn't mean to," he breathes out, voice lowering down in shame. "I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable."

Something tugs at your heart unexpectedly. It surprises you that this alpha actually knows what he's apologising for, unlike your previous exes who only said sorry to get your nagging self off their backs. You shift slightly, unwilling to let this new change get to your head.

"Well, apology heard," you retort, still strong on not letting the alpha get too close—or accepting his apology. "But I'm not sorry for slapping you. So don't expect an apology from me."

An amused chuckle slips past his lips. His lemon scent bursts in the air, sounding too elated for your liking.

What's so funny?

"I guess I deserved it," the alpha, whose name you just realise you never know, replies as he touches his cheek with a brush of his fingers. You take a glance, satisfaction blooming in your chest when you notice the red mark on the tender skin.

That's what alphas like him deserve. Omegas run the world anyway.

You don't bother to say anything, just letting the cold breeze of night wind engulf you. It seeps into your bones, making you shiver almost too aggressively. The driver is still five minutes away, taking suspiciously long time at the red light just in front of a Burger King drive-thru.

You feel eyes on you before you feel his movements. The alpha sheds his trench coat, brushing wrinkles off the fabric before he hands it to you. You almost sigh, both out of relief and annoyance because really, you could use some extra layers right now but seriously, does it have to be in the most cliche, K-drama-worthy situation ever?

"What is this," you flatly ask, unimpressed.

"You're cold."

"How did you know that I'm cold?"

You watch the tip of his ears blush, and then his eyes traitorously drop to your chest before quickly lift up to face you again.

"I just…noticed."

You roll your eyes before looking down. "I know it's soaked, and it's—"

The words die on your tongue.

Your nipples. They're erect from the cold, mounting the thin, drenched fabric of your shirt in deadly-obvious pebbles. You brain dissolves into incoherent blabbering as a heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck. It's seriously the worst day ever to choose not wearing a bra.

You don't know if it's shame, or anger, or both, but when you look up to the now-blushing alpha, there's rage boiling over like a kettle about to whistle.

"I fucking knew it!" You couldn't hold yourself back this time, snatching the coat and smacking the alpha with the fabric. The alpha's eyes widen as he cowers to dodge your attack.

"You're just a pervert!"

"I-I'm not! I'm sorry—ow! Ow!"

You don't relent and keep hitting him with his coat, tears of shame threatening to spill over.

"What are you sorry for, you performative wolf?!" Smack! Smack! "You just ogled at my chest again!"

"I didn't mean to—ow! I'm sorry!"

With one final hit, you throw the coat at his face with all your might. He clumsily catches it, eyes wide with shock. The anger is hot, too hot that the cold doesn't bother you anymore, in fact you think steam might rise from your head in any second. With a huff, you stomp down the porch, ignoring his cries of sorry's from behind.

"I-I'm sorry! It's a misunderstanding! I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable again!"

"Shut the fuck up! You better not show your face anymore!" You flip him off without looking back.

However, upon seeing the Uber driver, you take a U-turn and stomp back to the alpha. His eyes immediately light up, there's a thin layer of moisture in his eyes. Maybe the coat hit his eyes or he's just so performative he'd cry if he could, you don't really care.

"You came back," he breathes out. "I'm sorry—"

"I said shut up!" You yell, already too irritated and overstimulated. While you're at it—embarrassing yourself to the point of no return—you snatch his trench coat and sling it over your chest shamelessly.

The driver is also an alpha, and you're not risking flashing your tits to another pervert.

"I'm taking this. Bye!"

"Wait!"

"And I am NOT returning it!"

With a harsh slam of the door, the car finally drives into the horizon, leaving behind a confused and guilty and perverted alpha as he chases after your Uber. Your chest heaves deeply, adrenaline running hot as your face flushes. You pretend not to notice the bag of chips and burger in the driver's lap, or the way the perverted alpha stands smaller in the side mirror as he watches you leave.

You just hope you never see that alpha again.

You never see that alpha again. However, as if you had personally offended the Earth and the entire Solar system, the Goddess doubles it down and sends your cheating ex to your studio instead.

His presence is too invasive that you feel him before you see him. His pheromones, now making your hair stand instead of providing the comfort that it used to do, breaches your senses when you round the corner. You had just stepped out to get some lunch, already grumpy from resisting your persistent mom and her chosen alpha for you to mate, when you see Maki walk down the hallway like it was his runway.

Your stomach drops. Like it's survival instinct, you turn back around and speed-walk to your studio. It's like a drum war being hit inside your chest, and you hope you're fast enough because you really, really don't want to deal with him right now.

Just as you're about to close the door, a force of Maki's hands pushes it back open. You stumble backwards, eyes wide in surprise as Maki effortlessly slips inside. His body, tall and wrong and crowding, swallows the room like a black hole sucking in the light and leaving you empty and alone in the darkness.

There's a lazy smirk playing at his lips.

"If it's not my favourite ex."

His voice is dripping with honey, a sweet poison that always gets to you no matter how hard you pretend it doesn't. It's sticky and uncomfortable, it makes you squirm and feel like there's something you should be scrambling for. It gets under your skin and Maki always gets the reaction that he wants.

You snap, face pulling into a scowl.

"What do you want, Maki?"

Maki lets your voice fade, acting like he didn't hear you. With his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the young alpha straightens, easy eyes meeting your sharp ones. And when he speaks, the words roll off his tongue so smoothly, like seeing the person he used to love didn't affect him the slightest. Like you didn't have such an impact on him the way he does you.

"Did I cheat, Y/N?"

The question strikes you dumb for a moment, but you recover quickly. Of course. Words spread fast on campus, especially if the source is the frat house. You knew it'd reach Maki eventually, but you didn't expect it to be this fast. It's like every person inside that house was an extension of Maki; the golden boy, the people's favourite, the face painting every cover of magazine.

You try to hide the tremble in your fists.

"You did."

Maki hums noncommittally.

"Do you have proof?"

"Liz told me," your voice grits out, "You'd been fucking around with your new girlfriend since you were with me."

The alpha tilts his head, still wearing that laid-back expression that you wish you could slap off his face. "Did she?"

"Yes. Now get out of here, you fucking stink—"

"Why would she help you, Y/N?" Maki calmly cuts you off, a bored tone in his voice. Like he'd rather be anywhere else but here, like he'd rather deal with a child than you. His smug face makes your skin prickle. You hate how easily he can hit your nerves.

Maki takes a step closer, taunting as ever.

"Had you started thinking that you have friends now?"

It's a soft blow that lands hard in your chest. Maki used to know you, therefore he knows all the ugly parts of you. And seeing him turning every knowledge he has of you into a weapon against you feels like being forced looking into a mirror that you've spent your whole life avoiding.

Your fists shake, nails digging into soft skin, almost drawing blood.

"Even if she lied to me, you got together with your new girlfriend so quick after the breakup," you spit between gritted teeth, holding back more than words. "That told me enough."

Maki is silent for a few heartbeats, his face unreadable.

"So what?"

There's a drop in your heart. Confused, disbelieving. "What?"

"What's wrong with moving on from you so fast? You didn't think you were so special for me to weep around, did you?"

There's a vaccuumed silence that swallows you whole. His words, casually laid out like he was discussing the weather, like the matters of your heart was something he wasn't concerned about, seep into your skin and every fibre of your being. The thoughts turn and curl, igniting a numbing buzz that replays his voice like a broken record.

Special. What's so special about you?

And when even you cannot find an answer, you feel the first crack in your chest.

Maki revels in your silence; in the first sign of submission. His smugness is loud in the studio, his pheromones flaring with dominance. He advances, taking deliberate steps, circling you like a predator assessing its prey.

"You've always been like this. So fiery, so passionate. All this energy yet no particular direction to go to," he drawls out, the words tumbling out lazily. He stops right in front of you, only a few centimeters away, and makes a show of looking around your studio.

He takes in the rumpled fabric, the crumpled sketchbooks, the spilled coffee. It appears as what he just observed: too much energy with no proper control. Loud. Messy. Reckless.

You.

"You can't even keep your studio tidy, Y/N," he breathes out a sigh.

"What's so unforgettable about you?"

When you had first started fashion school, you'd been told by every living person that money couldn't buy talent. No matter how big your mother's name is in the beauty and healthcare industry, no matter how prominent your father is in the automobile sector—you're nothing more than a mundane, passing student if you don't possess talent. And here, people always feel the need to remind you of that fact, especially after learning about the affluent background you come from.

So you learned. It's not like you got here through nepotism, anyway—you got in through your own grit. Your parents had always wanted you to get into med school, and the only thing you're good with when it comes to medicines is drawing the anatomy by hand. That sketch turned into figures and furls and soon, your dream to study fashion finally bloomed.

You have the talent and you have the grit. People always pass you nice compliments and constructive feedbacks you often dwell on—but the sleepless nights didn't really matter when you could finally see your collection walking down the runway front-row. You wear your confidence loudly that sometimes it's easy to forget that some people hate shiny things.

Your designs are so forgettable.

Said the new lecturer one day, tearing your sketchbook apart in front of the whole class came the third semester.

It was humiliating; the kind that burned your skin and the back of your eyes. Your nails cracked under pressure, trying so hard not to shed tears in front of so many pairs of eyes. But no matter how hard you try to reassure yourself, the comment lingers. It becomes an invisible knife that twists each time someone so much as look at your designs the wrong way.

And the first mistake you did was open up about it to someone.

The second mistake was that someone was Maki, of all people.

Because now, that alpha—all pride and arrogance—is throwing back the exact same insult at you right in your reddening face.

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

What's so unforgettable about you?

"Nothing," Maki finishes, eyes never leaving your face, as if savouring every twitch of hurt in your features.

There's nothing unforgettable about you. Not your designs; someone else probably invented something far more interesting than you. Not your face; you're just another pretty omega in a sea of more pretty omegas. Not your scent; you smell like pastries that people can easily get from any bakery. And certainly not you as a whole.

That's what he meant by it, right?

You're just a plus-one. An afterthought. The reason why skip buttons exist.

A heavy lump forms in your throat.

Maki takes your silence as a win and steps back.

"Now be a good girl and retract your statement. I never cheated on you," he says with conviction that you start questioning your own truth. "It's just your omega hormones messing around with you."

The door closes with a thud, leaving behind a ringing silence, the echo of his insults bouncing off the walls. There's a thin veil of moisture in your eyes, but you refuse to cry.

You refuse to cry for the rest of your time in your studio, trying to fix some of the mess, hating yourself even more when you realise that you care about his comments more than you should.

You refuse to cry on your way home, sitting in silence at the backseat of your Uber, replaying Maki's words in an endless loop that you wish could stop.

You refuse to cry when you have nothing to eat for dinner, stomach growling in hunger for some warm, homecooked meals, yet you have to settle for takeout again.

You refuse to cry when you sit in the middle of your living room, a luxury apartment far too big for one person to live in, trying to eat the soggy noodles and too-drenched fried chicken.

But like any normal human being, you have a heart too—a soft one at that. You can only hold on for so long.

It's hard to ignore the vast, empty space of your apartment; of the two vacant rooms down the hallways; of the single mug, single cutlery set, single-everything because for some reason you half-know and half-not, you just don't have…friends. At least not those who can reach the depths of your being—just fleeting, surface-level friends. Or companion.

Or whatever it was that Maki said that finally got to your head.

The dam finally breaks when you enter your room.

For the first time in your life, your nest that you always keep tidy on the love couch you have by the window, your safe haven where you lie in to find comfort, becomes the spot that you want to avoid the most.

There, arranged into a circle, are all the things that smell like solace and consolation after a rough day—or at least used to. Maki used to be like that—used to be your person, used to be your comfort place. So it's almost pathetic that you are still clinging onto his hoodie, his sweatshirt, the mittens he gave you last winter, the plush bunny that he won at an arcade, for comfort long after the breakup happened.

God, you didn't even want that bunny. You wanted the black cat.

You pick up his hoodie. It's the one he asked you to wear during a movie night, the one he received as a gift from GAP after a modelling gig with them. With shaky hands, you press your nose into the fabric, trying to catch the person who used to care for you—the person he was before he is now.

His scent lingers, faint and fading, but it's still there. Pine and frost, cold and sharp as his features. But instead of the warm feeling that you used to get, his scent makes your stomach twist and churn, a bile rising behind your throat.

The first drop of tears slides down your cheek.

He's no longer your safe space. Hadn't been since that breakup. Hadn't been since the night he kissed another woman behind your back.

Without thinking, you throw the hoodie on the floor. The fabric lands with a soundless thud, but the indication is loud regardless. When you look back at the love couch, the sight almost breaks you into pieces.

Your nest is all destroyed.

With a cry of fury, you lunge, hands tearing his sweatshirt apart next. At your force, the plush bunny tilts sideway, further breaking the perfect circle that used to be your nest.

"It's just a nest," your voice trembles, but the words ring hollow. Inside, your wolf twists and turns, aggressively shaking her head.

A nest is never just a nest.

"I don't care!" you shout, stomping on the plush bunny. "It's not like—it's not like anything would ever comfort me anymore."

Your knees buckle, too worn after carrying the weight of your inner battles for so long. You slump on the floor, sobs wrecking your chest, the sound raw and scratched. As if on instinct, you bring your knees close to your chest, staring at the mess with a solemn, teary gaze.

You don't even know what you're crying for. It's not like you still have feelings for Maki; or at least, there's no positive feelings for him except for lingering resentment and a strong sense of betrayal.

Is it because what the destroyed nest symbolises?

That you're nothing but a lonely, easily-discarded omega?

That nothing will ever be safe enough for you to rely on anymore?

You might act strong on the outside and bite every bullet with squared shoulders, but if only they knew what you truly feel inside.

If only they knew.

A loud, shrill ringing from your phone cuts you off your silent misery. You drag your body to where your mattress is located at the center of your bedroom, your mom's contact name blinking to be picked up.

With a wipe on your cheeks and a sniffle, you answer the phone.

"My lovely daughter! How are you? Are you eating well, sweetheart?"

I just destroyed my nest. "I'm good, Mom. Just had dinner."

"Come visit this weekend! I'll send our chauffeur to you. I'm planning to—"

"Mom."

You look around your room. At the space that feels too big to fill in, the discarded fabric on the floor. Then, at your disheveled reflection in the mirror.

"Yes, daughter?"

You bite your lower lip, trembling. You look like a mess. Just like what Maki had said.

"I wanna go home."

There's a split second of silence before your mom's voice echoes again.

"You mean you wanna move back here, sweetheart?"

"Mhm," you almost sniffle but you catch yourself, not wanting to give yourself away. "I wanna live with you again."

"Oh, my! That means you agree that alpha, don't you?"

Sigh. You almost forgot about that. The silly condition your pouty mom makes if you ever want to live with them again. One that you've been trying to avoid, too busy with the fashion week preparation and planning revenge on your heartbreak.

But is there really anything to lose?

If you agree, you'll be in close proximity with what you'd say your comfort: your family, and the mansion you used to grow up in. A blind date is just free dinner and having an alpha shower your with praises and compliments. You might have to put up with a little bit of boasting here and there, but it's nothing you can't handle.

So long as you can escape this loneliness, even if only for temporary…

"Yeah," you breathe out. "I'll meet him."

Just let me go home to you, Mom.

Park Jongseong's cheek is still stinging.

But instead of acting like any other man who just got slapped would, he's wearing a giddy smile on his face. He's lying down on the couch, his apartment being the hangout spot of the day for the weekend, but thoughts about his friends are scattered away. Jay is absolutely gone and lost in cloud nine, a cherry-shaped cloud wearing the face of a certain beautiful omega that has been running on his mind as of late.

"Geez, this guy has turned crazy," Sunoo shakes his head before he nudges the older alpha. "Jay-hyung, I brought some ice packs for your cheek."

Jay absentmindedly reaches out his hand, barely registering his friend's words. "Sunoo-ya, Britney Spears was right."

Confusion knits Sunoo's brows closer. "Britney-noona?"

Jay hums. "I want her to hit me one more time."

Sunoo gives him a deadpanned look and then shoves the ice pack in his face. Jay yelps from the sudden cold contact.

"Ow!"

"Well, if you can't find her, I'm more than willing and capable to hit you one more time in her stead."

The older alpha huffs, pressing the cold compress into his swollen cheek. "You don't understand, Sunoo," he defends, "Her hands were so soft and she's so….beautiful."

"She slapped you."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah, cause you were ogling at her chest."

"I—" Jay gulps. Well, now it doesn't sound so good. "I mean…yeah, I did. I stared too long, in fact. That's why I said I deserved it."

Even while saying so, there's still this stupid smile decorating his handsome face. Sunoo can only shake his head, hands on his hips like a tired mom handling her teenage son's first underage drinking. It sounds that bad because it was that bad.

"I can't believe this is the end of Jay-hyung's gentleman era," Riki snorts from the floor. He's been hogging Jay's latest edition of PlayStation all to himself, secretly eavesdropping the two alpha's conversation.

Jay doesn't take it nicely. "What do you mean? I am still me."

"Mhm. Gentleman by day, boob enthusiast by night. Totally not a pervert."

Jay is open to criticism, especially anything to improve himself. But there's nothing to improve here. Jay is just…in love. Okay, that's a bit too soon. Jay is infatuated would be the best way to describe his situation right now because there's no doubt that he, as in human-Jay, and his wolf, like you.

Yes, in a romantic way. Yes, in a 'he wants to court you' way. Yes, in a 'I need her name and a priest now because he does hope he can marry you' way.

He's everything but he's not a pervert. No. And Jay has a hard time receiving criticism about his personality if it comes from a certain alpha named Nishimura Riki, and another alpha named Lee Heeseung. Call it pettiness or a vendetta, but those two have no right to say shit about him. Right now or ever.

Beside him, Sunoo starts to sigh. "Riki."

"What? At least we know why omegas like you now."

Jay's expression hardens. There's a twitch in his jaw that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunoo.

"What do you mean by that?"

Riki, still not sensing the sudden drop of temperature in the room, casually shrugs. "I'm saying maybe you've always been looking. Heeseung-hyung and I knew better."

A heavy silence blankets the room, suffocating each corner with unspoken rage. Sunoo almost recoils from the sudden bitterness that comes from Jay's pheromones. He casts a worried glance at the wounded alpha.

"Yeah." Jay lets out a quiet laugh. "Because both of you thought I'd steal your omegas."

Riki goes rigid. He puts down the console, finally registering the damage that came out of his mouth. He whips his head around, only to be met with a sharp glare from Jay.

"Jay-hyung…"

"No, let's talk about it." Jay gently pushes away Sunoo's hands that come up to comfort him, putting down the ice pack with calm fury that radiates more heat than if he had shouted. He fixes Riki with a burning glare that could've melted the ice pack.

"Let's talk about how I am always the collateral damage of your love story."

Riki gulps. Truthfully, he has never seen Jay angry. And even when he did, that anger was never directed to him. But this time, being the receiving end of such disappointed eyes, Riki wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"Jay-hyung, you know I don't mean it like that."

"Which part? The pervert part? Because you and Heeseung surely treat me like one whenever your omegas are around," Jay says, still soft, but the venom is there. "As if I was some horny wolf waiting for the time to pounce on them. Let me ask you, Riki. What was so wrong with wanting to help you when you literally asked me for help?"

"I—I know. You're never wrong—" Riki swallows, too paralysed from how fast the situation took its bad turn. "I just…shit. I'm sorry, hyung. You're such a good alpha—"

"Am I, really? Because with you two, I never feel like one."

Riki tries to say something back, mouth gaping like fish out of water. Jay heaves out a long sigh, ruffling his already-messy hair. As if on cue, the door to his apartment opens and comes in Heeseung, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm upon sensing the tension in the living room.

"What are we fighting about?"

"About your terrible jealousy issues," Jay grits through his teeth, looking up to meet eyes with Heeseung. The latter almost flinches from how sharp his gaze is. Jay takes another deep breath.

"God, you know what? I understand jealousy. I truly do. I wouldn't want any alpha near my omega too. But that would be any alpha but you two. Because I trust you. I trust you so much and it actually," Jay halts for a moment, realising how intense his emotions have been running. But the reassuring pat from Sunoo serves as his motivation.

He needs to say this. He needs to. Otherwise he'd drown in undeserving guilt and shrink himself again.

"It actually hurts when you guys don't feel the same about me."

The tension thickens it could be cut with a knife. Riki's expression crumples, the alpha who's usually prideful and cocky is now in shambles upon seeing his older alpha breaking down like this. Heeseung fails to find any words, the guilt is lodged in his throat that barely any voice would come out, blocking any syllables from being spoken.

"I just wanted to help. My kindness has no underlying meanings. I didn't offer to help because I wanted to have your omega in bed, Riki. I was thinking about you. I was thinking how I could stop you from crying because you were my friend first and it—it hurt to see you cry so much like that."

Jay is still soft. His voice is still gentle, and that's what makes this whole situation uglier. That's what makes the guilt press harder. Both alphas in question could only stare at their feet, reflecting on their actions towards Jay.

"And you, Heeseung. Would you rather have your mate get soaked that night?" Jay doesn't let him answer. "I don't think you would. I couldn't just leave knowing she'd get drenched in the rain, knowing how much my friend cherishes her and would freak out if she got sick."

Heeseung purses his lips. He was so busy mending what was broken with his omega that he didn't realise how much he's been hurting his friend.

The apartment is silent, save for the PlayStation menu playing its music on loop. Riki can't bring himself to look at Jay, perfectly fine with tucking his chin low and hiidng his shame. Heeseung still has a hand on the doorknob, the metal feels cold on his slippery palm.

"Jay-ah…"

"I'll be in my room. I want to be alone for a moment."

The anger has long left his body. All he feels now is exhaustion and relief, like finally putting back a heavy backpack he's been carrying for months.

The three watch as Jay disappears behind the door of his master bedroom. It closes with a gentle click, as if even in anger and disappointment, Jay wouldn't ever be harsh to his friends. Heeseung and Riki immediately let out a breath they didn't know they were holding while Sunoo watches them with amusement.

"It took him a lot of courage to say that, you know." Sunoo takes a seat on the couch, grabbing the console that was left untouched by Riki. "You guys better apologise and make up to him properly."

"I am such an asshole," Riki whines and drapes his body across the couch, letting his head fall into Sunoo's lap despite his protest. "Hyung was right. It's all about trust. And I was acting like an insecure dog."

Sunoo snorts. "You're a big puppy, Riki."

Heeseung is still quiet. The memory of the punch that almost landed on Jay's face still haunts him, even before the confrontation. He knew it needed to be talked about eventually, he just didn't expect it to be in a situation like this. But alas, Jay has been a sponge that absorbs everybody's emotions, the reliable one—it's about time that the patient alpha loses it.

Just as he's about to enter the apartment fully, the door is suddenly pushed open from behind and Heeseung gets shoved inside instead. Immediately, the smell of burnt chocolate fills the air and the insults he prepares for the intruder die on his tongue.

"Sunoo-hyung!" Jungwon barges in, a pout protruding on his lips. "Noona called me his little brother again!"

Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please protect this friendship.

Heeseung walks silently to his room, ignoring the trio alpha now fighting for Sunoo's attention. Jungwon, however, upon seeing Riki, immediately scowls at the younger. His pout disappears and his complaints die in his throat.

"YOU! Nishimura Riki. You're not cheating, aren't you?"

Riki blinks confusedly.

"Cheating? In FIFA or PUBG?"

"On your girlfriend!"

"Fuck, no!" The blond-haired alpha sits up, taking full offence from the sudden accusation. "I would jump off the cliff first before I'd ever dare cheat on my lovely mate. What the fuck are you on? You know I'm loyal as fuck."

Sunoo pinches his arm. "That's too many curse words, Riki."

Jungwon shakes his head. He pushes the younger off the couch and claims his previous spot, laying his head comfortably on Sunoo's lap. The scandalised look on Riki's face hasn't faded, the alpha is still glaring at Jungwon like he has offended Riki's ancestors.

"Nothing. There was just this omega yelling about getting cheated on during last Friday's party."

"And? What does that have to do with me?"

"The cheater's name is also Riki! You don't know how disappointed and heartbroken I was for those three seconds when I thought it was Nishimura Riki. It turned out to be Hirota Riki," Jungwon nudges Sunoo's hand, urging the older to pat his head. He's still heartbroken, please comfort him, thank you. "I was so close to committing a murder on you that night."

With that explanation, a look of understanding passes Riki's face. He slumps and sprawls on the floor, relief bleeding out of his muscle.

"Oh. That's Maki. Riki C. He's the disgraceful Riki. I don't fuck with him. Not anymore."

"You better not!" Jungwon hisses at him like an angry kitten.

"Wait, so you're Riki B?" Sunoo tilts his head. One of his hands is playing with Jungwon's hair. "Then who is Riki A?"

"The other Riki is Taki, and no, I am Riki D, because this dick—"

"Nishimura Riki!" Sunoo and Jungwon simultaneously yell, drawing out a cheeky laugh from the youngest.

From inside his room, Heeseung could hear the commotion. He shakes his head. Oh, Goddess of the Moon. Please save Nishimura Riki.

Living with your parents has been as peaceful as it can get. Nothing much can be said, considering that it has only been a week.

For the time being, you manage to get your mom off your back about meeting this handsome alpha that she'd like to have as a son-in-law. You hide behind the excuse of being busy with the fashion week, which is not totally a lie.

Fashion week is one of the biggest assessments there is. It means two months of outsourcing high-quality fabrics, sketching and crumpling papers and sketching, hours spent in the studio, finding suitable models for your runway and, the most important part: piecing your imagination and hardwork into a clothing worth wearing and parading.

Which is why you're spending your time in the studio on a Saturday, leisurely going over your sketches again as you wait for your fabrics to arrive. It had been preordered a month ago and the delivery was scheduled today. Precisely, two hours ago.

But you try not to worry. It's only 12 p.m., and there's probably traffic on the road since the working civilians are supposed to be having lunch now. But one hour turns into two. Then another one passes.

Before you know it, it's almost five in the evening, yet there's no sight of a truck or even a ring from the company itself. By the time you dial their office number, you have already done a cherry set on your nails, tidied up the space to accommodate your resources, and even sketched a whole damn new collection.

"Hello, this is The Nakakita. How may I help you?"

The Nakakita. A Japanaese establishment that is owned by the Nakakita family. You wouldn't have gotten in touch with such a prestigious supplier of the Japanese fabric materials had it not been for your cheating ex's connection in the fashion industry.

Maki is all things, and resourceful is one of them.

"Good evening. I'm Y/N. There's supposed to be a delivery for order #1284 today to my studio. Japanese denim, linen cotton, blended silk?"

Well, you might have sounded too demanding. But that's the least of your concern now.

"Oh, Miss Y/N. I'm terribly sorry, but this order was cancelled."

If your jaw could drop down to the ground right now, it would cause a huge-scale earthquake across the city.

"What? I never cancelled it, though?"

There is a sound of clicking on the keyboard from the end of the line. "Um…it was cancelled by the account holder two weeks ago. By Mr. Hirota Riki, approved by the heir himself, Mr. Nakakita Yuma."

What the actual fuck. Two weeks ago was when Maki had confronted you about the rumour spreading about his infidelity. Despite feeling a bit intimidated (not that you'd ever admit), you did no such thing and let his reputation continue to get tarnished. You still firmly believe that he did cheat and whatever manipulation he pulled on you was just an attempt at making you feel miserable.

Not only is his ego as big as he is and a gaslighter, but he is petty, too?!

You let out a disbelieving scoff. Oh my Goddess…That alpha is really something else. As if shattering your dream of having a mate wasn't enough, now he wants to interfere with your career path as well?

What a fucking weirdo.

"So, what happened to all those fabrics? I already paid for the deposit."

"Based on this record, it has been delivered to Miss Kim Areum three days ago and your money is in the process of being refunded back to your bank account."

And as if all of those things weren't enough to pull you under, Maki just has to deliver the final blow to the most sensitive part of your heart.

Of course he'd give those resources to his new girlfriend. Of fucking course.

It's like a cellotape on skin. Peeling it off would sting, taking away your body hair that gives you heat, and leaving sticky residue that wouldn't come off easily. Your relationship with Maki—during and after the breakup—has always left you with this hollow, sinking feeling that weighs heavy on your shoulders.

No matter what you did, if the relationship has ended or not, it'll always leave burn marks that you have been trying so hard to heal. And whether the world has moved on or not, it's always you bearing the ugly aftermath.

"…Miss?"

"I see," you finally speak, voice hoarse from suppressed anger. "Let Yuma know that my attorney will be in contact with your team soon."

"Wait—"

Not letting them finish, you end the call and toss your phone on the couch. Your perfectly blowed hair is now disheveled, untamed by your fingers as you pace the room. There's unshed tears hanging low on your waterline, waiting for the time to fall down, yet you still refuse to give in.

"Fuck!"

It's so unfair. It's so fucking unfair. It wasn't you who left, nor was it you who cheated and being disloyal—yet you are the one who have to pay the price for his crumpling ego? And now he's putting your hard-earned place in the fashion school on the line?

What a fucking manchild.

"What am I supposed to do? Goddess, help me—what am I supposed to do?"

You sink into the couch, the tears now slide down your cheeks with no restraints. There's a choked sob coming out of your throat, your scent souring with every hiccup slipping past your lips.

Time is not a luxury that you can afford now. Confronting Maki would only mess with your head more and result in nothing. You'd love to find a way to sue The Nakakita, but that's a matter that you'd like to solve after the fashion week ends.

Fuck. You barely have two months on your hands, yet you have just lost your resources that you have ordered a month ago. Finding a new supplier would be tough—since not many of them would take indiviual customers due to economies of scale. You are no wholesaler or retailer; catering to you would be expensive for them.

But you have to find a way somehow.

With a shaky hand, you tuck your hair behind your ears and grab your laptop. The tears are uncontrollable at this point, but it's not a sign to give up or stop. Your dainty fingers start typing fast on the keyboard, trying to search for any textile businesses that would make some space for you.

This is not how you imagine your evening would end. You had pictured measuring and cutting fabric pieces to fit your six-piece collection, getting prepared to start assembling them and fitting your models.

Yet here you are, giving calls after calls, accepting rejection after rejection from every business you try to contact. It's exhausting, the tears are now just cracked vulnerbaility on your cheeks. Somewhere along the way, you have accidentally snapped your manicured nails while typing.

"I'm sorry, you have to place an order three months prior in order to secure the fabrics."

This is the sixth one.

You barely hold back a sigh. "I see. Thank you for your time."

You slam your phone on the couch and start rubbing your face. This is hell. You're sure a truck had hit you somewhere on the road and this is your hell, punishing you for being such a bitchy omega to everyone around you.

But how could you not be one when everybody always gives you a reason to protect yourself?

Taking in a shuddering breath, you open your bleary eyes and stare at another line of name on the screen.

Sinar Textile.

It's operating until 8 p.m., which is unusual for many companies. Talking about the time, your stomach growls on instinct, as if reminding you of the skipped lunch and forgotten dinner that you are yet to acknowledge.

"This is the last one," you whisper to yourself. "If this too fails, I will fucking kill Maki."

You punch the number on your phone screen, exhaustion clinging to every movement. It's inhumane to sabotage someone like this; you wonder if you can sue Maki too somehow. He deserves it more than anyone in this world.

It takes five rings before the call gets picked up. A cheery voice greets you.

"Good evening! I am Jake from Sinar Textile. How can I help you?"

You rub your temple, appreciating the friendly tone while it lasts before you start threatening this poor Jake to agree to your proposal.

"Hi. I'm Y/N. I'm looking for a few bolts of fabric for my upcoming collection."

A rustle is heard from Jake's side. "Hello, Miss Y/N. When do you need the fabrics?"

You tap your fingers on your thigh. "Two weeks from now."

There's a few seconds of silence before Jake speaks again. "Are you a wholesaler or a retailer?"

I fucking knew it. "Um," you gnaw at your bottom lip, nerves grating your edges. "Neither. I'm in fashion school, and I need them for my fashion week."

Please. Please accept me. Please take my request. Oh Goddess, this is the least you can do for justice.

But unfortunately, Jake is not your Goddess. "I am sorry, Miss Y/N, but our business strictly provides for wholesaling and retailing establishments only. As for indivi—"

"Please," you let out before you could stop yourself. "I'll take scraps or leftovers. Or even any cancelled order. I'll take anything but please don't turn me down."

You are never one to beg. Especially not to alphas. And while you're not sure about Jake's secondary gender, he's still a man and it still feels humiliating to beg.

But you don't have many choices now, do you? You care more about your degree than your dignity as of now.